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leonfucker3000 · 5 days

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Bounty Hunter/Cowboy!Leon S. Kennedy x outlaw!fem!reader

Warnings: smut, feelings (of regret) (and slight yearning), oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, fucking against metal bars. 16+ because I was you once just don’t be weird

Ummm I wrote this last year in, like, March? I posted and finished it December, though (yikes) with that being said I’m sorry if the writing is…I suppose questionable? Yeah, sure, questionable. On ao3 here if you prefer that site. Not proofread btw.

oh, right, reader’s outlaw name is ‘ranger’ but it’s mentioned once. I was inspired by Leon’s Arthur Morgan mod but you can imagine him in any outfit, all that’s mentioned is that he wears a leather hat (I think). cowboy Leon is the reason I keep on going, thanks.

tumblr is a scary, new place for me. Please be kind😱

The sound of the horse's feet running in the desert sand fills the hollow night. Gunshots and gunpowder making Leon’s nostrils flare, the metallic smoke filling up his lungs uncomfortably.

Close. He’s so fucking close.

You stop your horse and bolt for the abandoned bank you robbed just a month prior and wait . It’s hot and cold, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to keep your breathing still. The weight of your revolver is the only thing that feels remotely natural, the only thing that reminds you that you have at least some control.

His horse blows and grunts as it comes to a halt, a cloud of sand threatening his vision until he bats it away. The swinging door of the bank creaks along with the wooden floorboards of each step he takes.

You can hear him grow closer, the spurs on his boots jingling—a warning, a taunt. He’s got you, and had it not been from how fucking tired you were, you would’ve kept going.

“There’s not much use in hidin’ anymore,” Leon’s gruff voice breaks the low whistling wind, “Think we both know the only way you’re getting outta here is in cuffs or in a rug dragged across the sand.”

You hold in a scoff, the bandana muffling your steadying breath. Hiding behind the wall, you hear his steps come and go, small curses falling from under his breath and muttering you can’t put together.

After a moment of silence, you muster up the courage to peek around the corner. A mistake.

“Gotcha.” His cowboy hat casts a dark shadow across his face, the dim moonlight barely making the whites of his eyes visible. His own revolver is pointed to your head, the reflecting metal almost blinding — another taunt to your capture.

“Kennedy.” You speak through gritted teeth, sour and bitter as you say his name.

“Ranger.” A humorless chuckle escapes his lips, “Not one day goes by that I don’t get sick of hearin’ that name. Can’t even get a beer without a sad sap waiting to tell their story about encountering you.”

“Good to know I’m on your mind at least. Hadn’t seen you in sometime, thought you died.” You watch as his hand tightens around the grip of his gun, his index finger sliding towards the trigger.

“I’m not gonna die before I catch you, or kill you. One or the other.” He rolls his eyes as he watches you point the gun to his leg, “Put that down before I blow your brains out. The sheriff’ll get mad at me for the mess.”

“I think he’d be happier if you killed me, really.”

“Maybe, but I think they’d rather kill you themselves, and slower.” A sigh leaves you as you drop your revolver to the floor, not bothering to put your hands up because, well, there’s no use for it. “Back up. Don’t need you gettin’ any ideas. Get in the vault.”

The vault? He doesn’t give you time to protest, taking a step forward so his gun grazes your forehead, “Fuck, alright, I get it .”

You back into the vault, the metal bars making it your makeshift jail. He closes the door shut, watching you through the spaces between the bars and giving you an annoying smug smirk, “Look at that . Behind bars is a natural look on you. Can’t believe it’s taken this long.”

Leon takes a walk around, finding the key and locking the ‘jail’. Convenient. “Y’wanna start by telling me why you’ve been doing this? They’re gonna get it outta you anyway, best to let it out now. A pretty face ain’t gonna getcha freedom.”

“Pretty?” You muse.

“Shut up.” He scoffs.

“I don’t think my reason would really make a difference.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Maybe not, but every outlaw has some kind of story to tell.”

You slump against the back wall of the vault, letting out a small groan as your hand runs your face. If you’re going to get locked up and eventually hung, you guess it wouldn’t hurt for at least one person to know the truth. He’s not…the best person but out of everyone else, maybe he is. “My family. Dead broke. Needed the money.”

He stares at you for a moment before laughing, gripping one of the metal bars as he snickers, “you really expect me to believe that? If I wouldn’t let a bastard cheat me in poker, I’m not gonna have you cheat me now.”

“‘M not cheating you for anything, I gotta family at home. Mouths to feed, debts to pay, shit to do.”

“That’s a real shitty thing, lying about your family like that.” He grumbles, looking at you like ‘lying’ was worse than all the money you’ve stolen. The lives you threatened.

This man’s priorities seriously needed to be straightened out. You pull down your bandana and toss it to the side as you get comfortable on the floor, the bank door’s small creaks making the night all the more eerie.

When you look up, he’s still staring at you. His lips are curled into a slight snarl and, had it not been for the bars, he might’ve lunged at you.

Leon’s wondering what your game is, he knows what you do when you lie—how you look away from him and take a step back and your lip always twitches without fail—you’re not doing any of that. “Even if you did do it to keep your family afloat, what about the rest of the people you wronged?”

“What, the rich? They don’t give a damn about us, why should I give a damn about them?”

“I’m talkin’ about the public robberies. Like the train robbery down in Georgetown, or the bank in Laredo, those were all big jobs, you tellin’ me those were victimless crimes? Bullshit. There’s oughta be a casualty.”

“If there was a casualty, it wasn’t from me. I’ve never fired a gun at an innocent.”

He scorns, “but you’ll fire a gun at the people tryna protect the innocents.”

“None of them are dead, are they? They’re at home with their families not needing to worry about eatin’.”

He feels conflicted, because fuck if you’re telling the truth then he feels like an asshole all those times he’s almost killed you. A family. You have children, a husband, maybe, unless he’s dead—is that why you’re doing this?—And he’s fought with you more than he can remember. He sniffles, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and shaking his head, “how old are your kids?”

It was your turn to chuckle, “i don’t have kids. Well, sort of, if you include takin’ care of my siblings.”

Guess he got it wrong. He doesn’t know if he feels better or worse, his stomach churns at the thought of your younger siblings waiting for you to come home just to never return. Never to know if you died or ran away. No, he’s sure they’d figure out you died, if you were doing this for them, why would you leave them? God he needs a drink. “You don’t gotta momma or daddy or what?”

“My momma’s sick. Daddy’s gone.” You shrug as if it’s nothing, maybe it is nothing to you but it’s everything to him. He hates that he’s so easily swayed. You being fine with this should tell him this is a lie but—

But what? He doesn’t know. You’re a criminal that has added unnecessary stress to the public, even have other outlaws mad at you for taking their money. It’s simple as to what he needs to do.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m sure after your first three robberies you woulda had enough money to feed a church for the next 5 years. Didn’t need all of that, that’s just fucking greed.”

“I don’t keep all of it. I give it to people like me. Too many families have lost their kids just because they couldn’t feed ‘em for a week. Bet they don’t tell you that, though, do they?”

He knows better. He knows that he knows better. This is a lie, he’s the law, he needs to uphold the law, no exceptions. No hesitation. “So, what? You’re a modern day Robin Hood?”

“If I say yes will you shut the fuck up?”

“If you tell me the truth I will.”

“Mother fucker— I am. You have a gun, have me in a fucking vault, I’m unarmed say for my knife, but I’ll give it to you if it’ll shut you up. what do I have to gain from this shit? You’ve caught up people for way less, I don’t have shit up my sleeve to leave.”

A moment passes, and suddenly? He hates himself.

“God damnit.” He curses under his breath, turning his body away as he groans. He can still hear the horses outside, can hear the wind chiming, playing a small song. You keep quiet, watching him pace back and forth once before pinching the bridge of his nose. “‘M gonna fuckin’ regret this.” He mumbled to himself, putting in the key and swinging the metal door open.

He shifts to the side, motioning with his head, “Go. Get. Leave.”

“What’re you doing, Kennedy?”

His lips press into a fine line as he exhales through his nose, “What kinda man would I be if I took you away from them when I had the chance to save you?” He sighs, “They need you. God knows no one else will give a damn.”

You hesitate, you don’t know why—you should’ve ran as soon as the key went in the damn hole. You grab your bandana you threw off earlier, wrapping it around your neck with a curt nod. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t meet your gaze, a small frown on his face before he speaks, “yeah, yeah, just turn your ass around before I find a reason to lock you up again.”

You tip your hat to him, walking out of the vault. Your spurs are the one to jingle this time.

“ ‘sides, I always did like the back of you.”

You planned to keep going. You really fucking did.

When you turned around, your bodies were only two feet away. You swore you walked further from him but honestly, you couldn’t tell anymore. “Those are dangerous words you’re playing with.”

His back straightens and he peers down at you, “Are they?”

“You’re a confusing man, Kennedy.”

“I don’t remember telling you I was simple.”

You tut, “Haven’t you made enough mistakes already?”

He has, he knows it. The first damn mistake he’s made was making it a point to try and capture you. A year and 4 months he’s spent on this–on you. But, really, what bad would one last mistake do? He’s already made so many, it’ll just be another bullet to his chamber. He takes a step closer, chests nearly touching as his hands twitch to grab you, feel you without the mission of needing to hurt you and take you in. “I’d say not enough.”

All those times during his chase he could’ve gotten close, on top of you, felt your breath against his as you cornered one another. He hasn't, and he’s tired of letting it sit at bay. Learning a new side of you made him crazy. Crazier.

God is he an idiot.

Your breaths fill the tense atmosphere as he takes another small step closer, was it always so hot in here?

“We shouldn’t.”

“Who says?”

“ Everyone .” You stay like this for what seems like an eternity until Leon pulls you in by the back of your neck, his free hand moving to your waist as his lips crush against yours in a hasty kiss. He groans against your mouth and your fist coils the fabric of his shirt. Your hats tipped one another’s off and fell to the floor.

After a few seconds, he is the one to pull away from you. Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him in confusion, he looks at you like it was the answer. He clears his throat and takes a step back, wiping away your kiss and he looks away, trying to deny himself of what he wants.

Who he wants so, so badly.

He struggles to speak, to move, to think. He watches you and you watch him, both of your breaths at a skewed pace.

“Make a mistake with me.” He whispers, he looks different. You can finally see his face, moonlight highlighting his sharp features. Never noticed how handsomely-pretty he was before.

God, fuck it.

You step forward this time, pulling him in by the collar of his button up and pressing your lips against his. He licks the seam of your lips and you part them, teeth clacking and tongues entwining as he grabs the wide of your hips and pushes you against the metal bars. Ouch.

He pulls away from you with a sigh, looking offended at the fact that he even had to leave the plush of your lips. His hand leaves you to unbuckle your belt with fervor and slip his hand inside your pants and panties.

His fingers slip between your wet folds and he dips his head down to kiss your neck. Small moans escape you as he slowly rubs your clit, feeling your wet slick coat his fingers. “All those pretty sounds for me? I think I’m flattered.”

You groan, “of course you’re a bitch even when doing this.”

“I take my words back, then.” He rolls his eyes and opts to bite down on your shoulder, your nails dig into his back through the fabric of his shirt and he shudders when you bite him back. “fuck, ‘s not enough. Gotta taste you.”

He drops to his knees and fumbles with your belt until it’s off and shoves your pants down, his breath stuttering when he sees the soaked fabric. He drags them off you and pulls one of your legs over his shoulder. You hold onto the bars for balance, “Jesus Christ, wait . Almost made me fucking fall—“

You’re cut off when he spreads your lips and licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You moan, fingers grabbing a fistful of his hair and his eyes fluttered shut. He sighs at the taste of you, “fuckin’ delicious, can’t believe I didn’t do this shit sooner.” His voice, almost a groan, wavered before pushing his face back between your legs.

His tongue lapped at your entrance and his nose bumped up against your swollen clit. His fingers dimple the fat of your thigh and his cock twitches the louder your sounds get. He curled his tongue and pressed it deeper, despite the proximity, he needed to get closer somehow.

Trying to close your legs doesn’t work, smushing your thighs against his face only adds fuel to the fire.

You nearly sob when he pushed a finger inside your cunt, thrusting against your g-spot with a quick, steady rhythm. “ Leon , shit, shit , don’t you fucking stop. “ He slips in another finger, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes and a shit eating grin.

First time you’ve said his name, not kennedy or bastard or asshole – his name . And fuck, does it sound pretty coming out of you like that, how that alone makes his cock strain against his zipper.

Filthy squelches and moans flood the empty bank while Leon eats your pussy like a starved man. His own moans escaping as you buck your hips against his face. You pull on his hair roughly and you swear you hear him whine

“Gotta get you nice ‘n wet f’me,” He muttered against your pussy and his eyes fluttered as he tried to keep open to watch you. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard — a cry of his name and you’re so fucking close to coming on his face, panting and feeling uncomfortably hot.

“Too much—“ you gasp, “Oh shit, fuck, it’s too much.” You choke, uneven moans escaping you as you finally come. You expect him to pull away but he doesn’t falter. “Mnh, wait, fuck, get off, get off . ” You beg breathlessly.

Leon groaned again and pressed closer, “need it, give it to me, honey. Gonna make you feel good, just don’t make me fucking stop.” He pleaded, feeling dizzy as he got high off your taste. You attempt to push his head and mouth away but your attempts are in vain.

You let out yet another choked sob when he forces another orgasm out of you, reluctantly, he pulled away, licking his lips clean and wiping the rest with the back of his hand. His free hand rubbed your thigh to try and soothe you, asshole turned caring in a matter of seconds. “Sorry.” He murmurs, “couldn’t help myself.”

Your breaths are uneven pants as you look down at him on his knees still. “ Fuck me , Kennedy apologizing? I’m speechless.”

“Oh, we’re back to Kennedy?”

He gets off his knees while yours quiver, “It was a mistake. A fluke.”

A smirk plays on his lips, “yeah, sure. We’ll see.” He turns you around and wraps his arm around your hips and pulls them against his own, pushing you forward slightly so you’re bent over, “grab the bars.” And you do.

You can feel the outline of his cock press against you, “so fucking ready, didn’t waste a goddamn second—y’sure that was a fluke? Getting my pants all dirty, honey.” You feel embarrassed, but not for long when you hear his belt buckle clink and the sound of fabric rustling – heart racing and pussy throbbing as to what’s happening. You turn your head and see him spit and runs his hand over his cock to get it wet. He smirks when he catches you, you shake your head and look forward again. “Gotta be sweet to me or I’ll make you work for it.”

“God, kennedy–” You gasp when he slides the head between your folds and nudges it at your entrance.

“Leon.” he corrects, pushing the tip inside you, “C’mon baby, I know you can say it.” he grabs your hips to keep you from pushing back onto him. Fucker .

“ Leon.”

“Atta girl.”

He snaps his hips into you, body shuddering and your mouth opens with a sharp gasp and choked back moan. His grip on your hips tighten when he pulls out and pushes back inside to the hilt. His breathing is nothing but grunts, groans, and pants, you’re not much different – if anything else, you’re worse. “Can’t– fuck –handle it? Can rob every fucking bank but you can’t take some dick.”The way he fucks you is merciless, he wants you to feel good but also wants to punish you for everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve done to him.

He dips his hand lower to smack your ass, “Answer me. Had a lot to say just minutes ago.”

“Sh-shit, I can take it,” you shudder, “I can take it–” Your skin is wet with sweat and it gets harder to hold onto the bars, each thrust making you lose a bit more of yourself. Fuck him and fuck this but holy shit do you suddenly not regret everything you’ve ever done.

You’re mewling beneath him, happily and prettily so. “Pussy’s so tight, just needed a good dicking down.” he moans, “That all it took to get you to – fuck that’s good – listen?” he moves one of his hands from your hip to your clit, stimulating it as he fucks you a little harder, “Say my name, God, I need it.” he groans.

“Leon, Leon, Leon– ” You moan loudly, you don’t know when the sheriff is coming, but if he’s close you’re sure he can hear you easily. Your vision blurs when he touches you and your legs tremble with each spot his cock hits.

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha, not lettin’ you go.” Leon’s an idiot, but if his mistakes will make him feel this good again, he’ll keep making them. His composure starts to dwindle when sweat beads his forehead and you start squeezing him like a vice. Made for him, he thinks. “ Take it , fuck yourself onto me honey, atta girl.” his breath stutters.

Who are you to deny him – you do as you’re told and he moans. His hand goes up to your neck and pulls your back against his chest. Within seconds, you come around him with his name on your tongue and a scream. He bites down on your shoulder with a desperate groan before he pulls out and streams of hot come hit your ass.

He holds onto you like you’re his life line, like he’ll fall if he lets you go (he will). You two stay like that for a good 20 seconds before he lets go of you and takes a couple of steps back. He turns away from you and you can hear him zip up his pants and belt clunk when he fixes himself. You do the same, a little slower, both out of lack of energy and embarrassment.

Leon also feels embarrassed. This is the part where he’d usually get whoever he was sleeping with a glass of water, a quick bath, and ask if they’d rather go home tonight or he takes them home tomorrow. He can’t do either of that, and he’s supposed to hate you and definitely not fuck you or let you go.

He swallows, “You need to get going. He’ll be here soon and he won’t hesitate to shoot if he sees you run.”

“Right.” you whisper, taking a deep breath to steady yourself as you bend down to pick up your hat. You’re both in a daze, he looks at you, all guilty and nervous. His hair is wet with sweat and his cheeks are flushed, had it been anyone else you would’ve pushed his hair back to get a better look at him. But he’s not anyone else, and this was all a mistake . “Gonna stop coming after me now?”

A weak smile tugs his lips, “In both ways, no. Can’t promise anything.”

You fight back a laugh but return his smile, turning away so he can’t see it. He picks up his hat next and watches as you walk away from him to the front of the bank. Like a lost puppy, he follows. “Need help getting up?” he motions to your horse.

“I’ll be fine, Kennedy. You need to worry about yourself rather than me.”

“Like I said, can’t promise anything.”

You hop on your horse, ready to put all that you did with him in a box and stuffed away.

“Stay safe. Be seeing you.” he whispers.

You don’t trust yourself to speak so you nod, not looking back as your horse takes you away.

You’re a good mile out when Leon hears a horse’s footsteps behind him, then heavy human ones. “Where is she?”

“I told you to follow me quick, Chris. She’s gone. Just thought I’d give you the message personally so you didn’t have to wait here alone.”

Chris sighs and looks at Leon with nothing but hate. Ironic. “It’s not hard to do your damn job.”

“Can say the same about you – so, drinks? Need one after today.”

Chris looks Leon up and down, eyebrows furrowed when he does so. “When did you change your hat?”

He blinks, suddenly realizing his is a little tighter.

Miles out, you realize yours is a little looser.

You suppose you two will be seeing another again after all. When you do, you'll finally be ready.

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #cowboy!leon #leonfucker3000

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highvern · 1 month

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Sales Pitch II

Pairing: Moon Junhui x fe!reader, feat. Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 21+

Warnings: consensual voyeurism, exhibitionism, cum eating, spitting, unprotected sex, cream pie, snowballing, dom/sub themes, masturbation, multiple sex positions, impact play, choking, take me to paris wonhui!

Length: ~5k

Note: for all legal purposes, im still on semi-hiatus! this is just more torture for my bestie @wenjunehui patterns is still shelved until further notice, don't ask me about updates pls :) as always lmk what you guys think! also please ignore any errors i cracked this out in a lust fueled haze for pathetic bratty sub jun

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

Read part I

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Your back meeting the cool wood of the door muffles the click of the lock. All you can feel is Wonwoo; the weight of his body, his lips trailing across your jaw, his hair curled around your fingers. A sharp tug lets you feel more, urging him to grind his half hard cock into your core.

Darkness encases your intertwined figures on all sides. Only the faint light about the stove casting a hazy yellow that fails to reach the far corners of the room. You like it better this way. More anticipation in every touch. A flash of Wonwoo’s pale skin when your fingers drift under his sweater, or the dim shadow of his form dancing across your shut eyelids as he moves you further inside.

He doesn’t waste any time rushing towards the counter, lifting you up easily and shoving a hand up your short skirt. Wonwoo finds what you both knew he would; soaked and pantiless with arousal smeared between your thighs. You’d played the game all night, biting your tongue each time his finger tips skimmed the inside of your knee during the movie. Or at dinner when he watched you with an unimpressed gaze over the rim of his wine glass. All of it built up to this.

A finger dips in; barely breaching your entrance before retreating. The tease makes you desperate; tightening around each thrust to convince him to stay and press deeper only for Wonwoo to chuckle and leave you gaping again and again with more slick dripping down his digits each time.

“C’mon,” you huff. You're quick to snag his wrist, using every ounce of strength to force in place as your hips grind up.

Wonwoo needs no more encouragement after the first sharp whimper of satisfaction you release. Instead, he presses hard with another finger until you can feel him in your lungs. The suffocating heat of your top results in its swift removal. But the relief is short lived as teeth nip at the curve of your breasts before dropping to suck a nipple through the lace. Thighs muffling the debauchery, you pant into his hairline while his own mouth focuses on bruising your chest.

Skirt belting your hips, Wonwoo drops more fervent kisses as he descends lower and lower. The granite of the counter is cool against your sweat back but unforgiven when you arch at the first timid flash of his tongue through your folds. The mess between your legs turns obscene under his mouth, lips smacking with each lash against your clit.

But it’s all still a tease. Nothing but a show to prove he can give and take and give and take until you’re willing to cry for more. Or at least until the man watching from the shadows caves and blows the illusion.

In your peripheral, Jun stands out in the arm chair at the far end of the room. If you didn’t know he was there then you’d never guess. The kitchen and living room connected in what is really a singular large space, uninterrupted by anything that could distract the view. And what a view he has; you topless, nipples shiny and spine curled while his roommate eats you out on the counter.

You won’t look where you know he’s sitting, no doubt cupping himself over his jeans in desperation. Jun is a good boy. He touches when he’s told and sits on his hands when he can’t help it. But you’re spread like a feast under Wonwoo’s mouth and Jun is just a man.

Wonwoo plucks and strokes, nips and sucks, driving you inch by desperate inch to the brink. Warm and worn under his mouth, another finger sinks in easily but Wonwoo goads anyway.

“Fucking tight,” he jests a little too loud for the small space between you but he wants Jun to hear. It’s sick.

Especially when you hear a sharp inhale from where he sits.

The flat of Wonwoo’s palm lands on your stomach, skin sticking to skin as he forces your hips down. You don’t take to the warning. With your coworker slash friend with benefits who you occasionally go on dates with but not saying anything, you call all the shots. If you want to hump his face until he passes out from lack of oxygen, Jun will beg you to do it. If you want to sit on his cock while he counts the register, well it might take him five times to get the numbers in order but what his queen wants, she gets.

Wonwoo isn’t as eager to let you take charge and lets you know with the impact of his hand on your cunt.

“Fuck!”

He massages away the sting, thumb dipping to replace his tongue at your clit. “Stop moving.”

“Fuck off.” You bite.

The air cracks with tension. You’d take the amused twitch of Wonwoo’s lips as a challenge if it wasn't for the plan hatched during the car ride home. A sure fire way to get Jun so riled up he’d ruin his record of perfect behavior and give you and Wonwoo the chance to punish him the best way possible.

Your back talk goes as planned. Wonwoo rises, a tight grip at the back of your neck while he drags you up. It looks worse than it is. Another tease at Jun, taunting him with the idea of you giving him the same treatment.

But instead of fucking you over the counter like originally discussed, Wonwoo fumbles towards your room, out of Jun’s sight. You can hear him rise to follow with rushed footsteps but the door slams shut in his face before he can stop it. The lock clicks just as quickly and your left stifling amused cackles with Wonwoo doing the same.

“What the fuck guys?” Jun calls from the other side, rattling the door knob desperately.

Is it better to acknowledge his frustration or pretend he doesn’t even exist? Jun calls again, a timid knock punctuating his plea.

“Yeah?” You call, back settling against the door louder than necessary. Wonwoo takes back up the work at your chest, sucking a taunt nipple between his teeth while you do all the talking.

“I’m locked out.”

Your head thuds back as Wonwoo licks his way to your neglected breast, responding with more breath to hint at what's transpiring out of his line of sight, “We’re kinda busy.”

“But—” he starts, only to be silenced.

“Oh, Wonwoo! Fuck.”

His fingers aren’t as deft as Jun’s and neither is his tongue but you’re spurred by the frustration in Jun’s tone. The metal of the knob continues to rattle, more erratic with every whimpered plea for more from the man in front of you. Turning around, your face melts against the wood while Wonwoo unzips his pants and presents himself.

“You’re so big,” you coo.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at the obvious bait but plays right along. “Yeah? Think you can take it?”

A bang near your head sends you into the air.

“Let me in!” Jun demands.

His voice is hard. Steeled with a tone you’ve never heard before and it sends a chill down your spine.

But Wonwoo seems undisturbed as he bends you at the waist. “She’s busy.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jun bites before melting softer. “Y/N, you said I could watch.”

The head of Wonwoo’s cock nestles against your entrance. He waits while you figure out your next move. Wonwoo agreed he’d go along with whatever you decided but the ghost of being split full makes all the choices bleed into one.

“You’re not even asking right.” You say. “Maybe if you ask like a good boy we’ll let you in.”

“Please? Please let me in. I’ve been good. You said I could watch, baby. Please.”

“I don’t know. What do you think, Woo?”

Glancing over your shoulder, he shrugs. And then Wonwoo spits where his dick rests and rushes inside.

You know Jun hates it. He can feel Wonwoo fuck you into the door, every thrust leaving the wood to groan under the additional weight. If that wasn’t enough he can hear everything too. Your breathy moans, the slap of hips against your body, the sound of your sopping pussy.

The few times he’s worn a blindfold proved he doesn’t like to be teased; a trail of broken cuffs and other restraints left in his wake. He’d rather be overstimulated until he’s cross eyed and barely breathing than edged. The one time you tried left your ass sore for days from bites and spanks.

With each ticking second a repeat inches closer. And maybe with Wonwoo in the mix, Jun will be even more possessive. It certainly sounds like it as he grows exasperated in his pleas.

“Shit you’re so wet.” Wonwoo groans. “Bet you wish you could see it. Don’t you?”

“Fuck you.”

You catch the telltale rasp in his voice too easily. Jun isn’t even trying to pretend.

Smacking your fist against the door, you fume. “Are you fucking serious?”

Wonwoo freezes. A trickle of fear he’s over stepped rushes his spine until your ass pushes back into the cradle of his hips. Your reprimand isn't’ for him. It’s for the brat jerking himself off like you don’t own his cock.

“You didn’t let me in.” Jun teases, moaning boldly.

Jun gets what he wants. The door unlocks and you find him with his pants around his thighs, the tip of his cock shiny as it peeks through his tight fist. He doesn’t even stop the flutter of his wrist when your eyes find his face, ready for whatever punishment you might throw his way.

You step into his space. So close his length digs into the softness of your belly while your hand traces along his neck. Jun isn’t stupid enough to think you’re apologizing but your next words make him shudder.

“You’re gonna regret that.” You bite, teeth digging into his neck to leave a mark.

Wonwoo’s eyes burn across your body from where he sits on the bed, watching every move. You won’t be bested by Jun while someone else is around to witness so your touches turn possessive; nails raking across his skin, fingers pinching his nipples until he cries for mercy. The beginnings of a bruise blooms across his throat. And Jun’s wrist still never stops.

“Go sit on the bed.”

A trail of clothes flutters in his wake. About a foot of space sits between him and his roommate. Wonwoo maintains his cocky expression while waves of frustration waft from Jun. But neither speak as you dig through your side table for a bottle of lube.

You approach where they wait, turning so you back meets Wonwoo’s chest as you sink into his lap. He curls both arms over your stomach and traces your shoulder with his nose.

“Jun, come here.”

He’s in front of you in a second, cock bobbing right at your chest.

“Wonwoo is gonna fuck me and you’re gonna watch.”

“No.” Jun states.

Even Wonwoo stops at the sudden refusal. “No?”

“I wanna touch you too.”

His fingers twitch at the idea, desperate to feel you on him after being denied the promise to watch.

You hope your idea will calm his disobedience for now. Gazing with soft features, your hand finds his hip and strokes gentle circles into the skin. “But you broke the rules, baby.”

“So did you!”

You circle his cock in your hand, slowly working him just the way he likes until the quake in his legs nearly sends him to the floor.

“If you don’t cum, then you can fuck me. But if you do, then you don’t get to touch me the rest of the night. Deal?”

He opens his mouth to object but you beat him to the punch.

“Or Wonwoo and I can have fun and you can go sit in the living room until we’re done.”

Maybe it's the way your thumb swipes at his tip, or the dip of your head to lap away the mess. Or it could be how you look at him, hopeful he’ll agree because you’re not done playing with him yet. But it's probably because you leave a gentle peck on his stomach to hide the whispered ‘please’ for his ears only.

“Okay.”

Before you can praise him, Jun pulls you up into a searing kiss. It’s messy and sloppy in the best ways. His tongue licks into your mouth, gliding across yours and lapping away any noise you both make. Not even the discomfort of his nose burrowing into your cheek manages to distract you from the new dynamic. The heat makes your toes curl embarrassingly; like a teenager getting her first kiss with the boy she’s crushed on for months. Maybe it's a closer description than you’d like but you don’t dwell. Just rise on your knees to chase him for more, more, more until you're floating.

And considering how his fingers curl around the arch of your jaw, Jun clearly plans to stay a while.

But it also makes you remember it’s not Jun’s hands at your chest. It’s definitely not Jun’s cock sinking inside you because you still have him leaking in your hand. The image of Wonwoo sitting beneath you, watching as you and Jun dissolve into a matching set of needy desperate messes brings you back down from the clouds.

The bottle of lube enters the playing field again, its contents cold and slimy as you squirt it over your breasts. Wonwoo jostles you in his lap with every stilted grind as he searches for his own pleasure. Roused by the commotion, Jun sits back to see what you have planned. His love for your tits excels beyond casual interests and verges on perversion. A hand raises to help massage the soft skin but he stops short and remembers what you asked. But the drool slipping out the corner of his lips can’t be helped when squeeze them together and the flesh bounces.

He knows you have more up your sleeve than a lewd show although he’d happily empty his load on your chest and watch you rub it into the skin as well. Mark you as his even if Wonwoo gets to dump his spend in your cunt. Jun’s done it before and he’ll get to do it again and again long after Wonwoo’s out the front door.

Hot and wet, the tip of his cock grazes your nipple when you lean forward; both twitching at the contact. Jun steps up and lets himself rest on your sternum, releasing a pained breath while you press your tits together to squeeze him tight. More lube helps the first slide and leaves his pre-cum dappling against the hollow of your throat.

“Jesus—shit,” he puffs.

Wanting to hear more, you lap at the head of his cock on the next downstroke and are rewarded with your chin glossed in pearly white.

Wonwoo paws instantly at your ass and hips, refusing to ask for you to dedicate an iota of attention to his blight. Wedged so deep inside you, you nearly rise all the way up on your knees before sinking back down. Every drop leaves you stuffed with two cocks and you can’t help but wonder if more preparation could make you even more full next time.

“Want you to cum, kitty.” You coo, lips puckered on the next suck.

His head drops back, lip bruised between his teeth. “Can’t.”

“But I want you to,” you hiccup in a feign of innocence. “You’ve been so good. You deserve it baby.”

Your words are sweet like honey. Jun wants to cave, it's painted so plainly on his face. Eyes screwed tight, lip quivering, hands fisted at his sides while his body wages war with his mind. But one lube slick finger dipping beneath his balls and going for the soft spot just before his ass finishes the battle.

His stomach caves as he cums, rogue without aim. You manage to catch enough on your tongue to satiate your need for him but the rest drips and trails across your face and torso as you continue to bounce on Wonwoo’s cock without so much as a missed breath.

Sweat beads along your back and Wonwoo’s chest suffocates your skin even further. Leaning back, he accommodates your wish and falls to his elbows without missing a beat; feet planted on the floor so he can buck up into you.

Jun can only stand and watch, the evidence of his failure shinny across your chin, neck, and chest. Rounded eyes brimmed with disappointment meet his own as he falls to his knees to clean up the mess.

He’s breaking the rules again but you honestly can’t care with the way he sucks away his own cum. You’re not too keen on it going to waste so before he can swallow you pull him up, split his lips open with your thumb, and get a taste for yourself.

Your chest is covered with his mouth again before he rises and spits his haul into your waiting tongue. Jun keeps going. He doesn’t stop until there's nothing left and even then he presents his own tongue for you to spit on when he’s done.

“You’re so nasty,” you pant as he gulps down your present.

Jun focuses on leaving a brand of his teeth below your jaw, grunting when you grab for his limp cock again. He can give you more. He always does. A final kiss satisfies Jun’s needs before you send him back on his haunches to wait.

Wonwoo barely registers as an afterthought, his presence eclipsed by Jun’s desperation and your eagerness. But he deserves to get what he came for. The quicker the better because you still have unfinished business with your coworker turned fuck buddy.

Slipping from his lap, his cock falls against his stock. Rigid and coated in your arousal, you rush to face him and sink back down.

He sighs at the relief, “finally” before dropping fingers to your clit while the other circles your throat.

Your back meets the sticky sheets swiftly. Wonwoo presses deep and firm, stretching you to the limit. Jun still sits in the back of your head even if you can’t see him. You know he’s watching and it's enough to make you shy. But there's no room for it as Wonwoo hooks your knees in the dip of his elbows and spreads you wider, no doubt making Jun privy to your wrecked cunt.

“Harder,” you choke.

Wonwoo gets lost in the motions and nearly crushes you into the bed for it. Your fingers find his stagnated ones, brushing them aside to swipe against the raw bundle of nerves.

Teeth tug at your earlobe, biting into the softness as the end breaches over his spine. You retaliate with the sting of your nails down his back, digging harshly when you reach his ass to force him deeper.

“Fuck, yeah.” He groans, voice breaking. Another harsh press of his hips sends you up the bed from the force. “C-c-cuming. Fuck, I’m cuming.”

Hot rope after hot rope creams your insides as Wonwoo works through his orgasm. You feel something dripping down your slit to your ass and assume he’s stuffed you with more than you can take.

He pecks your cheek in thanks, signing off with a press of his nose before rolling away and leaving you empty. And the other discussion from the car comes back.

“I can’t believe it was Jun’s idea for me to take you on a date.” Wonwoo snorts.

“Why?”

“Because what guy wants another man taking out his girlfriend.”

You sit in uncomfortable silence, unable to admit the truth. Jun isn’t your boyfriend. And the entire charade tonight doesn’t seem to point that his interests even point remotely in that direction.

“So you and Jun aren’t dating?”

“No.”

“Well this is gonna go great.” Wonwoo quips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You can’t help but be defensive but before you can get an answer he’s pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant.

The wet of Jun’s lips glide across your ankle, up your shin and over your knee. His hands find the crease and he pushes until your legs dangle over his shoulders. Every touch is devout, an attempt to soak in your presence without the previous interference. One of your palms finds his cheek and Jun is quick to drop a lazy kiss to it before setting to work between your legs.

He doesn’t rush. If Jun wanted you wailing and twitching he’d have you there already. Instead, slow strokes bring you back to life bit by bit while his hands keep kneading the meat of your thighs and stomach.

Melting under the attention, you don’t even notice Wonwoo begins to rise until he speaks.

“That was fun.”

Neither of you acknowledge him. Too lost in one another, if you focus hard enough you can completely ignore the sound of him collecting his clothes.

But Jun can’t.

Every shuffle earns a harsh lick against your sensitive clit. He doesn’t stop when your thighs nearly crush his head or your fingers tug at his hair. For the first time, Jun doesn’t listen to your silent instructions at all.

His fingers lack the same timidity as his mouth. Three spear you immediately, curving and scissoring until your vision goes fuzzy at the edges. More of Wonwoo’s cum leaks out and Jun is quick to lap it away and spit it into the bed sheets away from where you lay.

“Now that’s just insulting.” Wonwoo calls. You find him lent against the door frame, dressed with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Jun doesn’t let up. If anything, the sound of his roommate's voice spurs him on.

You gesture vaguely towards the door with a gasped, “get out,” before you fall back under Jun’s spell.

He focuses on cleaning away any proof Wonwoo was ever there. His fingers soak in your ruined cunt to pull away the excess before his tongue sneaks inside

“Oh my god— J–Jun.” You beg, body kicking in a tantrum while tears curl in your eyes.

He offers a hand to hold on your stomach while he continues to prove whatever point he hopes to make in the crux of your thighs. You grip on for dear life, nails leaving crescents on his skin while his thumb brushes against your palm in time with his tongue teasing lower and lower.

“Tell me I’m better.”

You barely make out the words muffled in your cunt. Immediately you think he’s asking for more praise, the kind he gets when he cums twice within minutes. But you can’t wax poetically about how good he is with the way brands his tongue into your heat. All you can do is moan and whine with gusto and hope it's enough.

Jun rises, face coated in your arousal and eyes lazy. He doesn’t reject your kiss, or the shy way you prod the seam of his lips with your tongue. Tonights different in a million ways and the fact you feel nervous underneath him makes you even more skittish.

Hips cradling his, Jun slides his cock deep without the usual stretch thanks to the hours of play. Jun anchors your legs wide to watch you take him inch by inch. Curiosity gets the better of you, and your chin dips to see the display as well. Not the first time he’s fucked you raw but the constrate of his skin against your own never grows dull. Trailing your eyes up further, you observe the twitch of his stomach every time you clench around him until Jun crushes you into the sheets.

You're both desperate. Breath puffing into eachothers mouths as you meet in a pathetic kiss. Sweat slicks your belly against his own. Jun covers every inch of your body he can like he wants to melt together and stay that way forever.

“God, Jun!” You cry. “Shit, shit. G-gonna cum.”

Riled beyond belief, you need to cum. If it’s on his cock, or his fingers, or his face, you don’t care. As long as he’s there to help you through it.

“I’m better than him, right? You want me more?”

He’s right in your ear, clear as day. Hours of build up freezes and shatters in half a second.

Your legs lock around the smell of his back, slowly his frantic pace until he’s calm enough to take a breath. His embarrassment hides in the curve of your throat. Jun paints apologetic kisses across every stretch of skin he can find while you wait for him to speak.

“Jun?”

Nose cutting into the soft space under your jaw, he whispers, “I don’t want you to sleep with other people.”

Your gut tugs defensively. How dare he? Wonwoo was Jun’s idea, not yours; his roommate who made one joke about hearing you two fucking into the early hours of the morning. It was Jun who asked to invite him in. But before you can remind him of the fact, he frees his next truth.

“I want it to be just us.”

Hot and cold flash on your skin and a pit the size of an elephant explodes your stomach. There's too much ambiguity in such a statement. Too many what ifs. Considering his cock is still pressed between your legs, you refuse to be hopeful he’s asking for more than exclusive permission to your body.

“Okay.”

He jumps away from his hiding place, face wide with amazement. “Really?”

“Sure,” you swallow. “We won’t fuck anyone else.”

“That isn’t…I want it to be us. Us? You and me?”

“Like dating?”

He nods mutely.

A smile tilts the corners of your mouth, splitting your face ridiculously. You whisper again, “okay.”

Shy smiles and avoidant eyes are out of place giving what you’re doing. Given everything you have done. But you like Jun and he likes you and now you're both nervous because being naked means more now than it did twenty minutes ago.

You forge the courage to kiss him with gossamer drags of your lips over his jaw. He giggles when your breath ghosts over the shell of his ear, folding his head down to his shoulder to stop the maddening sensation and you can’t help but glow from the absurdity.

Pouting playful, you rope him into the fun with a taunt.“Kiss me.”

Jun doesn’t play around the demand. He seals his lips over yours, only interrupted by a grin that turns the connection into teeth from the twin smiles illuminating your faces.

After the initial giddiness dims, Jun seems to remember he’s still inside you with a cursory thrust. It’s the same way he was fucking you before but now there are feelings and everything has an indecipherable edge.

His mouth avoids the sensitive parts of your chest, focusing on rubbing his lips across your skin and soaking in the feeling rather than soliciting a response. He’s aimless in his pursuits but you enjoy the attention all the same.

A sigh of your name signals his end. But Jun won’t cum a second time. Not while you still haven’t had your first.

Steady on one arm, he sucks his thumb into his mouth before slithering it where you meet. Everything quakes under the pressure, hours of teasing rising to a boil without preamble. Tremors ripple from your sore clit through every muscle. Growing stronger and stronger until you're bucking wildly.

“Please cum, need it baby.” Jun whimpers, veins raising on his neck from the strain to hold back. “Been so good. I listened! Please, please, please.”

He’s pathetic. Weak for good pussy and a dom who’ll give him the direction he needs to please. And you’re even more pathetic because you’re cumming on the next whiny breath he releases.

Jun tries to fuck you through it, but the lewd mix of lube, arousal, and cum proves to hinder rather than help. He slips out and leaves you aching at first, two sets of hands scrambling to slip him back home. In the deep end of bliss, you crave the closeness rather than need it but it doesn’t stop Jun from huffing with frustration.

You grow boneless and pliant through the next strokes, eager to see him make another mess. Nothing feels as good as he does on your skin. Managing two handfuls of ass, you pull him deeper until he cries.

“Wanna feel you make this pussy yours.” You beg into his shoulder. “Will you do that for me? Fill me with your cum?”

His response is a raw moan, pathetic at your offer. The flutter of your walls around him unravels the knot of his second release until he’s rushing forward, forcing you down until you can’t breathe while he ruts every drop of his spend as deep as possible.

You already know what he plans to do when he attempts to slip out. He's a freak in the most predictable ways. But a ghost of your foot along the sensitive back of his thigh and a coo for his return quell the hunger for further depravity.

Relishing in the silence, you both find places to stroke and explore. The calloused pad of Jun’s thumb follows the bow of your lips, swirling across the sensitive skin with an occasional pause; only to start again when you bestow a gentle kiss.

“Can we sleep on the couch? It’s fucking nasty in here.”

Scoffing, you force him out of your chest with a palm to his forehead. “I’m sorry, who was the one spitting cum earlier?”

“Shut up.” Jun pouts, kissing his point across.

Dozing on the couch, Jun lights the pre-roll from his overnight bag. A few puffs are all it takes to melt the lingering jitters from his confession. Somehow this Jun, cozy in his sweats with damp hair and a lazy grin, is more imposing than the one who left the mess still staining your panties. But he doesn’t let you stay at the far end of the couch for long. Planted between long legs, back to his chest while his fingers tangle together on your stomach, you find it all feels right.

@tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @horanghaezone

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indestinatus · 3 months

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The silent art of gif making

The gif above has 32 layers plus 6 that aren't shown because this is part of a larger edit. I wanted to share it to give everyone a glimpse of the art of gif making and how long it usually takes for me to make something like this. This one took me about an hour and a half but only because I couldn't get the shade of blue right.

I use Adobe Photoshop 2021 and my computer doesn't have a large memory space (I don't know what to call it) so usually most of psds get deleted because I'm too lazy to get a hard drive. It doesn't really bother me that much because I like the art so when it's done, it's done. Off to somewhere else it goes.

Here are the layers:

Everything is neat and organized in folders because I like it that way. I prefer to edit it in timeline but others edit each frame. There's a layer not shown (Layer 4 is not visible) and it's the vector art. Here it is:

Now it is visible. I don't plan to make this a tutorial, but if you're interested I'd love to share a few tricks about it. I'm pretty new to the colors in gifmaking but the rest is simple to understand. Here, I just want to show how much work it takes to make it.

I opened Group 2 and here's the base gif. I already sharpened and sized it correctly but that's about it. Let's open the base coloring next.

Yay! Now it looks pretty! The edits are in Portuguese but it doesn't matter. There's a silent art of adding layers depending on how you want the gif to look but you get used to it. The order matters and you can add multiple layers of the same thing (for eg. multiple layers of levels or curves or exposure).

This was pretty much my first experiment with coloring so I don't know what I'm doing (this happens a lot with any art form but gifmaking exceeds in DIYing your way to the finished product) but I didn't want to mess up his hair, that's why the blue color is like that. Blue is easy to work with because there's little on the skin (different from red and yellow but that's color theory). I painted the layers like that and put it on screen, now let's correct how the rest looks.

I was stuck trying to get the right teal shade of blue so yes, those are 10 layers of selective color mostly on cyan blue. We fixed his hair (yay!) we could've probably fixed the blue on his neck too but I was lazy. This is close to what I wanted so let's roll with that.

BUT I wanted his freckles to show, so let's edit a little bit more. Now his hair is more vibrant and his skin has red tones, which accentuates the blues and his eyes (exactly what I wanted!). That lost Layer 2 was me trying to fix some shadows in the background but in the end, it didn't make such a difference.

This was part of an edit, so let's add the graphics and also edit them so they're the right shade of blue and the correct size. A few gradient maps and a dozen font tests later, it appears to be done! Here it is:

Please reblog gifsets on tumblr. We gifmakers really enjoy doing what we do (otherwise we wouldn't be here) but it takes so long, you wouldn't imagine. Tumblr is the main website used for gif making and honestly, we have nowhere to go but share our art here. This was only to show how long it takes but if you're new and want to get into the art of gif making, there are a lot of really cool resource blogs in here. And my ask box is always open! Sending gifmakers all my love.

#gif making #gif tutorial #resources #completeresources #y'know what that post yesterday got me into this #i love creativity so i send all my love to gifmakers #this is HARD #my tutorials #tutorials

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bowieandqueen11 · 6 months

Text

Moonlight Dalliance / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but I think I might have accidentally deleted it off Tumblr because I can’t find it now! Hope you enjoy and I’ll have another request out asap! 😘

Warning: spicy, implied sexual content, sword fighting, mentions of blood and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or it’s characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Before you had even reached the deck, you could hear the clashing of steel reverberating through your bunk.

If it hadn't been for the pouring of sawdust through the cracks in the ceiling beams that rained down like ash over your nostrils: if it hadn't been for the graceful leaps of careful footsteps lightly stepping in box squares above your hammock, you might have chalked down the noise to Roach's snoring. In fact, as you swing your legs over to your side and try, as quietly as possible, to land on the floor of the recreation room without waking as many as your ship mates as possible, said cook was trying to do his best impression of what could only be called a foghorn mixed with an incredibly rusty blender.

'For God's sake-!' The sound of Lucius' voice disturbing you as you were trying to tip toe towards the door almost makes you jump out of your skin. Unravelling Black Pete's arm from around his waist, he gives a final groan into the side of his pillow before throwing it in a wide arch straight at Roach's head. 'If you don't stop snoring I'll stick my wooden thumb, splinters and all, straight up your ar-.'

Thankfully, the sound of you wincing as you grab onto the handle and inch the hinges slowly backwards is drowned out by a stout HMPH as Lucius' pillow lands on Button's stomach. You can't help but let out a snicker at the way the man shoots straight up from his slumber like a scarecrow being raised in a field. He arches one eyebrow and glanced around intently. 'Attack, we're under attack!' You take the opportunity of your fellow crewmates either lunging out of their hammocks, or being tipped out onto the floor during the frantic hustle and bustle that followed to escape out to the helm of the ship. In fact, Wee John seemed to take far too much pleasure out of twirling the Swede's hammock so that the man ended up a mess of tangled limbs, yelping like a fly caught up in a spider's web as Oluwande tried to grab his arm and pull him back out. You didn't mind the good natured jostle of your friends: you had spent so much of the evening tossing and turning, unable to get the thought of one arrogant prick in particular out of your mind, and so the excuse to leave your bunk and get some fresh air was more than welcome.

The sea air - god, the sea air felt so kind on your tired lungs.

The night seemed fragile, the moonlight tender as it spilt over the creaking boards of the ship and pooled in a warm puddle around your feet. It seemed to widen within your eyes, a fine mist spraying like a wicked phantasm from its shadows and coating the surrounding sea in thin tendrils of smoke. With a mind hazed with tiredness, you rubbed at the corners of your eyes and tried to chase away that dream-like glow only the late night could bring. The sails caught in the mild wind and groaned above you, masking out the sounds of Izzy's short pants as he wiped his forehead with the untucked end of his shirt. In fact, not realising yet that you were standing only a mere few metres away from him, he grabbed his shoulder and tugged his shirt off completely, discarding it with a frustrated throw at Stede's cabin doors.

Two hands grip tighter on the wood, willing its body to relax. The tang of salt could do nothing to burn away the fizzling want banging against your ribcage, nor could the cool pinch of the helm railings distract you from the fact that you had spent every second of that day restless; as if on repeat, every time you closed your eyes, or had your thoughts distracted away from repairing the helm, or talking to Lucius, or exploring the islands Stede had insisted you all stop at so he could take Edward off on some grand adventure, you were taken back to that afternoon. The feel of Izzy Hands, the soft ache in his eyes, so desolate, so hopeful: when he had been congratulating you on a job well done fighting off some remote Englishman who had tried to ambush your crew once you had docked, and behind the thrum of his beating heart he hadn't the wit to stop his arm from reaching out and brushing the back of his knuckles against the droplets of blood splattered on your cheek.

His smile had dropped almost immediately of course, and he had run like a gun was being unloaded against his heels back into his quarters and hid there for the night, but the look in his eyes when he had touched you... god, if it wasn't enough to make Davy Jones repent his sins, for even his adoration for Calypso would seem like hatred in comparison.

Yet only the smoky gleam of the moon melting over the champagne waves kept your aching head company. The moon, being a sneaky temptress, was in fact the one thing that drew you to the cause of your distraction; squinting down onto the deck, it took you a minute to remember the reason you had come up here in the first place.

Izzy Hands. In the flesh. And lots of it, if the sweaty gleam of his bare chest was anything to go by.

It takes a moment for your mind to shape the shifting umbra into a perceptible form: he looks angry, furious, even, as his sword slices the misty air like swiss cheese and gives lashes to the main mast. The cherry wood cracks easily under the weight of his blows, the poor shaved shards that land by his feet obviously taking the brunt of the walloping you can only assume is meant for your captain.

Swallowing your nerves, you call out to the fickle shape. 'What are you doing wandering about at a time like this?'

He startles as you wander across the ship towards him, perching back against the side of the mast he was currently tearing to shreds. Incredulously, he looks you up and down before bowing his sword. Your laughter sweetens the edge of his blade, and for a moment Izzy's step falters at the sound.

‘I could ask you the very same thing. Don't you know that all the horrifying creatures slink out from the depths after the full moon rises.' He tilts his head at you, pushing his tongue up against his teeth to stop a smile from breaking like welcome dawn across his face. 'Would hate to see you get dragged away by something... wanton.'

You scratch your cheek, trying your best to hide how you were growing flustered at his words. 'Well, at least if I get dragged away I'll be going with clothes on.’

He flushed at that, head tilting down as he crossed his arms gruffly over his abdomen and blinked languidly.

'What are you actually still doing awake?', you ask, crossing your arms and doing your best not to fantasize about leaping forward and ripping the rest of his trousers straight off with one tear.

'I couldn't sleep.' What he didn't tell you, was that he couldn't sleep because he was so in love with you his heart felt like it was going to bleed out of his fucking chest any time he tried to distract himself from thoughts of you.

'Yeah, neither could I.' What you didn't tell him, was that you couldn't sleep because you were dreaming of grabbing Izzy by that scruffy collar and kissing him silly.

A tense silence suffocated the two of you, sliced only by Izzy shooting his sword through the air with one last precise carve through the freshly hollowed mast. Izzy whips out his wrist, clenching his fingers into a tight fist to try and alleviate some of the burning tension running through his joints at the desperation to touch you.

‘You did well today. As much as I hate to admit it, you can fight better than any of those other morons.’

‘A compliment? From Izzy Hands? Pinch me, I must still be dream-‘

‘Your footwork is a little rusty, though. Could use some work, so you don’t trip over and fall on your own bloody sword.’

‘There we go. There’s always a but with you, isn’t there? You can’t just give the compliment and leave it hanging.’

'I'm just saying... it would be a real shame to pierce such a breast.' Your breath hitches as his eyes dip down to contemplate the sliver of skin still on show between the free flowing buttons of your dress shirt. He sniffles, fingers almost indiscernibly tightening around the metal of the hilt as he did his best to stifle the overflowing shiver that was running up and down his legs. He keeps a tight watch on you for a moment, before biting his bottom lip with his top teeth and darting his eyes out towards the ocean, both incredibly aroused and also incredibly sheepish from having shown such weakness.

'And to ruin such a fine blade.'

He runs his hand across his beard, motion tired yet calculated. Too jolted to speak, let alone run away back down to your bunk and hide your head underneath Oluwande's arm for the rest of time, you leave Izzy the perfect opportunity to pounce.

’Here… come here’, his knuckles fold as he beckons you forward with one hand, his other still resting on the hilt of his rapier as he jabbed it into the floor and let it drop after a moment. If he had let it go just then, as he watched the swish of your hips approach him, he had a pretty good feeling his knees would buckle underneath him. ‘I have far more experience than you do. You ought to learn from a real pirate. Not the hoity toity arsehole that runs around this ship like a headless chicken.’

‘If I remember correctly’, you say sharply with a growing smile, ‘you lost against that headless chicken.’

‘Don’t.’ Before you have time to realise what’s happening, Izzy has grabbed you by the waist and rugged you back. He prays you didn’t hear the hoarse groan that jilted from the back of his throat as your buttocks bounced back against the tensed muscles of his lower abdomen. His voice is gruff and warm against the shell of your ear, but his fingertips burn with the ferociousness of a thousand lantern fires as he snakes his free hand around your shoulders and grips onto the bottom of your chin.

'Don't tease me. It won't end well for you.' His thumb digs into your jaw as he tilts your head back, and you can feel his smirk branding it’s way into the bare strip of skin between the nape or your neck and the hollow of your earlobe. Your head is fully resting back against his forehead now, and his vice on you only lessens once he’s content that you’re too far gone to step away from him.

'Put your foot... here', he guides your right foot forward with the toe of his boot, almost sinfully slowly so he could feel every twitch and tense of your quadriceps against the inside of his thigh. 'There you go, lean your weight forward-'.

He tips you then, doubling you over so your back is pushed down against his groin. You swear you can feel the curls of his hair fall in loose curls down against the small of your back, gathering that his head must be hovering just above your tailbone. For your own sake, to stop your legs from turning into jelly and letting your full weight fall so easily into Izzy's grip, you pretend the haunting moaning sound you hear must be from the hinges of the sails as they turn through the night sky.

'Perfect form', he breathes out in a short gasp against the shell of your ear once he's collected himself, his arm tightening around your stomach as he places you. His right hand drags down your arm, teasingly burning a trail right down over the back of your hand and onto your fingers as he entraps them with his own. He turns your hand, his own clenching so they fold over your own. 'That's it, now jut forward and strike.'

His knee pushes against the side of your buttocks as he jumps the two of you forward; he shoves a little too harshly, though, and just before your feet nearly trip backwards over the rotund exterior of a rogue barrel, Izzy's hand has shot out like a viper to latch its teeth around your wrist. His fingers squeeze as he tilts you upright again, a sharp exhale whistling out of his nose at how close you come to falling into his chest.

'You're not a bad teacher', you manage to laugh out between gasps, 'but unless you're packing... who doesn't bring a weapon to a sword fight?' Straddling to the side, you manage to slide down and grab onto his discarded sword, sweeping the tip through the air until it landed just below his chin. Tilting the skin up, you gaze down at him through dropped eyelids, his fingers now nearly convulsing against your wrist.

You manage to break free of his hold, grabbing onto his bare arm and pulling him so now he was the one caught in your trap. Your bicep holds around his stomach, moving with each tremble of his breath as you graze the sharp edge of his rapier down across his face and jut it under his jaw.

The bastard only smiles as you hold the edge of his blade against his throat.

'Did you really think you could win this fight?', he asks between the tight lips of a knowing smile, and it takes you a second to realise that his free hand has wrapped round to hold onto yours on top of the handle. He shoves the blade away, kicking out with his foot so you trip backwards. He easily catches you before you hit the ground.

You dance your fingers up his chest as he holds you tight against him, dipped down like lovers do during the first dance. All the stars burn deep within the depths of his soul, pouring out like razing destruction from his eyes as he keeps darting a path between your nose, and back down to your lips.

'I don't think you won this either, Izzy Hands. In fact, I think we both lost something here.' You spread your fingers out over the bare skin across his pec, feeling the flittering thud of his heart pound out against your fingertips.

By god, if he had ever been so delighted to lose.

His lips ravish you like a man shrivelled under the island sun, desperate to drown; before your gasp can fully deflate from your lungs, your legs have been kicked out from underneath you by a swift and skilled kick from the side of his boot.

Oh, he had been planning this for a long time. Had been thinking of nothing but this since he had boarded this vessel. The tightness of his arm as it snakes around your back and stops your shoulders from taking the brunt of the bounce off the boards: the way he throws his rapier behind his back without a second care, instead replacing his clenched fingers with the reddened meat of your hip as he levers you down was far too precise and meticulous to be a mere spur of the moment, subconscious thought.

An uncomfortable heat shivers over your torso and settles as an anchor weight in the pit of your stomach as Izzy grazes his right hand over the top of your thigh. Plop. Plop. Plop. His leather gloves ball as he taps his finger one by one, teasingly, against your inner thigh, using them to shove your legs wider apart. His lips pull away with a sickeningly sweet pop from your neck only for a second, as he breathlessly glances his eyes in a jagged path across your face.

He looks wonderstruck.

You can't help but reach out to touch the tough muscle of his left peck, swirling your finger across the short strands of his chest hair. The soft scrape of your fingernail soon turns into your fingers fully spreading out like the tendrils of a swift current once you feel him bury his head into the curve of your neck; his chin juts into your pulse point and the bastard has the audacity to whimper at the feel of your palm brushing over the hardened tip of his nipple.

If he wasn't living out all of his deepest, darkest dreams, the man nearly collapsed on top of you may have felt embarrassed at the way his pelvis began to buck down and brush the tightening leather over the rising line of skin underneath your belly button. In your turn to be bashful, you can feel a flush crawl over your cheeks as Izzy grabs onto the bottom of your thigh and tugs you closer, fist clenching over your ankle as he throws your right leg up and over the side of his hip bone. His hands are surprisingly soft, surprisingly gentle as he claws and kneads and mewls into you, his lips dragging down and over to the side of your jaw now with quick, tempered nicks.

You're scared his skin is going to melt off at the bone with how it burns against your hip: it holds tightly to the side of your pelvis, his thumb toying with the tassels hanging from the band of your trousers as he impetuously grinds down against you again. You can feel his shit eating smirk as the flat edge of his tongue licks a hot streak up to the shell of your ear; he bites down, tugging at your earlobe and clenching his fingernails so tightly into the soft skin at the side of your buttocks that you were amazed he didn't draw blood.

‘What on earth was that noise?! What’s going on up here! Which hooligan is up making a ruckus on my ship? And so late! I know you wanted another bedtime story, but I told you, we all need our beauty sleep!’

The glim flicker of a handheld candle illuminated out from the stairway as the ruffled hair of your captain peered out past the door like a startled meerkat. With wide eyes, he mustered the courage to lift up the skirts of his nightshirt and take a step out onto the deck, away from the safety of Ed's gentle snores as they billowed out through the crack.

Before your captain can spot the two of you caught in such an awkward position: Izzy grinding against you like a needy dog, your hand bunched into a tight fist in his hair and your legs wrapped tightly around his taut waist, he shoves a gloved finger to your lips. Annoyed at being disturbed, you tilt the hand gripping his hair backwards and smirk to yourself as Izzy dips his head down to land between your breast bone to try and hide his groans.

Before you can tease him anymore, he's gripped onto your wrist and is tugging you up; he's near carrying you bridle style in his arms as he slips past the railings of the ship, mingling in with the shadows. His hand covers your mouth to stop your giggles, carrying you off down to the bunk of his room so the two of you can carry on your midnight dalliance where your poor, confused captain wouldn't be able to hear the pounding of the bed as its frame shudders against the wall and your screams echo out against the silent moonlight.

#Ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #izzy hands imagine #Izzy hands x reader #Con o’neill #ofmd imagine #israel hands #Israel hands imagine #Israel hands x reader #Our flag means death imagine

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mxtives · 10 months

Text

where she goes

pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

rating: mature

word count: 3.6k+

cw: nsfw | 18+, roommates w/ sexual tension, arousal, biting, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, rough sex, praise, unprotected, p in v

story summary: miguel has finally had enough of you walking around the apartment half naked. so he catches you off guard this time.

notes: I haven’t even watched the movie yet so if there’s any spoilers, they’re v minor. this is also my first tumblr post n I have no idea how to work this 😭 it messed up all my formatting when I brought it over from ao3, where I first posted it. either way I hope it’s still enjoyable

song I named the fic after bc I have no creativity :D

He pressed harder against your backside, bringing your hips flush to the marble counter. By this point you were certain that he wasn't trying to hide the heat just below his waist band. "Your-"

"Don't move," he spoke gruffly, just above a whisper. You stilled as his arms encircled your waist and he leaned his head into the crook of your shoulder, inhaling deeply. He exhaled just as heavily, fingers gripping your sides like his life depended on it.

"Miguel-!" You started, trying to turn your head to face him. One of his hands flew to your jaw, gripping your chin tightly and forcing your gaze forward toward the wall where you could see the shadow of his overwhelmingly large figure stretching across the cabinets before you. "Stop that," he mumbled it against your neck, following up with a harsh bite. You felt his fangs sink into your skin, not deep enough to draw blood but enough to leave an impression. Miguel O'Hara was here. It brought a loud whine from your throat and he lifted his head from your neck in response.

"You can't be prancing around in my apartment in this getup," Miguel grunted, lips against your ear. His hand began to travel, from your waist upward, bringing the hem of your tank with it. "For fucks sake," he said, tugging your tank down harshly. The collar dipped, exposing more of your chest along the way.

"But it's just us in here..." you trailed off as you felt his fingers creep under your tank, now pressing against the base of your ribcage.

"Exactly. Do you even know-!" He cut himself off with a heavy sigh. "Oh you don't know. You don't know at all," he said darkly. His hand didn't stop. Soon it was pressed between your breasts. You swallowed weekly, wanting so badly to look up and see the look on Miguel's face.

"You know what I'm gonna do next, right?" He asked, hands finally coming to a halt. Goosebumps rose across your skin, you lost confidence in your voice, only nodding in response. "Hm? You know what I'm gonna do? And you want it?" He asked again, shifting his hips to where you could feel him even more through your thin spandex shorts.

"Mhm," you hum desperately, not trusting your voice. He only grunted, and the hand on your chin drifted down to your throat, where he gripped firmly enough for you to feel a slight pressure. "Say it."

"Yes," you breathed out, lips trembling as you tucked them into your mouth.

"Good."

His hand left your body for a brief moment, leaving your skin feeling cold in the absence of his touch. After a second and what sounded like a huff from behind you, he was touching you again. All over, his hands trailed from your shoulders to your chest, gripping and massaging in a way that made you mewl. Your waist to your lower back, pushing against it with a large palm. Pushing your stomach further into the counter almost painfully. He rubbed his cock against your ass and you flinched unsuspectingly as you felt his lips on the back of your neck, sucking softly as he massaged your ass with his right hand.

"Mm," he groaned in your ear, a low sound—almost like a growl, from the back of his throat. The heat from your stomach pooled into your panties, and you pushed your ass further against the bulge in his pants. His hand landed down on your ass with a loud clap in response, making you yelp and squirm as pain erupted over the surface of your skin. "Don't move just yet," he growled in your ear.

When his left hand found the waistband of your shorts, you didn't make any attempt to stop him. How long has this been going on? This pent up sexual frustration between the two of you. Countless times has Miguel imagined taking your pants off, slipping your panties down your legs and licking at your cunt until you cried. Bending you over the washing machine and fucking you senseless, every week when you fold clothes past midnight wearing your skimpy fucking 'pyjamas' that hide next to nothing. What he would do to just touch you. Get familiar with the feeling of your skin against his, moulding your figure to his, and learning every surface of your body until he had it all memorized. And now he had all the access he ever wanted, because you gave it to him.

"Can I take these off?" He asked, fingers already dipping past your waistband. You nodded rapidly, barely sighing out a yes. You had barely nodded once before he was yanking the shorts harshly down your legs, jolting you in the process.

Miguel was in a dangerous position. The curve of your ass mesmerized him and he was all so absorbed he almost forgot that he was presently in this moment. He swallowed thickly, bringing his attention away from your backside and to your tank. You had already began to tug the hem upwards before he joined you, pulling the top over your head in one smooth motion.

The removal of your shirt left your hair slightly messy, and Miguel felt his length strain against his slacks as he began to imagine what it'd look like once he was done with you.

You heard the metallic clink of a belt, followed by a zipper and a little bit of shuffling before something heavy was resting against your ass. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you tried to gauge the size of him. Even with his thighs no longer flush to yours, he easily grazed the center of your back. You tried to turn again. Miguel didn't stop you this time, and instead pressed his lips against yours as soon as they were within reach. You sighed into his lips, bringing your arms around his neck.

His shoulders were firm beneath your palms, muscles moving fluidly as he moved to cup your ass. He tugged your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up onto the island counter, making space for himself between your legs. His lips were warm against yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he cupped your throat again. His tongue was warm when it pressed against yours, and you couldn't help but moan into his mouth, clenching your fingers against his back. You could compare kissing him to swinging between buildings, jumping from a skyscraper. That adrenaline rush that you loved, you found it all over again in his lips.

"Fuck," he cursed lowly as he pulled away. You tried to chase after him but he was already making his way down your throat with his lips. And he kept moving downwards, until he sunk to his knees and his face was lined up with your navel. Then you finally clued in on what he was about to do.

"Oh, you don't have to..." you trailed off. He was shaking his head, the look on his face indicating no sign of swaying.

"I want to. Of course, you can say no," he uttered, gaze piercing yours. You were basically leaking onto the counter as you stared at the broad man from above. The sight of his hulking figure between your legs, face just inches away from where you ached most, fingers gripping either thigh with enough force to leave bruises. It had your stomach coiling. In fear of what noises you might make should you open your mouth, you placed your hand in his hair instead, just barely nudging him towards you.

The corner of his lip lifted—you think it did, just enough to look like a smirk and not a second later, his face was buried in your pussy.

The long striped he licked from your entrance to your clit had your toes curling, arm going rigid below you. "Oh, fuck," you moaned. His soft brown locs peaked from between your fingers as you gripped at his hair, anchoring yourself while he licked at your cunt like he hadn't eaten in days. When he sucked particularly hard at your clit, you couldn't help but try to clench your thighs closed around his head, but his strong grip kept them where he wanted and he grunted against you in protest. "I'm not done with you," he looked up at you briefly, giving you a glimpse at the mess you'd made of his face. You bit your lip as your clit throbbed, holding in a moan and instead gripped at his hair, looking up at the ceiling through bleary eyes. Miguel let out a delicious moan in response to the tug at his scalp, and the heat in your stomach coiled tighter.

"Ah!" You yelped as you felt him pinch at your inner thigh. "Eyes on me," he murmured against you. The vibration against your clit made you shudder as you snapped your eyes back down to him. He was already looking at you, and for some reason, the intensity in his eyes made your face flush as you struggled to maintain eye contact.

You felt a finger prod at your entrance, Miguel was still looking at you, one brow raised in question. He wanted to know if he could keep going, and you thought of what a stupid idea it would be to say no. You nodded softly at him, urging him on. Slowly, his middle finger presses against you and slips inside with little resistance. Your mouth falls open and you can barely voice a moan when his finger bottoms out inside you. Miguel can feel your cunt flutter and pulse as it stretches around his finger, he can feel every ridge inside your plush walls as you squeeze him tight.

“Mm, oh fuck,” you cried out, fingers gripping at his hair for purchase. This was nothing like it felt to have your own fingers inside you. It was nowhere near close. His fingers were long, thick, and every brush of his knuckles had you jolting around him.

Your stomach felt tighter and hotter as he only fed the fire, curling his finger just barely as he slid it in and out of you. With one quirk of his digit, he was brushing directly against your sweetest spot, and he kept doing so. Over and over again.

“Can you—fuck, can you add another,” you we’re seeing stars. You had never been stimulated like this. Everything felt different with him. Everything felt more. And so you begged him to put another finger in you, knowing that nothing would ever make you feel the way he was. The earlier embarrassment was long gone, you were far too overwhelmed with the sensation he was giving you to care.

When he brings his eyes back to yours, he adds a second finger and glides his tongue over your clit, he feels you clench be wildly around his fingers. He moans along with you, even smiling softly as he watched your face scrunch in pleasure.

Miguel’s fingers begin to move faster, his knuckles slapping against your cunt lewdly as his tongue continues to toy with your clit. It was wet and messy and the sounds you were making only had him moving faster.

“I-I’m-! Miguel!” your jaw was slack as you stammered.

When he brought his thumb up to replace his tongue and rub circles at your clit, you felt the pressure build inside you, the swelling and consuming warmth of your orgasm rock violently against you, your jaw going slack as you fought to keep your eyes from rolling back. Your legs attempted again to close and shut him out, trembling with the shocks of your orgasm. Miguel grunted as he watched you shudder with each pass of his tongue and fingers. If not for your hips canting away from his lips, he might have never stopped, lost in the way you looked as you orgasmed above him.

You were out of breath, but you could've sworn you heard the muttering of what could've been beautiful, fuck or just good girl over your harsh breaths.

Miguel was above you again, swiping a hand over his lips, tongue snaking out to catch what was left of your juices. Your stomach was coiling all over again at the way he was looking at you. Yet, before you could even tell him how good you felt, you were in his arms again.

"Oh!" You barely gasped out before his lips were back on yours. They slid against yours with a renewed fervour, bitting and nibbling at your lips aggressively. His length rested hot against your stomach, and it almost freaked you out how he was so heavy on your navel.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard," he panted against your lips. "Miguel," you breathed. You felt his length twitch against you. Miguel cursed under his breath, looking down where his dick rubbed against your dripping sex.

No longer feeling patient, you wiggled a hand down between your bodies and wrapped a hand around his length. Miguel sighed above you, tensing as you pumped him once, twice. You shifted your hips closer to his, dragging his tip along your swollen folds.

"Go slow," you advised with a soft whisper, still in the afterglow of your last orgasm.

"Yeah, fuck, I don't wanna rip you in half,"

And then you were easing him into your entrance.

"Cariño," Miguel groaned out as he sunk into you. His eyes were still trained on where you two met, as were yours. You were biting your lip, hard. The stretch wasn't nearly as painful as it could be given your previous orgasm, and the pressure felt good, you felt full. The pressure is delicious, stretching and aching, and exhilarating, intoxicating, and all you can think is how much you've been longing for this. The sharp sensation of something far too big pushing inside you, the way he mutters fuck, your name and a plethora of other curses.

"You're squeezing me tight," he breathes against your temple, sounding like he was under deep strain. "I wish you knew the things I've thought about you at night," he groaned as he canted his hips once softly.

You let out a moan, a mix between a grunt and an embarrassingly loud mewl that you cannot possibly believe came from your mouth. "M-me too," you felt so full you could barely speak. It was a grosse understatement to say you thought about him here and there, but it was all you could muster in the moment that he started to move his hips.

"Yeah?" His teeth are at your neck again, licking in time with his thrusts and leaving marks wherever he could reach. "Good. 'Cause you're all I can think about,"

Your stomach stirs at his words, clenching around him as he moves inside you, once, twice, and a third time, particularly harsh.

Miguel doesn't last long before he's hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and trapping himself within you. Your breath hitches as the movement seats him inexplicably deep inside you, forcing your chest high in the air as if trying to escape the intrusion.

"I wanna take you to bed," He's already walking away as he says so, walking swiftly with you in his arms as if he was holding a sack of feathers. With every step, you jostled against his length, every footfall pushing him in and out of you and up against your womb. Your hands were in his hair and your lips tucked tightly into your mouth, holding back your many sounds of pleasure.

Before you could even reach for the light switch, Miguel was whisking you away, depositing you on the bed like you weighed nothing and holding himself above you, arms pulled taught as he strained to keep himself still. His eyes strayed across every surface of your skin in the dim room, and his hands followed his gaze, trailing up your sides, your arms, your hips. "Fuck, look at you," he mutters, eyes low and dark. You want to cower away from his gaze, use your hands to make a feeble attempt to cover yourself up, but something in his eyes tells you that he wouldn't stand for that.

"C'mere," he's on your lips again, still buried inside you. Just a minute ago, he was pushing deeper inside you than you thought was possible, and now there's this gentle sliding of lips and tongues, Miguel is nibbling at you and his hands hold the sides of your face, the back of your head, and suddenly your neck. His hand covers the blossoming hickeys on your skin and your head begins to empty itself of anything but the thought of him.

"I want to kiss you everywhere," he mutters against your mouth, weakly kissing at the corner of your lips. You couldn't muster a response, instead placing a palm flat against his lower stomach. You needed him to move again. Your core was aching so badly for him, it almost made you want to cry.

"Move," you breathed out, one hand wrapping around his own that was gripping your throat. Miguel's lips formed a weak smirk, peering down at you a lust filled gaze.

"C'mon cariño," he was thrusting again now, softly, in and out of your cunt. The arm he'd been leaning on begins to shake visibly. "You must know by now," Your neck craned in his grip, tipping your head back against the pillow as your core began to heat up all over again. "Know what?"

"How hard it's been to keep my hands off you. Fuck, how much I've wanted this, wanted you, almost since the very beginning," His eyes are glazed, muscles taught as he peers down at you through heavy lids. Your chest begins to rise and fall dramatically, short of breath and short of words. Your knuckles go pale as you fist the sheets, while Miguel moves his supporting hand to grip at your hip, fingers practically piercing your skin. You shudder as he cants his hips with new rhythm, thrusting harder and deeper into you. He tells you how beautiful you are, how he wants to feel all of you, kiss you and fuck you for hours. You cling to his arms as you feel the spasms rise, your body rocking with each of his sharp thrusts.

He slips out, and back in again while his hand explored the small of your back, pulling you into him. Your head fell back against the pillow, a mewl escaping your lips as his thrusts turned fast and consuming, forcing tremors of pleasure up your spine.

"You gonna come sweetheart?" His thumb was tracing your bottom lip, hand still tight around your neck. You nodded wordlessly, eyes focused on the vague image of his face through blurry eyes. You couldn't muster very many words in your fucked out state. "Say it," Miguel said firmly, his hand shifting back to your hip to find more purchase.

You had both of your hands gripping his wrist now. "I’m gonna come," your eyes were watering. "P-please," you gasped out between thrusts.

He was smirking. "Good girl," Then the hand on your throat returned to your hip, gripping tightly as he began to piston his hips into yours at an unforgiving pace. Your chest jolted with every thrust and Miguel couldn't seem to draw his gaze away from your blissed out face. You cried out, back arching away from the bed, legs locking around his waist to bring him impossibly closer to you.

"C'mon cariño," he coaxed you and the spasms started, the heat in your stomach exploding across your body. "Miguel," his name left your lips with a moan as your hips rose from the bed to meet his thrusts, eyes screwing shut as the sensation washed over your body, your legs twitching.

"That's it cariño, good girl," He voice came out strained, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm while chasing after his own. Everything was still blurry when you heard him make a crude noise, shuddering as he pumped hard and muttered nonsense into your neck. You felt his orgasm, his trembling arms as he spilled inside you and his hips came to a halt. A new shiver ripped through your spine as he filled you, and you couldn't stop a smile from growing on your lips. You both panted heavily, the air hot around you as sweat slicked your bodies.

"Fuck," Miguel grunted as he slipped out of you and leaned over your twitching body. His palms ran the length of you thighs, smoothing over the goosebumps erupting on your skin. You took a moment to catch your breath, looking up at his face in the pale light of the moon. He looked handsome even when his face shined with sweat.

"Good?" He whispered, eyes on yours as you gazed at him silently. It took you a moment to nod, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. Whether he was confirming that you were okay, or if the sex was good, you weren't sure, but the answer to both was yes. You leaned into the hands that were caressing your skin gently.

"Yes," you voiced it out loud, pushing yourself up slowly with two weak arms. "That was amazing," you sighed out. You made a move to draw your legs to yourself, meaning to head to the washroom, but a hand on your waist stopped you.

Oh.

When your gaze fell curiously back to Miguel's blank face, you realized, upon looking down, that he was still painfully hard. "I'm not done with you," he said lowly, just like before, pushing you back towards the bed with a hand on your shoulder. "Yeah, I should've known better," you smiled weakly. Miguel chuckled, his figure looming over you becoming all too familiar. "You should've. It's gonna be a long night."

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #smut #my writing #mxtives #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #Spotify

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cebwrites · 11 months

Note

Hey hey! I'm not new here but I am quite shy!!

I'm a little buzzed though so hehehehehe ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭

If it's okay, could I ask for Sanji's reaction to a male s/o wearing his shirt? Maybe it's a tad too big? XP

Sanji's just.. filled with love? Sorry I'm a little hehehehehehe

a/n: liquid courage to help the tumblr asking go down!! thank you for sending this in and enjoying my work from the shadows 💕

(i'm adding some north blue boys for space filler under the cut if you don't mind <33)

reacting to their boyfriend wearing their shirt (Sanji, Drake, Law)

masc reader, he/they law word count: 0.5k

Sanji

Like you said, anon, he's completely filled with love <3

Sanji whines and twirls for you at the drop of a hat for no particular reason on the average day anyway, but for this? Shit, he might have to actually sit down for a minute

When you roll your eyes and lightly whack his shoulder for the theatrics, Sanji takes ahold of your hands to press the gentlest of kisses against them, you note how the scruff on his upper lip tickles your skin

He'd take a moment to spin you slowly admiring you in his loose dress shirt in the blushing morning light, pulling you close for even more kisses in his lap when he simply can't take having even an inch of space away from you

He's completely and utterly smitten with you, hiding the heat radiating from his face in your shoulder before his own embarrassing thoughts can get the best of him, but would you really have it any other way?

Drake

The first time he sees it, Drake doesn't quite know how to process this information - tangled up in the sheets, a few loose strands of hair framing your face, and the comfy dino shirt he usually wore to bed on days off adorning your sleeping figure instead

He may or may not have blown a fuse from the cuteness

It's not that you're small by any means, the average man's height with decent bulk, but Drake is just, well - huge, standing at 7'7, the guy does tower over most regular folk quite a bit ('regular' people in the Grand Line need not apply)

So its natural that his clothes leave more than a little bit of room for you to swim in

It's not hard to make him a flustered mess to begin with, but with this added bonus, you tease him to no end - walking around the house in just his ratty old sleep shirt all day, cuddling in his lap while wearing it, trying on different things from his wardrobe and then asking your dino boyfriend's opinion on how you look - truly, you'll be the death of him

Law

They're unamused, at least on the surface, that you keep stretching out their hoodies

There's no doubt whenever Law gets a new sweater or shirt that it'll hang awkwardly on them within the next few months (it needs some time before it starts to smell like him, of course)

Law pulls your ear and gives you the patent 'angry kitty' stare and pretends to push you away when you want cuddles for doing this, but they can never stay too mad at you for long

Eventually, Law starts to buy clothes that are a little bigger on purpose for when the inevitable happens - of course, there are some hoodies that off limits lest you get the cold shoulder and locked out of their bedroom for the night

But perhaps Law shouldn't complain as much as they do, especially when you catch your beloved captain cutely falling asleep at his desk in one of your animal print hoodies, or see them groggily drag their feet into the kitchen in the morning wearing draws a little too loose on them

#cebwrites #one piece #one piece x reader #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji x male reader #sanji x reader #one piece x drake #one piece drake #op drake x reader #op x drake #trafalgar law #one piece law #law x reader #law x male reader #male reader #he/they trafalgar law

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Text

𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

valentine's day masterlist

summary - after a long day of doing his job, cupid steve is stopped by a beautiful woman. one that leaves him a whimpering mess, one that is also his happily ever after.

warning - sub steve, dom reader, oral sex, swearing, slightly public, teasing, angst, fluff, sex with cupid, steve sorta feels bad about himself.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Steve had just finished shooting people with arrows, smiling sadly as he watched all of these people fall in love, wondering if he would ever get that. Steve had realised that being Cupid made finding love harder, especially when women would see his size. He knew he wasn’t like most men. He was small and shy.

He dodged the many dancing bodies as he began to head to the exit, not noticing that your eyes had been on him the whole night. You step out of the shadows, and your sleeveless tight black dress catches Steve’s attention, causing his breath to hitch. He takes in the laced sides, black heels matched with your see-through tights, and black gloves. Steve feels his eyes nearly bug out of his head when he notices how well the dress fits your body, forming perfectly around your breasts and hugging your mouthwatering figure.

“Hey, Pretty Boy. Where are you going looking so glum?” His mouth opens and closes as he focuses on your plump red lips. He wondered how they would feel against his skin. Steve felt like he was staring too long, but you looked like a goddess with how you looked, how your perfectly curled hair fell to your shoulders, your red shaded lips spread into the prettiest smile he’s ever seen. “Hmm? Haven’t found yourself a pretty girl to dance with?” You circle him, your eyes scanning his small form, causing Steve to squirm.

Steve gulps. He shakes his head, and his palms become clammy as your sweet scent enters his senses. “N–no, I’m not–” You press a perfectly manicured finger to his lips, smirking slightly as he squirms.

“It’s okay, Sugar. I’m glad no one’s snatched up a sweet little thing like you.” You lean in, your breath blowing softly against his ear. “Means I get to have you all to myself.” You look deep into his ocean-coloured eyes, a dark glint in your eyes as his face becomes flushed. “Would you like that, Sugar? Would you like to be all mine? Have me devour and worship you? Would you like that, Pretty Boy?”

Steve feels his pants tighten, nodding slowly as you drag a nail down his cheek and neck. Your wicked smile pulls him deeper into the darkness the more he stares. “I–I would… Like that… But, I’m” He looks down at himself, suddenly full of sadness, before he looks back into your eyes. “Haven’t you seen me? I’m not what women want.”

You smile sadly, hand moving down until you rest it on his side, the feel of silk beneath your fingertips. “Oh, Sugar. You’re perfect. Now, what do you say we get out of here?” You move closer. Pressing your body against him, and a shocked gasp escapes you when you feel his impressive bulge. “Oh, we definitely need to get out of here. I didn’t know you were packing, Pretty Boy.” When you press your palm into his bulge, a whimper leaves Steve, and he nods frantically.

“Y–yes, yes, please.” He felt his member throb and twitch from your touch, his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, and his knees almost give out. Steve’s hand latches onto your arm, pressing himself closer to you. “Please, please.”

You stroke his cheek with your other hand, continuing to press into his swelling cock. “You’re such a good boy, Sugar. C’mon, we can’t exactly have you a whimpering mess in such a public place, now, can we?” Steve shakes his head, his mind becoming too fuzzy even to think. A pained whimper escapes him when you remove your hand, placing it into his as you lead him out of the room and into the lobby. You lead Steve to the elevator, and the minute the door shut. You pounce, covering his flushed neck with nips and kisses.

You push him against the wall, your tongue lapping at his sweet spot, sucking it into your mouth and feeling your core throb as moans fall from his lips. Steve doesn’t know where to put his hands, clenching and unclenching them as you continue to make him feel the most intense pleasure. “P–please.”

You pull away, and your lust-filled eyes meet his half-lidded ones. You lean close, lips inches away from his, but not touching. “Please, what, Sugar? What do you want, hmm?” He whimpers, and his mouth opens as he’s about to reply, but he’s cut off by the elevator doors opening. “C’mon, Pretty Boy. Maybe you can tell me what you want in my room.” You grab hold of his hand again, dragging him along before you reach the door to your room. You let his hand go for a split second to open it before grabbing hold of him again.

Steve’s eyes take in how pretty the room is, not being able to look for long as you drag him to the bedroom. His heart skips a beat, not believing his luck. You softly push him onto the soft bed, his eyes wide as he watches you teasingly strip from your dress. Steve’s mouth drops open, and his eyes slowly drag down your form. “You… You’re so beautiful….” He blinks and then blinks again. His widened eyes shot up and met yours, “I–I’m sorry!”

You smirk, slowly moving toward him and leaning over. You begin to stroke his cheek with your hand, “It’s okay, Sugar.” He struggles to keep eye contact with you, which is extremely hard as your plump breasts sit perfectly, and your bare cunt is on display for all to see. Your gloves and heels are still on, and your dress and tights are piled on the floor as you kneel on the bed and crawl toward Steve. “So, Pretty Boy. What do you want?”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes, feeling his member strain against his pants more at the sight of you. “Y–you… I want you.” He gasps, eyes closing as your lips touch his. His hand moves until it rests on the back of your head, his other gripping your hip. His head tilts back slightly as your lips move together, and a soft whimper escapes him when your tongue slithers into his awaiting mouth. Your hand moves slowly, travelling up his thigh and to his twitching member. You palm it, enjoying the cute little whimpers that leave him. Your fingers begin to unzip his zipper, freeing his impressive cock.

“Well, well. How do you manage to get around with this in your pants? Huh, Sugar?” Steve blabbers, mouth hanging open as you stroke his base, thumb swirling around his leaking tip. Collecting some of his arousal and placing your thumb into your mouth, eyes connected with his as you suck, Steve feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. You move down his body, face levelled with the thick member. “So pretty, so big.” His hips jerk as you run your fingers along his base. “I must be the luckiest woman alive.” When your eyes connect, you smirk and lean forward. Your tongue pokes out and laps the arousal from his thick mushroom tip. “You taste so good, Sugar.” You swirl it around before you wrap your lips around his cockhead, sucking him into your mouth.

“Oh! Oh! P–please… too– much!” Steve arches, his member sliding deeper into your mouth the more his hips jerk. The pleasure becomes too much as you continue to suck. His hands grip whatever he can, his vision turning white. “Oh, please! Y–you are a goddess!” His eyes connect with yours, causing his balls to tighten as he watches your tongue swirl around his cock, before you slowly make your way down to his heavy sacks. Steve sees his life flash before his eyes as you suck them into your mouth, swirling and rolling your tongue as your hand comes up to stroke his wet cock. Steve felt his thighs clench and unclench as you continued to switch between sucking his soul out through his cock and massaging his balls with your wonderfully talented mouth.

You pull away, hands still working their magic as you stare at him with a sultry look. “Cum for me, Sugar. Let me swallow all of you, milk you dry until you are nothing but a whimpering mess.” With those words and your mouth wrapping itself around his swollen tip again, Steve goes blind, blacking out for a split second as he spills into your mouth, ropes of cum shooting out of him. You clench around nothing as his sweet moans fill the room, fingers tangled in your hair as he loses himself. You pull away, lapping up the rest of his cum and licking your lips. Steve blinks, finally getting his vision back, his chest rapidly moving up and down as he tries to catch his breath. His pretty blues connect with yours as you smirk. A gasp escapes him as you wrap your hand around his hardening cock. “Aren’t you a good boy? Wanna cum deep inside me, Pretty Boy?” His cock twitches and throbs beneath your palm, eyes rolling back as he nods. “Words, Sugar. Be a good boy for me.”

Steve whimpers, “Yes, yes, please! Please, can I cum deep inside you? I’ll be so good, your good boy!” His breath hitches when his gaze lands on your kneeled position. The soft moonlight hitting your skin makes you look eternal. Your smudged red lipstick and tousled hair causes Steve’s heart to beat rapidly in his chest, never having seen someone so beautiful, so flawless in his whole existence. It felt as though he had finally found his missing piece and was ready to give himself over to you: his heart, mind and soul, everything in the entire universe.

You smile, crawling on top of him and positioning his cock at your entrance. “Good boy. My sweet boy.” Yours and Steve’s eyes roll to the back of your head as you sink down, “Oh, my pretty boy. You feel so good stretching me out. You should feel proud of yourself. Especially with this monster between your legs.” A pleasured moan escapes you. Steve’s head is thrown back as he feels you throb and squeeze him. Steve grips your hips, whimpering, and his hips try to jerk up as you refuse to move. “Uh ah, Sugar. What’s the magic word?”

Steve groans as you roll your hips, your nails digging into his chest as you wait for the magic word. “Please, please! I’ll be a good boy. Please just move!” A whimper leaves him as you move, rolling and bouncing, his thick member sliding in and out of you as you ride him. “Oh, s–so good!” He felt his whole world explode, never having experienced pleasure like this before. His hips began to jerk up, unable to control himself as the feel of your warm, heaven-like cunt seduced him into a slobbering mess.

“You feeling alright, Pretty Boy?” You breathe out, slowing down your pace because you enjoy how he begs you to pick up the pace. How he’d whimper as he tried jerking his hips, tried to move your hips desperately, but gives up because he felt so weak. You roll your hips slowly, and your head tilts back when you feel him brushing up against your g-spot. Steve whimpers. Soft pleas escape him.

“O–oh, please move, please. I’ll do anything!” You lean down, bringing him into a deep passionate kiss as you begin to pick up the pace, swallowing the sweet sounds that escape him, bringing the both of you as much pleasure as possible. Your moans fall from your lips and into Steve’s, enjoying how his gifted cock hits all of your sweet spots.

You begin to feel your walls clenching around him, pulsating as you get closer to your climax. “Pretty Boy, cum for me.” You whisper into his ear before moving down and pressing heavy kisses on his neck. Marking him as yours, you moan softly against his flesh as pleasured sounds escape him. His hips stutter, and his hands grip your hips as he buries himself deep inside you. His cock twitches and throbs, balls tightening, his back arches and large ropes of cum shoot out of him, filling you to the brim. Leaving Steve a whimpering mess as you pulsate wildly around him and cum, your arousal leaking out of you, covering the poor man underneath.

As you both come down from your blissful endings, you shakily remove Steve’s softening cock from your sopping cunt and fall beside him, your fingers finding their way to your mouth as you lick the both of you off of them. Your eyes connect with exhausted blue ones that are focused on your arousal-covered fingers. Your hand slowly moves toward his awaiting mouth, gently sliding your fingers inside and connecting eyes as he moans, lapping your juices up like it’s his last meal. “Next time, I’ll let you feast on me, but only if you are a good boy.”

Steve whimpers and his head falls back into the pillow as your fingers slip from his mouth. “I–I’m Steve, by the way….” He stares at you, wondering how you could look even more beautiful. He watches you smile, moving closer to him, and your still-gloved hand strokes his cheek, causing his eyes to flutter closed.

“Such a pretty name for a pretty man.” You lean forward and place a kiss on his plump lips. “I’m Y/n, Sugar, and I’m so glad I found you after all this time. I thought I had lost you.” His eyes slowly open, brows furrowed as he looks at you confused. He feels strangely safe as you stroke his skin. “I’ve been watching you… Ever since I saw you shoot your cute little arrows into my friend and her now fiance and then fly away with your adorable wings. I had always wondered when you’d shoot me and give me my happily ever after.” You stare deep into his eyes as you whisper the next part. “But, now I finally understand… You were always meant to be my happily ever after.”

Steve could feel tears beginning to form, wondering how he had gotten so lucky after all this time of wondering if he was destined to be forever alone. He reaches his hand out and cups your cheek, feeling his heart warm when you lean into his touch, smiling at him. Not being able to find the right words, Steve finds the courage to lean forward and lock his lips with yours, eyes fluttering closed as they move with one another passionately.

You break from the kiss, and a soft whisper leaves you. “My Pretty Boy.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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voxofthevoid · 28 days

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Vore Wednesday#2—revamped 🦷

Tumblr ate my original post for this, which I found out last week while looking up that snippet for an ask response. Since it'll be July or something before your resistance, prophetic self-destruction goes up on Ao3, I figured I might as well reinstate the post.

For folks who haven't seen this before, here's the fic I started the WIP Wednesday snippets for. It's kinda wild remembering how quiet the JJK side of my blog was back then. For folks who have already read this, there's still new material since I've doubled the length of the excerpt.

(Links for Snippet 1 and Snippet 3)

Have some chosoita ft. Gojou and goyuu:

He mouths at a bruise, too much teeth for it to be soothing, but Chōsō pushes his chest into it anyway, his fingers curling into a fist in Yuuji’s hair.

Yuuji digs his teeth in harder before letting go, dragging his lips up to Chōsō’s shoulder. The skin there is pulled taut over straining muscles, and they flex under his mouth, almost a flinch. Yuuji can understand why, given what he did the last few times he set his teeth to Chōsō’s shoulder. But he also knows it’s not dread that’s trembling in Chōsō’s muscles but anticipation.

He sucks lightly, and Chōsō shudders against him, around him.

Yuuji’s mouth waters.

It’s fucked up. He shouldn’t like this. He doesn’t even know if he actually does. He sure as hell isn’t hungry. And he said he’d eat anything, but not like this—this isn’t power, it’s just pleasure. And it shouldn’t be.

Monster, purrs a voice in his head, infuriatingly familiar because despite ripping free of Yuuji’s body, that bastard is still here haunting his mind.

But fine. Yuuji will be the monster.

He clamps his teeth around Chōsō’s flesh, tearing out a bloody chunk.

Chōsō jerks against him, crying out hoarsely. His dick’s leaking where it’s pressed between their bellies, making a mess of what’s left of their clothes. Yuuji swallows, mouth still pressed to the hotly bleeding wound at Chōsō’s shoulder. He’s keenly aware of Chōsō’s cursed energy mingling with his own, and it’s not the revitalizing rush it was back in Shibuya when Chōsō was making a concerted attempt to transfer it to Yuuji, but even in this passive state, his power is potent and it burns inside Yuuji—blood and rot, life and decay.

Under his lips, Chōsō’s flesh is starting to knit back together. Yuuji licks at it, blood wetting his tongue, and Chōsō squirms on his cock, scrabbling at Yuuji’s shoulders as if that will give him any leverage. Yuuji bites deep into the healing flesh.

Chōsō gasps his name like a curse and a prayer.

“Well,” says a voice that is distinctly not Chōsō’s, “this isn’t what I was expecting.”

Yuuji freezes, but so does Chōsō, and that’s a bad idea given the position they’re in. His dick doesn’t care that Yuuji’s veins just iced over; the blood fattening it up is as hot as anything, as the blood still slicking his mouth.

He lifts his face from Chōsō’s mangled shoulder, staring over it at the dark room. The only illumination is the faint moonlight from the open window, but Yuuji’s eyes adjusted to the darkness long back. He can see all too well the figure slouching in the darkness by the door—the still-locked door, which sure as hell didn’t open and close without either Yuuji or Chōsō noticing it.

But when has a paltry door ever stopped Gojou Satoru? How many times did Yuuji wake in his dorm room to find a body looming over him, a mouth stifling his shout before it could rend the air and probably bring Fushiguro running?

“Gojou-sensei,” Yuuji chokes out. “What are you doing? Why are you here?”

Gojou shifts, pushing away from the wall he was leaning against. He’s still not wearing his blindfold, and his eyes are eerily bright in the dark, as if they’re generating their own light. It leaves the rest of his face discomfitingly shadowed.

It’s perverse how the sight makes Yuuji’s dick twitch where it’s buried inside a frozen Chōsō.

And it’s Chōsō Gojou is staring at, appraising his half-dressed body with a hot, heavy regard that doesn’t feel sexual so much as predatory, and Yuuji feels his heart lurch to his throat when those gleaming eyes linger on Chōsō’s shoulder and slide slowly, inexorably to Yuuji’s gore-stained mouth.

“Six Eyes,” Chōsō hisses, voice low and furious; he’s turned his head, probably glaring at Gojou. “Get out.”

A curse, maybe a warning, dies in Yuuji’s throat, his thundering heart still plugging it up. He stares at the taut line of Chōsō’s throat, then at Gojou’s dangerously bland smile. Back and forth, over and over.

“No, I don’t think I will,” says Gojou, and Yuuji knows the particular edge of that serrated amusement on his tongue, and he can’t help how his fingers sink into Chōsō’s hips, gripping hard enough to make Chōsō’s legs twitch around him. And it hits him then, more of a shock than it should be: Chōsō’s still on his cock, Yuuji’s still— “To answer your question, Yuuji, I came here—ran here, really, because I’m a good teacher like that—because I sensed your cursed energy doing some freaky shit. And him, of course. This isn’t what I thought I’d see, but you definitely don’t look like you’re in need of a rescue.”

His eyes drop pointedly to where Chōsō is seated on Yuuji’s cock.

The traitorous thing throbs.

Chōsō makes a soft, shuddering noise.

“I…” Yuuji tails off. What the fuck can he say?

I can explain? He can’t.

I’m sorry? He’s not.

And he can’t do that to Chōsō, especially not when Yuuji’s the one who dragged him into this.

“Yuuji’s brother, was it?” Gojou asks mildly, not a question at all. “Now, I don’t know how it is for curses, but among us lowly humans, this kind of thing is pretty pathological.”

“Sensei!” Yuuji snaps before he can help himself.

The full, furious force of Gojou’s attention descends on him, freezing him twice over.

Gojou takes a step forward, then another.

Chōsō grows impossibly tenser, warm marble in Yuuji’s arms and a molten constriction around his cock. But Yuuji can only watch Gojou’s slow, stalking approach with a strange sort of exhilarated horror.

Gojou comes to a stop right behind Chōsō, whose discomfort writhes in the air. Yuuji meets his eyes for a fleeting moment, helpless need crashing into helpless fury. There’s nothing Chōsō can do, impaled on Yuuji’s cock with Yuuji’s hands holding him down.

I’m sorry, Yuuji wants to say, but he already knows, doesn’t he, that Chōsō will forgive him anything?

Above Chōsō’s head, Gojou’s eyes blaze blue.

Yuuji runs into them headfirst.

An arm reaches over Chōsō’s shoulder, carefully not brushing skin. Chōsō tenses anyway, pulling a throaty whine out of Yuuji that’s crushed the next instant by the fingers curling around his jaw, too tender to be anything but cruel.

Gojou’s thumb wipes the blood off Yuuji’s lips.

For a moment, they all seem to stare at it.

“Six Eyes,” Chōsō growls, and it’s angry, almost as angry as he was the one and only time he tried to kill Yuuji, but underneath that, there’s something Yuuji can only label fear.

“Yuuji’s brother,” Gojou returns, calm and deadly. “Hush now. My business isn’t with you.”

Chōsō jolts, furious, but maybe he forgets he’s still sitting on Yuuji’s cock because the motion makes them both groan—Chōsō obviously failing to stifle it, Yuuji too far gone to even try.

Gojou’s pupils grow cavernous.

Motion, a blinding blur.

Lips press to Yuuji’s, and they don’t belong to the body now crushed against his own. It’s the most aggressive kiss he’s ever had, even if it’s close-lipped and three seconds long. He gasps into it, but Gojou’s already pulling back, and Yuuji doesn’t think it has anything to do with the spikes of blood erupting from Chōsō’s torn shoulder to shatter uselessly against Infinity.

Gojou pays them—and Chōsō—no mind.

He says, “Come find me when you’re done playing with your…brother.”

And then he’s gone, an absence more sudden and absolute than his appearance earlier.

“Fuck,” Yuuji says, softy and with feeling; his whole mouth is burning, electric.

“Yuuji,” Chōsō says tightly, “you need to—”

Let go, is what he probably plans to say. Pull out, maybe.

Yuuji doesn’t do either, doesn’t even let him finish, standing in a violent rush that strangles Chōsō’s words and Yuuji’s common sense both, and it’s a few, harried strides to the door, Chōsō’s back impacting it with a loud thud that reverberates in the too-quiet room.

Chōsō’s answering shudder bites into Yuuji’s cock.

“What are you doing?” he asks, a strained, barely audible whisper.

Yuuji kisses him because he doesn’t have an answer, fucks into him because he doesn’t want the questions, and Chōsō gasps into his mouth and tightens around his cock, and Yuuji’s body knows how to take it from there, even if his mind is a maelstrom of white and blue.

Are you there, are you listening, is this what you—

A particularly harsh thrust makes Chōsō rake his nails down Yuuji’s back, and Yuuji hoists him higher in response, fingers digging bruises into thick, taut thighs, and it’s better, the angle, Chōsō held at just the right height for Yuuji to plunge madly into, and he growls, the sound half lost in their wet, open mouths, but Chōsō still claws him open and squeezes him tighter, and there’s a cry thrust down Yuuji’s throat—a hurt little noise.

What am I doing, why am I punishing him—

Why is he angry?

#chosoita #goyuu #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #my fic #fic: prophetic self destruction #wip wednesday #jjk snippets

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3xen · 10 months

Note

I need more gusion fanfics.... Specifically enemies to lovers please...... Please....there no more gusion fanfics I've scearched a03 Tumblr Wattpad pls....

forbidden desires; gusion it was your mission to kill gusion paxley—an enemy to your kingdom, a hidden lover.

n. had this msg in my inbox for quite some time. im so srry for taking so long to write it. if i ever feel like it, ill make a better version <3 for gusion's mask, i imagined his night owl skin!

c. enemies to lovers, forbidden relationship, unrequited love, angst, ooc(?)

the night of the masquerade party.

you pulled him aside from the crowd—a fiery glare being his greeting. he wore a silver mask, two purple ombre feathers sprouting out lavishly from the top-sides. you lightly caressed his shoulders, your lips curving into a charming smile.

“you reek of hostility.” he scoffs at your attempts to lighten the mood. you can only respond in a laugh at his reaction—fully amused. slowly, you start to sway your hips as his hands find its place at your waist.

“i was forced to be here.” he confesses, warily following your movements. “what’s your name?”

“_____.”

“my brother invited you?”

“a hand-written letter.” you confirm, the two of you starting to spin in place—matching the rhythm of the ballroom music. his orbs lock onto yours, the intensity of the moment is overbearing—your instincts telling you to look away. but you don’t, growing more invested as it continues.

your mission was to merely stall gusion.

“the castle is under attack!” a voice belares amidst the crowd.

he was a formidable foe.

“get to safety!”

and for a moment, it felt safe–in his arms.

“_____!” a look of panic flashes across his eyes.

at first, it’s denial.

his eyes frantically search the room—for any sign of you. but, you're gone. all that's left behind is that mask you wore.

it’s been a while since that night.

you wished you acted on logic, moreover, your own desires. through that short time, you managed to attach yourself to him. it was nothing sweet, it ate like maggots at your brain.

the mere thought had you bound and helpless.

“the backway gate is your only form of entrance. the safest,” the voice pauses, intent on getting this plan through your head.

“_____? are you listening?” you jolt awake, eyes blinking to soothe the strain.

“yes? yes. i-im listening.”

“this is crucial, not just as the heir to the throne but our kingdom as a whole. don’t mess this up.” you nod repeatedly, making it appear to seem as if you're interested.

castle aberleen.

you wander quietly through the main hall, pushing a rolling cart filled with cups and platters. you were dressed as a servant with formal attire.

‘it should be marked with a name..’

you skimmed through the letters of each door as you passed. finally, you stumbled upon a certain door, marked with ‘gusion paxley’.

as you stood in front of his door, ready to enter, you took a few deep breaths while your legs and hands began to feel like jello. the tips of your fingers suddenly becoming cold as you start to zone off.

the crickets from outside seemingly stopped chirping as the room began to feel more and more isolated. you pull yourself out of the endless trance by pinching your thigh, causing a deep shiver to run through your spine.

“sir, your tea is ready.” you coo as your mind wanders elsewhere; wondering if this was the right thing to do.

your kingdoms haven’t always been on bad terms, you were once honorable allies. somewhere in you, believed the two kingdoms were capable enough to form a treaty. it would surely declare peace between the lands.

you didn’t think you would have enough courage to kill gusion paxley but you weren’t going to disobey your kingdom’s orders, you couldn’t. you were too afraid of rejection.

“leave it at the door.” you can clearly see the shadows of his feet through the bottom of the door. you sigh, sadly even.

you slowly crack the door open, placing a hand on your leg holster. something in you hoped he’d flee, that’d he’d completely leave the lands. it would avoid more issues, no more killing, no more pain.

before you fully enter his room, you’re tackled to the ground by strong hands. he flips you on your back, dead intent on catching this assailant. his eyes lock on your figure, his expression consisting of shock and hurt.

“_____..” his soft voice trails off, you manage to maintain eye-contact through your teary lashes. your body melts in his arms, a feeling of warmth and fondness.

“im sorry.” you murmur while he places his hand on the back of your head, pulling you firmly into his chest. you can feel his breath hitch, he strokes your hair gingerly, almost like a silent apology.

“i’ll protect you.”

#𓂃ᰔ xen writes #mobile legends bang bang #mobile legends #mlbb #mobile legends bang bang x reader #mobile legends x reader #mlbb x reader #gusion #gusion x reader

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alders-simblr · 1 year

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CC MasterList - Sliders, Genetics, Overlays

Continuing on with my CC documentation, we're finally in the homestretch of all the Create-A-Sim content. Much like the Build/Buy organization, I'm going to split this into creators that I pretty much grab everything and then specific items when I only have one or two from that creator.

Unlike Build/Buy. This will have adult content links which will be marked with an (A) and there will be a small section of Wicked Whims content at the bottom of the list as well.

Sliders

Some of the Body Presets require certain sliders to look right so I suggest checking to make sure that you have them on the body preset you're looking at and not just assume that I haven't missed something here!

I love the overall Sim Height slider to give a slight variety but I'd be careful with how extreme you get as it absolutely will mess up animations with significant enough differences. (Especially if you're using high heels with built in height adjustments).

Lemon -> Male Neck Thickness Slider

Squeamish Sims -> Temple Slider Nosebridge

Dani Paradise -> Cheek Slider, Thigh Slider

Dumbaby -> Chin Slider

HellFrozeOver -> Shoulder Sliders

Luumia -> Height Slider, Hip Shape

Miiko -> Chin Slider

TeaNMoon -> Mouth Scale Slider

VibrantPixels -> HipDipSlider

Obscurus Sliders:

Esotropia and Exotropia

Eye Width

Eyebrow and Eye Corner

Eyebrows N1

Eyelids N1

Nose Sliders: N1, N2, N3, N4, N5, N6

Genetics

I go over the default overrides I use in my Mod List, so I won't duplicate those but these are the additional non default skins, eyes, etc that I include in my game play.

Eyes Eye Genetics can get a bit funky with too many swatches so I tend to prune this regularly to minimize problems.

Oydis has a fantastic write up here about how EA organizes your eye genetics and how things can get wonky, (and how to fix them if they do).

Northern Siberia -> Patreon | Tumblr

Wrixie -> Patreon | Tumblr

Twisted Cat -> Comet Eyes

Solistair -> Elche Eyes

Lashes

Eyelashes tend to conflict with either glasses or rings, or piercings. So if you notice artifacting in the lashes, you'll want to use a different slot for them to fix it, or take off the other accessory.

Kiijiko -> Website (All)

Obscurus -> 3D Eyelashes

Twisted Cat -> 3D Eyelashes

Northern Siberia -> Patreon | Tumblr

Jellypaws -> Patreon | Tumblr

Miiko -> Patreon | Tumblr

Brows

Chewy Butterfly -> Patreon | Tumblr

GreenLlamas -> Patreon | Tumblr

LadySimmer -> Patreon | Tumblr

StretchSkeleton -> Eyebrow Packs 1, 2

Northern Siberia -> Patreon | Tumblr

Twisted Cat -> Patreon | Tumblr

Obscurus -> Eyebrows 61, 62, 63, 64, 65

Skin

Northern Siberia -> Patreon | Tumblr

Chewy Butterfly -> Patreon | Tumblr

Jellypaws -> Patreon | Tumblr

La Matisse -> Patreon | Tumblr

Overlays

Not technically genetics but the overlays make a huge different in the look of the sim and I have ones that do everything from replace everything to ones that simply tweak parts, like nosemasks, etc.

Chewy Butterfly -> Patreon | Tumblr

Frenchie Sim -> Pregnancy Mask

Katrina-y -> Abs Shadow

Northern Siberia -> Patreon | Tumblr

GPME -> Patreon | Tumblr

Jellypaws -> Patreon | Tumblr

Meeshi -> Softie Skinblend

Miiko -> Patreon | Tumblr

Narsimssitic -> Cloud Skinblend

Obscurus -> Patreon | Tumblr

Twisted Cat -> Patreon | Tumblr

Adult Body Details

These objects are for Wicked Whims modded games typically, or Wicked Whims bolt-ons. I highly recommend joining Turbodriver's discord and reading the information on it about the danger (and super gross factor) of ColonelNutty mods and what things to avoid in turning your game 18+. You can see more details attached to Turbodriver's Twitter here. If you read the document, I recommend switching to the version that has purged links so that you don't accidentally send yourself to the very sites you are getting warned about.

Body Mesh Options

Wicked Whims lets you select the meshes you use. For alternate versions of meshes, I use Noir's bottom meshes which include trans femme and trans masc options. You can find them all on their patreon here. (A) I also have female top meshes from them as well as alternates though I prefer the default I have from Sopor for females and the Adam from Kleos. (Both are on my Overrides Post)

I also use Noir's remeshing of parts for the Werewolf body defaults. You can see that specific page on the patreon here. (A)

#ts4 #ts4 cc #ts4 maxis match #wcif #download list #masterlist #alder's lists #ts4 sliders #ts4 mods #ts4 presets #ts4 genetics #ts4 overlay

76 notes · View notes

doumachi · 17 days

Note

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4z7iUxydrB/

😭😭😭 MEY THIS REEL SKLDFJKSLDJF i'm having prince!yeonjun thoughts again... imagine prince!yeonjun and commoner!reader where you two were childhood friends before you realized he's a prince. to you he was just your best friend jjunie, and you played together and ran around the meadows collecting fruits and ate little cakes that the royal baker snuck into yeonjun's pack. as the two of you got older you remained as close as ever, spending your free time together and telling each other everything, even things a commoner isn't supposed to know. soon the feelings you had for him grew into something different and new - no longer innocent childhood friendship but something just as beautiful.

but as yeonjun got busier and busier with princely duties, you started seeing him less and less. the royal staff started giving you and him dirty looks for spending so much time together. it was cute when you were kids, but everyone assumed that you would grow out of your friendship and discard it like a piece of clothing that no longer fit. and when that didn't happen, the royal palace started disapproving of the friendship - and of you.

and so, against yeonjun's will and yours, the two of you are separated.

fast forward several years. you never stopped thinking of your best friend and the man you loved, and so when you hear that a royal ball will take place for the prince to find someone to marry, you can't help but be overcome with curiosity. though a commoner like you could never be invited, you still find the courage to sneak into the palace. you stay in the shadows, listening to the music and laughter coming from the ball, wondering if yeonjun even remembers you...

...and you accidentally come face-to-face to him while he's holding a red rose.

your heart drops. in royal tradition, the prince gives a red rose to the one he chooses to marry. you panic, feeling like a fool to come all this way to watch the love of your life get engaged to someone else -- until, with tears in his eyes, yeonjun gives the rose to you.

"i always knew you would come back."

sorry i got carried away here aaaaaa --bhj 🖤

tumblr must’ve not wanted me to feel happiness by hiding this from me. oh my gosh the way i squealed after reading that last part HSUFJRJGKGFNGKG. wanted to write a little about what that would be like after reuniting and jjunie inviting you to live in the castle with him and connecting again ueuehjfr hi jufnfjflic. (he looks gorgeous in this outfit oml)

you're strolling through the royal gardens, and yeonjun impulsively picks a flower, tucking it behind your ear. his fingers gently graze your skin, and he steps back to admire how it complements your smile, his heart skipping a beat.

in the midst of a grand ball, yeonjun's eyes find yours across the crowded room. he excuses himself from the dignitaries, making his way to you, and offers his hand. as you dance, he whispers jokes that make you both giggle, oblivious to the curious glances of the court.

on a quiet evening, you both sit by the fireplace, yeonjun's arm around your shoulders. he reads passages from a book of poetry, his voice soft and rhythmic. when he catches you yawning, he leans over and plants a tender kiss on your forehead, suggesting it's time for bed.

yeonjun sneaks you into the kitchen for a midnight snack. you both end up in a playful food fight, smearing pastry cream on each other's noses. between laughter and soft kisses to clean the mess.

you find an old piano in a dusty corner of the castle. as you play a melody, yeonjun wraps his arms around you from behind, swaying to the music. he hums along, and you lean back into his embrace, feeling the vibrations of his voice against your back.

reuniting with him after years feels like stepping into a fairytale. you wander through the castle gardens, and he can't help but steal glances at you, his childhood best friend, now all grown up. he shows you hidden nooks within the castle walls where you can both escape the formality of royal life, sharing whispered secrets and laughter just like old times.

during formal dinners, he's the picture of royal poise, but his foot finds yours under the table and always manages to tangle them with his. after the long days, he sneaks you up to the highest tower to watch the stars. wrapped in a shared blanket, he whispers sweet nothings, each word followed by a kiss against your temple, making you feel cherished and adored within the castle's ancient walls. life with yeonjun is a blend of royal enchantment and the comfort of a love that feels like coming home.

#you always make my heart flutter #this idea is so cute i literally can’t #IM DJJFNDNS NOT OKAJY #meys inbox #mey:bhj :]

8 notes · View notes

collidescopeeyes · 25 days

Text

Time is a Roulette Wheel

Viego: Pt 1

League of Legends | Viego x F!Reader

Chapters: Prologue | Viego: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Crossposted on AO3 here

SFW

Decided to break this up into parts because Tumblr is a Super Functional Website, but you can read the full thing on AO3.

Summary: Turns out that Runeterra isn't the only place that has a Void. Plucked from your world into one of a video game with nothing but stolen time powers, an inability to die and a middling recollection of lore, you're prepared to do just about anything to get back home again. You just have to find the right Champion to help.

Viego is handsome even with his face frozen in a rictus of rage and despair, you'll give him that much. You can fault Vex for a lot of things, but her taste in faces wasn't one of them. That being said, you're pretty sure the only reason she told you where to find him was so you'd leave her alone, so whatever crush she had on him was clearly skin-deep. Still, you were lucky to run into the edgy little yortle–navigating the shadow isles wasn't exactly easy. The mist was still thick, the dead still restless, and the castle itself still a mess of floating broken ruins. You could've been here for weeks before you found him. Not like you don't have the time, though.

The mist is warm when you lower your hand to Viego’s face, and it hums on your skin in a way that vaguely unnerves you. You wind his past around your fingers and twist, rewinding his months of imprisonment until you reach the moment of his defeat. Then, ever so carefully, you creep his time back and watch the mist creeps down his face, to his shoulders and torso. You freeze it there, just free enough for him to speak, and he looks tiredly up at you.

“Are you here to kill me?” He croaks.

“No,” you answer honestly.

He closes his eyes. “How disappointing.”

Your purse your lips, suddenly uncertain. You suppose that answered that question–you weren't sure if he was actually awake in the mist this whole time. He must have been, if he's not still raging and wailing from watching his wife die before his eyes again. You'd been expecting him to try and kill you, to yell and scream and generally just lose his shit. You'd been planning to exploit that for your benefit. This, the utter defeat in his voice, you weren't prepared for. “I'm here because I need your help,” you say, trying to project confidence into your voice. “I’m not from this world. I need to find a way to get home, to get safe passage through the Void to worlds beyond Runeterra.”

He slowly opens his eyes to half-lidded, looking up at you dispassionately. “So you came to me?” He gives his still-frozen body a derisive look, skepticism dripping from his every word.

“You scoured the world for anything that would bring your wife back, I figured you might've found something,” you explain evenly. “That, and all my other leads either couldn't help or wanted to kill me, so I'm running out of options.”

He doesn't look impressed. You sigh. “Look, if you help me, I can help you.” And here you pause, because you know what you're about to offer isn't yours to give, but goddamnit, you just want to go home. “I know what you want, and I can give you it.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment he looks heart wrenchingly hopeful, and you think for one glorious moment that you've got him. Then his expression shutters, and his mouth pulls into a thin line of grief. “I suppose you're offering to give me Isolde, then?”

You pause, but after a moment hesitantly nod. This wasn't what you were expecting. He was supposed to be obsessed, wasn't he? You thought he'd leap at your offer, but he just looks…tired. Like you're ripping open an old wound and he's sick of hurting–not offering him everything he's ever wanted on a silver fucking platter like you are. “Whole. Alive. Exactly as she was before she died.” You say, trying to impress upon him that you're offering exactly what he wants.

He snorts bitterly. “She is gone, specter, dead in the truest of ways.” His tone is mournful as he casts his eyes up, through the broken ceiling to the mists swirling overhead. “I cannot feel her in this world no longer.”

He's not listening. You guess you just have to prove it. You reach out and touch your fingers to his forehead, and in your hands you twist the past until centuries fold beneath your fingertips. The sun and moon flit overhead as you rewind, the walls rebuilding themselves from the onslaught of time and decay. He gasps, then chokes, as all at once he is human again, and you stand in the living past of his dead kingdom. There is an echo of the Void in your voice when you say, “Time is mine to command, Ruined King. She may be gone, but I can bring her back, just as she was the day before the poison touched her.”

Viego looks up at you, utterly human and trembling, and you decide your point has been made. The present pushes harshly back against your manipulations, and you let it snap back to it's rightful place with a wave of your hand. Viego is once again a broken thing bound to the floor of his ruined homeland, and he…begins to laugh. It is most assuredly not a happy sound–rather, it's as if he's about to transition into sobbing any second. “Cruel fate,” he moans, and you realize as he looks up to the heavens that he is indeed crying; slick black tears as thick as oil which wisp into mist at the edges, sure, but tears nonetheless. “The one my heart most desires detests me, rejects me in favor of the oblivion I laboured to free her from, and you offer her to me once more?”

You shift uncomfortably, only to lurch as you realize you're swaying on your feet. That little demonstration took more out of you than you thought–time wasn't as malleable here as it was in the Void, and bringing so much back from so long ago was more difficult than anything else you've done since you got here. Viego is still wailing and moaning almost incoherently, and you really don't want to pass out in front of him. “Give it a think,” you say as casually as you can manage. “I'll be back.”

And with that, you walk away with measured steps that hopefully disguise how unsteady you feel, physically and otherwise.

---

You're not sure how long you're out for, but Viego seems to have composed himself by the time you come back. At least a day, maybe two, but it's hard to keep track of time when you can't see the sun. He regards you evenly as you approach, and before you can speak he announces “I decline.”

You blanch. “You what?”

“I. Decline.” He says purposefully.

Shit. You hadn't planned for this. He was your last concrete lead, everything after him was a shot in the dark. “Why? Don't you want your wife back?” You ask, baffled and more than a little panicked.

He closes his eyes as if your words pain him. “More than you can possibly imagine. But Isolde…it is time for her to rest. I see that now.” When he opens his eyes they stay low, gazing down into the weeping hole in his chest. “I thought that she would love me no matter what became of me, as I did her, but I was wrong. I thought that we could be happy together, if only I could find a way to bring her to my side once more.” His tone is mournful, but when he looks up at you his gaze is no less resolute for the pain in them. “My Queen has made her decision. I will not cause her more pain than I already have.”

You blink, desperately searching his expression for a crack, for some indication that he's just putting up a brave face. Then you sigh deeply, and practically collapse onto the cold stone floor. You may as well– no point pretending to have it together anymore. “God, the first time you exhibit a fucking iota of self-awareness just had to be when I was relying on you being a selfish prick, didn't it?” You gripe, though you sound like you're on the brink of crying. The bastard just had to have time to self reflect, didn't he?

He has the gall to look offended. “I'm not so thick as to ignore condemnations from the person I hold dearest.”

You roll your eyes. “The first time you brought her back she stabbed you with your own sword, and then you decided to try doing it again. I would think she was pretty clear about her feelings on the matter the first time.”

He jerks back slightly, which is as far as his bonds will allow. “She…what? I don't…” he casts his eyes down, brow furrowed in thought. “Isolde was the one who killed me…?”

You give him a scrutinizing look, but he seems genuinely baffled. “You don't remember,” you realize, remembering that single line of text in his bio.

He shakes his head faintly. “I had wondered what could have shattered her soul so thoroughly,” he says, voice so soft you're not actually sure he's speaking to you. “My blade and those waters…so that is what happened.” He tilts his head back to look up at the black mist choking the sky, and laughs bitterly. “I truly do destroy everything I touch, don't I?”

You don't have a response to that. You wonder if you should leave, but summoning the strength for that seems like a Herculean task right now. Where should you go next, anyway? Track down more voidspawn? None of the Void's other servants you've found seemed amicable to helping you so far, and the Voidspawn themselves seem mostly concerned with trying to eat you. You hadn't found Ryze yet, but that was just hoping his poorly defined magic crystals somehow could help.

“Your home,” Viego says some time later, interrupting your thoughts. You'd almost forgotten he was there. “Where is it?”

You shrug one shoulder, your body feeling like one big dead weight. “Far. Beyond the stars and the Void, in a world where all of this is nothing but a story.” You wave your hand around you vaguely. It was the best way to describe ‘you were a video game character’ that didn't end with you covered in blood.

He's quiet for a moment. “In my study,” he says finally. “There are notes on the Void. I thought it might hold the answers to returning Isolde to me, but the toll it would take on her fragile soul would have been too great.”

You don't bother to hide your surprise when you look at him. “You…why?”

He sighs. “You speak as if you know me, which means you must know that I am…” his brow furrows. “What did you say? Ah, yes. A selfish prick. But Isolde…Isolde was kind, and selfless, and everything I am not. If I am to make my transgressions up to her, wherever she is now, then I should start by trying to be the kind of man she would have wanted me to be.”

You pause, considering him. He seems genuine, if no small amount grief stricken. “Hard to do that stuck in there,” you point out, testing the waters.

He shrugs as much as he is able. “I cannot say I blame them, the doll and the sentinel. I did kill them. I suppose this is as close as they could get to doing the same to me.”

You tilt your head, examining him closely. “What would you do, if I let you out of there?”

He looks at you warily, but seems to seriously consider the question. “I am…unsure,” he says slowly. “I have lived with but a single purpose for so long, I don't…”

“Vengeance?” You suggest. “Isolde is off the table, sure, but wreaking havoc on the world that dared to take her from you? Covering the continents in black mist and turning it into an unliving graveyard of cursed souls?”

He grimaces immediately. “No, that's not…she would not have wanted that.”

You stand, dusting off your clothes. “That's good enough for me.” You reach your hand out to him, and the Hallowed mist recedes into its needles, the thread falling limply from his wrists without Gwen to guide them. He slumps as it goes, as if he weren't prepared to hold his own weight up. He flexes his hands, and when he looks up at you he seems confused. You can't blame him. You're not even fully sure why you're doing this–just that leaving him here, trapped in this nightmarish stasis surrounded by the memory of everything he's lost, seems wrong.

That doesn't mean you fully trust him, though. “If I hear about you causing problems, I will find you,” you say casually. “I don't know if you can die, but I can stop time from ever passing for you again, and that's basically the same thing.” You glance at the needles still stuck in the stone. “You won't be awake, at least.”

He stands gingerly, and then nods grimly. “If I fail her again, I will be counting on it.”

---

You're expecting that to be it. That you'll go your separate ways, possibly until such a time he turns out to be fully crazy and you have to kill him. Instead, he shows up a week later while you're pouring through his notes. You only notice him because of the reflection in the dusty glass in the study's single intact window.

“You have shit note-taking skills, y'know that?” You say somewhat accusingly. “Beautiful handwriting, but shit note-taking.”

In the reflection, you see him he shrug casually where he's leaning against the doorway. “Academics were never my strong suit, ‘tis true.”

You turn around, holding out a sheaf of yellowed parchment and pointing to it accusingly. “What the fuck is this supposed to say, anyway?”

He leans forward, blinking at the offending word. Then he gives you a skeptical look. “Rest. It says, rest.”

You whip the page back to face you, squinting. “What? How is that an R? How is that an S?” You glance up at his skeptical expression, then flush. “Look, I wasn't taught cursive, gimme a break.” You toss the paper back on the desk. You're pretty sure it's useless to you. All of it is. “What're you still doing here, anyway?”

He gives you a blank look, as if he doesn't understand the question. “Where else would I go?”

You raise a brow. “I dunno, somewhere less miserable? What, are you planning to mope around here forever?”

He looks around as if you're referring to this specific room. “The idea has its appeal,” he says, almost to himself.

Somehow, the thought of him wandering around his ruined castle for eternity like some sort of kicked dog is both depressing and irritating to you. Like he's giving up, when you've been fighting so long and so hard the very idea revolts you. It has to–you don't have any other option. “Didn't you say you were going to try and be the kind of man Isolde wanted you to be?” You ask, probably a bit too sharply. He glances at you, surprised and a little on guard at your tone. “I can't claim to have known the woman, but somehow I doubt she wanted you to spend eternity in what is possibly the most depressing way anyone could spend eternity.”

He looks away, mouth a thin line. “I would not be so sure, after all the pain I caused her.” You open your mouth to argue, and then remember that she did kill him.

“Look, was she a spiteful person?” You try instead.

He recoils as if the thought offends him. “No, of course not.”

“Then she wouldn't want you to punish yourself like this,” you say.

His brow furrows, though you're not sure if it's in confusion or irritation. “And what would you know?”

You shrug one shoulder. “I am a spiteful person, and if you tried that shit on me I would've tried to kill you the second time too.”

“Ha!” Surprisingly, Viego laughs. It's a dry, self-depreciating sound closer to a bark than anything, but it is a laugh. “What am I to do, then? How can I possibly begin to undo what I have done?” His tone as a challenge, and you're about to snap back, but when you look in his eyes he just looks horribly, terribly lost. This is a man who has lost everything that meant anything to him, you realize, and he's desperately struggling to find his way back to the line. You've been there, and despite yourself, empathy tugs at you.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Look. Did she love you, before all of this? When you were alive?”

He opens his mouth, then pauses, brow scrunching. “When we were alive, yes, we were in love.” he finally says, his voice slow as if he's not entirely sure of his own words.

“Then she would've wanted what anyone wants for their loved ones after they've gone. She wanted you to find a way to be okay without her, to be happy without her.” Your voice is measured, with an edge of imploring. You weren't good at the whole conversation thing even before the Void happened, let alone during emotionally charged conversations.

He gives you a look that is all at once bitter, mournful, and as if you're suggesting something both impossible and idiotic. “There is no happiness for me without her.”

“You're like a broken record, y'know that?” You say archly. “Yes, she's gone, and I know how much that hurts, believe me, but that grief isn't all you are. You were happy before her, you can be again.”

He blinks oddly, a strange haze entering his eyes. “Before…Isolde?”

You nod slowly, suddenly unsure. “Yes. You were a prince before you two met, right? Nobility?” You pick up a random note and gesture at the fancy, curling script there. “You obviously had a lot of calligraphy lessons. Did you enjoy those?”

He stares at the paper as if he's never seen it before, then at you in apprehensive confusion. “I don't remember.”

You sigh, tossing the paper away. “You said you weren't very academic, so I suppose that makes sense.”

“Did I?” He murmurs, touching his mouth. “I don't…it seemed like it was true when I said it, but when I think back, there is nothing.” His hand travels to his cheekbone, and he frowns. “I recall that I look like my father, but I can't even remember his face, or why I know that to be true. Nor my mother, or anything of my childhood, my past…anything. Anything but Isolde.”

You blink. You thought he had just been obsessed with her because of love, but maybe it wasn't just that–if Isolde was all he remembered, all he had left, of course he would become fixated. If she was the last thing on his mind when he died, when he was trapped in that sword…you guess it wasn't a stretch, that she's the thought he would hold onto while everything else fell away over the centuries. “Dying really did a number on you, huh?” You muse.

His hand falls to the ragged hole in his chest. “The mist takes everything from those who are too weak to withstand it. Everything they are, everything they have ever been. I did not think I…” he trails off, and you both watch as plumes of mist roll from his broken heart to the floor, and he laughs bitterly. “But of course. How does one remember that they have forgotten something, when all reminders have been destroyed by their own hand? Why would I be spared the curse I created?” That seems like a rhetorical question, so you don't respond.

A long moment of silence passes, Viego deep in thought. It seems wrong to interrupt him, and you don't exactly have anywhere better to be right now. Eventually, he looks up at you, face creased with concentration. “I think,” he says slowly, “I enjoyed horseback riding, through the forests. I remember I wanted to take Isolde, but she did not know how to ride and horses scared her terribly, and I recall being very disappointed, so…I must have wanted to go. I must have enjoyed it, if I wanted to share it with her.” His voice gains certainty as he speaks, as he reasons out something so basic about himself from what little memories he has.

You make a decision, then and there. “Come with me,” you offer, except it comes out like you're telling him.

He blinks at the non-sequitor. “With you? To where?”

“You can go anywhere your mist goes, right?” He nods, confused, and you hold out your hand. “Gimme your sword, then follow me.”

“My sword?” He repeats, uncomprehending.

You wiggle your fingers at him impatiently. “This place is super depressing, Viego, and I've got a long list of places I'd rather be. So you can either let me borrow your sword, or you can stay here and be miserable. What'll it be?”

For a long moment he just stares at you. Then he gives a disbelieving little laugh, and raises his hand above yours. The blade materializes in it as if he were already holding it, before he drops it into your waiting palm. The moment it touches your skin, a strange flash of sensation travels up your arm, like dousing yourself in cool water. Your arm sinks with the sudden weight of it, but you manage to avoid dropping it. You grin at him, pleased. “Okay, now follow me,” you say, and rewind.

You pick a few months ago, when you were passing through a lush woodland. You pull yourself back to that time, then let the past push your intrusive presence back to the present where it belongs. Teleportation in two easy steps, if only to places you've already been.

For a long moment, you think Viego isn't coming. His sword is cold in your hand, thin sheets of mist dripping from it onto the grass, and by God is it heavy, so you stab it into the dirt. When you look up, Viego is there.

He looks around, brow furrowed. “Where are we?”

You shrug. “Somewhere in Ionia. I wasn't keeping track. I don't have any horses, and I somehow doubt they would tolerate you, but we can walk. See how you feel.”

He gives you a puzzled look. “Why are you doing this?”

You pause, and your voice is soft when you reply. “Because I know what it's like, to lose so much of yourself that a monster is the only thing you can be if you want to survive. And because I'm trying to find my way back to being the kind of person the people I love would want me to be, too.”

There's something unreadable in his eyes when he looks at you. Then, he draws his sword from the ground, and as it disappears into mist he begins to walk. Without a word, you follow. Somehow, leaving him alone seems cruel. For all that he's probably insane, he also strikes you as terribly, unbearably lonely.

He doesn't speak, and the silence begins to wear on you, so you do. You tell him about your world, how different it is, how you relied on machinery instead of magic. It's a dangerous game, feeling out the edges of what you're allowed to say, but it's also somehow freeing. To say you converse would be a stretch, but for all that his expression says that he thinks you might just be delusional, he seems intrigued by the world you describe. His questions are tinged with skepticism, especially when you get into trying to explain the Internet. You even get a laugh out of him as you offhandedly mention that your mystical worldwide library that contained the accumulated knowledge of your entire species was obviously largely used for disseminating pornography.

As night falls, for the first time, Viego comes to a stop and looks at you. His eyes are oddly bright in the dark, and his crown casts a dramatic glow over his face. He's looking at you like he can't quite make sense of you. “I do not know your name,” he finally says.

You guess you hadn't actually introduced yourself. As always, your real name rises to the tip of your tongue before you swallow it back. “You can call me Iso,” you say instead.

His lip quirks, and he gives you a very princely half bow, though his movements are slow as if he's following half-remembered steps. “Viego Santiarul Molach vol Kalah Heigaari, at your service.”

You laugh as he straightens up. “You can remember all that, but not whether you like calligraphy?”

“I did not like calligraphy,” he says decisively. “And my penmanship is middling at best. I suspect your standards are simply low.”

And then he vanishes.

“Bitch?” you say, disbelievingly, to the empty clearing

#x reader #reader fic #viego x reader #league x reader #leauge of legends #league of legends x reader #f!reader #crossposted on ao3 #my fics: tiarw

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