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willows-escape · 1 day

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Phantom HCs - Cherik with a Chubby!Reader

Pairing: 1990!Erik x GN!Reader

Warnings: fatphobia and nsfw content (has its own section)

Word Count: 2,370

Notes: This was a request that somebody sent me that I was really eager to write, as somebody who is plus sized/chubby myself. I might do it with the rest of the Phantoms I write for, but I don't know if that's something people would want to read?

Also, the series I spoke about in an earlier post - it’s still being worked on, but it shouldn’t hopefully be much longer. I’m looking to write around 11-ish parts, probably more, and I want to have three solid chapters written before I post the first one. Just so I can have the chapters to post while writing the next few. Having both female and male versions to write is also slowing it down, but I hope the wait will be worth it !

⟢ Erik does NOT care if you're chubby, skinny, average size or whatever. Your size isn't even a thing to him.

⟢ This Erik isn't as focused on stereotypical beauty as the others - he originally takes notice of Christine due to her voice, and the fact she looks like his mother is only an extra added bonus lol.

⟢ So I feel like your appearance is just not an important factor to him. It would be other things about you that would attract him first. Anyone could be stereotypically attractive, but not everyone could be you.

⟢ But don't be mistaken, he definitely thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world.

⟢ If you worked at the Opera Populaire, and he saw the way other workers teased you or gossiped behind your back, he'd be scratching his head in confusion.

⟢ He may be hopelessly infatuated, but he couldn't see anything about you that was laughable.

⟢ I'm not trying to imply this Phantom is ignorant or unaware of societal norms - unlike the others, he has a strong relationship with somebody who links him to the outside world. He hides due to his own flaws, after all.

⟢ He knows being slender and thin is the current ideal, but he also knows that ten years ago having a bigger body with soft curves was also largely desirable. So he didn't like to pay much attention to societies trends. They changed like the wind.

⟢ Which is why he'd sometimes forget that not everybody looked at you as if you were an angel that was sent from heaven to grace the earth.

⟢ If people's teasing and rude comments ever affected you so deeply that you brought it up to him, that would be the only time he ever acknowledged your body type. And his acknowledgement would only be vehement reassurance and exclamations of his affection towards you.

⟢ "But my cheeks are so fat, it makes my face look like a ball!"

⟢ "A very beautiful and loveable ball!"

⟢ He wasn't great at the whole reassurance thing.

⟢ After a while of courting you and as he began to realise how cruel some people could be to the most gorgeous person he knew - he began to feel a sense of solidarity with you.

⟢ He believed he was beyond hope and that he could never be accepted into the real world, and he wouldn't ever insult you by trying to say you were as repulsive as him. You were anything but that. Yet he felt as if you two were on some kind of wavelength.

⟢ You were both looked down upon for things as flimsy as physical appearances, and he felt a little closer to you due to that.

⟢ And he had a few existential crisis' where he laid awake at night thinking about how maybe society is the problem, not him, because how can they even ridicule you when you were perfection!

⟢ Then he'd take off his mask and look in the mirror and be like nope, he's definitely the problem.

⟢ Anyways. Less sadness and insecurity, and more fluff!

⟢ He loved how comfortable and soft you were. Erik had never held another person in his arms before you, never laid with his head on somebodies lap while they read him a book and mindlessly ran their fingers through his hair.

⟢ And he loved it.

⟢ His favourite time of day was when it came time to go to sleep, and he could lay with his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your waist and drift off into sweet sleep.

⟢ It took him a while to become so comfortable with this, though. It was weird enough that you two didn't have a chaperone during your meetings, never mind sharing affection. But if you asked him enough and tried to sneak in lingering touches and small caresses, he'd fold.

⟢ "Want to hold my hand yet?"

⟢ "Same answer as half hour ago, no."

⟢ "Am I truly so horrid that you do not wish to even hold my hand?"

⟢ "That is not what I said."

⟢ He didn't understand that couples followed these courtship rules in public, but were definitely smooching and snuggling in private. Even if you tried to explain that to him.

⟢ But eventually he caved.

⟢ He was touch starved beyond belief, so it didn't take him long to give in. Maybe a month or so. But it was also an awkward experience for him at first, so expect to give him a lot of guidance.

⟢ "This just doesn't feel right, why on earth would somebody lay like this when they are far more efficient and comfortable positions for somebody to lay?"

⟢ "That's because your arm's meant to be behind my neck, Erik, not over it."

⟢ "Ah. Yes, that feels better."

⟢ But once he got the hang of it, he was obsessed. Every part of you just fit so perfectly in his arms, you slotted together like puzzle pieces. It was glorious.

⟢ If you ever lived together, whether that be you go down below to stay with him or he manages to somehow bring himself to live with you amongst the real world (which would take many years and a ton of hard work), your evening conversations may look a bit like this:

⟢ "Excuse me, but when are you retiring to bed? Your scarf can wait until the morning." He was subtly glaring down at the knitting needles cradled in your hands as he spoke.

⟢ "Not long, just give me a few more minutes. I just want to complete this row of stitches."

⟢ "Alright, but when you come to bed, can you wear some of your summer nightwear?"

⟢ "But why? We're in the middle of winter, I'll freeze."

⟢ "I'll keep you warm." *leaves*

⟢ He definitely didn't just prefer the thinner fabric of your summer nightwear, which meant he could feel your body press against his and also allowed him to feel every curve of your figure with no barrier.

⟢ If you ever got married, expect him to just ask you to sleep naked. Not even for sexual reasons, he just loves the feeling of you.

⟢ You'd have a hard time refusing him in the colder months.

⟢ Also, imagine him singing you to sleep? His back resting against the headboard while you snuggled up against him, his hands delicately trailing over your skin and leaving goosebumps in their path as he sung to you.

⟢ That's an idea to elaborate on for another day.

⟢ Returning to the previous topic of his love of physical affection, kissing you would be magical.

⟢ And he'd be terrible at it.

⟢ The first time you kissed, you'd be the person to lean in first. And he'd look at you as if you'd grown two heads, but he wouldn't deny you. He'd go through many mood swings in the two seconds it took for your lips to touch.

⟢ "Erik," you'd eventually have to pull away, "Pucker your lips, and close your mouth a bit."

⟢ "My apologies."

⟢ That also has nothing to do with the head canon topic, I just wanted to include that.

⟢ Erik would love to draw you. Before he ever approached you, he'd spend his time making sketch after sketch of you, trying to immortalise every vision of you he had in his mind.

⟢ He'd get frustrated that he couldn't properly capture your true charm, but after a while of drawing for hours a day for a long period of time, he'd soon become an incredible artist. He wouldn't use this particular skill for much, unless you asked him to.

⟢ He also couldn't really draw anything that wasn't a person, considering his practice was very limited to one subject.

⟢ He'd have to send Gerard on trips to the store often to keep up with his new hobby.

⟢ "Erik, why do you suddenly need all this paper? The store clerk said he's had to order an earlier shipment of the stuff, because I'm buying up all his supply!"

⟢ "You wouldn't understand."

⟢ He'd also design and create the prettiest clothes for you, ones that would flaunt and uhm, extenuate, your best assets. So much material and thread would be stolen from the company in his pursuits.

⟢ He'd start doing this before you two even properly met, and when you began courting, you'd be taken aback by his display of clothing that he kept scattered around the catacombs.

⟢ Those dresses were probably not intended for him.

⟢ You'd grow especially suspicious when he began offering you these items of clothing, and how they all seemed to perfectly fit you like a glove.

⟢ "Erik, why are all these clothes my size? It's as if you took a measuring tape and made these clothes specifically to fit me."

⟢ "Just things the costume department had laying around."

⟢ "The costume department definitely does not keep clothing in my size."

⟢ "Well, they did when I got them."

⟢ Moving on lol

⟢ There are many reasons somebody may gain weight, but assuming you don't have a condition that causes it and simply appreciated food, Erik would be floored at all your weird and wonderful ways of preparing and eating your meals.

⟢ "What is in this bottle? It looks grainy, you aren't planning on putting this on your food, are you?"

⟢ "It's seasoning! Come on, try it! It makes the food taste a thousand times better!"

⟢ "Seasoning? Isn't that expensive?"

⟢ "Hey, you give me the money for the food, you don't tell me what category of food it needs to be spent on. I'm sure your salary is more than enough to cover the cost."

⟢ He'd grumble about how he was saving it for more important things, like wedding attire and a new instrument that he wanted to learn, but he wouldn't actually mind. His salary was definitely generous.

⟢ One time, he caught you sitting in the sun in the woods, and he was about to approach you when he saw the most baffling thing. You had a cloth splayed on the grass, covered in a weird brown substance that you were dipping strawberries in!

⟢ "What the hell is that?"

⟢ "Melted chocolate! *nom nom nom, gulp!* It's delicious with strawberries, would you like to try?"

⟢ "I'm quite alright, thanks."

⟢ Okay, your food choices were pretty normal, but for sheltered Erik who only ate things in their original state with no added flavour enhancers, he was shocked.

⟢ He might eventually expand his food palate, but it would take plenty of convincing on your behalf. He was perfectly happy with his unbuttered bread, thank you.

⟢ He was exceedingly stubborn.

⟢ But he's a fool for you, really <3

NSFW SECTION

⟢ You'd either have to be the most seductive person to walk the earth before Erik agrees to do anything sexual with you, or you'd have to be married.

⟢ Considering his intense attraction to you, it wouldn't be hard for him to consider you the first option.

⟢ For the purpose of this head canon, let's assume either one is true and he says yes.

⟢ The moment the first article of clothing comes off of you, he's starstruck. He can't believe he didn't say yes sooner.

⟢ He's torn between being regretful that he waited that long and feeling euphoric that he's really about to worship your body to his hearts content.

⟢ He's incredibly touchy feely. Consider every part of your body groped and kissed at least five times.

⟢ Favourite position is definitely you riding him. He'd have a few hang ups on it at first, as missionary back then was the only sex position that the church approved of, and he felt guilty about making you do so much work.

⟢ But he'd learnt his lesson about denying you by then.

⟢ You always had the greatest ideas, if those strawberries dipped in chocolate were anything to go by.

⟢ His eyes were greedy, watching the way you'd lower and lift yourself up and down his aching length. The way your skin stretched over your muscles as you chased your climax, eyebrows furrowed and shoulders hunched as you rested the palms of your hands on his chest.

⟢ He didn't know whether he wanted to keep his eyes locked onto you, or where your bodies were connected down below.

⟢ Just the thought made him so worked up and flustered he'd break a sweat.

⟢ His hands fit so perfectly in the dips of your waist, encouraging your movements as you rutted your hips against his. You looked like a painting, your plush thighs pressed tightly into his sides as you worked yourself into bliss.

⟢ He'd run his hands over every part of you, being extra cautious of being gentle. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

⟢ He definitely finished early the first like. 20 times you did that position. He felt terrible, but you considered it an amazing confidence boost. All apologies would die on his tongue the minute you'd lay down and ask him to finish the job by other means instead.

⟢ And speaking of thighs - his head being crushed by your thighs as he went down on you? God yes. He was used to the feeling of something constantly covering his face, and your legs were a welcome addition.

⟢ He's definitely messy and obviously inexperienced, so his rhythm would be uncomfortable and all over the place to begin with. But he'd figure out what drives you crazy in no time.

⟢ He's very, very eager to please. He'd worship every inch of you at every opportunity he could.

⟢ And have you seen this man's hands? Yum.

⟢ If you ever surprised him by wearing something skimpy or risqué? I hope you didn't have any plans for the next few hours. He's definitely taking his time with his gift.

THIS MAN UGH HE'S SO 😭💗

#phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera musical #poto #phantom of the opera x reader #gaston leroux #cherik #erik carriere #erik destler #erik destler x reader #erik the phantom #1990 phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera 1990 #the phantom of the opera #the phantom x reader

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bubbledtee · 5 months

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only way im dating a man under 6' is hes chubby and only way im dating a skinny man is hes over 6'

#this is fair #i say skinny but he has to be large in some way.#arms.#abs.#dick.#dream man is 6’ 4 and like 260 #idk why i’m talking about this #bub’s thoughts

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hxltic · 1 year

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“YOU’VE NEVER SQUIRTED?” KENMA

part 1 | part 2

It was actually a really awkward conversation in the kitchen of his apartment. The fresh toast sizzled against your fingers as you removed it from the toaster, the sun shined bright through his black curtains without quit, and because it was in his disposition to be up ungodly hours, you incorrectly assumed he’d hibernate in his room so you planned to head to your friend’s house for breakfast in a full face and clothes you never wore. Or technically, a full face and clothes you only wore out to places you cared about. Otherwise, you didn’t really dress to impress.

500 FOLLOWERS?!

Footsteps sounded from afar and you retrieved the jelly from the fridge mindlessly.

“Where we going?”

Kenma taunted from his seat found on the island stool. You assumed he’d just woken up, accompanied with doing his daily hygiene because his soft voice still had the slightest rasp to it.

“We?” You jokingly snapped back. Kenma scoffed lightheartedly at you. The refrigerator door closed with a slight push, and Kenma sighed to where he could ask again. Some almost fully black stands came to fall in front of his face as he leaned forward on the cold, stone counter and his hair was pulled into a small ponytail, nothing left of the noticeable blonde but disproportional ends that fall into his large hoodie.

“Where are you going?”

You grab the plate but forget the juice for the morning. Back you go to the fridge almost in a rush.

“I’m going to a friend’s for breakfast, it’s this party thing she hosts every year,” you explain. “Almost like a friendsgiving. She takes it suuuuper serious.”

The juice is in one hand, a random cup in another. You twist around to pour the liquid on the island instead of the main countertop so you could engage in quick conversation with Kenma. As he got older he’s become more expressive and outgoing, just willingly reserved. He has, however, become a handful; and having lived with him, you’ve seen him take shots like a champ. You see his aloofness dissolve, his eyebrow coming up the slightest bit.

“And you’re eating breakfast before going to eat breakfast?” He slowed the pace of his words around the end of the sentence like he was judging you.

“I have to eat in the morning still, or I’ll pass out before I even get there Kenma! I’m kinda a little late though so you can heckle me when I get back.”

“Uhuh…”

Kenma hummed in response with an inconspicuous smirk on his face. You wouldn’t have even seen it if it weren’t for you waiting to see his reaction of your flawless vocabulary. He was however, changing his position to leaning back in the chair, already staring you incredulously. It was somewhat close to a manspread, his hands were tucked into the hoodie pockets, and the sight was way too much for you to handle this early in the morning.

So, you turned around to tend to your idle plate with jelly-less toast on it. You didn’t like Kenma specifically, persay, you would’ve liked it if any boy looked at you like that. Yeah. Don’t think too much about it.

Anyway, with the slide of a drawer you withdrew the knife and got to work. Unbeknownst to you, Kenma had not taken his eyes off your body. Your hair was still slightly wet but it made it easier for you to style. It was up. The backless halter top you wore was connected only by a string at your nape, and it left skin between that and your skinny jeans that fell down to your open toe, clear strap heels. You were dressed perfect for the summer occasion of a girls day out. And he was absolutely sulking in it.

“You look good.”

You hate the slight pause in your actions. You hate the way you had to question if he was talking to you or not, even if you were the only one in the house. You hate that you refuse to turn around to him. You hate the giddy smile that decorated your face. You hate that you had to cover up how everything you hated affected you, so you say “Thank you; flatter me more.”

He just outwardly chuckled, and ended with a “Maybe.” He starts again, “Hey is this who you were on the phone with last night? Who’s at the party I mean.”

“Hm?” Your chin did lead over your shoulder at this. “Yes actually, I’m surprised I’m up as early as I am considering she kept me up all night.” You resume.

“Tell her I said she should break up with him.”

You agree, “I will; she definitely needs to hear it.”

…

Suddenly, you snap your head back around quick enough to give you whiplash. You don’t get embarrassed easily, but you had to be blushing like a bitch.

This time Kenma’s smirk was very noticeable. You blink warily at him.

“Ken… how much did you hear?” Your voice was soft with curiosity mixed and thrown into fear. He just shrugged casually and quickly switched to an innocent façade. One thing you learned about him over the years: he has a badass poker face. And he’s a dick.

Such a dick, in fact, that after reassuring “I wasn’t eavesdropping so I didn’t hear much,” he let you take deep breaths of relief and turn back around to lather your second piece of toast. You felt the golden, low, cat-like eyes burning through the back of your head—so with indecision and obscurity—you looked over your shoulder again. He wore a shit eating grin.

You pointed the butterknife at him accusingly.

“You fucking liar! You heard all of it!!”

Kenma just smiled menacingly.

“I did hear all of it actually; but pushing that aside, why do I feel like I’ve never heard you say some of the words you said?” He tilts his head to the side, completely dismissing you.

“Kenma!?”

“Say pussy.”

This made you stop. You found him unbelievable, and you’d never admit what hearing him say pussy does to your mind, but his head was sideways in pure amusement like he was waiting on you to do it.

“Kenma. What.”

“Say it.”

You just stared at each other.

“Pussy,” you finally repeated. After lingering in the air a bit Kenma’s eyes went wide and he threw his head back to diminish into laughter.

“Kenmaaa.” You groaned loudly. He only laughed harder. “What all did you hear? Seriously!”

He calmed down to just a grin and ushered you to be as well with the palm of his hand.

“Okay okay—mainly the part where she explains how she hates the guy because she feels like he ignores her and has never made her cum—plus some other stuff, blah blah, that’s basically it,” He rambles.

It was your turn for your eyes to run wide, so in astonishment that your body couldn’t even address the other words that rolled out his mouth so easy. “I don’t want basically, I want all of it,” you declare.

“There’s not much more unless you’re including all the other dumb shit he did? Like how he told his friends she did something even if she didn’t, and she felt invalidated about it. I have amazing input on these types of situations by the way.”

Kenma was saying all this without any negative emotion, relaying it to you with normalcy. “The only thing after that was about yourself.”

You roll your eyes, but bingo. So he did hear it. He heard what you didn’t want him to. Your face may have dropped a tiny bit.

“…What was it? About how…I have—“

“—never squirted?” He finishes. Your chest tightened a little, and your face was red with what was anger transforming into something else. His ordinary apathetic gaze was locked on yours for a tiny moment, so you made it your responsibility to look away and grab your food.

“Gotta go now, I’m already late.” You swiftly unhooked the keys from the wall and opened the door. It wasn’t his fault he heard (because to be honest you two weren’t the quietest last night during your girl talk), but just now the fact that he knew upset you. Your best friend made it seem so easy, like she does it all the time, and it just made you seem like you were missing out how she explained it.

However, on your way out, Kenma did call for you from the kitchen. “Not everyone can do it,” He said. It was reassurance, you assume, but it didn’t really come off as such. He then says (more to himself you also assume), “Not everyone can make you do it either.”

This sat with you the whole breakfast/brunch party, champagne being passed around like candy but nothing could stop you from thinking about it. Of course it being a whole room of the closest friends, she re-explained last night’s gossip, the effects hitting you again as your friends chimed in on the situation. Was it really as good as they say?

——•——

You unlocked the house door, the apartment dim and quiet. It was around four now, you weren’t completely sober, and your heels clacked along the tile.

Dropping your arm to sit your purse on the counter and hang the keys, you undo a single strap and slip the shoes off. You carry them in your hand for the journey to your room.

Of course before you can reach your door, there’s Kenma’s slightly cracked open one to remind you of what he said. Not everyone can make you do it either.

What does that even mean; can’t you do it alone? Do you need someone else for it?

You weren’t dumb and at least knew what he was implying. It was an offer. Or maybe it wasn’t, and you’re just horny. Either way you find yourself stopped in front of the entrance to his room. You don’t bother to knock, it falls open with a slight push of your free hand.

Kenma resides at his setup, on his phone, the mic wrapped around his neck. The few moving lights in his room softly radiated from his pc, making him appear to be different strong shades of red and orange depending on when you looked. He didn’t seem to be streaming. Or he could be—he isn’t the nicest to his viewers.

He casts you a glance past his hair but dismisses your presence. You don’t really ever come into his room except to just grab something and go, usually a hair product.

You take a few steps inside. Then, you leisurely drop the heels at his bedside so he finally acknowledges your company.

“Ken?” Your delicate voice breaks the silence of the outside, completely unsure if there was music running through his headphones.

He clicks his phone off so you have his full attention.

“What’s up? How was it?”

You continued taking slow steps forward, with only one thing on your mind. And it wasn’t the party. “It was okay.”

Kenma surveys how you have yet to halt, inching closer and closer to him. It only took a slight examination of your face to see the solemnity. Blankness. He stands up from his seat and removes the headset from himself in concern before you can get any closer.

“You sure? You don’t look—“

“—Kenma. What did you say earlier?” You whisper. He was now directly in front of you.

He pauses for a second and his face converts to disbelief. “Are we still talking about the squirt thing?” He smiles mischievously, “I was just letting you know not to worry about it so much.”

You hate that word. It’s so gross sounding, so vulgar. But you can’t bring yourself to get him to stop saying it.

“Well I have been, so what happens now?” You peer strangely at each other, both acutely aware of where this was going.

“And you’re coming to me for this, why?” The ravenette taunts. He knew exactly why you were in his room right now, the curiosity having ate away at you all day. Like an itch that won’t go. You’ve gotta give in if this’ll go anywhere.

“Well you seem to know a lot about it…” you fumble with your bracelet nervously. You’ve gotten this far. “Could you…maybe help me?”

Kenma makes no sudden movements. He scans you suspiciously. A slight flush of red may have spread across your cheeks, but the darkness around you was protective. Hearing it actually come out of your mouth was a whole different story than imagining it.

“You want me to make you squirt?” He confirmed.

You may have physically cringed at that sentence because his hands find his sweat pockets in a ‘you said it not me’ manner.

“Yes.”

He scanned you again for good measure.

“Alright.”

With this he turned on his heel, stepped away, and sat in his gaming chair again. You stood there blankly, unaware of what to do. “Come here.”

You follow him to his setup. He sighs because he could see how uncomfortable you were.

“What usually do you do to get off?” He questions. He twists you around by your hips, your back facing him.

“Uh…It’s just kinda alone in my room I guess. I use my fingers usually.” You tried to keep your voice low enough to cure your embarrassment. Kenma, however, seemed to be doing this with ease. In fact, as he was asking you questions, he massaged your hips and waist soothingly.

“Is that it? You don’t watch or think about anything?”

You turn your head, “No. Am I supposed to?”

“I mean it’s not mandatory but you gotta think about something.”

“Whatever. Jeez, Kenma just say you think about me already.” You quip. Whatever he was doing was working, you were loosening up.

“Only when I’m about to cum. How do you like to be talked to?”

What?

You weren’t even going to ask about it. It was probably a joke anyway.

A moment of processing silence passed. “I don’t really know how I like to be talked to. Guys have tried to praise or degrade me but it never worked, so I just assumed I didn’t like the talk at all.”

He tugs on the shirt string at your neck. He watches you tense up at the action, so he rubs your trap in slow, circular motions instead. “If I say I like to be praised, all they do is say ‘good girl’ over and over. Gets kinda boring you know?” Is this you venting to Kenma about your boring sex life? Of course. You mess with your nails as you face away from him. Not for long though, because he turns you around.

“This is what I meant by not everyone can make you do it. Only you can guarantee yourself the highest pleasure 100% of the time,” Kenma drags you by your belt loops so you fall into the chair against him, “and me.”

He was so close now, your knees sliding under the chair arm. His breath could be felt on your skin and his hands were still pawing at your waist to glide up your back. You couldn’t bring yourself to put your full weight on him. However, he pulls you down anyway, and manually places your hands along his clothed chest so you could calm down. That was all he wanted from you right now. To relax and to take deep breaths.

“Warnings would be great Ken.”

“Yeah, but you said you don’t like to talk.”

“I don’t.”

“So should I warn you about how hard you make me dressed up like that?”

You moderately gasped at the comment placed right into your collarbone. You pressed down a tiny bit farther to see if you could feel it. You could. His breath fanned against your body and airy kisses lead.

You wonder where all of Kenma’s shyness over the years went because now you would never have guessed him to be like this. The friction fuels him to push you more.

Kenma could go on and on about these random intrusive thoughts he only gets at night—the only time where you seem to engulf his brain. Living with you over the years has been fine with zero temptation, but recently, it’s been like a hormone specifically for you snapped in his body. He feels the way you roll your hips the smallest bit for yourself. You liked the talk, just not the guys.

Soft fingers pull on a single string near your hair, releasing your breasts from the top as the fabric folded downwards between the two of you.

©️ hxltic

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eveningepiphany · 5 months

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something about the legs | h.s oneshot

summary: something about your best friends legs really does it for you, especially in skinny jeans…

warnings: besties with unexpected and very impulsive benefits, oral sex (mrec), lots and lots of talk about those mfing legs and thighs, dirty talk, h not expecting you to be like that until you are.

a/n: so it’s been a hot minute… hi again🤪 but something rlly just sent me spiralling with this pic of h’s fucking legs. look at them. anyways, enjoy me being a slut and channeling it into some fine literature, enjoy xoxo

———

Ovulation week is a curse. An absolute, utter curse.

Between the multitude of random fluctuating symptoms and skyrocketing hormones, you feel dreaded enough as it is. But the worst part, is every fucking month you become absolutely manic with need.

Some are increasingly better or worse than others, but this month is something off the charts.

There is no warrant for you to be this fucking horny at 9:32pm on a Thursday night. Yet here you are, squirming because you’re around someone that already riles you up enough as it is.

Harry is your best friend. Has been for years. Since the awkward starting phases of middle school. All braces paired with horrendous fashion choices. And into the ages of highschool throughout all the drama and predictable thematics. Into the present, where life throws you curveballs as you enter the world as young adults, and now that he’s in one direction. You can’t imagine going through all that with anyone else.

Actually, maybe it’s fit to mention you’re almost certain that this man never went through an awkward phase… despite the fact possibly everyone else on the planet did. Harry did not.

He was cute from the day he was born, it’s evident in the pictures, up until he hit puberty, then he became some ungodly mix of both cute and ridiculously hot.

It’s disgusting that someone can do both things at the same time. And also revolting that they can have no idea at all.

But tonight, he is all hot. Between the way he’s dressed, the way he’s walking, and the way he’s talking. It’s close to killing you where you’re sat.

Thighs clenched together like there’s a thousand dollar check between them, you sit on a outdoor couch at your family’s holiday house.

It’s just the two of you outside on the large decked patio. It’s a huge house by the lake that your parents and grandparents own, so you invited Harry to come stay for the week. Your family were thrilled you invited him, but have already turned in for an early night. Since they planned to be out on the lake for a day of water activities almost before the damn sun was even fully up.

Harry has a glass of alcohol in his hands— one that is completely dwarfed in his hold. It’s condensation forming small droplets over the ridges of his fingers.

He hasn’t realised the staring you’ve been doing, as he paces the deck talking about something to do with a recent song he’s been writing.

You’re sliding in small hums of agreement at the appropriate times without even hearing what he’s saying. Only the pleasing lilt in his voice that tickles your ears as it enters them.

He’s got those black skinny jeans on, the pair that cling to his hips for dear life. And not only are they fit to his hips, but they hug every single curve on his legs. The thick of his thighs all the way down to the muscle of his calf.

And if anything was the killer for you tonight, it was those.

You’re surprised you’re not drooling on yourself. Which is fucking disgusting, but fact. As there is an over-production of saliva in your mouth right now just looking at his legs.

He is so muscly there. The presumed strength of his thighs makes you actually pant, and you never thought legs did it for you like this. But my god right now, they certainly are.

“But I jus’ dunno Y/N,” he turns to you, causing you to snap your gaze from the curve of his ass which you were shamelessly just staring at, back to his face.

It doesn’t get better for you anywhere you look. The man was built and sculpted by a god. Every feature was painstaking to look at, and not be able to touch.

“What d’ya reckon would sound better?” He asks, nonchalantly, unaware you were just eyeing him up.

You feel some shame now, as you scramble to find an answer for the question you don’t even know the context for.

“Well, i think whatever you feel flows better. Yknow?” You swallow, praying to god it’s diluted enough of an answer that he’ll just take it without question.

He nods, and relief floods through you, “i s’pose you’re right.”

However that relief hardly lasts long, because he’s not as clueless as you’d presumed, “You’re pretty good at giving advice even when you’re only half listening.”

He saunters over from the span of deck he’d been pacing the last 10 minutes, sitting down next to you with a smug look on his face. You feel the cushions dip with his body weight, and you’re so delusioned that even a part of you twinges with desire at the understanding of his weight. The idea of him pressing it down on top of you during—

“What’s on ya mind, love, why are you s’faraway lookin’?” He asks, sipping at his drink with a quirk of his dark eyebrows.

“I—“ Christ. He’s manspreading a bit right now… thighs pushed apart, “I’m just tired. Been a big few days.”

His curly, and boyishly-messy hair is cascading over his forehead and casting a shadow of his green gaze, the same one that’s nailing you where you’re sat right now.

He doesn’t look very convinced. And he’s watching your eyes flicker around, looking guilty of a lie, presumably the words that just came from your mouth.

“You don’t have t’lie, dove.” He laughs, a soft songbird-like chuckle that somewhat eases your tenseness.

You feel so dirty for thinking about him like this. When he can’t tell you it’s okay to be imagining absolutely sinful things you’d do… or let be done when it comes to him. However, you are so hormonal right now, that you don’t have it in yourself to stop.

He was just simply the wrong person, in the wrong place, at coincidentally the right time in your hormonal cycle.

And you feel even worse because there’s years of history behind the two of you. And friends are not meant to think of each other like this, it makes things quickly complicated. And this is not a hallmark film.

“I know.” You sigh out, “it’s not you, H. I’m just… hormonal.”

His first thought was that you were on your period, a look of tender concern flitting across his face.

“Oh, is your period making you feel sick?”

You could laugh at the irony. You are infact neither of the things he thinks. Not bleeding, and not ill.

He has looked after you before when you’ve been in the trenches with your period. He is always so willing to get you anything when you’re not feeling well.

And you can tell by the look on his pretty face he’s about to ask you he can get you anything to help— pain relief, water, snacks or simply a hug.

A gentleman, as always.

But if he asks you if you need anything, you only have one answer and that’s him. You need him, and not in a platonic way. So you interject before he can ask,

“No, quiet the opposite.” You shake your head, pursing your lips.

“But it’s fine,” you amend curtly, “just girl stuff.”

The two of you get consumed by a momentary silence, he was waiting for more information, which you simply were not giving. After a few seconds, he sputters out a sudden laugh.

“You can tell me, if you want, idiot.” He laughs, nudging you with his knee. His very attractive leg being left pressed into yours. “Gross details and personal stuff never usually stop us.”

Your whole body is burning up, overwhelmed. He is so fucking hot, and caring. You want him filling up your goddamn throat.

“No, trust me. This is all left best untold and ignored. I can’t help it, so we’re just ignoring it.” Your tone is certain, and to this he nods. Able to tell that’s as much of an answer he’d be getting for now, so he begrudgingly accepts it.

“Fine, fine, you’re just so stiff. Need t’relax.” He slides his free hand behind your back to pull him into his side.

Tugging you the small distance between you two, your head comes naturally to rest in the crook of his neck. Nose inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne, smelling like the refreshingly cool breeze on a muggy summer night.

His thumb strokes a delicate back and forth rhythm on the bare skin it’s found between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your fitted top.

It’s killing you, because he’s so gentle with you. Such a sweetheart really, but you’re breaking out a sweat at the feeling of his fingertips against your skin. You need a cold shower.

You try not to let your eyes wander down to the legs in those fucking jeans.

“S’long as ya alright,” he murmurs into your hair, “is there anything you need from me? ‘Cause if I can do anything for ya, yknow I would.”

Your stomach drops, how are you even supposed to answer that. Your face heats with even more guilt.

Your internal voice drops in her two cents on the question— your cock, she confidently stated. That was what she wanted.

“No, nothing you can do that’s reasonable, H.” You say, too dangerously close to him dragging the truth out of your needy mouth for your liking.

He tilts his head down to look at the profile of your face, curiously prodding further, “How unreasonable are we talking?”

“Ridiculously and foolishly unreasonable.”

“Why?”

“Sh. Don’t make me tell you, because I don’t want to.” You state defiantly, rolling away from his hold, since now you’re talking about it— although vaguely— it’s just making it worse.

Focusing on it is making the need more intense, your eyes feasting unintentionally on his muscled body relaxing on the couch.

He’s got this smirk on his lips. One you want to kiss off.

“You’re blushing, is it that bad?”

You scoff, “Yes, that bad.”

“Okay… so, it’s not your period, and it’s technically fixable— since you just said it’s unreasonable for me to do it… not impossible.” he’s wondering out loud, watching your every move.

Which now you’ve stood up and started pacing, trying to distract yourself from the pulsing between your legs and the begging voice in your head that wants to touch him so badly.

“Stop being nosey! God!” You frustratedly whine out, and he laughs at your sudden anger at not only him, but at seemingly just being a woman.

“Just trying to help, baby, don’t get mad.” He teases, and between his suddenly mocking mouth, your resolve snaps like a fickle twig.

“Fuck, I’m horny. Harry!” You groan out, covering your eyes over with the palms of your hands so you don’t have to see his likely disgusted face at your confession.

But now that you’ve started you can’t stop, “You just… your fucking legs and thighs are just… I don’t know! I’m ovulating and you’re just really sexy, it’s frustrating and I really want to die right now, H.”

In reality, his brows had just shot up with surprise, lips parting in shock. He could not believe you just admitted that.

He glanced down to his legs. He’s just in jeans, it wasn’t like he felt as though they were anything to write home about.

It shocked him that you even… well obviously the two of you are best friends. But it was rare that topics of sex came up, so all the sudden the conversation being about that and also about you is making his head spin.

Yet something comes over him, he doesn’t think as he speaks his next words, “Tha’s not as unreasonable as you made it out to be.”

You snap your hands down from your face, eyes locking onto his— he doesn’t look repulsed or uncomfortable as you had originally expected. He looks inexplicably open to the topic.

“I’ve got somethin’ you need, somethin’ that can fix it, love.” He states, shrugging his shoulders, his voice going almost sultry, “An’ yknow what I said, hm?”

At your silence— because you’re too stunned to even speak— he finishes the sentence for you, “Said I’d do anything for ya.”

Oh, is this quickly snowballing.

“Harry!” You shake your head, it feeling so wrong to be talking about this with him.

He abandons his drink on the small side table beside the couch, standing up and breaching the distance between you.

“Jus’ say the words, and then im yours.” He lowly whispers, and this is about to make you pass out. You’re clenching around nothing in your underwear, and the proposition is so tempting.

“We shouldn’t though. It’s not your responsibility to… satiate me.” You gulp out, nervous, yet body flaming with heat.

“Y/N, best friends help each other out… tha’s all it has to be, jus’ me making y’feel better.” he says, hand coming to run down your upper arm. And the second you started talking about this, his cock has been twitching where it’s confined his jeans.

“You can make all the decisions, all the calls, m’kay?” The statement was reassuring.

You lean into his touch, caving without anymore of a fight, “Okay… alright. Just… tell me if you change your mind. Please?”

His lips curl into a satisfied smile, feeling his hand get taken by yours. It’s much to risky to be fucking around with your best friend on the families patio, so you lead him down the steps into the dark, open backyard.

They have a pier, that’s lit with small solar lights, and that’s the first place you can that is reasonable enough to go. You tug him along the wooden decking it has, feet drumming against it.

Against a tree was too dark, and you at least want to see his cock if you’re getting the opportunity to touch it.

“On the pier, hey? That desperate.” He teases, and you push him with your free hand into one of its big wooden pillars.

“I want your cock down my throat, how’s that for desperate?” You scoff, pulling a laugh of pure shock from his own lips.

“I’m serious, H.” You look at him, stone cold expression. You are so riled up and ready to touch him that you need immediate confirmation this is something he wants.

“Go on, said you wanted it.”

Before you sink down onto your knees, you question him further, “you want this, though?”

A smile spreads over his mouth, “baby, you’re gonna be able to feel just how much i want this when you get down there. I was bricked the second you said you were horny.”

That was all you needed, dropping to the ground on your knees— now with his consent, your filter completely disappeared.

“Fuck me, Harry. I don’t think you understand how sexy you are.” Hands immediately coming up to squeeze the muscle of his thighs.

He hums a noise as he looks down at you on your knees, “Never thought legs would do it for you, but here we are.”

“Only thing i could think about is digging my nails into your thighs…”

You drag your hands back up to where the buckle of his belt laid, grabbing at it and undoing it. Slipping it out of the loops in his pants in a swift movement.

Leaning forward, you lift the hem of his black shirt, pressing your mouth against his happy trail.

You’re a slut for that little teasing patch of hair that dips below his low jeans. It causes you to whine out, a wordless sound of appreciation as you peck kisses over it.

The button and zipper quickly got undone by your nimble hands, and you finally brush over the prominent bulge that’s perked up in his boxers.

A realisation that you’re about to see your best friends dick for the first time kind of hits you, causing you to roll your lips between your teeth.

His suddenly strained voice comes from above you, “fuck, Y/N, don’t get shy with me. Y’can take me out.”

He’s almost ready to beg, even though this is all technically for you. But he didn’t anticipate how sensitive he would be when it’s a special girls hands running over his bulge.

However that’s exactly how it is, he’s already biting his lip as you cup him through his briefs, head tilted backwards with a sudden shared need.

You draw his jeans further down, “patience, im just enjoying you, pretty boy.”

The doting nickname earns a small groan from his lips, paired with the fact you’re now mouthing at his inner thighs. They’re warm and firm, dusted with dark hairs. You suck the most inner and upper part of his thigh into your mouth, causing him to grunt out.

You busy yourself with that particular part of his skin for a moment, rubbing the backs of your hands around the flesh of his ass. Still unfortunately covered by his briefs.

“So fuckin’ good to me, H.” You muttered into his soft skin, dragging your nose over to kiss the fabric covering his hard cock.

It makes him twitch, “letting me do this… and touch you where I want.”

You sound so out of it, replacing your mouth with your hand momentarily so you can go back to kissing his thighs, teeth impulsively barring over them. He shudders at the sensation.

After a bit more teasing, you finally start to pull the waistband of his black calvins down.

When his cock is fully out, you moan. You straight out moan at the sight of it. It’s glistening tip is a flushed red, beading out a sliver of precum for you, and it was safe to say he’s well equipped.

The two of you curse in sync as you hold him in your hand, feeling the weight as you stroke gently.

“Christ, tha’s good.” He curses out, hips stuttering forward slightly. You take a moment to look up at his face.

His cheeks have gone a slight red, and his lips are shiny from his teeth and tongue constantly running over them. Not to mention the way his lidded eyes are gazing down at you.

You hold eye contact as you lean in to lick over his tip in one solid stroke, watching his face twist in pleasure.

It makes your core drip. Seeing his cock, tasting it, watching him react to your touch. It fuels you to take his tip into your mouth, giving a gentle suck.

Your fingers take refugee digging into his thighs, and you are already loosing you mind with him between your lips. Somehow, you’re almost convinced you could come just from sucking on his dick.

Your self control is completely shattered now, you draw back and spit over his length, listening to him groan out as he watches the action.

“Drool on me, darling.” He says, the gentle demand makes you eager to impress him. You liked the idea of him telling you what to do… maybe even forcing you.

Fuck, you are sick and twisted, you scoffed internally at your self. Yet proceeding to gather your saliva and let it dribble down onto him.

“Thank you, thank you…” you murmur against him, and he twitches at your still airy voice. He would kill to know just how wet you were between your legs.

It was such a sight for you though, seeing him start to get slicked up with your own spit. Your mouth reconnected with him, sliding further down, hand coming up to massage his balls.

You’re whining around him now, starting to move in a sort of rhythm over his cock. You can’t help it, you were becoming frantic at him filling your throat.

The vibration of your mouth sends his hand flying into your hair, drawing a cuss from his lips, “fuck, Y/N…”

You get his cock as far as you can into your mouth without gagging— you’ll leave that for a little later— stroking the remainder. There’s something about the way he takes up the space between your lips, the feeling of his thick cock atop your tongue.

You glance up at him, fingertips teasing the inner parts of his thigh. Just as you look up, you give a harsh suck, hollowing out your mouth and lathing your tongue on the underside of him. Feeling the vein that runs along him.

His head almost bangs back against the wooden beam he’s leaning on, you feel the slight stutter of his hips.

A moan reverberated around you, filling your ears pleasingly. You draw back for a breathe, “you taste so good.”

His hand curls in your hair, panting out, “You’re such a needy girl…”

“Like that?” He asks at the whimper that come from you, “like being told that I see how desperate y’becoming?”

You nod immediately, “please…”

At your way of asking for more dirty talk he smiles, “becoming my little slut? Warming my cock with your mouth just because you’re so horny for it.”

When you don’t reply with words, and only a senseless moan, he taps your mouth with his fingers gently.

“Show me, baby.”

You part your lips almost instantly at his command, jutting your wet tongue out, ready to take him back into your mouth.

He guides his cock back between your lips, and that’s about as far as he gets before you have to take over from him again. All he can register is how hot and warm you’re mouth is as it wraps around him again.

You start to bob your head, taking him all the way down your throat with a slight gag. You’re whining without warrant now, all over his spit slicked cock.

It’s paired with his own moans of pleasure and words of praise as you suddenly draw back, flicking over his wet tip with your tongue, teasing it and making him grunt.

Your soul existence quickly slips to being just about his cock and hearing his noises. Being able to look up at him and see the sweat beginning to sheen over his forehead, and the mess of his soft hair.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he has to forcibly open them every so often to see you. A reality check for himself that down on her knees, is his best friend. Drooling all over his prick with a insatiable need.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He states as you take him all the way down your throat again.

“Taking me like the slut y’are. Might ‘ave to fuck you like one later, how’s that sound?” His mouth has gone loose now, brain muddled with only thoughts of you in it.

You suck and nod over him, brain rioting with a yes at his question.

“Probably so wet, so warm.” He mutters in half thought, and the idea of him even thinking of you like that makes you clench multiple times in your panties.

You roll you hips against nothing which he is grateful he caught with his half lidded eyes. The look of sheer desperation that crossed your face.

Moving faster, you starting taking his cock at a pace that immediately made his hand coil tighter in your hair.

“Fuck… im gon’ come faster than I’d like if y’keep— shit— doing that.” He moans, and you draw back quickly.

“Need to taste it… please, Harry.” You beg, forcing your throat back down around him once you’d got a breathe.

You gagged around him in full this time, earning his hips bucking against you.

Strings of dirty talk and cusses were flying out of his mouth, like a litany being repeated over and over. He kept praising you.

“That warm mouth…fuck… fucking me so good baby. Want to keep y’down there for hours, like m’personal little cockslut.”

Your nails dug into the backs of his meaty thighs, making you moan around him. Spit was covering your chin as you moved hastily over his hard prick.

“Like that idea?” He asked gruffly, “making you drool all over me like this until I’m empty, an’ y’ve come in y’panties to the point you’re dripping.”

You feverishly bob your head, sucking hard against him. If his bucking hips and loose mouth are any indicator, he’s getting close.

A few more minutes of your mouth, and he’s swearing, “im gonna come, dove— fuck— where do y’want it?”

Trying not to stop to long, looking up at his flushed face and blown out eyes, you lowly plead, “on my tongue, please…”

“Good slut, good fucking girl!” He slurs out.

You draw back to his tip, eager to taste him properly. You spit messily over his pulsing red head, kitten licking over it while your hand fucks the rest of his length at a fast pace.

It has him a wreck, and before he know it, he’s moaning out so loud he’s almost scared he woke someone in the house up.

“Fuck! I’m going to come, baby, im gonna come!”

You watch in completely infatuation as his eyes screw shut and his mouth drops into a gasp for air. You feel his hips stutter, and his cock pulse and twitch as it releases onto your awaiting tongue.

He tastes so good. You feel ashamed for even liking it that much, but as it spurts out his tip and drips onto your lower lip, your insane over it.

You rub it in with his tip, coating it over your tongue, and he pants as he opens his eyes to watch you.

It’s a sight etched into his mind forevermore. The fact his come is painted all over your tongue right now.

“Swallow it, pretty girl, let me watch.” He exhaustedly instructs you, voice raspy and deep in his post orgasm haze.

You do as told, and realising some has spilt even onto the corner of his thigh now that you’ve let him go.

Not letting it go to waste, you clean it off with a lick of your still eager mouth. Gently kissing over the spot as well.

“Taste so good, H.” You whisper against him, moving over to kiss his tip a final time.

“Thank you, again. For letting me do that…” You almost feel more satisfied than you would have if you had gotten to come as well.

“Made me feel amazing, baby.”

Or so you thought, because once he raised the point again… “If you want, since I can only imagine how desperate your little cunt is, I can return the favour somehow?”

And it was impossible to say no when he looked like that, boxers still half down his beautiful legs and face flushed that sexy shade of red.

You were in for a night, that was for sure. So much for an early morning.

———

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #he’s so #fuck me I need him so bad #anyways #hope you enjoyed #ily #last oneshot of 2023

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enviedear · 5 months

Text

jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

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#billy the kid #billy bonney #billy the kid x reader #billy bonney x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #billy bonney fluff #billy the kid fluff #i know everyone’s in their coriolanus era but…

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bigification · 2 months

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Gainers Roulette

It's a risky game played by men desperate enough to risk their bodies for a chance at a bigger life. Men come from far and wide to play a game of Gainer roulette, some come out strong and sexy, some aren't so lucky. Although the game isn't all luck, it has a way of punishing those it deems unworthy.

Six needles are loaded, four with a serum that increases muscle and testosterone in the body, and two with a serum that drastically increases age and fat in the body.

The first player is a young man who pulls up on a motorcycle. He learned how to ride a motorcycle so that he could join his dad's group, but now he just gets picked on for being young and skinny. Well regardless, him being skinny won't be a problem after this.

He takes the serum. Immediately his face starts to change. His young and smooth features become more ragged, his clean shaven face quickly grows thick black hairs giving him a bushy beard, and the hairs on his head fall out leaving him with a smooth bald head. At this point it's hard to tell if he's won or not. Aging and losing hair is a common sign of losing, but he did want to look older and tougher so it could be either.

Next his body started to rapidly grow. He grew taller and taller as his shoulders broadened and his chest grew two juicy pecs that burst out of his shirt. His flat stomach grew into a thick six pack with a small layer of fat covering them. His arms exploded with muscle, becoming large and defined. Hair started to grow all over his body, covering his chest, stomach, and arms, giving him a much tougher look.

Moving downward, his previously flat ass perked up and pressed firmly against his shorts. His legs thickened as a thick pelt of hair grew over them, and his feet grew a few sizes, busting out of his shoes. And finally, a large bulge formed in his tight shorts, just for good measure.

Looks like we have a winner. The man leaned against his motorcycle and looked down at his nearly naked body. He smiled before riding off.

Our next player arrives in a luxury car. These never go well, rich guys only have one thing money can't buy them, good looks. So they come here expecting to walk out strong and good looking, let's see how this goes.

An average looking guy in an expensive polo and a gold chain walk out of the car. Not exactly what I expected, but close enough. He appears to be on the phone, and he doesn't seem to be enjoying the phone call. He puts the caller on hold as he approaches and takes the shot without even saying a word to me.

The man's well kept hair quickly falls off his head as his facial features start to age. It's not looking good for him so far. His cheeks puff out as a couple of chins grow under his soft jawline.

His scrawny body bursts out of his expensive polo as his gut grows bigger and bigger. He is left with a big hairy beer gut hanging out of his ripped shirt. His chest soon follows, growing into a thick pair of man tits with cheap looking tattoos on them.

His arms and legs thicken with mostly fat as his hands become thick and pudgy. The man is left old, bald, and fat. This is what usually happens to the rich guys who come here. He resumes his phone call as if nothing happened before getting in his car and driving away.

The next player slowly walks up holding a cane. He is an elderly sheriff who had to quit his job due to his physical condition, but wants to work again.

The man takes the shot, and almost right away his back straightens as he grows taller. Most of the wrinkles on the man's skin disappear as his he grows a clean silver beard. His receded hairline grows back and his skin tans from a pale white to a healthy golden brown.

The man's chest perks up and his shoulders broaden, filling out his sheriff uniform. The fat in his stomach disappears, leaving his uniform hanging off of his pecs. His biceps tripled in size, filling with muscle until they were about to rip his sleeves. His ass perks up and his thighs thicken, filling out his pants.

The man stands tall, smiles and nods at me approvingly before leaving without a word.

Next player is a young man who pulls up on a bike. He says he's close to getting drafted into the football league of his dreams, but he just hasn't been able to put on the weight needed for his position. Well either way I'm sure he'll be beyond heavy enough.

He takes the shot and his body starts to fill out. His skinny arms grow large and strong and his flat chest plumps up into two defined pecs, bursting through his tiny shirt. His pudgy stomach tightens up into a barely visible six pack with a sizable layer of fat covering it.

His legs and his ass explode with muscle and fat, giving the young man the look of a superstar football player. The pressure in his shorts grows until they rip open in dramatic fashion, making his ass bounce as it's released. Finally his face fills out, matching the rest of his massive body.

It looks like we have another winner. He seems to come to after the transformation is complete, an embarrassed look takes over his face as he attempts to cover his dick with his hands. His hands are quite massive, but it would be futile to try to cover up the monster he's got packing down there.

I throw him a towel to cover up and he thanks me before biking off.

The next player is a middle aged man who shows up in a barely functioning mini van. He said he used to be an athlete but had to stop after a serious injury. Ever since he had his kids, he has gained a lot of weight and struggles to do any activities with his kids.

The man takes the shot, and similar to the sheriff from before, his back straightens as his height increases drastically. Within moments the small feeble man with a can has become a tall and imposing man. His height has made his shorts look like short shorts and his shirt look like a bra, exposing his hairy gut. This would not last long however, as the fat in his body rapidly started to drain. As it did, his body began to twitch as an immense amount of muscle started to grow in his body. His hulking gut became a rock hard six pack and his moobs became a juicy pair of pecs. The man's soft arms became solid and defined as his hands became thick and calloused. His legs became strong and sturdy, and his ass became round a perky instead of sagging like it did before.

The man's face slimmed down, making his double chin fade as a thick black beard grew over his face. His receding hairline also grew back a little bit, giving him a more youthful look. Finally, a thick pelt of hair grew all over the man's body. Though the transformation seemed very taxing on the man, and he ended up passing out.

He must have been 6"4 and at least 250 pounds, so dragging his body to a bed was no easy task. It didn't take long for him to wake up. He thanked me profusely before getting up and leaving in the minivan.

Our last player for today is a young man who shows up in a cop car. He approaches wearing a police uniform, he feels he is not being respected by the more senior police. He wants to be more intimidating and demand more respect, but something tells me that his co-workers aren't the only reason he wants to be more intimidating. Unfortunately for him, he has no idea that there is only one shot left and it is not a winner.

The man impatiently takes the shot. Almost immediately, the man's flat stomach distended outward into a beer belly. It grows and grows until rips through his police uniform, leaving him in a tight black undershirt. He is left with a thick ball gut that hangs out of his shirt. His once defined pecs grow into two soft man tits that lay on his gut. The fat in his chest has even forced his arms to lay further out from his body. Speaking of his arms, they plump up under a thick layer of fat, nearly ripping his sleeves in the process. Even his hands look fat, with fingers that look like stuffed sausages.

Lucky for the young man, his uniform pants seemed to be slightly too big for him, so they have enough room to store his new body. His ass explodes with fat, stretching his large pants to their limit. His thighs follow suit, filling his pants until they're about to burst.

Just when the transformation is about to end, it gets worse for the young man. His face becomes pudgier as a thick double chin forms on his neck. But as the fat filled his face, the stubble on his chin went from brown to white. The hair on his head followed suit, becoming a pale white colour as his hairline slightly receded. Wrinkles started to form on his face as he began to rapidly age. From his mid twenties, to forties, all the way to his sixties in mere moments. His body started to sag under its own weight as blemishes formed on his skin.

Police equipment was scattered across the floor as the man was left in a tiny black undershirt and pants that barely fit. He flexed, making his shirt ride up even more, and smiled as he looked at his body. It seems as though he is unaware of how different his body was mere moments ago. He chuckled and states that the station will have no choice but to respect a man of his stature, and besides, he's definitely old enough to get some seniority. He picks up his ripped uniform off the ground and comments that it must have shrunk in the wash and that he needs to get a new one. He thanks me before squeezing into his police car and driving off

#male tf #male transformation #muscle tf #fat tf #reality change #masculine #male wg #hairy

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konigenblobbity · 11 months

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Metallic Beauties

Hobie Brown x Spidey!F!Reader

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: Fluff, NSFW, nipple piercings, almost skinny dipping, Hobie being an absolute slut for your nipple piercings, tit biting and sucking, nickname

Summary: After a successful mission together, Hobie wants to show you a ‘new spot’ he found. Which turns out to be a rooftop hotel penthouse, with its own private pool. Hobie convinces you to take a relaxed moonlight swim, as both of you begin to strip you remember that you recently got a new accessory. Hobie not having yet seen your new nipple piercings… you can’t wait to see how he reacts.

A/n: Read a work by @murdrdocs about Hobie with a reader with nipple piercings and I was INSPIRED! Definitely check it out —> link. Also! Hobie has my whole heart… love this anti-establishment British heartthrob.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Hobie do a series of dramatic poses between each swing on his web. You had just completed a day long mission with the punk, with expert skill and not a single slip up. Even made sure to keep the anomaly contained to an unexpectedly effective degree. You couldn’t help but share Hobie’s excitement.

Hobie was your closest friend on the team, having joined a few months ago, you were seen as a new recruit, not yet trusted… he didn’t see you like that. Due to Hobie’s lack of interest - more like borderline hatred - for labels, you two weren’t defined… merely thought of yourselves to be ‘close’.

Close being, telling each other anything and everything, having each others backs no matter what, you even getting involved in some of his demonstrations he went to, tending to each other - whether for injuries or… other needs. The two of you were inseparable, but undefined. Even though many of the other spider-people just wished you two would just accept you’re dating.

“Oi love, I wanna show you a lil somthin’, a new spot I’ve been hangin at” his words peaked your interest, and you just nod. At that he begins to swing off in another direction, ducking and weaving through a series of buildings. Trying your best to keep up, your curiosity only grows with each swing.

When he finally stops, he’s standing on the rooftop of a hotel. You land next to him and look around, seeing a large pool, a series of lounge chairs, and even a small seating area with a large fire pit. This ‘new spot’ was a hotel rooftop penthouse suite.

“Well… who did you bribe to be allowed here?” Your tone was playful as he begins to walk towards the pool, you following close behind. He chuckles lowly, and looks over at you, hands on his hips. “What can I say… I’ve got connections.” he peels off his mask and tosses it onto the lounge chair behind him.

“It’s not booked” he adds hoping to calm your slight unease. He didn’t need to use his spidey-senses to know that. Hobie had always been an amazing observer, picking up on the way you slightly shift your weight, how your pick at the fabric of your suit, how your eyes glance away every few seconds. It was easy to notice those things… because he often couldn’t help but observe you.

You take off your mask as well, throwing it on the lounge chair behind you, positioned right next to his. As you watch him strip out of his boots, then his vest and shirt your eyes widen. He notices your shocked expression and chuckles with an amused grin. “What? We just did a mission which’l keep Miguel off our asses for months. I’m just celebratin’, love”

You roll your eyes at his words but can’t help but agree. This mission was a pain and the pool looked really enticing. He continued to strip, peeling his shirt off, and unzipping the top half of his suit. You keep your gaze on him, intending to give him an incredulous look but unable to hide the slight awe in your eyes. You couldn’t help it, although you’d never admit it, Hobie looked good in anything… or even in nothing.

He smirks and jokingly remarks “Close your mouth… it ain’t like you haven’ seen me naked before” and he’s right, you’ve gone skinny dipping before, in fact you’ve both gotten naked on multiple occasion. Strip poker, just happenstance when you’re both high as kites, and times when you both agree the heat in your reality is unbearable.

You scoff “Well Hobie… when you’re right you’re right” before removing your shoes, and any clothes you wore over your suit. Then reaching to your back and unzipping your spider suit. As you pull it down you pause, remembering that you don’t wear a bra underneath the suit, feeling your bare back where the strap would be.

Hobie was just in his boxers now, and after putting his things on his lounge chair, he immediately dives into the water, quite elegantly if you say so yourself. You watched his figure under the water until his head broke through the surface. A hand coming up and rubbing his face.

He still had his jewelry on and the now wet metal glistened under the pool lights. They were a soft blue and lined the pool wall, with some additional lights outside of it. You could only stare as his figure was illuminated in a soft blue, reflecting of his face piercings beautifully. You were only able to break away your gaze when he spoke.

“The waters peak love, hop in before I come up there and throw you in” the lopsided grin on his face made it clear he wasn’t joking. You chuckle but then gulp, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Although he’s seen you naked before, you hadn’t yet told him that recently you got a new little piercing. Well… two new piercings.

They were fully healed now but you only got them a week or so ago. Not having yet found the correct way to tell or show him. You knew he wouldn’t judge, but you weren’t sure whether he’d like them. As much as you tried to convince him otherwise, with snide remarks and playful insults, you were nervous what he thought and truly cared about his opinion.

You turn away from him, showing him your back as you finish unzipping the suit and slip it off. When you turn he groans, his voice low “you bloody tease…” and you just chuckle before retorting back. “You bloody perv…”. You finished getting undressed, standing there only in your panties and jewelry, most of which you stole from him,

You placed your things on the lounge chair next to his, which already had your mask on it. As you were folding your suit and clothes, not wanting them to get wrinkled, there was a soft splash sound behind you. You place your mask on top of the pile of clothes and then turn back to the pool.

“If any of my things get soaked I sw-“ Once you turn back around towards the pool, he was gone. Your smile drops and your brows furrow. You walk to the edge of the pool looking down into it, thinking he was under the water. Your spoke cautiously, searching for him “Hobie? Where’d you go?” No response.

You go to turn around and gasp, suddenly face to face with Hobie. “Took too long. In ya go.” Before you can even react, Hobie pushes you into the pool. You let out a soft yelp and before landing in the pool you can see the smirk on his face.

There’s a loud splash as you fall into the pool, slowly sinking to the bottom, you open your eyes under the water and, in blurry vision, see Hobie dive into the water after you. Once again his dive is graceful, managing to perfectly align his body with yours, parallel to one another.

You watch through blurry vision as he glides up the length of your body, feeling his hands slide up your thighs, hips, and stop at your waist. His gaze focused on your face, until, from his peripheral vision, he catches a glint of light.

Even in his blurry vision he can see it’s coming from your chest. He tilts his head downwards, his eyes moving away from your face. They widened as he spots the two small silver beads in each of your nipples. You don’t have to see clearly to know he’s looking at your tits, your face beginning to feel flush at how entranced he appears to be.

You use his haze to swim away from him, his hands sliding off your waist. You take in a breathe as you resurface out of the water, shaking your head to shake off some of the water on your face. You open your eyes and look forward, watching as Hobie’s head pokes up after yours.

You were both standing in the shallower end of the pool, feet touching the ground, only a mere meter from one another. You felt your heartbeat quicken as he stands tall in front of you, feeling intimidated by his figure looming over you. His eyes were focused back on your piercings, now being able to see them clearly.

“Well well well… when’d you get those done?” You shrug, deciding to play coy. You tilt your head and furrow your brows. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at… what are you referring to?” Unable to hide the sly smirk growing on your face.

You watch as he pokes his cheek with his tongue, his eyes looking back up into yours. His gaze pinning you in place, unable to move from where you stand. He grins and let’s out an amused chuckle. “Tsk. Always so coy” His voice was low, but his accent was thick… he knew how you got whenever he spoke like that.

You watch as he moves towards you, a smirk still plastered on his face and his eyes narrowed. “I’m referring to…” you shudder slightly as his hands slide up your waist again, but then go to grope your breasts, his thumbs softly rubbing on each piercing. “These metallic beauties” his touch has you humming softly and looking into his eyes, his gaze lustful… you can only imagine you look the same.

He leans forward, his face now settling into the crook of your neck as he mumbles against your skin. His breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Hm. Isn’t that interestin’. They feel even better than they look…” His hands move back to your waist and, as if you weight nothing, he lifts you partially out of the water.

Recognizing his action, you know what he wants, you can only give in… wrapping your legs around his waist, allowing his hands to move to your thighs to hold you up. His face now directly in front of your breasts. “I wonder how they taste…” those words made your breath catch in your throat, back arching as his lips latch onto one of your piercings.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue began toying with your piercing. His hands grasp tightly at the flesh of each of your thighs, “God… they taste even better” his soft groan sending vibrations through your entire body. His mouth was doing wonders, being so gentle with your bud, but effortlessly driving you mad with each flick of his sharp tongue.

The way he paused before beginning to lay searing hot licks over the entirety of your nipple with the pad of his tongue. It had you taking in shaky breaths. As his lips wrapped around your bud again. you could feel his coy smirk, clearly loving the reactions he was getting out of you. He took the piercing in between his teeth and that one action had you dizzy.

Loving the mix of pain and pleasure he was giving you. He began to move away, sucking at the piercing, his lips pulling away with a soft pop. You let out a shaky moan, barely audible but he heard it. And he wanted to hear more… loving the way he felt your body lightly tremble in his arms. The mere thought that he had this much power over you… it had him hazy and his only focus right now was you.

“You’ve been naughty haven’t you? Hiding these from me…” he moves his lips to your other breast, not wanting to leave it left out. He leans in, sticking out his tongue and softly circling the piercing, dragging a whine out of you. “Should’ve asked me to pierce them for you. Would’ve made them look perfect” he then closes his lips around the second piercing. Teasing it the same as he did the last.

You look down at him, his eyes immediately locking with yours. Your own glossed over with pleasure, his half-lidded, focusing his energy on perfectly teasing your bud. “A-are they not perfect?” You question. Not intending to be playful, but rather serious; genuinely asking him. Wanting to know what he thought, and getting tense at the idea that he didn’t think they were perfect.

“Aw… of course they are love. In fact, they look absolutely fucking ravishing on you” he begins to softly kiss your piercing, before going to kiss around it as well. Leaving open mouth kisses, and soft purple bruises in the process. “I just can’t help but be envious… knowing someone else got the pleasure of piercing them” he then bites at the skin of your breast.

You gasp lightly, your eyes fluttering closed again. Biting your lip as he takes the piercing back in his mouth, speaking against your flesh. “Watching you strip, then being able to praise you for stayin’ nice and still, watchin’ your face contort from pain… fuck darling what I would give to’ve been there” each of his words went straight to your head, making you more dizzy by the second.

“W-well… actually. I did them myself” you smirk and look down at him again. He pulls away from your chest, his mouth falling agape, his gaze locking on yours. A grin slowly gracing his lips. “Well fuck…” he moves a hand up to the back of your head, pulling your head down, crashing his lips against yours.

“My brave little bird aren’t you?” He mumbles against your lips, there’s something about the way he says it that has you whimpering against his lips. The way he calls you ‘his’… even if he didn’t like labels of what your relationship was, your heart sings at such praise from him. You softly nod your head, moaning against his plush lips and then feeling him smirk against yours.

His hand grasped your hair, pulling your lips from his for a moment, looking deep into your eyes, his own filled with desire. But you saw… something new. An aura of possessiveness, of unfiltered want… but what caught your eye the most was the smallest glint of pure affection and admiration.

“That’s you isn’t it hm? My bird… my best bird. All mine.”

#konigenblobbity #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #atsv x you #astv fic #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie atsv #hobie across the spiderverse #fanfiction #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfic #hobie x you #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse

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miasmaghoul · 3 months

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moutaindew frotting <3

"You smell different."

Dew offers a questioning chirp, lays his head back on Mountain's chest to peer up at him. Water splashes against the sides of the tub, carries the sweet-scented suds over the sides to drip onto the tiled floor below. Mountain noses at his temple, sniffs at his soaked hair.

"How can you tell?" Dew settles back against his chest, stretching sore legs with a groan. "All I smell is oranges 'n dirt." Mountain snuffles against his ear and Dew squawks, slaps at his leg under the water. "Quit it, you weirdo."

Mountain ignores him for the most part, and Dew doesn't have the energy to balk at the attention. They'd spent a large portion of this sweltering summer day in the orchards, picking peaches and citrus by the bushel. Delivering some to the kitchens and the rest to the truck waiting by the greenhouse, all destined for the abbey's farmstand in one form or another. Dew hadn't minded the work, but it left him with jelly legs and a crunchy spine that demanded a nice warm soak.

Thankfully, Mountain hadn't objected to his request for a piggyback ride to get there.

"You need a better nose," the other ghoul rumbles, dragging the tip of his nose from the crown of Dew's head to the base of one horn. "What hair treatment did you use?"

Dew shrugs, letting his eyes slip shut. Resting one hand over the arm Mountain has looped around his waist and the other on a muscular thigh. Mountain's other arm rests on the rim of the bath, fingers swirling through the surface of the water. It's started to go cool, and Dew sighs.

"Dunno."

The little ghoul up his temperature until the tub is steaming again, pouring warmth into the broad body behind him as a bonus. Mountain clearly appreciates it, judging by the way he holds him a little tighter. Task accomplished, Dew waves at the bevy of bottles on the shelves next to the tub.

"Whichever one's in front," he mumbles, tipping his head when the other ghoul moves to sniff at his neck instead. "Didn't care what I got, just needed the gross gone."

Mountain chuffs, warm breath flowing over his wet skin. Dew hums with it, a sound that melts into a gentle exhale when Mountain presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below his ear.

"The blue one?"

"Maybe?" Dew strokes the soft skin of Mountain's thigh, an unconscious motion that mirrors the way Mountain's lips travel down his neck, across his shoulder. "Maybe green. Why, s'it smell bad?"

"Far from it, droplet," Mountain assures him. "Just...interesting. Different, but familiar."

Well that explains a lot.

"Are you tellin' me I stink or - ah!" Dew squeaks in when Mountain nips at his shoulder, fangs he's not expecting pinching his skin. "Hey, what the -"

"You smell good," Mountain whispers, and whatever Dew was about to say fades into nothing when he feels something stir against his lower back. "Really good."

Dew gasps when a rough tongue laves at his shoulder, shivers when it glides up his throat. His own cock twitches despite the ache still threaded through his muscles, and the little ghoul sucks air through his teeth when Mountain sucks his earlobe.

"Shit, Mount," he groans, raking his claws along the taller ghoul's inner thigh. "Thought you were tired."

"I'm fucking exhausted," he confirms, shifting his hold to splay a large hand over Dew's belly. "But you just smell so good..."

Mountain drags him closer, until he's fully flush with his chest and Dew can feel his half-hard cock mold to the small of his back. Mountain buries his nose in his hair while more water splashes to the floor, taking a long, deep inhale.

"So you keep saying," Dew mumbles, but he really can't complain when every breath seems to make Mountain throb against him. He wiggles as best he can, just to make the other ghoul gasp. "This thing seems to agree."

"Can't help it." Mountain's other hand sinks beneath the suds, grips Dew’s skinny thigh. "Dunno why, but -"

"'S fine," Dew sighs, working to make himself sound put out despite the fact that he's gotten all chubby himself. "But since you want it so bad," he lilts, a gentle tease, "don't expect me to do any of the work."

He means it to sound haughty, like a taunt, something for Mountain to bounce off of. To call him lazy, or a princess, or any of a thousand other things that would only add fuel the embers starting to burn in his belly.

"Okay," Mountain breathes instead, and Dew doesn't have time to process it before he's being moved.

Not far, mind, but still. Mountain hooks his hands under each of Dew's thighs and lifts him, the water aiding the motion. He sits the little ghoul higher in his lap, thick shaft dragging between Dew's cheeks and wringing a surprised sound out of him.

"Mount, what -"

"Shh," Mountain soothes, slouching further into the water until his knees break the surface. "Just let me have you."

Well, it's not like Dew would ever say no to that.

He's not sure what to expect with the way Mountain's arranging them, but it becomes clear soon enough; he settles Dew against his chest once more, but further up. Far enough for the little ghoul to rest his head on Mountain's shoulder. He rests Dew's legs between his own, keeps them spread just enough to -

"Oh."

Dew sucks his lower lip between his fangs when he feels something hard and hot insert itself between his thighs, pressed right up against his tight sack, and despite the warmth of the water Dew shivers eyes fluttering shut. He squeezes his legs together and loves the loud thud of Mountain's head hitting the porcelain wall of the tub. He snickers, rests his hands on Mountain's exposed knees.

"Like that, big guy?"

Mountain doesn't answer with anything but a low purr, the vibration lovely against Dew's back. Encouraging him to relax even further, to slip a little deeper. He can't even be bothered to open his eyes when one of those massive hands slides up his thigh, over his hip, fingertips drifting through his sparse happy trail. Mountain finds his stiff little dick, gives it a single stroke, and Dew doesn't bother hiding his soft moan.

Then the other ghoul chages his grip, presses Dew's cock against the firm shaft of his own, and as Mountain takes both of their lengths in one hand Dew feels him nosing at his scalp again.

"Who'd think you'd get so boned up over some soap," Dew mutters, as far from complaining as he could be. Mountain chuckles as he fists their cocks, one long, slow stroke.

"Can't help it," he repeats, and Dew responds with the tiniest roll of his hips. One that makes Mountain choke and hold them even tighter. "Fuck, Dew -"

"Just keep sniffin' me, weirdo," the little ghoul teases, happy to do nothing but lay back and enjoy the way Mountain's veiny shaft feels against his own. "But if you cum first you're suckin' me off."

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #mountain/dew #mountain x dew #mountain dew #got it done just in time for #mountain monday #(spoilers - dew used rain's special shampoo and smells like water and fire mountain just really likes it a whole bunch)#not rereading before i post so if you see mistakes #no you dont

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hintsofhoney · 1 year

Text

Radio and the Rain

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When a bad storm forces you and Dean apart on a hunt, he realizes just how much you mean to him.

Tags: 18+, smut, making love, p in v, all that jazz... nothing too crazy

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Hello, I'm back after almost 6 months. Moving across the country (again) among other big life events (all good ones!) gave me the worst writer's block of all time, but thanks to my friends (@soaringeag1e & @emoryhemsworth), writing this fic per their suggestion (based off Radio and the Rain by Chris Young) is what finally pulled me out of it! Beta'd by my angels @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean. Alright, hope you all enjoy, and I promise I'll be back again with more things soon!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Y/N!” Dean calls out, doubtful that you can hear him over the sound of the rain coming down as he tries to ignore the panic building inside him. His hair is stuck to his forehead from the downpour, water droplets streaming down his face as he tries to shield himself from the weather. It’s no use. He’s soaked to the bone – he’s not sure he could have worn enough layers to keep him dry, not in this storm – and the darkness of the forest seems to go on forever. He could have sworn there was a town nearby – some light pollution would be really helpful right about now – but he seems to be shit out of luck. Thunder booms above him, almost deafening, and he keeps on what he hopes is the right path, his heart rate steadily increasing. He needs to find you.

“Y/N!” he yells again after another minute passes. If he’s soaked, he can’t imagine what you must be. He remembers what you’re wearing; skinny jeans, a thin green t-shirt, a black faux leather jacket, hunting boots. Normally, he doesn’t complain about your refusal to wear more layers, but right now, ‘I told you so’ is on the tip of his tongue. He would need a large amount of hands to count how many times he’s told you to prepare for anything , and that a flimsy t-shirt and jacket weren’t gonna cut it, but in your defense, this storm came out of nowhere. He had to give you that, at least.

“Dean!” he whips his head around at the faint sound of his name making its way through the rain, and yells yours out once more before making his way towards your voice. His eyes are adjusted enough to the dark to where he can make out silhouettes of fallen trees ahead of him, stepping over them with little caution as you call out to him again. He has to make sure you’re okay. He has to get to you.

“I’m here, Y/N!” he yells, “Where are you!?”

“Dean!”

He hears it, clear as day from behind him. He turns around in time to see the outline of your soaked body appearing from behind the trees.

“Y/N!” He rushes to you, taking your cold hand in his, and you can’t tell if he’s relieved or angry to see you – or a little bit of both. You should have listened to him when he told you splitting up was a bad idea, but completing the hunt had been the only thing on your mind, Dean’s lectures about safety be damned. “Jesus, you’re freezing,” he comments, like he isn’t an icicle himself. He wants to say, ‘I told you splitting up was a bad idea’, but he holds his tongue. He can lecture you later.

He grabs you firmly by the shoulders, looking you up and down. “Are you okay?”

With the rain pouring down, he sounds like he’s whispering, even though you can tell he’s only a decibel away from full-on screaming. Lightning strikes in the distance, and you’re able to get a clear view of his face for a brief moment. Water streaming down his clenched jaw, hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, worried green eyes searching yours. They land on your cheek, which you think is bleeding thanks to the branch that smacked you in the face a few minutes ago, and you roll your eyes at his over-concern.

“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just a scratch.”

“C’mon,” he replies gruffly, pulling you into his coat in an attempt to shield you from the rain. “Baby’s got a first aid kit in the back.”

Ten minutes of walking later and you can make out Baby’s silhouette parked on the road on the other side of some trees. The rain seems to have gotten even worse – if that’s even possible – and the thought of being underneath some type of roof (Baby’s was just as good as any) where you’d have an opportunity to get dry was getting your tired legs through the last bit of your trek out of the muddy woods.

Your first step onto the dirt road comes with more rain as you come out from under the umbrella of trees. Dean opens the back door for you, ushering you inside and telling you not to worry about your shoes (something that he was usually a stickler about; he liked a clean car). To your surprise, he gets in behind you, quickly closing the door before the backseat can get even more wet. He leans over the front bench, fishing his keys out of his pocket, before starting the ignition and turning on the heat. The radio comes on as Baby starts up, and he lets it play as he opens the glove box and pulls out a flashlight, before sitting back and reaching underneath the driver’s seat for the first aid kit.

“Hold this,” he orders, turning on the light and handing it to you, the brightness of the bulb causing you both to squint as your eyes adjust.

“Dean, I told you, I’m fine,” you reiterate with an exhausted sigh, watching as he opens the white box in his lap.

“Shine it on your face, I need to get a better look.”

You roll your eyes, pointing the flashlight on your cheek, allowing Dean to grab the underside of your chin as he moves your head to the side and examines the damage.

“Needs to be cleaned,” he announces, letting you go and pulling out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze from the kit. You watch as he unscrews the cap and flips the bottle over, letting the cloth absorb some of the liquid before flipping it back and closing it. “This is gonna sting.”

He says that every time, and you chuckle softly in response. “Yeah, not my first time.”

He doesn’t even crack a smile. He grabs underneath your chin again, dabbing your wound with the cloth, and you’re too focused on his mood to even notice the sting. A minute passes by, and you’re sure it’s clean by now, but he seems to be on autopilot, jaw clenched and eyes both focused in on what he’s doing and glazed over at the same time.

“Dean,” you say gently, placing your free hand on top of his, stilling his movements and pulling him out of his trance. “I think it’s clean.”

Silence, except for the rain and the radio, which is quietly playing Is This Love by Whitesnake (not usually what this station plays, but it’s 2 a.m. and you figure they probably save the sappy 80s songs for this time of night).

And then, “You can’t do that.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Do what?”

“Scare me like that. I didn’t – I thought –” he shakes his head, dropping his hand and placing the gauze back in the kit, along with the rubbing alcohol, before closing it and shoving it back under the seat. “Just – you can’t do that.”

“Dean, the storm came out of nowhere. We’ve split up on hunts so many –”

“And it’s never my idea!” he interrupts.

“What do you want me to say, Dean!? ‘I’m sorry that God decided to flood the earth again while we were out hunting werewolves’!? I am fine , okay? I can handle –”

He cups your face in his cold hands, careful to avoid the fresh cut on your cheek. “I don’t doubt that you can handle yourself. But I can’t lose you, do you get that?” His face is inches away from yours, and the flashlight slips out of your hands and onto the floor as your breath catches in your throat. The radio starts playing the all-too familiar beginning chords of Night Moves , and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod. Dean tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

“I know,” you reply breathily. You place your hand over his again. “You won’t, De.”

The corner of his mouth lifts up into a brief half smile – one that you would have missed had you not been watching his every move. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip with a feather-light touch, and all you can hear is the radio and the rain.

“Your lips are freezing,” he comments, not-so-subtly (in true Dean fashion).

“Shame there’s no way to warm them,” you whisper back, biting back a smile.

“Hm,” he smirks, leaning in. “I can think of a way.”

You close your eyes as his lips meet yours, instantly sending warmth back into your body. Night Moves is still playing, and you ignore the irony as you kiss him back like not freezing to death depends on it. It’s not your first kiss with Dean, but it’s the first one that feels like it really means something, like you could be more than just friends who hook up occasionally. His hands move from your face to your jacket, unzipping it before he helps peel it off your body, your wet skin making everything a thousand times harder. He carelessly throws it into the front seat before his lips move to your neck and he works on getting his own top layer off. He finds your sweet spot right under your ear, one that sends warm shivers down your spine, and then his hands are back on your body, finding their way underneath your soaked shirt, trailing up your sides. His palms feel warm against your skin, and you don’t know if it’s the heat blasting through the vents or the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you’ve never been hotter.

The two of you separate for a few seconds and tug off the remainder of your clothes, everything landing in a nice pile on the front seat — muddy boots included. The cleanliness of his car is the last thing Dean is concerned about right now.

You feel a lot more comfortable naked — meaning, you’re only wet where you want to be now — and you lean back in the seat, your head resting against the door, as Dean hovers over you, taking you in. The flashlight on the ground was your only source of light with the moonlight blocked out by the storm still raging outside.

“You’re beautiful,” he states, not like an opinion, but like it’s an undeniable fact. Like if you were to look up ‘beautiful’ in the dictionary right now you’d find a picture of your face.

You smile. “Thank you.”

His finger traces your jaw bone, his thumb gently outlines the scrape on your cheek. “I don’t think it’s gonna scar,” he says. You love it when he’s like this: pure and unfiltered, saying exactly what he’s thinking when he’s thinking it.

You chuckle softly. “Good. Be real ugly if it did.”

His expression turns serious. “No it wouldn’t.” He states that like it’s a fact too, and you have no choice but to accept it.

“Okay. It would be pretty badass, I guess,” you concede.

He smiles and nods, leaning down to kiss you softly, quickly, before pulling back and whispering, “Yeah, it would.”

He trails his kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbone, and you catch the next song on the radio — Feels Like the First Time — and roll your eyes and try not to laugh because of course . You’re brought back to the present when Dean’s mouth wraps around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud as your hands instantly come to grip his wet hair.

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arching off the leather seat, and he chuckles softly before releasing you with a ‘pop’.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes again, but they quickly close as he moves to give your right nipple some attention, gently pinching the other between his thumb and pointer finger. Your moans cause his cock to twitch, and you feel it against your inner thigh, imagining what it must look like right now.

“Please,” you beg, and you both know exactly what for. He gladly returns his lips to yours, before nestling himself comfortably (or as comfortable as one can get in the backseat of a ‘67 Chevy) between your legs, still damp and sticky from the rain. He kisses you hard as he enters you slowly, and you moan into his mouth as you adjust to his size. Nothing’s ever felt so good.

“Jesus,” he breathes, pulling away momentarily and bracing himself with one hand on the fogged up window as he bottoms out and stays there, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him, and right now, you are. “Mm, fuck .” He starts to move, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, his hot breath and soft groans doing nothing to help stall the tightening coil in your abdomen. “‘m never letting you out of my sight again,” he whispers.

All you can do is nod; he feels so good, you never want him to stop.

“Can’t fuckin’ lose you,” he mumbles, his face coming to hover above yours as he cups your unscathed cheek with his free hand. “You hearin’ me?” He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

You nod again, a little more aggressively this time. “I know, Dean. You won’t,” you reassure him through unsteady breaths. It’s your turn to shake your head. “You won’t.”

You hadn’t noticed his thrusts speeding up, too lost in your emotions until he hits a spot that you didn’t even know you had.

“Oh, fuck ,” you hiss, arching your back. “Fuck, right there.”

He listens, picking up the pace ever so slightly, his lips on your neck again, his heavy pants in your ear. “Shit, sweetheart, you feel so good.” He’s breathing so hard it’s barely audible, but you hear it clear as day, and it’s what brings you to the edge.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna —”

“Me too, me too.”

And then you’re tensing underneath him as a wave of pleasure washes over you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you up, and he’s holding himself up on trembling forearms, desperately trying not to collapse on top of you as the exhaustion from the day finally hits you both like a tidal wave. Through heavy breathing you notice that it’s still pouring outside — probably deeming you stuck here on this no name road until it lets up — and that You Shook Me All Night Long is playing on the radio, and you can’t help but giggle softly and shake your head.

“What?” he questions, confused.

“I think both the weather and the radio are demanding that we go again.”

TAGLIST(S)

If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name below, it’s because Tumblr won’t let me tag you!

FOREVERS: @writercole // @makeadealwithdean // @slamminmine // @impala1967dwinchester // @wayward-dreamer // @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan // @deandreamernp // @kitkatd7 // @thewritersaddictions // @foxyjwls007 // @kyjey // @boeshaneboy // @besas-stuff // @babypink224221 // @stoneyggirl2 // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @samsgirl93 // @alwayssnivellus // @simpfoegeorge // @ajordan2020

SUPERNATURAL: @deans-baby-momma // @cookiechipdough // @roonyxx // @jassackles // @roseblue373 // @redbarn1995

DEAN WINCHESTER: @perpetualabsurdity // @lyarr24 // @solarrexplosion // @rach5ive // @akshi8278 // @pink-sparkly-witch // @emoryhemsworth // @whore4romance // @themerc-with-a-mouth

You can join my taglist(s) here!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction

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wh0rezs · 1 year

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MIRRORBALL

PAIRING: SULLIES X HUMAN ADOPTED DAUGHTER/SISTER! READER

SUMMARY: Being the Sullies only human child is much more difficult than most realize described by Taylor Swift’s “Mirrorball”

WARNINGS: angst, mentions of parents death, abandoned issues, seeking comfort in anyone, major character death (not Neteyam)

“And they called off the circus”

“Burned the disco down”

Your family at the RDA was something you called a circus. Not all only was it your soldier mother and your scientist father but Grace Augustine and Max Patel. Parker Selfridge even took you under his wing, and your mother’s team lifted you onto their shoulders.

Trudy took you flying, Grace gave you piggyback rides on her avatar body, Colonel Quaritch would let you fire a gun, Lyle once let you glue a wig onto his bald shiny head. Your own circus. You were even deemed “honorary sister” to the child growing in Paz’s stomach. The RDA was like non-stop disco but everything good must come to an end.

And the end came with Jake Sully. You liked Jake, he was buff soldier surrounded by a bunch of skinny armed scientists, and he raced you in his wheelchair. But something changed when Jake got accepted into Omaticaya.

The scientists left RDA, moving to remote location and along with them went your father. Your mother cursed his name, saying he had gone soft hearted on the animals which plagued this earth. You felt trapped but you still had some of your circus left.

But then it burned down. A war came with both of parents fighting on the opposite sides of it. Your father in his avatar body and your mother in her helicopter. You were left alone with Max Patel, praying that they would both come back to you. Neither of them did.

Your mother had been taken out by Ikrans and your father was shot repeatedly in his avatar and then choked on Pandora’s air.

So your circus was called off and the disco burned down.

“When they sent home the horses”

“And the rodeo clowns”

After the war, humans were forced to leave, expected you and MJ. You watched as Jake, Norm and many other Omaticaya guided your family into the ship.

You had hidden out of sight but Parker Selfridge had seen you. You liked Parker. He had sure you were entertain expect that one time he forced you into school. Your parents often describe him as a clown, so you did too. But you mentioned right in front his face.

You remember everyone in the room going silent, waiting Parker’s reaction. He laughed, saying that you had spunk. Oftentimes when he was taking care of you, he would carry on the circus theme by calling the workers under him horses.

Yet here they were leaving you. You knew they did terrible things but they were your circus. Parker nodded his head for you to come out, so you did, running to him for one last hug.

“You gonna be alright,kid. I am giving you my number in case you need to call but I heard that Sully has adopted you, per your father’s request.” Parker spoke as he wrapped his arms around your back. Parker would never admit to it but he really thought of you as his kid.

A large blue landed on your shoulder, pulling you away. Jake stood way above you and signaled for Parker to start walking again. Once he reached the plane’s entrance, he waved and headed inside. You turned into Jake’s legs and cried.

They had sent home the horses and rodeo clowns.

“I’m still on that tightrope”

Before your father met his untimely demise, he asked Jake to watch over you if he died. Jake honored his promise. He had spoken to Neytiri many times about you and Neytiri knew your father’s avatar, so she agreed.

The whole adoption process was like walking on a tightrope. You had to balance out, carefully staying on that thin line. Most Omaticaya couldn’t say stuff to you, due to you being the Olo’eyktan’s daughter but you didn’t want to lose your balance, tipping off any of them. Omaticaya would never really accept you as human, especially after what they did as Hometree. Many of the People would send glances full of fury with their hands tightening around their bows.

Your adopted parents took care of you but soon they were welcoming a son. An Na’vi son. One who looked like them.

So you remained on that tightrope once Neteyam, your brother, was born.

“I’m still trying everything to get you laughing at me”

You found yourself in Parker’s position, a mascot. The human mascot for the growing family of the Sullies. You liked your baby siblings but they couldn’t tell you how proud they were of you.

As the mascot, you tried to keep your family happy. Trying to get them laughing even on the days when your adopted mother would send hateful gazes towards you.

Soon you realize that you just power through those days, and still make sure your family was laughing.

“I'm still a believer but I don't know why”

You liked to believe, considering yourself a believer. You liked to believe that you were the first born Na’vi daughter of the Sullies, a profound warrior like your mother or future Tsahík like your grandmother.

Yet you were pulled back into reality as you peered at your reflection in a stream. You had your father’s eyes with your mother’s hair. You shared their skin color, which wasn’t a blue.

You like to believe that they were still alive,too. You and them had nice little cottage inside the forest along with your human brother, Spider. Your mother help teach young Omaticaya fighting while your father took care of injuries. Spider and you grew up close with the Sullies, and at night your small family would join them, then walk to the cottage.

Yet once again you pulled back into reality as you heard Jake shout your name, calling out it was lunchtime.

You were a believer yet with painful stuff to believe and you didn’t know why.

“I've never been a natural”

“All I do is try, try, try”

Contrary to what any people believe, you couldn’t do anything relating to Na’vi training.

Unlike your siblings, you couldn’t shoot an bow nor climb a tree under 3 minutes. You couldn’t fish, hunt or fight. You were useless. Your father would tell you nonsense, saying you helped Mo’at and Kiri with healing and injuries but you couldn’t help your feelings.

So all you did was train but you were no natural. Even Spider could do more than you, but you tried. And tried. Tried again but your abilities never honed.

You weren’t a natural at anything but you did try, try again and try.

“I'm still on that trapeze”

Many years had passed since your adoption and you finally made it off the tightrope, yet now you were on a trapeze. Swinging from being a honorary Omaticaya to trying to catch onto being a human. Luckily, this time you had Spider being your trapeze partner.

Spider knew the pains of being a human in a Na'vi world but sometimes he felt closer to the Omaticaya unlike you. You felt at home with humans considering 7 years of your life you were raised by the RDA. So you lost your trapeze partner, flipping onto one bar waiting for the other one to come without the force of another.

So you were still on that trapeze.

“I'm still trying everything”

“To keep you looking at me”

In the forest, you had always tried to have someone’s eyes on you but in Awa'atlu you can’t get away from watchful eyes. As your family settled into the ways of Metkayina’s, you remained a stranger.

Strange and dangerous creature is what the Metkayina would tell their children, as they glares bullets into your skull. Then after a half of year living with them, the RDA found your family again.

Everything after that point was a blur, you can remember Lo‘ak leaving to rescue his ‘brother’, your siblings and you with the help of the Metkayina children pulling off the tracker off of Payakan.

Then the ship came and some of your siblings were taken but you and Neteyam saved them. Lo'ak convincing Neteyam to rescue Spider, which you three did but then every stopped.

You had pushed your three brothers into the water, has you held off the avatars. Just you were about to jump into the water, a searing pain flared in your chest— a bullet had hit you. Stumbling into the water, your brothers cheered until you announced you were shot.

You were brought to an rocky island where Tsireya began to address your wound while your brothers comforted you— Spider holding your hand as he talked about your childhood with him— as your parents arrived. Your final wish was to see home again— your circus, rodeo clowns and horses. To stop believing, and trying. To finally come down from that tightrope and trapeze.

You felt peace as you walked through the forest,reveling in your new home with your father and godmother Grace.

Jake and Neytiri were brought to first time you three were a family. Oftentimes, you would flicker in between you as child to you as an adult. Though you would always mutter the same sentence.

“I tried everything to keep you looking at me.”

#avatar 2009 #avatar fanfiction #dad jake sully #jake sully x reader #neytiri sully #jake sully x daughter #neytiri x daughter!reader #spider socorro #kiri sully #tukitrey #neteyam x sister!reader #loak x sister!reader #spider soccoro sully #miles spider socorro #Spider Socorro x sister!reader #atwow angst #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake x daughter!reader

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garfunklefield · 2 months

Text

Ko-Fi exclusive

18+ viewer discretion is advised

Fem!reader/Suguru Geto Warnings: plus-size!reader, reader is into cute pink frilly outfits, Geto is very into readers body, emo!geto, Geto has so many piercings and tattoos, opposites attract, oral sex, Geto is canonically hung, pussy eating with a tongue piercing, creaming, fingering, blow job, degrading condescending praise stuff, overstimulation, crying, a little dub-con Word count: 3047 DESC: Youve always been curious of how many piercings your best friend has

I’m broke and I want a JJK bumper sticker full transparency so I am giving you all a sneak peak to something I will have fully up on my Ko-Fi!

“How many do you have?”

You blinked a few times at your friend, who was lazily scrolling on his phone in front of you. You and Suguru had met in your first-year economics class and stayed friends up through college. Now as seniors, your friendship felt almost second nature. Suguru was different from you, in the sense of dressing. He wore dark clothes, had dark hair, and so many piercings. You always wore pink frilly outfits, so you contrasted perfectly. Like two sides of the color spectrum.

You never tried to stare at the dragon tattoo snaking up his muscular arm or the way his laborer piercing stuck out with a sharp point on the bottom of his lip. You had tried counting before, but new tattoos and piercings seemed to show up every week. There were the gauges, eyebrow, labret, septum… but you knew there was more. Maybe in his ear? You didn’t want to consider yourself a creep, staring at him so intensely, so you opted to avoid eye contact with the handsome man as best as you could.

You wouldn’t say you had a crush on him, but you wouldn’t not say that. You were very much down for anything he wanted to do if he ever offered. But the thing was, he never offered.

Suguru lifted his head, purple eyes scanning your face. He raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment, trying to mentally count before he gave up and started feeling around his face. You noticed his hand then trail down to his stomach, before ghosting at his belt. His fingers delicately traced the silver and black surrounding his waist, holding up his black skinny jeans.

He… no way. Your eyes widened at the thought. A dick piercing? There’s no way he’d have one. And there’s no way you’d go this long without seeing it. Well no- you didn’t want to see it- well. You shook your head at those thoughts. He was just a friend, and you did not want to see his dick. He was just a friend, and you did not picture him naked sometimes.

It didn’t help Suguru had a reputation for being incredibly … large. Girls and guys talked about it like it was a godsend just to be fucked from behind by his cock. Not going to lie, you’ve thought about it before. Just a small fantasy, and wondering what it would be like. You saw how he’d eye you in those short pink skirts or those low-cut kawaii tops, you know the ones you’d find on Pinterest. Your body was far from flat, being curvy and fat-filled in all the right places. Even if they weren’t the right places for others, they were to you. You loved your big form and you could tell that Suguru enjoyed the view too.

“Seven,” he looked back at you and adjusted his position, sitting up. You two were just in your dorm, sitting on either side of your bed. God the whole thing was pink, you felt so proud. He stuck out like a sore thumb.

You thought for a moment. Gauges, eyebrow, septum, lip… that was only four. So there were three you couldn’t see. Your mind and eyes instantly wandered down his body, stopping at his stomach, “Belly button?” You didn’t dare to look down to see the tent being pitched in his jeans, the tent you knew was growing as you continued to speak.

“And tongue,” he spoke softly, brushing some hair from his face. He pushed it behind his ear but it continued to fall into his eyes, “The other one you’re going to have to guess.” A seductive look crossed his face, trailing up to his eyes. He blinked a few times, barely closing his eyes to let his eyelashes ghost against his bottom eyelid. Fucking majestic honestly.

“Guess? C’mon just tell me,” you frowned, motioning to his perfect body, “Is it a dermal somewhere?”

“No. Think dirtier,” he then paused, “Think lower,” he suddenly purred. Suguru knew exactly what he was doing. You couldn’t deny you were attracted to him (I mean you do have sexual fantasies about him). And you couldn’t deny how it made you soak your underwear when he spoke to you in that low tone. You could just imagine him groaning sweet nothings into your ear with that perfect tone, with each thrust becoming sloppier as he attempted to reach his high. You could practically feel him bite down on your neck as he fucked you, pumping you with his seed.

“Lower?” You bit down on your bottom lip and adjusted your position to sit up as well, “Um… I don’t wanna seem weird.”

“Nonsense, you won’t be weird. Did you go too perverted?” He smirked and set his phone on the bed, motioning down to his legs, to the pulsating hard-on in his skinny jeans, “I can show you if you’re too embarrassed to say it.”

You slowly closed your eyes and released your bottom lip from the hold on your teeth, “Are you sure?” What was in the water today? Was it obvious he was turning you on? Was it obvious you wanted to give in and close the space, even if it was a mistake? I mean he was hard for Christ's sake! How much more obvious could you both get? Every inch of his body was on fire as if it was statically charged, just aching to touch your perfect curves. Suguru was hot, you couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t deny his attraction to you. You couldn't deny your attraction to him any longer. And it was obvious to him, huh? It must’ve been obvious to everyone. You slowly opened your eyes and stared at him. He was serious. God you just wanted him to show you how big he truly was. And god you just wanted him to fuck you like the needy little whore you were.

“Always baby,” he grinned and stood up, beginning to undo his belt. You found yourself staring at his quivering dick through his pants. He was hung. You could see it from how his dick sat in his pants, becoming more erect as he just teased you there. His hands seated atop his hips, with his cat-like eyes staring you down. Purple pupils dilated in your direction. Suguru then grabbed your chin and forced you to stare back into his own eyes, widening them as he continued, “I’m down if you’re down to see my piercing.”

Your eyes fluttered a bit with your bottom lip jutting out into a pink glossy pout. You needed to think about this for a moment. If he was offering, you’d like to take a ride on that stallion. Besides, you couldn’t say no to that stare even if you tried. If he truly wanted to fuck you and he knew you wanted to fuck him, why not? You only live once. And you knew this would just be a one-time thing, just sex. God you just needed him to fuck you.

“Can I see your dick now? I’m down,” you spoke softly, opening your eyes fully to stare at the grin atop his face. Fuck it, you thought.

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anonymergremlin · 7 months

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For you guys. Kink Headcanons for Romeo, Carlo and P.

WARNING: SMUT

Romeo:

Size difference: We have had a glimpse of Romeo as a puppet, he is so tall. You can't tell me that this wasn't the case when he was alive. Anyway… [Name] being smaller than him? More than a little. Oh guys, he really loves it. They are his precious little lovers who needs a 'large' guy like him.

Praise (giving): Romeo gives me the vibes of someone who really cares for others and likes to see his former lovers happy. I can see that in bed too. He calls [name] his good love. Praises them for taking his dick so well and for being so lovely and patient.

Body worship: Excuse me, but as I said. He is a good guy and he totally shows it. Adores every curve, shape and detail of [Name]'s body. Chubby? Skinny? Thick? Lean? It doesn't matter to him. Their body is something he places on a pedestal.

Carlo:

Biting: I love Carlo, he is my little trickster. Cheeky boy, playful boy. Bites in a way that leaves some red spots or hopefully even marks. He doesn't bite too hard, but hard enough to leave a mark. [Name] is the one who makes him feel loved, who he loves. So of course he makes sure that they and perhaps others are aware of it.

Oral fixation: I know that biting falls under this as well BUT it is still a kink that needs to be mentioned. He loves to lick and suck. Tongue kisses? Yes. Licking over a sensitive part of their body? Yes. Going down on them? YES! He does all of it.

Praise (receiving): This is still Carlo we are talking about. The boy who was so neglected by his father. He deserves and honestly needs some praises. Not really one on the "good boy" side, but one on the "you make me feel so good. You take care of me so well. I love you so much, Carlo"-side. Praise makes him feel good and confident about himself and what he is doing.

Wholesome: Oh P, my sweet P. I am not saying this because he is a puppet who becomes human. No, I say it because I believe it. Romantic things during sex are his kink. Holding each other, soft kissing and speaking words from pure love. That is his kind of thing.

Praise (receiving): This is something that he has in common with Carlo, expect that he really loves to be called a 'good boy'. [Name] telling him what a good boy he is, how well he pleases their body, and how happy they are to have him… Well… "Your springs are reacting".

Noises: This one might sound weird, but I can imagine him being into all the noises that they would make while he is fucking them in one way or another. Moans sound so good to him, they almost sound like they are singing for him. The sweet sounds coming from their bodies, while they sleep with eachother, make him feel so alive.

Just a few kinky thoughts I have for them. But trust me. I have more. Hehe.

#lies of p #lies of p x reader #p x reader #carlo x reader #romeo x reader #headcanons #smut #just a few little thoughts on kinks #>:)

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the0racl30fd3lphi · 1 year

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More than friends, definitely more than lovers x.t. (pt3)

a/n: here is the third and (maybe) final part. y'all ate this up and really loved the first two, and for that i am so thankful for you all! so please, enjoy.

pairing: xavier thorpe x gn!reader

summary: nevermore's favorite tortured couple seems to be back on the mends, the only question, will it work out? are they going to make it through or are they only going to make it worse?

warnings: fluff, angst, love triangle (kinda) light swearing? not much tho, suggestive themes

word count: 2,365

part 1 part 2

——————————————————————————

"Hey," he smiled. The way he looked at you made your heart flutter. It was if he couldn't believe you were really there. Like he dreamed of this moment, and now that he has it, he truly couldn't comprehend if it was actually real or not. But it was. And his heart soared at that thought.

Standing there, you made no move to speak. You were waiting for him to say anything first. You wouldn't let yourself fall on your knees for him like your mind told you too. So you looked up right into his eyes, using every method you knew to make him bend to your will.

"Don't give me that look," For the one time in almost a month he looked way from you first.

"What look?" You played dumb.

"That one!" he threw one of his hands up and shook his head. "The one that makes me want to crawl at your feet and start.. begging." He still looked down as he ran his hands through his hear and went to grab for a hair tie. At his point he needed to get all the hair out of his face before he went to rip it all out.

"That sounds pretty nice actually, you should beg." You crossed your arms trying to keep in your anger, whatever was keeping him from apologizing was running your patience thin.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Xavier kept his head down but kept fiddling with the rings that adorned his slender fingers. "I was an asshole. You deserved much more than what I gave you. The last thing I should've done was.. what I did."

He was hesitant to actually acknowledge that he ignored you, his best friend of years, for a girl who genuinely gave him little to zero attention, got him arrested and imprisoned, and who wasn't actually into him after she led him on for so long.

"Oh yes and please, remind what it was that you did?" Now your anger was quite literally smoke blowing out of your ears. You missed this guy? He's wanted this little meeting for so long and he can't even commit to it.

"Well I-" He stuttered.

"Oh my god you can't even admit to it! You make me so frustrated!" You were yelling straight in his face now.

"Like, sexually?" This skinny little twink had the audacity to make a joke about your rage and start laughing at his own jokes.

"Why did I even entertain this stupid idea.." You pushed your headphones back onto your head and started for the stairs.

"Okay wait, wait hold up!" Xavier grabbed onto your arm and pulled you back towards him. With one slick movement he pulled them down to rest around your neck, and slid his hands down your arms to grab your hands. He stroked the back of your hands with thumbs smoothly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you like that. I ignored you, abandoned you, treated you so horribly for how much more you actually deserve. So please, if you find me deserving," Xavier got down on one knee, hand still in yours, and looked up at you with those big green eyes. "Forgive me, lets go back to what we were, and I will be forever at your mercy."

"Wow. Poetic. You write now?" You tilted your head at him and raised your brows so far, they almost disappeared into your hair. But the corners of your mouth can't help but lift.

"I dabble," his smile grew four times as large and made your stomach flip, in the good way.

"How about you dabble in being a better friend?" You laughed and pulled him up by the hand he was still holding. You weren't sure if he still realized but neither of you had let go yet.

Playfully, and to diffuse some of the lingering tension, you lightly shoved him and walked back up the stairs to leave this spooky little library. He laughed and followed after quickly, skipping two steps as he jumped up the stairs.

"Aye aye, captain."

——————————————————————————

It'd been a week since you and Xavier started talking again, he was attached at your hip. He worshiped the ground you walked on and to an extent it was hilarious. Beyond that you ate it up. This was as close to the attention you have craved from him for years as you were gonna get.

"See, now at this point I don't know if he's whipped or if you are," Val rolled from her desk, all the way to you at yours. One look at the polaroid's littered all over your desk, extra drawings, some pinned while some hidden, and soon she gagged.

"Shut up," You pushed her head off your shoulder but you couldn't push the smile off your face. Your eyes couldn't leave the most recent polaroid pinned on your mirror, written underneath "idiots in love" because Val thought she was the funniest bitch in the world. The photo itself was from a movie night you had with the whole group. Xavier and you had fallen asleep on the couch, not that close to each other, but close enough to have reached for each other subconsciously. Ajax snapped the photo and after your best friend wrote all over it he gave it to you later when people weren't paying attention and everything had died down.

"Why don't you just tell him you love him?" Val grabbed a pen from your desk and start drawing all over your hand and your forearm.

"I just got him back, I can't lose him again." You sighed and pushed up your sleeve and gave her more access room. Val stopped short for a minuet to look up into your eyes. She could read you like a poorly written magazine. It was in your eyes, everything she needed to know.

The desperation, the longing, the aching, she had to take a softer approach with you otherwise you'd break. Not that you were fragile, but you were.

"Sometimes you have to take risks, you'll never know if you don't try babe." Her hand came up to hold and stroke your cheek, "You should try. Isn't the risk of a love so great it'd go down in history, worth it?"

And it was if your love was a force so large, bound by gravity's thick lasso, you were pulled towards him. Unable and unwilling to stop yourself.

"Yeah, it is."

——————————————————————————

You realized some new things after talking to Val that night. Love made you poetic, you were up all night thinking about how your words were not your own, but merely fragments of the words he had given your soul to sing.

Oh god you were pathetic. So you did the only levelheaded thing you could do, tell Xavier everything and be rational later.

He was in his art shed late at night, music quietly pushing through the walls and finding their way thought every crevice. You pounded on the door and waited for him to open the door. You fiddled with the scarf that rested around your neck while you waited. After not hearing anything for a while you knocked again, louder this time.

Soon enough he opened the door and turned down the music when he saw you, "Hey, what's up?" He grabbed your hand and pulled you through the doorway and close it behind you.

"Xavier, look-" You cut yourself off after taking a glace around the shed. There was a painting, or a charcoal sketch, or a character study of you. Everywhere. Every 3 square feet, to be exact. "It's me?"

He laughed nervously, "Uh yeah." A hand came up to scratch and then readjust his still wet hair. "The distance kinda drove me mad, and you were some good inspiration." One new thing and your relationship with Xavier, he told you everything now. Full, and total, transparency. The music kept playing in the background and the low lighting provided the most insane ambiance for the possibly stupid decision you were about to make.

"Xavier I need to tell you something," You shed your scarf and sweater and placed it on the nearest chair. "It's really important." You looked into his eyes and all the words seemed to have magically left your mind, as well as all logical thought.

The way he was looking at you, sat on the edge of a nearby desk, arm propped up behind him to keep him steady. "Mhm?" He asked so innocently it drove you mad.

"I love you." You bit the bullet and spouted all the words that had been building up for quite literal ages. He flushed such a bright red it almost matched the color of his shirt.

"Y-You're my best friend," You cut him off by shaking your head vigorously.

"No. No no, Xavier, I love you." You'd never seen him so quiet. Blinking, adam's apple bobbing in his throat as if it was like swallowing was all he could do.

You rushed up to him and grabbed the side of his face, gently but eagerly attaching his lips to yours. You gave him time to respond, to push you off, to pull you closer, to do anything, and when nothing came you pulled away. Faces inches from each other all you did was stare in his eyes. So disheartened, you started to move backwards.

Xavier stood to his full height now and pulled you closer to him, both of his hands now up and resting on your face. His hands were so big they traced your jawline and caressed the side of your neck. Both of your mouths now moving slowly and sensually against each others. You brought up your hands to rest your palms against the back of his, a soft grip warming your hands and hearts.

Eventually oxygen was needed so you had to pull away. His hands stayed in place and yours only gripped his harder. Eye contact kept between you two mixed with the sound of your lungs greedily pulling air in and out. Smile crept up your faces and you started laughing. Both of you could barely grasp what was happening, all you knew was that you genuinely were never happier.

Following his arms your hands moved to the back of his neck, and his fell down to your waist. Years of pent up pining had come to this. Naturally you two became greedy. Panting and grabbing at each other for more. Your arm went pull around his neck and your other hand grabbed a fistful of his hair pulling and tugging. When you pulled a little too hard and a low groan escaped his mouth into yours, and the grip on your waist tightened, and you could feel his fingers digging into your skin, you only wanted more.

Things got desperate and hot fast. Xavier lowered his hands ever so slightly to creep up underneath your shirt and his cold palms set something afire in you. The simple touch of his skin on yours made you gasp, and he took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue.

Almost as soon as it had started, he started pulling away. "Wait, love wait," he pulled away from you and pushed the hair out of your face while studying it with his eyes.

"Did I do something?" Insecurity started to fill you as now you had a chance to think, though your mind was foggy.

"Do something? No, my girl you could never," He stroked the side of your face and pressed his forehead against yours. "Do you really mean this?"

"Sure would be real stupid if I didn't, huh?" You laughed and ran a hand through his hair. You two just took a minute to look in each others eyes, to take it all in.

"I love you." Xavier repeated back to you.

"I mean I'd hope so, that would suck if you didn't," Very quickly you returned to humor as your coping mechanism. He shook his head and pressed one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Ask me the stupid question already," You smiled and grabbed his hands.

"Y'know, patience is a virtue," He started tracing the veins on your hands. You looked at him and tugged on his arms gently. "Will you be my partner?" He tilted his head at the end of the question, what a bottom.

"No."

"What?"

"I'm joking, shut up and kiss me," You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Yes ma'am," He leaned back in and captured your lips with his.

——————————————————————————

When you got back to your dorm that night, lips swollen with a few hickeys poorly hidden by your poorly applied scarf, Val raised her eyebrows and immediately sat you down to talk. You spent hours that night going over it, every detail you could recall. Which was every single detail.

Into the late hours of the night, Val eventually fell sleep right next to you, face smashed into your pillow and a light snore escaping her lips every few minutes. Your blanket was pulled over her and you stared at the ceiling, too giddy to fall asleep just yet. Xavier had already texted you "i love you" and "goodnight my love <3" Of course you responded and you stared at your new home and lock screen, a photo of you and Xavier on a weekend trip to Jericho.

Then, at the genuine ass crack of dawn as the sun started rising, you remembered a promise you had made him years ago, when you were still young.

"I promise, I'll prove to them your heart beats the same way as theirs."

And you couldn't help but think you'd done it. He was so very capable of love and you only helped bring that out in him. Whatever the future had in store for you, you could handle it now. At least now with Xavier at your side you can.

Who could've ever imagined that you would've fallen so deeply in love with this boy? Against all odds, it seems, you found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. Infatuated like a poor man, and completely at his mercy.

——————————————————————————

@animesimp3456 @iovaki @navs-bhat @hellllloooosstuff @555stargirl555 @quinn165 @raeboo @heehooyeslol @leyseyb @aunicornmademedoit @regulus-black-223048 @o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o @pagesfalling @fanfictioniseverything @trickylittlewitch @baziutawrites @mxltifxnd0m @l-3rk @gumballsglassofmilk @bloodyziggy @ur-mom-is-h0t

#xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday #imagine #fluff #making up #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe angst #xavier thorpe wednesday #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe x gn!reader #xavier thorpe x you #wednesday series

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sister-of-hitoshi · 2 months

Note

Begging on my hands and knees for a Warumono san x small chubby reader who has body image issues PLEASE- like he doesn't understand why humans feel so saddened about their bodies sometimes, or why they think skinny people look so attractive???((I'm going off the idea that for his alien culture, it's very much akin to Sparta types of likes and stuff, ie: everyone wants to be the strongest in order to serve their planet and help.))

To my lovely anon, this is my first ever ask!!! Thank you so much for having faith in me with your request (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠) I hope it's alright ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Sending loads of love your way<33

...You love me more??!!

Genre: Slight angst, fluff

Character: Warumono-san/Mr villain

Warnings: Body image issues ahead! Please love yourself <33

It was a regular day-off date at a nice cafe.

A regular day of admiring this tall and handsome man who had taken pity on your state a few days back and started to temporarily date with you.

Yes.....That's what you explained to yourself. There could be no other explanation.

It was just another day.

Another regular day of self-loathing.

You were never happy about yourself. At your home, you had even put some translucent sheets over your big wardrobe mirror as some sort of barricade which deterred you from seeing your full figure. You didn't care if you couldn't properly see which dress was more flattering on you, it was better than seeing your ugly, unflattering self. Yes...ugly.... unflattering...

"...There's no way that this hot guy would actually be in love with me." You muttered to yourself absent-mindedly, the other half of your brain busy admiring his sharp feautures. You were never going to believe that he was actually in love with you. You knew your place.

But what you didn't know was the extent of Mr hot guy's love for you.

For he was even willing to choose you over his lovely pandas.

Even though it had only been a little while, he became so open to you about almost everything- well everything except for his job and identity which were classified information. You were so soft to hug, just the right size for him to squeeze his chest when patting your head or booping your nose. You were just way too adorable. So much so that imagining you in a panda onesie was enough to make him cough up whatever food he was having at that moment and roll on the ground back at his home.

Right now at this quaint little cafe, as both of you were lost in thought about the other, you didn't fail to notice how his face suddenly became all serious as he scrunched up his brows.

Well it looks like even he's disgusted now.

He was about to say something when you beat him to it.

"I'll excuse myself to the washroom."

You didn't wait for his response and hurried away.

"Of course", you said to yourself. "Of fucking course."

You loved him so much, you were so scared that he was actually going to bring up his disinterest in you at the table, so you excused yourself first.

Your fist slammed beside the sink.

A coward. That's what you were.

"I knew it from the start... that's why I didn't try to love him too much but...what can I do when he's so good with me?..." You bit your lip hard, the air felt nauseous. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Why did he have to be so attractive and kind..."

It seems even your tears were mocking you, for they were fat, full of the weight of your misery.

"I hate myself, and I love him, and I hate that he has to date such a miserable looking person like myself"

With tears rolling down your cheeks and you using your hand to wipe your face to no avail, you turned around to leave the washroom and fetch some tissue papers from the dispenser. Seems like you couldn't even wipe off these ugly tears.

But before you could even comprehend it, you were swiftly hugged by strong, large arms.

"Y/n....what happened?"

A man with his familiar deep, soothing voice, voiced out his worry. This made you cry harder.

Mr villain felt akward, he didn't know how to comfort his favourite earthling who was crying like this infront of him, so he did what he thought calmed him the most when he was feeling stressed. He hugged you and patted your head.

"Oh it's nothing....But it's okay if you want to stop now....I know we are together only temporarily and I know too that...you don't really like this ugly unflattering thing that is me-"

"Y/n what are you saying?" He shook you by the shoulders. This was one of those very rare times when he was swiftly losing his composure. But he knew that he needed to comfort you right now. You are his top priority.

"You're my favourite. I love you..........even more than I love pandas"

Wait- wait what?

"No no- wait- pandas are your favourite, even a kid who sees you for the first time will get it... And you're telling me you love me more??!!"

You fake-gasped and started laughing a bit, finding it really absurd but more unbelievable.

He was glad that your tears that stopped now, and that he had internally taken snapshots of your face and saved them to his memory. He means- you looked so adorable even when crying. His poor heart could only take so much.

Deciding now was the best time, he confronted you.

"I heard everything Y/n."

His deep voice ran through your being, making you shiver. Your immediately became tensed. He noticed this. He only held you tighter.

"I really love you a lot, and I love hugging you too. Why would the way your body looks really affect my love? I love you for who you are"

You immediately looked up at him, and the sincerity in his eyes was enough to break all the bars of negativity that were caging you in.

"I appreciate that you like me too, so please accept that I love you, both you and your body, and I want you to love yourself the way I love you" He continued to look at you through his bangs, until he suddenly turned away from you.

"Iloveyourcuteness"

"Hmm? What was that? Can you please repeat it?" You were trying to lighten up the situation now, so you playfully pleaded him with those big doe eyes that always made him kneel and pull on his bangs even he even thought about them.

"I love your cuteness... you're adorable. The perfect size for me to hug and p-perfect for a kiss-"

You brought him down by the shoulders and kissed him on the nose.

He became so blushy, his eyes became glossy, he was so awkward and genuine, your love for him grew tenfold, while his for you grew manifold.

It seems that everything that you had claimed to know about your situation was entirely wrong. But this was a wrong that felt right.

___________________________________________

"So why were you scrunching up your brows at me and making a serious face back then? I thought I had offended you...haha, sorry if that's the case though" you said, looking at him bashfully while scratching your cheek.

"You don't need to be sorry, it was just me trying to imagine you with a panda costume...sort of"

"Oh."

The response did little to conceal your vibrant blush. You internally screamed and kicked your feet, he was soooo cute being all mumbly and blushy, you'd definitely make it a point to surprise him with it later, heheh!

Well looks like you'll have to say 'bye-bye' to those sheets now.

#fluff #fanfic #kyuujitsu no warumono san #mr villain's day off #mr villain x reader #warumono x reader #mr. villain's day off #cutie pie #little angst #warumono san

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writers-potion · 1 month

Note

Hi. I'm writing a novel in first person and my main character has some serious trauma around swimming, but I'm not quite sure how to write that fear or that reaction they would have. also having the same problem with a lot of fear-related subjects when writing in first person. any tips? thanks! :D

Hi, thank you for the question!

As someone who has a deep fear of drowning AND of swimming, I think I can testify for that particular fear in person. But before I dive in, here are some factors to consider:

Age of your character: A child or teen or adult?

Children are more likely to show fear by expressing dislike, or even being violent/throwing tantrums when they're made to confront it. Teens may try to hide it, or build creative (sometime extreme) methods to avoid it like hell. Adults, at least mature ones, will learn to build barriers around their fears: avoiding it as much as possible, but also learning to control their reactions when they come to contact with it.

One-time event or chronic?

Another thing to consider is how the trauma came to be in the first place. Here are two traumas from my personal life:

Fear of water: I nearly drowned in a wasterfall at age 2. At age 5, one of my friends pushed me into a pool unexpectedly. Age 10, my sister made me swim to the deep side of the pool and when I stopped to take a break, I couldn't stand up. Age 13, I had a horrible swimming teacher who expected everyone to be able to swim..etc.etc. I've had multiple near-death experiences in water and after that, even after I've learnt how to swim, I'll NEVER.

Fear of elevators: I was locked inside an elevator for over an hour during a powercut. When I managed to forced the door open to escape, I found myself staring at the abyss that smelled faintly of oil. I was stuck in between floors. + Around the same time, a delivery man in the same elevator grabbed and kissed me, then ran away. A couple of days later, he tried to force his way into our apartment when I answered the door. These two event alone was enough to compel me to take the stairs for the next seven months.

Usually when a trauma has been built over time, it's difficult to see the problem rationally even when time has passed.

Traumas caused by a large, one-off event, moving away from the specific location and getting rid of the situation more or less permanently is often enough to make the person see the situation rationally. It was that particular elevator, that delivery man. It's not going to happen again. It'll remain more like a fully healed scar that tingles once now and then.

The attitude of your character. Do they want to overcome the fear, and feel frustrated/angry at themselves when they inadvertently feel scared? Or are they highly defensive? Maybe they have no mental walls built, and simply run away at the slightest hint of the feared situation.

Tips for Writing Fears

It's easier to open up to strangers. It's easier to confess a fear to someone who doesn't know your personal history, since there's less chance you'll be judged.

Simulating isn't the same as actually confronting. Your character can find themselves dreaming about being able to swim perfectly, then feel their daydream shatter when they actually try to.

Extreme tension + crashing afterward. Whenever your character is exposed to swimming, they'll be at their wit's edge, being tense and paying extreme attention to their surroundings. Once they're home, they'll simply crash like how you'd hit the bed after a long, hard day (maybe feeling body pain, constricted chest, headache, loss of appetite from the sheer exhaustion).

Overly prepared vs. Avoiding. It's one or the other. Either your character brings a safety jacket, a donut tube, a rope, snorkling equipment, etc. or they don't bring a swimsuit at all so that they can say, "I can't swim in my skinny jeans and silk shirt, can I?" and avoid it altogether.

Saying "I'm okay!" repeatedly. More to themselve than to others as a form of desperate self-assurance.

Panic. At times when your character comes dangerously close to swimming, they'll just panic and make the situation worse for themselves. For example, if they just happen to slip inside water while sitting at the edge of the pool, they'll immediately start kicking and gasping as thogh they've already drowned. It almost becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. They'll swallow water, strain all the muscles in their body, and sit extremely still covered in multiple swimming towels afterward, saying nothing and playing the moment over and over in their head.

Being nervous for the whole day if they know they have a swimming class (or something similar) later

Dreaming about drowning

Trying to learn swimming, but not progressing for months because they can't bring themselves to step out of their comfort zone (which is going to be very small)

Hope this helps! :)

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anama-cara · 5 months

Text

fight club (dark!joel miller x f!reader; dead dove do not eat)

Summary: Post outbreak set in the Boston QZ. You decide to go against Joel in an underground QZ fight club for some extra coin. Joel doesn't take kindly to the competition and decides to punish you in his own special way. Word count: 3.6k

Warnings/tags: Dead Dove Do Not Eat. 18+ minors dni. Unprotected PIV, fingering (f receiving), slapping, choking, hair pulling, violence, blood, degradation, curse word, age gap, dark content, noncon, dubcon.

a/n: This is the darkest one I’ve written so far so let me know what you think. Author is 18+ Written for #deaddovedecember2023 hosted by @romana-after-dark

You’ve had your fair share of blunders and brushes with death, but this has got to be one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done. But you’re desperate. Really freaking desperate. And desperate people throw out all caution and logic and good old fashioned common sense. So here you are, sweaty hair plastered to your forehead, heart racing, knuckles bloody. And you’re about to make another terrible mistake.

You’ve been in the Boston QZ for about 2 years now and every side hustle and grift you’ve tried has ultimately failed. One of your fellow con artists mentioned some back-alley action, an illegal underground fight club. So you follow his direction to the hideout, through an alley to the back of an abandoned building and down the stairs to the basement. You think the place must have been used for storage before, its mostly unfinished. It’s a large square room with low ceilings. All the furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room, leaving the center open. There’s a mob of people shouting and cheering, mostly large men but you spot a couple of females too. You recognize a few faces amongst the crowd as smugglers you’ve previously dealt with. There are a few lamps in the corners of the room but it’s still dimly lit. There’s a poker table pushed up against the wall, bottles of alcohol, and a caged rooster in the back. You guess this place does everything – speakeasy, gambling, cock fighting, and the ring.

There’s smoke in the air that burns your eyes and when you walk little clouds of dust follow in your footsteps. The smell of sweat, alcohol, and cigarettes engulfs your senses. The place is packed and noisy with swearing and shouting. You push through a throng of people to get to the bookie sitting on a high stool in the corner. She’s wearing a red and black flannel with black jeans and combat boots. She nods to you as you approach.

“Never seen you here, but if you’re here that means one of us trusted you enough let you in. Welcome. So, what can I do for you? Who ya bettin’ on?” She nods to the ring.

Ring is a generous term. Really it’s a cleared away area in the center of the room with a white circle on the floor drawn in chalk. There are two burly men inside fighting it out, fists flailing and blood flying. You notice that one has several teeth missing and cauliflower ear. He seems to be winning.

You turn back to her. “I’m not betting, I’m here to fight.”

She pauses to read your face and once she sees you’re serious she chuckles. She looks you up and down, taking in your skinny arms and round unscarred face. She holds out her hand. “The name’s Tess.”

You take her hand with a firm grip.

“Alright girl, you’re in. But I hope you know what you’re doing.” She gives you all the rules. Basically, you win if your opponent steps out of the ring or they don’t get up after a 10 second count. “I’ll be rootin’ for ya.” She says as you turn to leave. She sounds sincere.

You’re already starting to feel sick. Your stomach is turning, you’re so nauseous and the loud noises and metallic smell of blood isn’t helping. You go to a corner room, as far away as possible, and sit on a flipped over crate to wait. You’re wearing a loose t-shirt with your green cargo jacket overtop, black leggings, and your combat boots. You watch your swinging feet, trying to calm your nerves and not think about the sound of crunching bone you just heard. You wonder whose nose was just broken, Big Guy or Toothless.

As you’re sitting, zoning out, you feel someone walk up beside you. Your head snaps up.

“Hi there.”

Now this is a face you definitely don’t know. You’d remember him. He’s probably in his late 40’s, tall and broad shouldered with patchy facial hair, a strong nose and jaw line, and a pinched brow that makes it look like he’s permanently scowling. But there’s something in his dark brown eyes that catches your attention. It’s alluring and yet it makes you very uneasy. There’s a danger hidden there. He sits on the crate next to you with a sigh. He’s wearing jeans and a tight grey t-shirt that shows off his sculped chest and hugs his tanned biceps. That catches your attention too. You watch his muscles flex as he lowers himself onto the crate. Maybe you’re staring too long. He kicks you crate with a heavy boot.

“Hello?”

Even his voice is entrancing, gruff, dark, masculine, with a thick Texan accent. You blink and clear your throat. “Hi.” You say flatly. You try to appear confident and nonchalant, like you’re bored with this whole thing. Like you’re not scared shitless right now. You’re trying to convince yourself just as much as him.

“You come here often?” He asks and you can’t help but smile at the lame joke. His eyes move to your lips as you smile and his own form a wicked grin. It scares you. Your mouth falls back.

“Um no, this is my first time here. My first match in the ring.”

“You’re fighting?” He sounds equally surprised and impressed. His eyes light up and that predatory grin appears on his face again. “Little thing like you… going up against these grown men. You must be one tough little girl.”

You shift your weight, his words making you uncomfortable.

He quietly adds, “How I like ‘em. A fighter.”

Before you get a chance to respond there’s a roar of the crowd and you watch as they drag a body from the ring and prop him against the wall. You hope he’s just unconscious. You turn back to the stranger but he’s gone. The crowd quiets and you hear Tess call out, “Next round is against my partner Joel. Y’all know Joel. Any takers?”

You get to your feet. The crowd is too thick to see the opponent in the ring. But you don’t even care to see what he looks like first, no point sizing him up. You know all these fighters will be bigger and stronger than you. You have to do it now before you lose the small amount of courage you have left. You can’t sit still any longer.

“Here.” You call out. As you walk to the ring you tell yourself over and over again that they may have more muscle, but you rely on your speed and your skill.

You push through the circle of onlookers, most don’t even seem to notice you or bother to move out of the way. You’re too short to see over their heads so you raise your hand in the air and repeat, “here!” Finally they part. Faces look down at you as you pass and you can read the looks of disbelief and amusement in their eyes. You step over the line of chalk and face Tess. “I challenge,” you say in your most confident voice. Tess looks uncertain, even worried for you. Her throat bobs and she looks like she might say something, but instead she just nods. You turn to face your opponent. Oh shit, it’s the stranger. Joel. You know his name now. He’s giving you that horrible predatory grin again as he looks you up and down shamelessly. He’s so cocky it boils your blood.

“Well look who it is, Newbie.”

You snarl in response but he just laughs at you.

“Begin,” Tess announces.

You start circling each other, moving clockwise as you study each other’s movements, looking for the right time to pounce. You kick up dust as you slide your feet. Your boot catches on something sticky, dried blood. You push the thought from your mind, concentrating on watching Joel. You observe his muscles flexing, his balance, the length of his strides and his footwork. You can tell he’s strong, but he’s slower. You’ll use that to your advantage. During these brief moments of sizing each other up you’ve kept your own strengths hidden. You copied his pace, circling him just as slowly with deliberately timed steps. You want your real fighting style to remain a surprise. You want this fight over quickly, a few strong punches from him and you’d be lights out. You know you can’t overpower him and keep him down for a 10 count, so the only way is to trick him into stepping over the white line.

The crowd is getting impatient, their jeering getting louder and more vulgar as they scream at him to pummel you. With no warning, no tell, he lunges at you and lands a right hook into your jaw, rattling your brain. You dodge his incoming blow, ducking under his arm and side stepping past him. So maybe he’s not so slow after all, that’s okay, you’ll just be faster. Your jaw is aching and you taste blood in your mouth. You spit on the floor and Joel smiles. Just one punch and you’re already dizzy. He closes the gap in one step, towering above you with a vicious gleam in his eye. He does a jab cross combo and you manage to block both. As he’s pulling his fist back you land a hook right into his ribs lightning fast, then quickly pull your punch back and step back into your fighting stance with your guard raised. He looks a little surprised. You actually snuck a blow in. The crowd cheers and his surprise turns to anger. It chills your blood and weakens your knees but you stand your ground. Furious, he attacks you in a brutal volley, jab, cross, hook, elbow. He’s pummeling you with hit after hit and you’re moving swiftly, weaving under his fists as you step backwards, leading him closer to the edge of the ring. Your heel touches the chalk. He throws a powerful cross but he’s late on the recoil so you grab his wrist, leaning into his momentum and pulling his arm, swinging him to the right. He takes a single step to correct his balance. A single step that’s out of the circle.

You drop his wrist as the crowd erupts in shouts of approval at the surprise and swearing as bets are lost. You turn on your heel, not even bothering to look at Joel as you march up to Tess.

“Well color me impressed. If you come back again you could probably make a lot more ration cards. Everyone likes an underdog ya know.” Spectators flock to her, passing up cigarettes, pills, bullets, and food, you even spot a piece of gum. After a minute of tallying she hands you a stack of ration cards. You stuff them in your jacket pocket and nod farewell. This should tide you over for a while, at least until you find another smuggling job. Tess seems okay but you hope you never have to come back here.

You rush out of the hideout and exit into the alleyway where you lean up against the wall and breathe in deeply, relishing the fresh cool night air. You close your eyes for a moment and relax your head back against the cool concrete, letting your body calm down after all the adrenaline.

A hand wraps around your throat, squeezing and cutting off your air. Gasping, your eyes flutter open and you stare wildly at the man in front of you. Joel. His face is flushed and his eyes are black. You choke out, “J-Joel, what-“ but he squeezes even tighter and your plea dies.

“Shut up bitch,” he snaps. Oh you made a big mistake. Now you understand what kind of man Joel is. You humiliated him when you won. You took his power. And he wants it back.

“How dare you trick me like that.”

You’re desperately shaking your head, unable to speak. He slams your head back into the wall. You feel your scalp scrap against the concrete and blood seep into your hair.

“You think you’re better than me, is that it? Huh?” With his other hand he grabs a fistful of your hair. “Huh? Answer me!” he shouts.

You shake your head desperately. He feels the blood on the back of your head now and slides his hand from your hair. Holding it up, he angles his hand to better see in the light from the streetlamp, admiring the sight of your blood on his fingertips. His other fingers are still pushing into your throat, bruising the skin underneath. You have to get out of here. Not knowing what else to do you kick him in the groin, hoping he’ll drop you or at least loosen his grip. It works and you wrench free. You run one, two steps before he catches you and slams you into the wall. You squeal. His hands pin your wrists against the cold wall by your sides and his body is pressed into yours, squishing you against the wall so tightly you can’t move. His chest is heaving and his breath is in your face as he looks down at you.

“Joel please,” you plead desperately.

“Oh now you have manners.” He scoffs. “Too late little girl,” he says darkly. You whine in desperation and his lethal gaze shift to one of greed. “Oh honey you’re giving me a new idea for how to punish you.” He smiles and you watch as lust clouds his gaze. You feel his cock twitch against your middle. Your eyes widen in terror and you gulp. His predator gaze deepens as he clocks your fear. He feeds off of it. He takes your wrists and pins them above your head with one large hand.

“Gotta show you some respect little girl. Put ya in your place.” He leans his hips into you, pushing you deeper into the hard wall as he grinds into you. With no warning he slaps you across your face. It stings as you feel tears forming in your eyes.

“That’s better. Cry for me girly. Think you can beat me, no, I’ll show who’s in control here.” His other hand other slips beneath the hem of your t-shirt and reaches up to grab at your breast. He gropes you roughly, his cold callous fingers kneading into you. He flicks your nipple and you cringe at the pain, but harden under his touch as he rubs it between his finger and thumb. He groans and his hips grind into you again, rutting up against you and pushing you roughly. You feel your skin grating against the rough concrete behind you. He kisses you sloppily, greedily making out with your unresponsive mouth as you try to turn away. He drops his hand from your breast and slides his hand around your neck again.

“I’m gonna let go and yer' gonna take off your pants. Got that little girl?” You spit in his face. He laughs like a mad man. “You’re a fighter. I said I liked ‘em feisty. You remembered, huh girly?”

Then he abruptly stops and he squeezes so tightly you see black spots. “But right now I need you to behave.” You nod vigorously.

“Good girl.” He releases his tight grip and drops your hands. You undo your pants and push them down with your underwear and are about to step out of them when he stops you. “Leave it.” It restricts your movement more, you can’t run.

“That’s it, good job girly. Now me.” He commands. You undo his belt with shaking fingers and tug his zipper down. You tentatively pause and he smacks your hip. “I didn’t stay stop,” he growls. You tug his pants and boxers down to his thighs and his cock springs free. He’s so big and angry looking that you start to cry.

“Fuckin’ weak.” He wraps a hand around the base of his cock and strokes himself slowly as you watch. The thumbs the tip of his cock where a bead of precum is leaking out. He raises he fingers to your mouth and slides his thumb over your lower lip roughly before pushing it inside your mouth.

“No biting.” His thumb glides over your teeth and he pushes further. Your tongue flicks against him instinctively and his cock twitches. “You like this girly? You a little slut?” With his thumb deep in your mouth you’re unable to answer but your eyes glare at him. He just smirks. He taps your jaw with his other fingers then brings them to your lips as you open your mouth wider. You suck on his fingers, saliva gathering on them. When he's satisfied, he pulls them out with a lewd wet noise. He pets your check once with the back of his hand. You feel the scratch of the dried blood as his split knucks skim across your face.

He reaches down between you and slides two fingers into you without hesitation. The stretch burns and your muscles clench in surprise. “Fuck, so tight.” He slides his fingers in and out, punishing your hole as you try to adjust. “We gotta stretch you out a bit if you’re gonna fit this big cock.” He pushes another finger in and you scream. He glares at you and silences your scream with his mouth. He bites your lower lip as he fucks you with his fingers. You taste blood as he pulls way.

After a few more thrusts he feels your body adjust and your slick starts to seep onto his hand. He laughs, “Not such a tough girl now huh?” Your face reddens in embarrassment as your body betrays you.

He slides his fingers out and slaps your wet pussy. “Just a little slut. Knew you wanted this cock.” He pushes his fingers through your folds, playing with you and gathering your slick. He slides his fist down his cock, spreading the wetness.

“Wanna see you cry on this cock.” With his fist wrapped around the base he guides himself and notches at your entrance then pushes all the way inside you, filling you up and splitting you open. You gasp at the stretch and struggle against him. He clicks his tongue. “None of that, stay still,” he grunts as he pulls out to the tip then slams back in to you. “Gotta take your punishment,” another hard dominating thrust.

“Gonna ruin your little pussy.” He’s hitting something deep inside you with each painstakingly hard thrust. You feel your body responding, heat pooling and your walls flutter around him. He pulls out halfway and pushes back in, setting a new shallow pace as he fucks you against the wall. It’s faster and more desperate. You see sweat forming on his brow. You think you could probably get out of his grip right now if you tried, he’s distracted and out of breath already. But for some reason you don’t. You stay still as he brutally rails you, your back arching against the wall causing you’re your shoulder blades to sting as the scrape the wall.

The sounds of skin slapping slick skin and groaning fill the narrow alley. The street light flickers and for the first time it dawns on you that anyone could walk by and see you. You shiver and try to push against Joel’s hold but he growls at you through gritted teeth. “I said stay still.”

He’s close, you can see it on his scrunched-up face, so you relax and decide to just let him finish. Your body is marked with purple fingerprints and red marks where he slapped you. The blood in your hair has dried. Maybe it was stupid to fight him, you think as he continues to pound you. He feels good inside you, you can’t deny that. You close your eyes and focus on that feeling now, your hips moving to grind into him. It building and building and you can’t stop it as you come on his cock with a cry. Your walls squeeze his cock and it’s enough to send him spilling into you. His muscles twitch and he presses his entire body up against you, flattening you with his full weight as he comes inside you with a groan. You feel the warm gush of his cum inside you as it spreads and fills you. He sighs and slides out with a lewd squelching sound.

“Hmmmm, hope you learned your lesson little girl.”

Your legs are shaking, cum trickling down your thighs. He steps back and releases his hold on your wrists. You slide down the wall and sit crumpled on the cold ground. He drags his cock against your check once before stuffing it back into his pants and fixing his belt. He smirks down at you, proud of his work. “See ya around,” he says before stalking off, leaving you sitting alone in the dirty alley, pants still around your ankles.

You look down and watch his seed seeping out of you. You gulp, feeling your sore throat ache from his chokehold. You swipe your fingers over your cheek, wiping away your tears cooling against the night air. Your fingers brush against your bloodied swollen lips from his crushing kiss and drift to your sides where you see red prints marking your skin. Your fingers slide lower and find the wetness on your thighs. Without thinking you draw your fingers up to your mouth and suck, tasting him. Hand in your mouth you snap back to reality and glance down the alley to make sure no one is looking. You scrambling up, hand against the wall in support. You hurriedly pull up your pants and rush out of the alley in humiliation.

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