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megamindsecretlair · 5 months

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Mr. Black, Part 1

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, dumbass reader, degradation kink, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre is sick and tired of the countless mistakes you make while performing your work duties. You were recently hired and just trying to do your best, but nothing is ever good enough for him.

Word Count: 4,099k

A/N: Listen, Idk what happened. He's barely in 2 mins of the film and it broke my brain. That outfit and that smile was too much for me to handle! Idk how many parts this will be. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Tagging the usual lovelies, please tell me if you want to be removed: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj

Shit! He was going to kill you. You whined as the numbers swam in your vision. You desperately looked between two invoices, wondering how you were going to solve this before he found out.

Your leg bounced as your nerves unraveled the longer you stared at the documents. Shit! You were done for. Your stupid little job was over before you had even gotten started. Your bottom lip quivered. There was no way you were going to recover from this.

Tre’s heavy footsteps pounded the carpet on approach and your heart dropped into your stomach. Shit!

You pushed the papers on your desk into one huge pile that you’ll painstakingly unravel in the safety of your home. You tapped a few keys on the computer, trying to look busy. He did not need to know that you had been staring at your egregious mistake for the past half hour.

“Do you have that report I told you to do?” Tre asked, once he reached his office.

“Yes, Sir,” you said. You gave him a dumb ass, goofy smile. You handed over the report in a yellow folder. He snatched it from you, not sparing you a glance, and stalked into the office. The door slam made you flinch.

You weren’t even sure why you stuck around this job. You were recently hired to help with the background work stuff while people all around you were getting fired. Tre had been leading that charge.

Ever since you got hired, you wondered if he hated you. He barely said anything to you except to insult your hard work. Look, the workforce was hard, okay? There’s a lot of shit that school or life doesn’t teach you. More often than not, you had to hide your scrolling on Youtube for any kind of help.

Even when he was in a good mood, flashing those pearly whites and that sinful smile, it immediately froze whenever you entered the room. Your good mood would evaporate and then you were falling all over yourself trying to correct whatever the issue was.

His coffee was too cold, too black, too sweet. His blinds were up too high and he had a nasty glare. This report was wrong, that report was wrong. No, this wasn’t the one he wanted. Yes, this was the one he wanted. Run out and get some lunch. Well, you took too long, I don’t want it anymore.

It was exhausting working for the man, but some part of you wanted a crumb of his praise. Just a crumb. You could survive off of it. You knew you sounded pathetic. Your friends and family were getting sick of you complaining about the man.

Your best friend sort of got it. You snuck a picture of Tre one day and showed her. She nearly fell off of your couch when she saw him.

“This? This is your boss?”

Yes, he is seriously your boss. And he was a fucking asshole. Who else would feel absolutely nothing about firing people a few days before Christmas? Christmas! It was your favorite holiday and just thinking about all the tiny traditions made you so giddy, your heart flipped.

Person after person, box after box, floated by your desk looking absolutely miserable. You watched their tortured faces and your heart hurt thinking that all their years of service fit into one tiny box. The tinsel and ornaments decorating the office seemed like cruel mocking reminders that there would be no Christmas cheer for them.

“Get in here, now!” You jerked out of your seat. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The intercom flashed red and then turned off. You hated that damn box. Whatever happened to sending a chat? Way less intrusive and easier on your nerves.

You stood up with your heart racing. The pulse in your neck thumped so painfully, you placed your hand there to try and steady it. Realistically, you didn’t have to tell him about the mistake right now. You just needed a chance to find out what you did wrong.

You smoothed your checkered skirt suit, wiping your sweaty palms on the thick material. El Segundo didn’t get that cold, but the mornings were brutal.

You bit your lip as you approached his office door. You opened it. Tre stood over his desk, one hand on his hip and a paper in his hand. It had to be the report he asked for. You assumed that since it was so late in the evening, that he’d read it first thing in the morning. You had hoped to leave here with a little hope. Not defeated like the past few nights, still not living up to his impossible standards.

All things considered, he was damn delicious. His favorite aesthetic was black. Black shirts, jackets, pants, shoes. The only hint of color on him were his gold chains and glasses. His thick beard complimented his facial structure beautifully. It was an odd mix being both attracted to and afraid of your boss.

“Close the door,” he said.

You followed his command. Shit. You were really in it. Was it your report he was reading? Or did he magically glean that you royally fucked up a fifteen million dollar contract?

Your stomach roiled. You were going to be fucking sick.

You approached the front of his desk like a deer in headlights. There was no room for you to maneuver. It was you, the headlights, and inevitable death. Shit, would you go to jail over something like this?

You twisted your fingers as you stood there and waited for him to acknowledge you. He gave a long sigh and then put the paper down.

“Come here,” he said. His tone was so disrespectful and biting. It was insulting coming from such a pretty man with a soft, ungodly voice.

You rounded his giant desk and stood beside him. He was so huge. Thick muscles bunching the confines of his black suit jacket. You gulped and glanced down. He was looking at your report.

“What does this say?” He asked and pointed to a sentence.

“Due to the natre, er, nature, of the findngs.” Shit. This thing had so many damn typos in it. You typed the damn thing up, distracted, watching all of the people you never got to know walk out of here. Their faces haunted you day in and day out. You shouldn’t care, but well, here you were.

If he had done this at any other time, maybe it wouldn’t have affected you so much. If he fired people around, say…St. Patrick’s Day, then at least people would have an excuse to hide their inevitable drinking.

You looked into Tre’s eyes, an apology ready on your lips, but he was fuming. He was usually so calm and collected, firing people with an ice cold exterior. To see so much passion in him now…you were in deep shit. Without a paddle.

He reached across his desk and plucked out a red pen. “I want you to sit here and highlight all of the mistakes you made. And you better find them all,” he said.

Your shaking hand reached out for the pen. He held it away. “All of them.”

He held out the pen once more and you took it. Tre sat down in his chair and motioned for you to proceed. You spied the chair on the other side of the desk, but you didn’t get the sense that you were allowed to get comfortable while you did this.

You licked your dry lips and leaned over slightly. Page by page, you hunted your mistakes with the red pen. You circled all of the typos you made. Good god, there were so many of them.

Tre sat like a silent specter. His disapproving eyes burned your back as you searched the document. At the end, you were appalled that you let so many slip through. The fuck was wrong with you?

“Count them,” he said.

Shit, shit. You couldn’t handle this fucking stress. “I am so sorry–”

“Count. Them.” You glanced at him. Besides the fire in his eyes, he seemed calm and a little disinterested. Like he was already bored of this shit and wanted you to hurry up.

You took a deep breath. He was only a man. You needed this stupid fucking job, but you will not be treated like this for much longer. Fuck his praise. And fuck him. No man, no job was worth this bullshit. You were going to find a nice quiet job somewhere.

You counted the circles. Like bubbles of misery. “Twenty-four,” you said. At least your voice was strong, giving no hint to your frazzled nerves. Though, the more you thought about it, the less nervous you felt. You were so going to type up your two weeks notice tonight. Fuck this cheerless company.

“Do you have any clue what it’s like trying to do my job but all I can focus on is your shitty ass mistakes? A toddler can type better than you,” he said.

You gasped. Such a fucking asshole. “Everyone makes mistakes,” you pointed out. For fuck’s sake, you weren’t decoding international secrets. The occasional, okay this instance many, typos should not warrant a trip to the principal’s office.

“I spend more time correcting your mistakes than trying to turn this company around. The least you can do is be a competent assistant. Your job is to assist,” he said.

“All you can see is my mistakes instead of all the other shit that I do!” You fired back. Shit. His eyes narrowed and you swallowed, but you weren’t going to hold back. Whether you quit or got fired, you were saying goodbye to him so what the hell did anything matter?

“I bend over backwards to do everything for you! Do you know how many times I’ve had to fix my nails as I run around here doing everything that pops into that meaty ass head of yours? Fix your computer, get you coffee, charge your fucking phone. I was hired to do assistant work, not become your personal maid. The least you can do is treat me with some fucking respect!”

A weight lifted from your chest. You took deep, heaving breaths and felt lighter than you ever had. Even before taking this soul sucking job.

“Bend over,” he said quietly.

“What?” You asked.

Tre stood to his full height. Not quite reaching six feet, but close enough. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and then slipped it off, revealing a black, long sleeved shirt. He rolled up the cuffs.

“I’m spank that tight ass you keep taunting me with for every mistake you have on that report,” he said.

Whoa, what? “Did you not hear what I said?” You asked. You watched as inches of his forearm were revealed. Shit, this shouldn’t be so hot. But it was. Your mouth ran dry for entirely different reasons.

“Every word. Bend. Over. It’s a simple instruction to follow,” he said. The sleeves were at his elbow now.

You barely thought about it. You bent over the desk, breasts pressing into the coolness of his desk. You felt him slide behind you. His thick hands rubbed over the fabric of your dress. He squeezed the fleshiness of your ass and you softly huffed.

“Count out every mistake,” he said.

Smack! Red hot fire bloomed on your right ass cheek. “What the fuck,” you gasped.

“Count it, or we start over,” he said.

“One,” you immediately said. Was this really happening?

Smack! Shit, it really was. “Two,” you gasped again, trying to fight off a moan. Your pussy ached with each subsequent hit. And he was not going easy on you. Each smack was severe, making you reach up on tiptoes to escape it.

He wouldn’t let you. His hand found your ass in any way you had it displayed for him. No two smacks were similar. Some were harder than others. He never hit the same spot twice. Your ass was a mosaic of pain. Heat bloomed in tiny flickers. There was no way you were going to sit down after this.

“Fifteen,” you ground out. Your ass sought his hands, relished each smack he delivered. Your mind turned blissfully fuzzy. Nerves melting away until it was a tiny puddle at your feet. Fuck. You were so turned on and your panties were ruined. Soaked.

Your clit throbbed in time with the flickering heat on your ass. And he continued to smack it. Your ass jiggled after each one. Your feet scrambled for purchase.

“Twenty-two,” you cried out. Tears gathered in your eyes.

The final two smacks to your ass were the worst ones. He had been hiding that strength this entire time. He smacked you like he was truly punishing you for all of the mistakes on the report. You shuddered to think what he would do when he found out about the contract.

He had maintained a professional demeanor throughout it all. He hadn’t spoken, except with soft grunts as the force of his smacks met your ass. He rubbed your booty and you moaned from the white hot pain. How the hell were you going to get home after this?

Tre lowered the zipper on the back of your dress and you whimpered. What more could he fucking do right now?

The answer to that was swift as he pushed the edge of your skirt up and over your wide hips. He groaned with a soft, “fuck”, as he revealed your racy black panties. The lace was sheer with tiny flower designs woven into it.

“I knew hiring you was a fucking mistake. Can’t even focus on shit around here,” he said. Though it seemed like he was talking to himself.

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered. You wiped the wayward tears from your face.

“You and these fucking outfits,” he answered back. He rolled your panties off of your damp pussy. He bent with it, so his breath trailed the back of your thighs and legs. He kissed his way back up. Plump lips placed soft kisses to your thighs and ass. Pain bloomed from his recent spanking and you moaned and moved away. He straightened and pulled your hips back.

He smacked your bare ass this time. The wet sound was loud and lewd. You prayed that everyone was gone for the day. There was no way that these flimsy ass walls had good sound proofing.

“Fuuuuuck,” you moaned out.

“That’s for being such a fuckin’ tease,” he said. His hands left you, going to his own fly as you heard the zipper and the frantic huffs as he hurried to free himself.

“I wasn’t–”

“You know you were. Bending over every chance you got. Smiling every time I fuckin’ saw you. Wearing these outfits you know are not professional,” he said.

He settled back behind you, groaning as you assumed he pumped himself. Fuck, you wanted to see. You looked back at him. Oh, that was a mistake. His head was thrown back, his arms moving jerkily as he pumped his thick length with his hand.

Your pussy clenched as you watched him. You bit your lip at the sheer ecstasy on his face. You didn’t want to speak and interrupt him. While it was true that you dressed up a little more than your coworkers, these outfits were appropriate. You didn’t show unnecessary cleavage and your skirts were decent lengths.

Okay, maybe they went a little too high. But you spent most of your time behind a desk, who was really going to notice? It was better than the bland ass, off the rack looks these other girls wore. It was like they all shopped at the same, ugly ass store. Why should you be bland like them?

You were fucking gorgeous. And wearing pretty outfits made you feel beautiful and comfortable. You loved your heels. Why should you keep all that shit in the closet to make basic bitches feel nice? Fuck ‘em.

Tre rubbed the tip of his dick through your wet folds. You nearly buckled. Your knees collapsed and Tre roughly grabbed your hip to make you stand upright.

You rested your cheek against the cold desk. The coolness helped cool off some of the heat burning through you. You moaned as his tip brushed against your clit. “Please,” you whispered.

“Please what?” He asked.

“Please, fuck me. I need it,” you moaned. God, it had been too fucking long since you got fucked. Not had sex. Got fucked. You had decent situationships in the past. Sure, you had fun. But to get fucked, you needed a certain type of man.

He grunted as he shoved inside, stretching you completely. You cried out as he pulled back and shoved back in, getting his dick wetter from your juices alone. “Sweet fuck,” he moaned.

“So fuckin’ wet for me.” He worked himself inside you, pushing into the warm, wet core of you. You were a vice grip on his dick. Welcoming him deeper and more easily with every glide. His fingers dug into your hips.

“From now on, I’m checking over all of your work. If I catch more typos, that’s your ass,” he said.

How the hell could he expect you to listen when he was buried so deep inside of you, you were pretty sure with one more shove that he would hit your G-spot? You pathetically whimpered as his movements grew slippier. He slid in and out with more ease than before.

His thrusts turned sharper. Each one shoved you against the desk. The hard plane of the desk shoved into your stomach. The pain was barely a thought.

“Oh yes, yes,” you moaned.

“Takin’ this dick well,” he moaned. His thrusts increased. Barely giving you time to breathe in between each one. They were powerful and unrelenting. The desk rattled. His thighs pushed into yours, trapping you against the desk as he pounded into you. His hands around your hips were bruising. He had you slightly lifted, so your feet slightly dangled off of the ground. He supported you easily.

The minimal praise from him made your heart soar and your pussy flutter. “Oh, you like that shit, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

“Tell me you like it then,” he said.

“I like it,” you said.

“Like you mean it,” he said and gave another savage thrust that made you see stars.

The desk made an intrusive knocking sound in time with his thrusting. That’s how hard he was fucking you.

“Oh shit, I’m cumming,” you moaned. Your belly flipped as your orgasm built and built.

“Let it go, then,” he said.

You cried and whimpered as you came.

“Mhm, let it go. Let it go. Mhm, feeling all of that,” he cooed while you came, stars going off like bombs in your weak vision. Your head swam. Your vision winked in and out. You were bliss personified, cumming with a type of euphoria you didn’t know existed.

You squeezed his dick as you came. “Get that shit nice and creamy,” he said.

He continued to pound into you, fucking any last remnants of your orgasm out of you. He was so hard and thick, sliding in and out and wrenching every little sound he could out of you.

Wet smacking and the rattle of his thrusts filled the room with a harmony you wanted on repeat forever. You were creamy for him. Needy for him. Needy for the way that he could fuck you stupid and you thanked him for it.

You managed to look back at him. Again, his head was thrown back. The wide expanse of his neck pulsed with a thick vein you wanted to lick. Sweat dripped down into his shirt. His sleeves were still rolled up. He was power and strength. Thick in every sense of the word.

Broad shoulders, soft beard, and those glasses. Good god, you loved those glasses on him. That wide smile of his. His rich, midnight skin. You could spend hours licking every inch of him and it wouldn’t nearly be enough.

He was lost in you, lost with his dick pumping into you. Watching how you were making him feel, another orgasm built. It climbed its way to the surface, whisking you away to the stars again. Shooting through the universe with nothing to hold you down. Nothing to keep you anchored. You just floated like stardust around the cosmos.

“Oh fuck, please,” you moaned. You didn’t know what the fuck you were saying. You were mumbling and moaning, unaware of anything but his hands on your hips. His dick inside you. His balls slapping your clit. Your hand moved behind you seeking his body. His thrusts were too much.

You pushed against him. You didn’t want him to stop. Just for him to ease a bit. Your swollen clit was sensitive as hell. You weren’t sure if you had another orgasm in you. It was too soon and his punishing pace was going to literally fuck you stupid in a minute.

“Move that fuckin’ hand before I do,” he spat.

“But…Sir…” He was fucking the air out of you. You couldn’t breathe. “Fuck, please.”

True to his word, he grabbed the hand that you were trying to push him away with. Your left hand was twisted behind your back as he leaned forward, deepening his strokes.

It turned harsher, fucking you into the desk. He’d fuck you through it if he could. His moans turned desperate.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “Take this nut.”

He groaned as he unleashed his climax inside of you. He filled you with his cum. His dick twitched and pulsed against your spongy walls as his cum was fucked into you. Still he moved, still he pounded into you like he was trying to prove something.

His hips faltered as he sputtered the last of his cum. He buried himself to the hilt and a shiver ran through him. Your frantic breathing matched his as he slowly pulled out of you.

Fuck! You were fucking sore! A hundred baths wouldn’t soothe this shit. A moment later, his cum slipped out of you and you moaned. Well shit. No condom. Luckily, you were on the pill but still. You shouldn’t be so fucking horny that you didn’t talk about these things.

However, after getting fucked the way you just did, you’d happily accept his cum. Many times over.

His cum leaked out of you, sliding down your pussy and legs. He groaned, leaned down, and spread your ass cheeks just to watch.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. He pushed two fingers inside and you whimpered. He grunted one last time and removed his fingers.

He grabbed a few tissues off of his desk and started to clean you up. You hissed when he hit a sensitive spot. He kissed your ass and legs as he cleaned up. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ beautiful,” he soothed as he cleaned.

You were a shaking mess. Your legs could not support you. He chuckled as he finished. He pulled his pants up first. You heard the slide of his belt buckle. Then, he pulled your panties up to cover your ass. Next, he lowered your skirt and fixed the zipper.

You were too weak to move from your spot. Too weak to stand up and say or do anything. You laid there in amazement. He helped you up and then steadied you while he lowered you into his chair. His chair.

He got to work, righting various knick knacks on his desk. He moved a tiny Christmas snow globe on his desk that you had brought him on the first day. He had raised his eyebrow at you, told you that you couldn’t bribe your way to a good start, and disappeared into his office. You thought he had thrown it away. You were too nervous to notice anything when you came into his office. Just his disapproving eyes and smug smirk.

He moved the report back into the yellow envelope and closed it. He turned around and rested his ass against the desk. He tapped the file with his long fingers. “Be sure to correct this. We’ll go over it first thing in the morning.”

You glanced at him. “Yes, Sir,” you said with a hoarse voice. Fuck, your throat hurt. Everything hurt. He smirked as if he were reading your thoughts.

Yeah, a merry Christmas to you too, mu’fucker.

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bonny-kookoo · 5 months

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Jungkook

𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓦𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | Intro

Jeon Jungkook truly fell for you- more than once.

Tags/Warnings: (fallen)Angel!Jungkook, Somewhat strangers to lovers, Fluff, Angst, some religious themes but only mentioned, clumsy romance, Flirting

Length: was supposed to be a oneshot, idk how long this is

Masterlist TBA.

There is no taglist for this fic.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🪽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Your neighbor is a genuine angel. At least, you're convinced he is.

From what you know, he works as a gym instructor, but part-times at a local animal shelter where he helps with the heavy lifting and more physically demanding jobs. He's been in your town's local newspaper last week for building multiple new sheds there, so that the dogs have more opportunities to stay outside whenever they'd like while still being able to have shelter as well. He's helped you earlier this month to bring your groceries upstairs when the elevator was out of service, having found you struggling since you'd injured your leg.

He'd instantly helped you, offering to even go out and get you whatever you'd need during your time of recovery, and honestly, you wonder how that guy is still single.

You know he is, because your best friend, Jane, works at the shelter he helps out at. And according to her, he turns every woman (and even man) down whenever he's asked out. Apparently, he's not looking for anything at the moment.

What a bummer.

What's also odd about him, is his.. weird timing. He's always somewhere around whenever you're in trouble. From almost tripping on the stairs in the apartment building, to not properly looking both ways before crossing the road and almost getting run over- he's there to save you.

Ever since he moved here, about half a year ago, he's always been there last second to somehow pull your ass back from sure death or injury.

You're not sure what to think of it, currently playing with some puppies in the shelter while your friend cleans up the area they live in. "Maybe he's into you?" She wonders, putting the broom to the side. "I mean, could be."

"Wouldn't he have asked me out in that case?" You ask back, not convinced.

"Maybe he's shy?" She shrugs, sitting down with you now to occupy the playful young animals currently excitedly running around and occasionally nipping at your finger. "Just cause he's a looker doesn't mean he's also confident. He might be a softy." She tells you.

"He could be your early Christmas present you know?" She laughs, and you roll your eyes at that. "What? Looks like an angel to me!" She jokes, and you shake your head at that.

"The only angels I see are currently eating your jacket." You tease, making her quickly move to pull the zipper from one impish puppy who's trying to chew it up, successfully pushing the topic to the side for the moment.

You don't like talking about dating, and potential relationship, and all that stuff. You're awkward, meeting new people is awkward, and in the past, most of those connections frayed apart sooner or later either way.

So what's the point?

"Hey." Comes a voice you've come to know by now, from outside the gates and fences. "You ready to go?" He asks you, and you look at him, wide eyed and confused.

"Oh right, fuck!" Jane curses. "I can't drive you home today, so I asked Jungkook if he'd do it and he said sure!" She beams at you, while you glare with the most forceful gaze you can muster. "Don't look at me like that, see it as a chance!" She hisses, and you get up slowly to dust yourself off and grab your jacket from the top of the fence.

You're careful not to let any of the dogs out while leaving, before you wave at Jane who's giving you a cheesy thumbs up.

"I hope it's fine that I'm driving you." Jungkook offers kindly next to you.

"Ah, yeah, no issues." You brush it off. "Just.. weird."

"Weird?" He wonders, opening the main gate for you to step out before he closes it again, and leads you towards his car to open the passenger door for you. "I hope you know I'm not going to kidnap you." He jokes, and you playfully look at him with suspicion, before getting in and letting him close the door for you.

"I don't think you'd do that." You say, buckling your seatbelt while he smiles to himself as he starts the car. "It's just that.. it feels like you're always helping me, but I don't ever really get to know you past that." You shrug, as he maneuvers the car out of the parking lot to drive you both home.

"Would you like to get to know me past that?" He wonders, and again, you shrug.

Because you're not sure if you want that, considering that you don't even know if you want to only get to know him as a friend, or potentially more. Social interactions aren't what you're comfortable with, after pretty much isolating yourself with your job from home and disconnecting from past friends that turned out to be just interested in your monetary help- but nothing else.

And at some point, you just couldn't take the humiliation any longer.

"I don't know." You say because of that. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea." You admit.

"How so?" He asks, stopping at a red light to tap his fingers on the steering wheel to the soft beat of the car radio playing quietly in the background. "I'm not out for a one night stand or anything." He shrugs. "You're really pretty, and I think it's only fair to let you know that right from the start." he says.

"Why would that be something I need to know?" You wonder, and he smiles as he starts driving again as soon as the lights turn green.

"So that you know that I consider you attractive." He admits. "that I'm open to letting things become intimate, if we end up getting along well. And so that you know how to interpret my actions and words, you know?"

This is new.

You're not used to guys talking to you like this- usually, they're always incredibly cryptic, never open, never putting their cards on the table like Jungkook does right in this moment. And maybe that's what's so comforting to you right now.

Maybe that's what's making you trust him.

"Would you.." You begin, the familiar streets giving you the hint that you're close to home. "Do you.. I wanted to bake cookies today." You mumble out.

Jungkook chuckles, smiling. "That sounds cool." He comments, and you know exactly that he's teasing. "I actually know how to bake pretty decently too." He jokes, and you glare at him from the passenger side, as he parks the car in his designated spot. "What?" He looks at you, laughing.

"I take everything back, I don't like you." You cross your arms, and he grins-

Well aware that you're not being serious at all.

He's an angel after all. How could you not fall for him?

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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Hi, I am literally awful at making requests and I really hope you’re currently taking requests but I read your fic about Chubby!Bucky and was wondering if you could reverse it, like a short plus size reader and normal movie like Bucky , but not one where he just accepts her body because looks aren’t important but one where he worships her body, he doesn’t just think curves are okay for a woman he loves curves on a woman, you can make it an established relationship or a not, I prefer it not to be an established relationship but just write whatever flows. A smut story would be what I am asking for, some light dom!bucky sub!reader. If it’s not too much to ask can you throw in a kissing/spit kink, not too much focus on spitting but about slobbery messy kisses. Sorry if this is a rambling mess but I hope you can work with it, thank you, love your writing. 💜

YES I GOTCHU!! Always taking requests. Also I got what you meant don’t put yourself down DAMMIT *angry pointing*!! Sorry for the wait had a writers block moment this week but hope you enjoy :)

Big softie buck luvs his chubby gf

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1,830

Tags: V!fingering, rough sex, pnv!sex, sloppy kissing, dirty talk, fluff and smut, Bucky is Babie, plus size!reader

A/N: Idk where the breeding kink hopped in but y’know how it be folks.

Bucky had a skip in his step going down the street. He was done with all of the bullshit paperwork in the Flagsmashers aftermath. Sam was taking over mantle of Steve amazingly, Walker was ousted and shamed, and they even got Sharon back into the states. Although he wasn’t completely sure about her.

Regardless he could breathe and go see his sweetie. Perfect, patient, lovely, and owner of the most wondrous curves. Bucky had to keep his dick in his pants for now. He carried a bouquet of roses and some chocolates, hustling down the row of brownstones. His girlfriend was very talented in her career and managed to buy one for herself.

He fought back his giddy grin when rapping on the red wooden door. It slowly opened to reveal her pretty face, mussed hair, and adorable huge t-shirt. The man had to shove down his intense desire knowing that was his shirt. She yelped in surprise, practically launching on the super-soldier.

Bucky laughed and grabbed her under the ass to keep the crying thing from falling. He chuckled, “Hey, hey, you’ll mess up the chocolates hold on.” She grabbed the package blindly and tossed them on a side table. She nuzzled into his scruff, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

She sniffled, “Don’t need em- I got you.” The super soldier shook his head with a toothy smile, placing the flowers on another surface while leading the pair to the living room. He stroked her back in an attempt to quiet her crying. Bucky did not need to have the usual happy-go-lucky woman crying over the likes of him.

Sitting back onto the plush couch he murmured, “I’m back now, done, you’ll want to kick me out before the end of it.” His flesh hand thumbed away a tear and tipped her chin up. The girl wiped at her eyes and half-giggled and sobbed, “I know, I was so worried during it all. The news aren’t good for my nerves.”

Bucky wanted to sappily get lost in her watery eyes, framed by long clumped lashes. He murmured while stroking along her lush sides, “I can give you first hand doll,” he absently waved, “Tell me about you.” She rolled her eyes and replied, “Work, worrying, watching Alpine, I started a new project.”

As soon as the white cat was mentioned she appeared, purring and snuggling up to the pair. Bucky felt his eyes slightly water as he croaked, “There’s my sweet girl.” The cat let out a little ‘mrow?’ and promptly bit his hand. The couple busted into guffaws, Bucky snarking, “I guess that’s what I deserve.”

He leaned back, pulling his girl onto his chest.

“So tell me about that project, baby.”

He was listening to her talk about work and the project, really, but other things were starting to rear their head. She was so soft against him, lovely curves and pillowy breasts. The woman seemed sleepy recounting the latest news, words slightly stumbling. Bucky figured it was time for a wakeup call. So he grabbed a handful of ass, smirking lecherously.

She squeaked and bolted upright, gaping at Bucky. He snickered, “What?” She narrowed her eyes and groped his half-hard dick in return, the brunette’s eyes rolling with a breathy laugh. Bucky rumbled, “Sorry sweetheart, y’feel so good I lost control.” He squeezed again and nosed along her jaw— drawing out a gasp.

“Imagine how I’ve felt, toys don’t do the trick when I have a sexy super hero saving the world.”

Bucky grew jealous. He didn’t care if they were inanimate— only Bucky gets to watch his sweet girl lose herself in pleasure. He growled, “Oh yeah? What did you try?” She bit on her lower lip, eyes darting to the side, face flushing with embarrassment. Bucky ground his heavy cock against her thin underwear to goad her along.

She mumbled, “The vibrator, mm, then the shower one, y’know with the suction.”

He could’ve taken her right there imagining his girlfriend whining frustratedly on the dildo in the shower— curves slick, soapy, and bouncing with her movements. Bucky nipped her bottom lip sharply, relishing in her whimper. He cooed, “Didn’t do ya’ a lick of good either huh baby? Needed this to treat you right.” He rutted again for good measure, cock throbbing insistently. She shivered on his thighs, eyes growing glossy in desire.

She whimpered, “B-Buck, please.”

He growled, “Open.”

The girl did so obediently, widening lax lips. Bucky tilted her head back and dropped some of his spit onto her tongue. He commanded, “Swallow.” She whined thinly, throat bobbing as she did so. Her plush thighs were practically vibrating on his toned ones.

“Please, fuck, fuck,” she cried, tears pricking.

Bucky grabbed a soft cheek forcefully and claimed her lips. She pressed forward clumsily, heavy tits on his chest and little hands wrenching his jacket. Bucky dominated the kiss, his baby too overcome to do much except weak kisses and drooling. He laughed while sucking on her tongue, plundering the cute thing’s mouth.

It was sloppy. Bucky was in heaven. He liked knowing he could reduce her to tears and careless kisses without even getting in her pants. She mouthed against his lips, practically rutting to get closer. Which on that note, he snuck a hand down her plush tummy to get at her pussy. She cried out again, gasping hotly into the super soldier’s mouth.

Bucky slid two flesh fingers across her weeping slit and groaned, “Fuck- sweetheart you’re so wet.” She warbled, “Missed you, please.” In a fitful movement, Bucky flipped her around on his lap. Full ass thickly against his cock and now all of her soft parts for him to grab freely. She seemed too dazed to register, whimpering at the manhandling.

Nibbling on her neck Bucky hummed, “Can you take my shirt off for me baby? Hm?”

She flushed and nodded shyly. He hated when she got shy, thinking her extra padding wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d laid eyes on. Bucky was a man, he wanted something to grab on when he fucked a girl stupid. She shucked off the shirt, almost curling in on herself.

“No- no- you better stop it. Still like ya’ curves doll,” he tutted.

An annoyed whine was his response.

So Bucky ripped off her underwear with his vibranium arm, donning a shit eating grin. The woman yelping and jolting on his cock. Bucky snickered, “That’s what ya’ get, now I get to see it all.” Her face flushed even prettier, swollen lips lax and wet. He grabbed handfuls of her soft tits and groaned deeply, massaging and tweaking the tender flesh.

Her head fell back again the brunette’s shoulder, brokenly whimpering his name. Bucky murmured, “So sweet, missed my baby.” He thumbed at a peaked nipple and circled around it, sending her ass rocking back against his throbbing cock. Regretfully leaving her breast, he slid his other hand to grope at plush hips and belly before drawing fingers against her slick cunt.

She urged breathlessly, “Oh, c’mon touch me bear, oh!”

He sucked a dark mark behind her ear while delving two vibranium fingers into her slick channel— hot, pulsing, and oh-so-soaked. He grunted in arousal, thrusting and curling his fingers. Bucky growled, “Be a good girl and ride my hand.” She nodded vigorously, mewling and canting her hips against the heel of his palm.

Bucky gritted his teeth to hold back from her ass rubbing perfectly along his strained dick. He had to compartmentalize. Objective one, make his Angel cum. Then he can have a go. She squealed on a perfectly timed curl of fingers on the g-spot and his smooth palm against her clit.

The man used his other hand to grab and pull at her bouncing breasts, mouth leaving a mess of marks all over her neck. She began to tremble, hands twitching to find purchase. His sweetie wailed, “Buck, oh goddd, m’so close baby!” The former assassin paused his bite to growl, “Let go, I know it feels s’good. Then I’ll fuck ya’ raw.”

That did the trick. She loved fucking raw. Bucky had an inkling his girl had been wanting him to knock her up. He wouldn’t mind, more tits, more curves, and a Junior. But Bucky was selfish and wanted her to himself for now— no sharing. Her gushing all over his hand brought Bucky out of his fantasies.

She sucked in deep breaths, exhaling with moans, body wracked with pleasure. Bucky cooed and eased her down, drawing his hand out of her. He could bust right now at the slick coating his pants. She turned and begged for a kiss silently, eyelashes fluttering.

They kissed again, softer this time, softly intertwining their tongues. She whispered into Bucky’s mouth, “Your turn, old man.” Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes dramatically, nipping her upper lip teasingly. She reached behind blindly to help him unbutton, lips sealing together with wet smacks.

Bucky moaned when his achy cock hit the air, her slick center so close to where he needed it buried. She mewled, “Take me, use me baby, get it out.” Later, the man would deny the absolutely pathetic noise he made. Bucky aligned the ruddy tip of his cock to her and gritted his jaw at being sheathed. Her back arched at the intrusion, mouthing at Bucky’s scruff.

He gripped onto her wide hips and lifted her up and down on his cock. Basically a cocksleeve at this point with the way Bucky was slamming his angry cock in. She cried and babbled at the rough treatment, incoherent slurs. Bucky choppily grunted and moaned, veins pulsing with sheer need. She felt so fucking good.

Bucky hissed, “That’s my- hah- best girl, bein’a good little fucktoy.”

She nodded deliriously, drool running down a corner or her gaping mouth, tits bouncing wildly as she held onto Bucky’s hands for dear life. The brunette was going to blow quick at this rate— his girl was sucking him in too good. She seized up and squeezed his dick like a vice.

She had cum again, only a shrill yelp and Bucky’s cock being throughly milked as the indicator. His baby fell limp against him, nuzzling into his sweaty cheek. His balls were full up and pulsing, ready to release. Another one, two, three pumps Bucky came with a loud cry of her name.

He slumped into the couch, still seating inside of his girlfriend while riding out the aftershocks. He could vaguely hear her whimpering about being full under the blood rushing in Bucky’s ears. He wrapped his arms around her soft midsection, suddenly very tired. She hissed, “Not there.”

Yawning, Bucky snorted, “No way in hell baby. Can’t a man hug the woman he loves who just made him see stars?”

She narrowed her eyes for a pause then pecked his lips. The woman murmured, “Fine. Since you’re the man I love who made me see stars two times.”

“Well I could count two since you’re in my lap.”

“Hush.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #plus size!reader #fluff and smut

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acebean · 11 days

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ok so something i haven't seen anyone mention yet is that in the announcement video, they talk about how they can't afford to keep producing their shows anymore, i believe ryan at one point said an episode of ghost files costs atleast a hundred grand to make (which seems absolutely way too high to me but i don't work in anything close to their industry so idk),so like, okay yeah i can see why those kinds of price tags could lead to this decision. i still think its the wrong one, but i can see how you got here with those expenses. but then at the end of the video, its ryan again talking about how theyre gonna make new shows and he 'can't wait to improve ghost files'.

dude what???

how are they expecting to pay for that with how expensive they're saying it is to make their shows?? did they genuinely expect all 2.9 million youtube subscribers to give them 6usd a month????? or even half of us to??? because that is the only way they'd be able to afford that???

#watcher #ryan bergara #shane madej #steven lim #my post #also what does 'imporving ghost files' even mean at this point it already looks great and is funny #and ryan mentioned they travel internationally already in the upcoming season so like ???

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marvelous-slut · 6 months

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idk how i keep writing about our boy happy, like i have so many WIPs and two of them are chibs & juice, literally almost done and my brain said “but how about we write one for happy AND finish it all in one day.” like ?? idk guys he has a choke hold over me and i’m not even complaining i love his ass 🫶🏻 anyways here’s to my happy fans i hope y’all enjoy some smut. this also gets no title bc my brain ain’t working enough for that right now, so sorry xx

SMUT! 18+ ONLY my friends, if you’re younger than 18 please exit left! lots of smut, didn’t proof read

“we’re gonna head to the porn studio boys, gotta talk some business with Luann.” jax says, hoping on his bike. tig stands with happy as he throws his hands up.

“come on man, we’re standing right here and you’re just gonna rub that in our faces.?” jax smirks and straps his helmet on.

“never said you guys couldn’t tag along, i know how much the two of you like pussy.” tig needs to hear no more as he walks over to his bike and hops on. happy decides to join them as he does in-fact love pussy and he definitely loves porn.

_________

immediately when entering Luann’s porn studio, tig is gone. he’s looking around the studio, he’s looking at the half naked women strutting around, he finally stops when he sees a girl on girl scene being filmed. not even a fire could take his eyes off this action. happy follows, looking around himself. he sees spots Luann speaking with a familiar face.

“holy shit.” he mutters out, he recognizes your face and body from anywhere. he’d never admit he had a favorite porn star, he did enjoy most of what he watched, but you in fact got him off quicker and made him harder than any other woman he’d watched on screen. he swears he’s seen every film you’ve had, girl on girl, straight, threesomes, but his favorites were your solos. he notices the tight royal blue dress hugging your body and he feels himself growing harder. once he sees you break away from Luann he decides to take his chances. he watches you wrap a bottle of water around his your lips, he comes over and grabs a bottle as well.

“hey.” he says, feeling like he can hardly speak, you turn around and smile at him.

“hey.” you say back to him, noticing the leather that matches your new business partners SAMCRO. he stares at you for a moment, unsure of what else to say, you decide to break the silence. “cat got your tongue?” you ask him, he puts a head on the back of his head.

“uh. no. you just look familiar.” he says, happy doesn’t usually feel nervous around anyone especially women but he felt like he was meeting a big time celebrity which he guessed that was somewhat accurate.

“which movies your favorite baby?” you ask, running a hand down his leather. he smirks, looking you up and down.

“i prefer the solos.” you smile at him, usually the answer you got from men was girl on girl. you grab his hand, leading him to the back room where you and your girls got ready. thankfully most of them were sniffing around the SAMCRO members, giving them a good time. once the two of you were in the room, you kiss him on the lips roughly.

he runs a hand up to your ass and grasps it, before you know it you feel your back against the wall. you pull away from the kiss to help him take off his kutte, as he’s doing this he also sheds the shirt he wore under. you notice all the tattoos and his muscular body, feeling your body heat up. you’d slept with plenty of men and women, you would think being on camera would take some embarrassment away from off camera sex, but not with this man. at this moment you realize you didn’t even get his name.

you pull him by the waist band of his jeans and drop to the floor to your knees, undoing his belt and letting his jeans fall to the ground. once his boxers come off, your eyes grow and a loud “wow” leaves your lips. he smirks at hearing this, he would never not feel proud hearing about how big his dick was but he was ecstatic to hear it come from his favorite porn stars lips. he feels himself twitch as you wrap your lips around him. he’s met with a hand wrapping around him as well, even tho you were some what of an expert at the matter, you weren’t about to embarrass yourself a choke on this man. he notices your hair getting in the way and decides to hold it up for you, his fist wrapping tightly around it. you pull him out of your mouth, running your tongue from the base to his head. he moans out at this action, he pulls your hair as a signal to come up to him.

before you know it, you’re laying out on the couch. happy lifts your dress up, revealing that you have no panties on underneath.

“shit girl. no panties?” he asks, you pull the top of your dress down, revealing your breast. you feel your nipples become hard from the cold air.

“makes it easier for moments like these.” he grins, pulling you to the edge of the couch, he slides himself into you without warning. you let out a moan, you were already soaking wet. usually it took a little lube for the shoots, but this man did something that no one else had done in a long time. he’s thrusting slowly, but steady.

“god damn.” he mutters out, running his hand to your breast. “pussy is even better in person than then on camera. you know how many times i’ve fantasied about this?” he hears you let out the oh so familiar moans that before he’d only heard in porn. you lift your head up and grin.

“is it all you ever dreamed of?” you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to your face, kissing him sloppily and wiping away his sweat with your hand. he can feel the tops of your nails sticking into his neck. “shit. even better than that.” he says, thrusting himself into you harder than before. your moans mimicked what he has heard many times before, but it seemed more enjoyable this time around, much more authentic.

you wiggle yourself out of the corner of the couch and manage to get him to lay on his back, happy was taken back. he was used to doggy style or being in control in missionary, he couldn’t even remember the last time a woman rode him. you ease down onto his cock, “fuck.” he let’s out, he can’t believe what’s happening, it still doesn’t feel real. he feels like a teenage boy again fucking someone for the first time. you grind yourself on him, taking his hands and placing them on your hips to help guide you.

“how many times have you thought of this baby?” you ask, he digs his nails into the side of your hips, making you gasp in pleasure.

“you don’t even know.” you feel pressure building inside of you, ready to explode. “you sure do know how to work a man’s fucking cock.” the words send you over the edge, happy feels you clenching around him.

“oh my god!” you scream out, he watches your face, although he remembers plenty of the orgasms you’d had in your movies, he’d never seen one like this before. you continue riding him, finishing off your orgasm. you feel him go to push you off so he can cum himself, but you hold him down with your hands still grinding onto him.

“oh now, don’t think you didn’t do all that work to not get to cum inside of me.” you say, moving your hands to his face.

“fuck!” he let’s out, he releases into you and enjoys every second of it. no second thoughts. once the both of you have finished, you hop off him and grab the closest towel that had your initials printed onto it, specially made for you of course as you were one of Luann’s biggest earners. you throw one to happy as well, he stands up, cleaning himself off. you throw on a bright pink robe, throw your hair up into a bun and walk over to him.

“you know, i never did catch your name.”

“happy.” he says, you chuckle for a second until you realize he’s being serious.

“cute, i like it. we should do this again happy.” you say, grabbing your water and taking off to the restroom. he finished cleaning himself off and gives himself a pat on the back, realizing now he can have the real deal instead of his screen.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy smut #happy lowman #happy lowman soa #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman x you #happy lowman smut #happy lowman imagine

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wifetomegatron · 6 months

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you flare, you flicker, you fade (and in the end, all your tomorrows become yesterdays) [ megatron / reader ]

" I don't have a heartbeat,” She sighed sadly.

He regarded her, standing by the window. Under the half-light, her limbs look almost translucent, pale if not a little blue. That's what happens to organic skin when it oxidises to rot: tearing at the seams.

" Neither do I."

In which Megatron believes the personification of his guilt against humanity has come to haunt him in the late hours of the night.

rating: not rated, sfw! + themes & mentions of death relationship : megatron / f!reader fandoms: transformers (idw generation one) / idw 2005 / mtmte & lost light characters: megatron (transformers), ratchet (transformers), terminus (transformers), rodimus | rodimus prime, minimus ambus (transformers), rung (transformers) additional tags: angst, tangst with a happy ending, pov third person, idk how to tag this, refrences to edgar allan poe, references to ancient greek religion & lore, inspired by corpse bride by tim burton, the reader is referred as she and there's no usage of you but she/her , mentions of myth & folklore, euthanasia warning, death warning This is reposted from ao3 as it’s quite long (3,171 words)

" She said: when will we meet? I said: A year after the war ends. She said: When will the war end? I said: When we meet" — Mahmoud Darwish

01. After Trepan — after everything — Megatron doesn't dream. He can feel his processor spin and think during recharge, but he never dreams. And so when he dreamt for the first time, he almost forgot it was possible. Almost.

His dream was a kaleidoscope of images, a flurry, a blur. His body was moving, but he remained still, watching a memory that didn't belong to him. And he knew this because he could hear the sea.

The universal translator is too gentle. There wasn't a word to describe the great ‘seas’ of Cybertron. Back when he toiled under Nova Point, he assumed — like everybody else —that liquid water was a rumour. And then he saw it, deep, silver mercury, unlike anything, roaring beneath the horizon. Yet he dreams of a sea he never saw, dark and vacuum, sealed under a storm.

Rodimus banged on his door. He was forcibly woken. Even when they were talking by his doorway, Megatron could taste salt in his denta: so foreign his intake nearly rejects it.

02. It started with the humming. It was so quiet that Megatron wouldn't have registered it if it wasn't for how foreign it sounded: non-mechanical and soft. Too soft. A glitch in his audials was likely, with the fool's energon slowing his processor. Yet he remained sharp, vigilant the moment the sound rang from down the hall. As he tried to listen to the silence, the ship thrummed underneath his pedes. Everything else was in the right place: electric, electronic, the usual clicks from the coolers, the vents drumming above. And yet the tune remains, faint if not fading. Drift was soundless. And he was trying to focus. So when the mech asked him what was wrong, Megatron blamed the startle on the fool's energon.

03. She watches him from the corner of his peripheral. Playful. Shy. His optics drifted from the PADD — carefully, to not alarm Minimus — to make sense of her. Ratchet said internal hemorrhaging of the wires could lead to hallucinations, where the cyberium that lined his cables would inflate and leak; poisoning the Energon.

Behind him, she waved, wrist and elbow sharp and jutting, in contrast to the smooth, metal backdrop of the office. He diverted his attention to the conversation just in time. And when Megatron raised his helm again, she was gone.

Ratchet gave him the clear; he wasn't in any way incapacitated. And when he tells the CMO about tasting salt in the back of his intake, all he gets is a funny look.

04. Cybertronians don't have taste receptors for sodium chloride: ‘salty’ doesn't exist in their vernacular, only recently introduced through the translator. The closest word they have to describing Energon is that it burns. Just a little bit. Alkali and acid dissolving against the dentae: bubbling like sea foam against the sand.

05. She is the name of the unknown. She died in Cybertron many, many years ago — in a time before him, in a time before the war. So those who walked after her used the pronoun to describe the unfounded. Those without dichotomy, those without truth. The Lost Light is she, and so is the vastness of space. Nautica — who is she, herself — refers to her unsolved equations as her, and so does Perceptor. She is the graveyard of hypotheses, waiting to be kissed alive.

So it’s only natural for Megatron to think she 's lab-made. An experiment went wrong, a failed refraction of light. Brainstorm did say he was experimenting with holoforms. And yet the scientist never recharges in his room down the hallway: always too busy and never wanting to be alone. So Megatron observes her like she is a creature out of a petri dish.

The ghost blinks. Once. Twice — eyelashes, batting against her rotting cheeks.

It's rude to stare. She laughed. The sound was an airy, feathered thing.

She doesn't seem perturbed by the fact that the left side of her jaw is hanging by the threads of a torn muscle. With the epidermis of her chin loose and gorged, he could inside her anatomy.

Dark red and wet, not even Brainstorm would replicate something like this.

Forgive me.

She held the wilted bouquet in her hands a little bit tighter.

It's usually bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. Do you believe in that?

Megatron doesn't know what he believes. He lies on his slab with her sitting by his window, and he thinks of the question as recharge swallows him whole. He was on a ship, lightyears away, and all he could think of was the texture of her throat as it flakes and cracks.

He doesn't believe in bad luck, yet humans have many names for it: karma, kismet. Megatron wonders by which name he should call her.

06. It takes him milliseconds to learn. Everything he needed to know about humans was handed to him on a silver platter, convenient and superior. Is this why he had thought of himself so high compared to them? Self-fulfilling prophecies who were so Darwinian and slow and stuck in their ways.

(Yet, in the end, weren't they like that as well? Eons to live for, and yet they waste it on killing one another. He wasted it.)

He has lived through the birth of her first rivers, the christening of her people, and the rise and fall of empires as they pile atop one another. The passing of thousands of eclipses that humans can only dream of witnessing once within their finite lifespans — and yet here he was.

The humans would call him Icarian; held together by wax and pretending it was metal, plunging to his hypocrisy as he strays further from the sun.

07. Why a thing so innocuous? So naive and so docile.

A girl in a wedding gown.

Even when his mind tries to conjure up something beautiful, he still finds a way to corrupt it. Maybe that's why she's undead, ribcages peeking out of the tear of her dress yet never heaving to breathe. He buried his guilt, and she decayed. It's perverse and he loathes himself for it.

Megatron tells himself that's why she's here. To make him answer for corrupting her soil, and even if his pillage on Earth felt like a lifetime ago, he remembers.

The only bride that he could think of was a dead one. What does that say about him?

Without Soundwave, at least not directly, he was safe in the knowledge that no one aboard the ship could spy into his thoughts. They would find him appalling — more than they already did.It was a good thing that she very rarely approaches him when he’s outside his quarters. And in the rare instances she did, no one would acknowledge her.

The end of her dress, dragging across the floor.

Ravage tries to convince him he’s been tampered with, that it’s shadowplay. He threatens to tell Soundwave and Megatron lets him. He tells him to do whatever he wants, as long as he leaves them alone — unless, of course, he’s content with listening to an invisible orator. And so the panther slinks back into the dark resentfully, muttering to himself about how the mighty Megatron’s gone mad.

He has, hasn’t he?

08. She remembers nothing except the ocean, cold and majestic. Where she emerged from the tides — and he notes that her predecessor, their goddess of love, was also born out of foam — flush with the sheen of the sea.

Then is grief born out of the sea? Megatron thinks. Did the Olympian create it at the same time she created love?

No. But people fight for love and love to fight. So love married war. She explained. The dyads then became synonymous.

And is that what we are? He asked her. A sequence of two, bind together to marry?

She smiled at him — bright enough to distract Megatron from the bone of her jaw that shifted from the movement. Until death do us part.

He wanted to laugh.

09. Terminus told him the ancient world was pitch black, and if anyone from today were to travel back in time to witness it, the emptiness would blind their optics if not drive them mad. A shadow so greedy that it crowds the air with its emptiness. That time, Megatron had briefly wondered if such nothingness existed. Yet, the same darkness had forged Solus: intelligent and beautiful, she was one of the first, flares of light.

He thinks of the Prime as she offlines at the hilt of Megatronus' Star Saber. And even in her death, the last words she spoke were about love. Was that the start of the chain reactions that lit up Cybertron? Which of the two sparked the lucidity that charged life into the millions of dormant sparks? Her death or her love?

(He has to remind himself that the same love killed her.)

10. The truth is symmetrical, cogs in the right places. Perceptor argued.

Nautica rubs the side of her helm with both servos. Her tools, messy on top of the table.

Yes, but you see, we won’t be travelling in linear time. We’re planning to break free from that. If symmetry is your truth then where will that leave us once we go on a loop?

Something inside him hitched. Oh.

All optics were on him.

What? Rodimus urged.

Nothing. He lied. I didn't know we could get stuck in time.

That’s what happens when you don’t move on. Brainstorm shrugs. Time freezes you. So you have to learn how to melt it.

11. She says she feels cold. He assumed she felt nothing, numb as she fluttered her fingers experimentally on the shell of his armor. Numb with the same indifference she had with the lack of oxygen aboard the ship.

He didn’t stop her, trying to etch the feel of her curious touch. It felt like nothing, feather-like and ghosting across the surface like a stray draft of wind. He has to mentally fill in the gaps himself, and if Megatron thinks hard enough, he can pretend the warmth exists. That it lingers and clings to him.

Her fingers run along the ridge of his chin and the underside of his palm. Yet he's still not enough to chase away the cold.

No matter how hard she tries, her kindness has no source in his stout and unyielding world. And so he is left to wonder what it would be like if she didn’t oscillate in and out of time and space. To feel her, whole and alive, would be mercy. That would be unfair.

Time and time again, he'd ask her: why are you here?

I'm waiting for my husband. She'd tell him, small against his open palms. We're going home.

Megatron feels as if the air compresses when she speaks.

Where is home? He'd ask her. Intake dry as he swallows salt.

The darkness of his habsuite doesn’t seem to touch her features, which appear bright, as if a private sun were hanging above her brow. She'd motion for him to come closer and brush her tiny lips against his. It felt like nothing. She was a shadow that had casted herself across his face.

The sea.

12. Megatron observes the little trinkets littered across Rung's office. They were tidy and upright, great big ships, each marking well-known voyages and exoduses. He imagines them cutting through the galaxy's undercurrent, great, metallic sails, reeling through the vortex of nothing.

Then he catches it, the small, black figure tucked away at the top-right corner of his shelf.

Rung turns around in his chair to follow his line of vision.

The humans call it a raven. Of course, they don't come in the same size. They're small, as are all things Earth.

Laserbeak is sleek and sharp. Sentio-Metallico down to his core. Yet this bird — the real one — is a void with shadows. Slender beaks made of meat, and bone for claws.

Humans called them omens.

And who would gift you a warning?

The psychiatrist looks out the window, round-rimmed glasses, clever under the light.

I don't remember. He lies, and the next time Megatron enters his office two days later, the bird is nowhere to be seen.

13. If she is born out of the sea, then that must make her a siren. She still hums a tune he’s never heard before. And it did lure him. And when Megatron tells her this, she shakes her head.

But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.

Cybertronians don’t cry either. He told her. And the look she gave him was withering as if he had trapped all the light and left her to sit in the dark. He was, after all, empty if not made of black holes. Is that why his spark feels heavy all the time, dense with the magnitude of his sins? And when the weight becomes unbearable, he tears himself apart, and with it he cuts through the fabric of space. The anti-matter was now leaking out of his optics, crawling past the sutures, wringing him iode by iode.

Someone was calling him, but he couldn’t hear. The forcefield was cracking, shattering with him.

It was excruciating. Yet amidst the throes, he feels it, the light-headedness, the gradual rise and lull — in a way, he was crying. Maybe he was also made of oceans.

14. Megatron found a flaw in her story. Love didn’t marry War, and before they eloped, Love had married Creation; Solus has always been fond of metallurgy. That was her alchemy. And Venus used to seek refuge in the fire of her husband’s forge. Yet she was unhappy — why is that?

Why was he?

You could have been a creator. His corpse bride mused. That’s why you wrote.

I still do .

Do goddesses feel remorse? He thought maybe she didn't. War seduced her. And she had let him corrupt and penetrate and ravish. Megatron reminds himself it was symbiotic; she loved his wrath and his power. The Sun was their witness, and he claims she was unhappy because Creation was unkind to her. So she stared into the abyss.

And Megatron understood.

He thought of staying idle and evanesce under the mines, private and forgotten, without having dented the surface of his homeland. Now they tell stories of him, and his name is forever carved into the macrocosm. If not by words through wounds. And as the universe ages into senescence, will the pain — which echoes and expands like the gases under Croteus 12 — continue to bleed through generations to come?

Outside, he could see the field of flowers. Ebullient blue, swaying gently with the wind. With the sun on the horizon and dusk to chase away the chaos of the night, Megatron stared at Terminus, worn and confused — and refused.

This won't be my legacy .

15. In another life, she promised, you could be a creator .

And what will I create ?

She was small, so small that he had to lift her up to his face, where she could make a motion to hug the side of his cheek with her body.

(Destiny had always made him feel small, she even more so.)

Love. You will love me.

He supposed that’s possible. He wanted, once a very long time ago, to be a medic. And maybe he could even be an explorer as he was aboard the Lost Light. Searching for lost things. Searching for her.

The blue, luminescent light above him flickered. And even higher above — two, three levels up in the sentencing chamber — the jury was deciding his fate. Footfalls chased away the sound of the sea. And so he pulled out his Rodimus star, crumpled and yellow, sitting in the middle of his palm.

She smiled sadly at that.

And will I love you well ? He asked.

You know you will.

16. It’s like falling asleep. She promises.

He was falling into recharge, but the word sounded garish, rough. Sleep sounded more like drifting. Sinking. She was there when he laid across the slab, where the monitors beeped and chirped as they pumped fluids into his cable — and he let them, drawing the curtains close.

She tells him to inhale, teaching him how to breathe. (The juxtaposition of it all made him smile inwards.) And when the air rushes past his intake, he could taste it again. The pull, the push, the hum of the great, big tides. They roll and crash into the sand, disappearing into froth. He dreams of standing across her, now at the same height, face to face.

No longer was he her resting ground to haunt.

On the branch of a tree that appeared above him, a raven swooped down. The beating of her wings, tumbling through the mist.

My dear , the creature spoke. He belongs to the gardens with the rest of my brother's creations . You belong to the sea. With me.

His bride was pleading, telling her that life has parted them, so it would only be right for them to be joined here.

And as if pausing to give her words a thought, the Raven turned to the west and crowed. Though you may not remember it, we have been here before. It will only be fair if I would send you both back. But know that the end stays the same. What is mine is mine, and what is my brother's is his.

Megatron doesn’t dream, but now he lives in one — where reality is no more than a distant memory, an echo from another, linear time. And so the ferryman lets Megatron guide his bride atop the boat, so they can sail out together, into the sea.

17. De ja vu , she called it. A memory she had lived through before, even if it wasn't hers.

We are traveling in a loop. It's true. The quantum jump had worked, and now they all live in a forever dream, conjured up by Brainstorm and Perceptor's simpatico. The Earthling ran a nervous hand down the creases of her clothes, hesitant with her next question. Yet, Megatron was patient. (Waiting, it was as if they were both used to that.)

I think we met in a previous life.

The glass atop the tabletop gleamed, and in the space of Swerve's bar — where the bartender was too far away to intrude — Megatron could hear the song of the ocean. There was no point in lying. He did come looking for her. And here she was, whole.

I think we did.

"And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the sounding sea." — Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe

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intheticklecloset · 1 month

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Hiya friend!! I always love your little seasonal menu items it’s such a cute and fun idea and they’re GREAT

May I get a skk blueberry lemonade with baseball please? 🫐⚾️ (I also absolutely love baseball, I’m personally very biased towards catchers💛)

skk with lee chuuya preferably. either going to a game or OR hear me out: PM v ADA baseball game to idk strengthen the alliance or something

🍋 Lemonade Special Order 🍋

The PM vs ADA baseball game idea was SO SMART??? I absolutely had to go with that one - and I love how it turned out! 😂 Thank you for the brilliant idea!

~~~

“Hah! See that, Dazai? I made it to first base!” Dazai smirked at Chuuya, whose cheeks instantly matched his hair as he grumbled, “All right, all right. Shut up.”

When their respective bosses had decided to have an exhibition baseball game “just for fun” before the local teams started hogging the practice fields, neither side really knew what to make of the idea. Still, they’d all grudgingly come out to play…and to their surprise, found they were actually having a lot of fun, some minor scuffles and incidents aside, of course.

“I’m surprised you swung at all,” Dazai commented as he watched Higuchi come out from the Port Mafia’s dugout to bat. “You’re so small your strike zone is practically nonexistent. You could have just taken the walk.”

“Fuck off,” Chuuya snapped, shoving at him lightly before taking a foot off the bag and turning his gaze back to the game.

“You’re not going to lead?��

“Not with you playing first baseman.”

“Oh, come on, what do you think I’m gonna do?” Dazai chuckled, shoving at him lightly. “You’ll need all the help you can get to make it to second base, chibi~”

Chuuya shot him a withering stare, though his blush was not lost on the detective. “Shut up.”

“Go on,” the brunette teased, poking the mafioso’s side. “Just a step or two.”

“Don’t,” Chuuya grunted, trying to cover up a snicker. Then he yelped and instinctively tried to shimmy away as Dazai pinched him with more insistence. “Asshole, I have to get back on the bag before your guy pitches again – let me back!”

Dazai conceded and allowed him to tag the base again before Tanizaki wound up for his next pitch, but as soon as that was done, he wiggled a finger into Chuuya’s hip, forcing him off the base again with a slew of giggles.

“Dahahahahazai!” Chuuya watched as Higuchi swung and missed, fighting his way back to the base even as the detective abandoned his glove, grabbed onto his ribs, and started tickling with purpose. “Ahahahahaha, fuhuhuhuhuhuck, stop it! We’re in the mihihihihiddle of something – Dazai!”

Another couple of pitches later, Higuchi struck out, ending the half inning. Chuuya sagged in relief when Dazai let him go, then caught himself and shouted, “Just wait until you make it to third base, bastard! I’ll show you!”

Then he realized what he’d said, and how loud he’d said it, and he slapped a hand over his mouth as if it could take the words back.

On his way past him to get his glove for the outfield, Akutagawa muttered, “Keep your private lives to yourselves, sir.”

Dazai laughed hysterically the entire way back to the Armed Detective Agency’s dugout.

#fanfiction #tickle drabble #coffee shots #lemonade event #bungo stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #soukoku #playful #tickling #ticklish #tickle #i loved the idea of them all playing a game so much omg #i didn't intend for the base jokes to be in it originally but like - hello opportunity??? 😂

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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hello, can I request an image of Morpheus in love with a stronger being that, in most of Morpheus's relationships he was the strongest because he was perpetual as would be the dynamics of the reader being the primordial chaos with Morpheus

Holy

Dream of the Endless x Angel!Reader

Summary: Dream does not appreciate the fact he is unable to help you with your problem. Being powerless blows.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: fem!reader, stupidly insecure!dream, jealous!dream, incredibly petty!dream, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ??? who's stronger than the endless edit: i know now HAHHA im basing it off the comics where *spoiler* dream says he is scared of lucifer and i think he does at a point say morningstar is stronger that him idk i dont remember HAHAHH this is related to this other angel!reader fic i did, but they can both be read on their own Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9 @sloanexx

There not be a single speck of my body that does not yearn to see the light of your beauty; Your holy cloak of darkness that comforts my dreaming heart is all my mind beholds in weariness and joviality. Oh Star of the Night, my nightmares do I offer to grasp in your tender palm. And golden starlight do I adorn your brow, oh Harbinger of the Dusk. I implore you, strike true; pierce my ribs with your sacred blade. Claim that which is your belonging, my pulsing heart, which bleeds for you. Translated excerpt from The Bringer of Darkness & Dreams by Rasui the Poet (cir. 1600s)

Dream could only do so much for an angel of the most high. He could offer you the most solemn praises, the most gracious reverence, but then what was his worship against a desperate human, praying to their god for deliverance, and to see you as an answer?

Dream lacked the apt wherein his voice would tremble at the mere idea of you. He had seen death and destruction, they were quite literally related. Desire and delight were of his blood as well, and so a response that which would be of his siblings' manner was impossible. And so the mortal awe that would have been there at the sight of you was not.

He could offer you dreams. And Dream of Dreams did he offer for you.

Epics, mythos, odes, hymns, poems, paintings, frescos, dreams, he offered them all to you.

Yet it was not enough to comfort you during the fall of your half, your beloved twin Morningstar, who descended from grace and was banished into hell. Yet it was not enough during the battle with your Lucifer, that caused ripples and of light and dark to break into the fabrics of reality. It was not enough after the holy wars, nor after the resolution of your sibling's fate to become the ruler of hell.

For what was he to you in those moments? Beyond a spectator, beyond a Dream that could speak only so much words of comfort, for comfort was not in his nature, not really.

And even after all these eons, after loving each other during the early dawns of existence, as you walked with him, hand in hand, in Valhalla, he felt so far away, so infinitesimal against your being. He was a speck amidst the immense adoration your winged she-cousins were crying out to you with.

Dream watched as the Valkyries offered you flowers and honey and music and kisses. He watched as you, his love, was loved so tenderly.

It was most usual of them to do so, it was the natural order of things, it was only right, and yet his dark cloak seeped through the threshold of Valhalla and cut the merrymaking of the heavenly hosts almost instantly. Your smile too fades away as you turn to him.

Good.

And so you took in his darkness kindly, and bid farewell to your cousins, allowing Dream to take you into his own realm, to keep all for himself.

"Why does darkness weep from you, lover?" you ask as Dream drags you into the Dreaming, a flurry of glittering black powdering the ground in which he walked.

He decides to lead you into the throne room, where therein he allows himself to let his dark clouds pour.

Dream takes you into his hold and nuzzles his face into your neck. Readily, you wrap your arms and massive dark wings around him, muttering sweet words in the tongue of angels as comfort.

Momentarily there was comfort, but then he remembers the songs of the Valkyrie and feels spite bubble beneath him once more.

You were naturally high and mighty in stature, and he, well, his form was not bound to a body. So he decidedly makes his form smaller against you, his face no longer high enough to reach your neck. He shrinks until he can perfectly presses his face in between your soft breasts.

You look down upon him and brush his hair back, "will you not respond?"

Dream scowls, and though you could not see it, you can imagine it. "You are my lover," he mutters against you, "I do not appreciate the competition."

You furrow your brows and pull away to look at him.

He does not relent and crushes himself closer into you, "do not disrespect me in my own domain by pushing me."

"My Dream."

"Yes, yes. I am your dream, so do not wallow in the sweet figments of others," he mutters as he tightens his hold against your torso, "I am not kind or pure like you, I am me. And I am as much a Nightmare as I am Dream."

And so you do not push him away and you stand there, embracing him for a long time.

"There is no competition, as you imagine it, dearest," you say as you cradle his form, "the Valkyrie were only greeting me the way they ought to."

"I know this," he mutters, ".... I don't care."

You press your lips together as you sigh.

"Do not sigh so tragically. I am king in this realm. I shan't be offended," he says as he presses his cheek firmer into your chest.

You raise a brow and decidedly pull both your arms and wings back.

"No! No- Do not-"

"Enough!" you blurt as you separate the two of you.

Dream looks up at you, feeling his insides burn and his face harden. He feels wronged, especially with the expression you give him. His form begins to morph into shadows and inflates around the room. Your form is soon overcome with darkness, but it does not phase you. Why would it? It was matter which the creator granted you dominion.

And so you grab him by the hems of his lightlessness and rip his entity off the surface of the throne room, allowing his form to manifest and dangle in your clutch. You raise your arm and he looks back at you from where he hangs.

"I do not appreciate your outburst, my love," you say firmly, to a point where your term of endearment makes him shake.

Dream drips from your grip and clumps before you as his normal build again, though his face dredged with despair, and his eyes are unable to gaze upon yours.

"It cannot be helped, my star," he says.

A flimsy excuse.

"I could hear their dreams come into completion as they beheld you in their realm. I could not bear it."

You make it a point to contain your sigh. "Then what am I to do with you?" you take his face in your hands, "shall I retreat at every moment you allow your jealousy to cloud your better judgement?"

Dream looks at you as you raise your brows at his glimmering eyes.

He parts his lips and inhales, "yes."

"Dream--"

"If you truly love me, then-"

"If you truly love me, understand that the praise I receive from others, no matter how overwhelming, does not compare still to that which I receive from you."

Dream is motionless as he takes in your glory. He draws in a deep breath then amplifies his form. He grows in size, up until you are craning your neck up at him. Only then does he places his lips on yours and wraps his arms around you and your wings.

You revel in his touch, body nearly melting at his devotion, at his affection in one of the most intimate forms he is capable.

When you pull away, you lean into Dream's touch as he brushes your cheek, "my love... you honor me with your ceaseless patience."

You smile at him and shake your head, "I honor you with my love, you foolish spirit."

Dream lovingly examines you for a while then purses his lips into a pout as he leans into you, pressing your foreheads together, "was your visit to Valkyries truly necessary though?"

#dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x you #sandman fanfic #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fluff #morpheus fanfic #dream fanfic #dream x reader #dream x you #dream of the endless fanfic #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #morpheus x you #dream of the endless #dream of the endless angst

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ihavemanyhusbands · 1 year

Text

I Need You Pt. 2 (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 can be found here

Aaron finally comes to his senses about your relationship.

Special tag for @hotchsdoormat

WC: 2.5k words

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Swearing, angst (light stuff tho), some alcohol consumption, idk what else but lmk if I need to add anything!

A/N: Screaming and crying and yearning and throwing up pls enjoy

The next month and a half passed by quietly.

Aaron had been gone before you woke up, just like he said he would. In a state of half-consciousness, you registered his heat leaving your side. You’d stayed in bed all day after that, watching the last trickles of the storm trailing down your window.

He took the rain with him when he left. Now the world was just bleak and gray, but at least it was dry. It was cold too, and even layering sweaters barely helped.

The withdrawals that came with his absence felt different too, much more intense. Perhaps it was due to the fact that the night ended so ambiguously. You couldn’t help but feel like something had changed – something important enough that it couldn’t really be ignored. Could it have been his way of actually saying goodbye?

Once that thought entered your mind, it was impossible to get it out.

Other times, missing him was a hollow sort of ache that you could feel somewhere in your chest. It waned as the days progressed, until you were distracted enough with your daily routine. It was easier to forget, then. Not entirely, but at least to a bearable degree.

Back then, you blindly believed he would always come back. Now you weren’t so sure. No guarantee of anything, he’d said.

But one thing that didn’t change was you not even trying to contact him. Usually, you’d let him contact you first, not wanting to interfere with his work. Even when you were at your most desperate, you would not allow yourself to even text him.

You figured maybe he needed some space, anyway. The best thing to do was try to find a way to keep your mind fully occupied and away from him.

Every day, you ran the same course you always took through your neighborhood. You avoided passing by his house, not even wanting to see if his car was there. You also avoided the spot you’d met him at, just in case. Luckily, and also much to your dismay, you never ran into him.

You assumed that meant he was away on a case once more.

And so you dove into your work, often doing overtime. You tried to see your friends more often as well, and you’d let one or two strangers buy you a drink at a bar, but nothing more. The idea of meaningless sex didn’t appeal to you, even if it was a form of escape.

Though most nights, your tremulous, fragile heart would betray you, and you’d lie awake yearning. You’d try to recall the deep, smooth timbre of his voice; The way butterflies would burst in your stomach whenever you made him laugh. The safety of his embrace and the fervor of his kisses…

You wondered if Aaron was ever in the same position, thinking of you. It was doubtful, given his focus had to be elsewhere, on much more important things.

Then one night, you went to a small, local pub with two of your friends, and the sight you met there made you momentarily freeze like a deer in headlights.

Aaron was sitting at one of the round tables with a group of people. You didn’t know any of them, but you assumed they might be colleagues of his. His dark eyes found you mere seconds after, widening a little.

Despite your panic, you couldn’t very well leave after having just gotten there. It would be entirely too suspicious, and your nosey friends would likely cause a minor scene trying to get an answer out of you.

Plus, you had every right to be there too; It was a public space, after all.

You forced your face to remain a cool mask of indifference, your eyes skating away quickly to avoid giving away that the two of you knew each other. Intimately.

“First round’s on me!” Your friend Julia announced, leading your small group to the bar.

You could still feel his gaze on you as you slipped onto a barstool, the hairs on the back of your neck standing in awareness. Your skirt rode up a little, revealing more of your thigh, which he did not fail to notice.

But you did not look back at him, trying to pretend that nothing was amiss.

Of course, Julia ordered shots of vodka. The three of you clinked glasses before downing them, and you grimaced a little as it burned its way down your throat. The first drink of the night was always the roughest, but you knew you’d soon feel its languid fire spread through you.

The night would be much easier to bear not being fully sober, you figured.

“We should get you laid tonight,” Phoebe, your other friend, said while playfully elbowing you on the side. “Been a while hasn’t it?”

No, not really.

“I guess…” You offered tentatively. “But I’m fine, really. The chastity belt suits me.”

“Hmm, well, I don’t know. You might wanna reconsider. There’s a couple really cute guys here,” Julia said, leaning against the bar. “There’s one that keeps looking over here. And hot damn, that is one fine man.”

You glanced in the direction Julia was looking, and sure enough, you saw Aaron turning away right when your eyes landed on him.

He looked sharp, as usual, never entirely relaxed even in a place like this. He still wore his tie and slacks, but he’d shed his jacket, draping it on the back of his chair. His hair was perfectly gelled, and you had the sudden urge to run your fingers through it and completely mess it up.

“That he is,” you agreed, exhaling slowly. “So, I don’t suppose either of you wanna play darts with me?”

Both of them shook their heads, apologetic grins on their faces.

“Sorry babe,” Julia said sheepishly. “We’ll wait for you right here, though.”

You hopped off the stool and made your way over to the dart boards. You weren’t bad at the game, but you weren’t great, either. Still, you liked it because it was fun, and it was a great distraction.

As you threw the first couple of darts, you swayed a little to the music — West End Girls by the Pet Shop Boys was playing. It was one of your favorites.

“Mind if I join you?” A deep, familiar voice said behind you, sending shivers down your spine.

You looked over your shoulder if only to confirm it was him. Your eyes met Aaron’s dark ones, and even if your heart started racing, both of you pretended not to be anything more than strangers.

“Fair warning, though. I can be pretty competitive,” he added, the ghost of a smile on his handsome face.

It was uncharacteristic of him to take such risks. Especially since his team was nearby, but having you so close rendered him helpless. Even you weren’t sure if this was a good idea — considering you were also hurt over how everything went down — but for the time being, you let it slide.

“Maybe,” you smirked just a little. “But you seem like the type that would still let me win.”

From the bar, you could hear a loud wolf-whistle, followed by giggling. You looked over to see your friends smiling knowingly in your direction. Phoebe wagged her eyebrows comically as Julia shot you a thumbs up.

You rolled your eyes playfully, blushing fiercely. Aaron found that an incredibly endearing sight, and his fingers twitched as he fought the need to reach out to you.

“Are you, um, sure this is okay?” You whispered.

He nodded with a small shrug. “Seeing such a pretty girl as yourself, well, I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. I’m sure that anyone could understand that.”

You huffed a little in amusement. “Just chatting me up is all?”

“I think I’m pretty lucky to just be talking to you.”

You looked back up at him then, and there was something dangerously close to affection in your gaze. There was yearning there too, clear as day.

He felt a pang of guilt. Was this even fair of him? Maybe he was a selfish man, subjecting you to such a confusing push and pull, but he was weak. He’d not lied once when he said he needed you, no matter how long the two of you spent apart.

He couldn’t get you out of his mind since the last time you saw each other. He wondered what you would get up to while he was away, hoping that you were doing well. It was incredibly hard not to reach out to you, to call just to hear your voice.

But he found some solace in the fact that he was doing his part — however small it may seem — to make the world a safer place, especially for you.

“Think you and your friends are gonna need a ride home later?” He asked, lining up his shot before throwing his first dart. “It’d be safer than a cab.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” you said, gazing intently at the look of concentration on his face.

Brows drawing together, eyes narrowing, tongue darting out to absently lick his lips. God, it was unfair how fucking hot he was.

“Why’s that?” He asked.

“Well, I guess for starters… I’m not letting you off the hook that easily this time,” you crossed your arms over your chest, but still trying to keep your posture casual for any onlookers. “And maybe you were right about me. Maybe I do want something more.”

You hadn’t known until that moment that you would finally be putting your foot down, but you were glad that you did.It was either everything or nothing, for the in between was too gruesome to live through.

Truthfully, that'd been on his mind a lot, too. How much he wanted to just cave in and officially make you his. Not being with you made less and less sense to him with each passing day.

Maybe it was the reason he’d stood up from his seat at the table that night, like it was fate.

He stepped to the side to let you throw, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Well, that is a conversation that I want to re-open… if you’re still willing to have it,” he said, letting his eyes rake over you longingly. “And an apology on my part is due. Don’t think I don’t know that.”

You hummed in thought, not ready to relent yet. “Is it the begging kind of apology?”

“I can beg,” he said quickly. “On my knees and everything.”

“Cheeky,” you shook your head, unable to stop the smile that crept to your lips. “I’ll consider it if you buy me a drink.”

“Coming right up,” he said, also smiling. “Is this a bad time to say that you look ravishing when you’re angry at me?”

You glared at him half-heartedly, and he chuckled, making his way to the bar.

—---------------------------

Of course you caved. You always knew you would, but not too easily. And of course, not yet all the way.

When you finally made it back home – your friends also in the safety of their respective apartments – you didn’t let Aaron get past the foyer. He raised an eyebrow in question, and you crossed your arms over your chest, silently waiting. He took a step forward, almost as if to test you, but you did not waver.

You glanced down at the floor to clue him, tilting your head to the side in a silent dare to challenge you. Realization crossed his face and slowly, he sank down to his knees. What a marvelous sight he was, his face tilted up towards you, dark brown eyes glittering in the low light. There was hunger in his gaze, yes, as well as devotion. But there was also fear swimming in its depths, the kind you only find if you’re really looking.

You found it, too, in his pursed lips. He understood how precarious the situation was, and he’d probably not have another shot if things didn’t go well. He had to choose his words carefully.

“Something you wanna say?” You prompted, unrelenting.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. For a moment, you wanted to reach out and caress his face, to soothe him, but you promised yourself not to touch him until he begged.

“I want to say I’m sorry… but sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he started. “I was an absolute fool. I took you for granted, I let my fear and my pride get in the way, and toyed with you in the process. I did not appreciate you nearly as much as I should have… But my ultimate sin was letting you believe I did not care about you other than on a carnal level.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, regret all over his features. You balled your hands into tight fists to keep them from shaking, barely able to breathe.

“Every morning the sun sears the image of you in my mind, and every night your voice plagues my dreams. It feels as though I am losing my mind,” he chuckled a little, shaking his head in disbelief. “And that’s why I’m fucking terrified. What the hell am I supposed to do if something were to happen to you? How the hell am I supposed to go on?”

You inched closer, the need to touch him almost overbearing. Your heart brimmed with an influx of emotions you could barely describe, coursing through you with every rapid beat.

“I’ve admitted that I am a fool, but I am a lovesick fool. So please, if you could find it in you to forgive me, I promise to make it all up to you. Today, tomorrow and everyday.”

“No more secrets? No more games?” You asked, voice low and hopeful.

He nodded eagerly. You extended your hand out to him, and he took it, kissing your knuckles reverently.

“I’m scared, too,” you admitted, not letting go of his hand. “But we cannot control everything, darling mine. To love is to risk heartbreak, you know, but it is a risk I’m more than willing to take if it means I get to be by your side. That’s a choice no one can take from me.”

“So that means you love me?”

“Yes, and that is why I do forgive you,” you said, bending down to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Though I do think the begging really helped. I kinda like seeing you on your knees.”

Both of you chuckled, and you finally let him stand. He dove forward to kiss you feverishly, one hand holding the back of your head while the other snaked around your middle, pressing you flush against him.

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips, pulling back only to rest his forehead against yours. “And I’m going to spend my days making sure you never forget it.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner angst #hotch #minors dni

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dcangel · 7 months

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hi hi! i saw that u were asking for reqs and prompt 29 rlly had me thinking… imagine you’ve been there for 2 years and are the only girl, and you don’t socialize much, you do your part and keep to yourself so no one knows much abt you. but when thomas shows up, he continues to bug you with questions/bother you including why ur the only girl there. there’s a lot of tension and one night he wonders off in the woods he finds you and one thing leads to another and it happens..!

AHH okay this is sending me to hell bc my mind is going feral just thinking about it and I literally am so excited to write this one. And thank you so much for requesting one <333 (this is my first time writing smut so bear with me)

Idk how to tag these correctly bc I’ve never posted anything but if I’m wrong just correct me: p in v, slight fingering, praising, degrading, dirty talk, mentions of edging, mentions of getting caught, choking kink, slight size kink, slight/moderate pain kink, oral sex!f receiving, a few uses of y/n, nicknames, 2nd person pov. Majorly unedited and not proofread (grammarly told me there were 149 errors but it’s 2:24 in the morning so grammarly can kindly fuck off. hopefully this is bearable to read.)

8238 words (what thee actual fuck)

29– Thomas

“Don’t muffle yourself. Let them hear your whiny voice, baby. Everyone should know how good I’m fucking you.”

The last few days were… something else. Like clockwork every month, another greenie arrived, but to you that just meant another person bugging the shit out of you until they got over it. What were you supposed to tell them? That you just felt like coming up into the maze and trapping yourself here for two years just because you were bored? Every single greenie, without fail, always pestered you like a small gnat swirling around your ear each day; “why are you the only girl? Why are you here? Is it hard being the only girl?” And of course the alarmingly obviously questions that crossed every new shank’s mind, but only few braved to ask.

You mostly managed to steer clear of the lewd obscenities, letting the few friends you made take care of it for you since it got to be an irritable subject for you very quickly. But, unfortunately, there were some that wanted to ask the girl herself. Some that didn’t even know your name, yet still approached you with a supercilious guise thinking that it would somehow win you over. Each time it made you wonder what they put in these new greenies before sending them up; they just kept getting worse and worse.

Majority of the gladers knew your name, but then again how could they not? Some knew it but just decided to call you whatever you wanted; as if you being a girl made you less human and more of an object. Those were the boys that could only dream of touching a girl, never mind even being able to hookup with one.

You were surprised by the amount of people that actually treated you as equal, even though it was the bare fucking minimum. Sometimes you found it ironic how Chuck—the youngest glader here—didn’t even think twice about your humanity status when half the so-called “men” in this place treated you like scut. The boy having stated many times that “you’re a human too, just like the rest of us. We each play our part and at the end of the day; work is work. It doesn’t matter how old you are or if you’re a guy or a girl.” You think one of the reasons you were such good friends with the boy was because he could easily relate to your struggles; him being the youngest glader and always treated like a baby who couldn’t comprehend the simplest things, and you being the only girl who’s treated like shit because apparently women can’t possibly be able to do the same things as men. You were both deeply misunderstood, and that served as a foundation for one of your closest relationships.

Of course the leader, Alby, had always said the same; you were to be treated as equal. He’d even brought up the fact that it was dispiriting that the matter was even a question at all. Some days were worse than others, only granting you the energy to will yourself out of the small hut Gally and few others helped you build, at the last possible second and skipping breakfast as you trudged your way over to the gardens, taking your place by Newt. From there, maybe you’d have an occasional conversation about the dirt that constantly flung into your eyes, automatically irritating both your sight and your mood, or maybe about how brutally the blazing sun treated your reddening shoulders and face.

But on those days—the bad ones—you kept silent, doing what you were told when you were told, taking part in the roles that made the glade work. Maybe you’d join the rest of the glade for supper, sitting with the very few people you called ‘friends’ but at the end of the table, hoping to avoid conversation that inevitably reeled you in. More often than not, bad days usually warranted you to take the meal to your hut after a quick ‘thanks’ to Frypan, then making the isolated trip to the comforting confines of your own space.

You tried keeping to yourself, afraid to get too close with anyone that wasn’t Chuck or Newt, but of course your name was brought up quite often. It never made sense, though; you rarely interacted with anyone, even the people you exchanged words with on occasion, not much was known about you. You even tried to avoid being seen as often as possible in hopes that your absence would somehow make the gladers forget about your existence.

Yet every month when a new greenie was sent up, terrified and questioning their entire existence, it also started a new uproar around your name. So with Thomas, it was no different. Well, almost no different.

After he showed up, he wasn’t subtle with his intentions like most were—always asking anyone he could about anything that might make you more 3-dimensional in his eyes. So when he saw you talking to Chuck and ruffling the young boy’s hair, he used their already-forming bond to his advantage.

“Hey, Chuck, who was that?” He pretended to be oblivious as if he hadn’t been staring at you all day every day, the way your hair was always tied back in a single low braid, how the small strands that were too short slipped from the crossed-pattern and framed your face, how your sun-kissed nose scrunched whenever some minor inconvenience passed your way or the way your head tilted ever-so-slightly as a way to show your confusion.

He was well aware that this most certainly happened with every new arrival; the pestering questions, the intrusive thoughts, yet he was infatuated with wanting to know absolutely everything he could.

“Who? Her?” Chuck followed the older boy’s gaze, quickly losing interest once he saw where it led.

Thomas’s gaze, however, didn’t falter. He couldn’t decide what part of you to focus on. Maybe the way you effortlessly carried buckets and buckets of whatever the hell was needed for gardening, but it looked heavy enough to make him stare in awe. He was shameless. “Yes her. Who is she?”

“A person.” Chuck answered, being frustratingly vague.

Thomas finally pulled his brown eyes from you, landing them on the smaller boy beside him. “What’s her name?”

“Why does it matter?” The young boy was all too familiar with the questions of each newbie, most greenies coming to Chuck for the same thing each month that became almost a routine to give out as little information as possible to protect his friend.

Thomas sighed, mentally rolling his eyes. “Because I wanna’ know.” He answered bluntly.

“You wouldn’t care what that guy’s name is,” Chuck pointed to a builder named Dan. “So why do you care what her name is?”

The greenie squinted his eyes, jaw clenched in slight irritation, the veins on his neck becoming more prominent than before. “Because I just want to know?”

“Y/N, her name is Y/N. There.” Chuck’s bitter tone was definitely a eye-opener, the boy usually sweet and happy to make new friends.

“Thanks.” Thomas managed to get a small thumbs up in return as Chuck walked further away, obviously done with their conversation.

. . .

The next few days left Thomas’s curiosity at a higher peak, even worse than when he first got here—before he knew about the girl. Luckily Chuck had told you each time the greenie asked another question, and you couldn’t express how grateful you were for the young boy since he never answered them.

However, despite Chuck’s anguished attempts at telling Thomas to leave you alone, the greenie pursued his interests in getting to know you more, although it was nearly inevitable that this would happen.

On this particular day, though, he couldn’t seem to find you. Much to his dismay, you were in the Deadheads, sitting by the small brook that always seemed to flow despite the enclosed glade. It was night, the sun long gone although the heat never seemed to leave. You liked the Deadheads, specifically the brook. It was quiet, nothing but the sounds of water trickling over small rocks and folding in on itself, and maybe the occasional leaf falling to the forest floor. The peaceful sounds were a drastic difference to the clanking of shovels on rocks that seemed to peeve each gardener, or tools hammering wood that echoed across the entire open glade.

It was rare, but sometimes you’d accidentally fall asleep in the woods due to the calming nature, serving for an aching back and sore neck that shot pain thorough your whole body when you craned it the wrong way. It would’ve been one of those nights, except the sounds of leaves crunching and twigs snapping under someone’s foot brought you back from your half-asleep state. You sat up against the tree, your legs crossing as you looked around. The only people who knew you came out here were sure to be asleep by now, Chuck always falling asleep the second the second he laid down on his hammock, and Newt knowing you didn’t like to be bothered out here.

You thought back to when Ben had been stung and was chasing Thomas through the Deadheads, and you thought the same was about to happen to you. Grabbing a small stick by your side— that would probably snap if any pressure were applied— you stood up and looked around the dark forest. The plush foliage provided little to no light, which left your eyes desperately trying to adjust to the darkness as quickly as possible.

You held the stick out in front of you and slowly backed up, occasionally spinning around to check behind you, the stick swinging through the air like it was wielded by a maniac.

The lack of light confused your senses, and somehow you didn’t you didn’t hear the cracking and snapping of leave and twigs, or feet the heat behind you getting closer and closer until your back slammed into something that scared you so bad you almost yelped as you whipped around to threaten whoever it was with the flimsy stick that almost snapped when you turned. You were greeted with an unfamiliar face, one that wasn’t just another in the sixty something faces in the glade that you had yet to learn the name of. It was a new one.

“Shit— sorry.” He muttered quickly, large, outstretched hands already on your shoulders to steady you.

You back up slightly, hoping his grip would fall off, and it did. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The boy automatically took to fiddling with his fingers, a nervous habit you guessed. “I, uh… I was looking for you, actually. Chuck told me you might be out here.”

You squinted your eyes slightly, not believing him since Chuck knew better than to tell a random greenie where you’d most likely be during your free time. “Did he?”

The greenie struggled to come up with an excuse, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at the ground.

“Or did you just watch me come out here earlier with the plans of following me, hoping I’d still be here after you were done with your job?” You added with a raised brow, a clear annoyed tone evident in your voice.

“Wel— No that’s not— I mean… well, you’re probably used to the newbies bothering you—”

“Damn right I am. And I don’t expect you to be any different, so unless you have anything important to say, then I’m just gonna leave.” You got straight to the point, not caring to sugarcoat or be nice to him since you’d tried that before with other greenies, and it usually didn’t turn out well. You dropped your stick and started to turn away from him when you heard his footsteps following you again, his voice following soon after.

“Well, no, but I just wanted to talk to you. I don’t know you v—”

“So let’s keep it that way, yeah?” You said, sounding as if you were talking to a child.

He clenched and unclenched his fist, a small habit of his. “Could you just stop cutting me off?”

“Why should I?” You said, brown raised in annoyance as you crossed your arms, shifting your weight onto one leg.

“Because I fucking asked? It shouldn’t be that hard to be nice to someone.”

You scoffed, his attitude impressing you since it almost matched yours perfectly. You eyed him before opening your mouth to speak. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be. So why’re you making it so difficult then?” You asked, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, your head tilted coyly.

He let out a quick sigh, jaw clenching in irritation. “Because, all I did was try and talk to you and you’re being a bitch about it.”

Your head jerked back slightly, your eyebrows automatically raised with a taunting smile of disbelief creeping up. “You just can’t help it with the foul language can you?” You said with a laugh, one that seemed to get on his nerves even more. It was almost impressive how irritable he was. “Maybe you should try talking to directly instead of bugging my friends—especially Chuck— about me. Y’know, like a conversation or something? Maybe start off with a small introduction like your name or something a little less hostile.”

“Fine, I’m—”

“I know who you are.” It wasn’t intentional but you realized that you had cut him off again. But instead of apologizing, you almost wanted to see how pissed he could get before stomping off.

He was definitely contemplating it, almost losing interest since your attitude made him want to smash his head against a rock, but his pure stubbornness was what kept him standing there. “Again with the cutting me off! Is that all you ever do? ‘S that why you don’t have any friends.”

Being the only girl in a glade full of boys made this seem like nothing compared what else you’ve heard, so his little insults and slight temper tantrum did nothing. “Well you said you wanted to talk to me, and I’m assuming you wanted to get to know me more since all you ever do is bother Chuck.” You said with a shrug. “Come on, you can do better than that, I know you can.”

Something about your tone, the way it was taunting him, teasing him in a way that he couldn’t tell if he should hate you or want to slam you against a tree and— he shook his head, seemingly getting rid of whatever was going through his mind. “Why, you want me to insult you? Treat you like a piece of shit like everyone else does?”

You didn’t respond. Rather, you just stood there, not bothering to move as he subtly took a few slow steps toward you.

“Or maybe it’s something else?” He said, head tilting in a certain way that allowed the small streaks of moonlight peering through the spaces above that weren’t covered by trees to illuminate the beginnings of smug look on his freckled face.

Of course you knew what he looked like, he was a gardener the first few days so you had the displeasure of working near him, but something about him being up close and the way the shadowy brightness of the moon cast a perfect gleam allowed you to really notice his features. You had to admit, he wasn’t a bad looking guy; short brown hair, a perfect nose that could make anyone jealous, pale skin littered with moles and freckles that didn’t seem to be on just his face, golden-brown eyes that looked darker than in the daylight, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the tree coverage or some other reason…

“I bet it’s something else, isn’t it?” His voice was what snapped you from your thoughts, your eyes focusing back in on his darkening gaze.

“Huh?” You said, your eyes practically in slits at this point. You couldn’t tell if your question was actually a question, or if it was because you’d already forgotten what he asked before.

He took a step closer, yet he wasn’t actually that close. It was simply the darkness of the Deadheads and the way your other senses tried to account for your poor vision that made it seem like he was towering over you.

Or maybe he was.

“I said, are you just always a bitch like this, or do you do it because you like the way people respond. The way they get irritated and go off on you or treat you like shit all for you to complain about it afterwards.” You almost couldn’t believe his words. But what was less believable was the feeling that resonated in the pit of your stomach. One that had you thinking things you shouldn’t be.

“What? What the hell is wrong with you?” You spat out, trying to act offended.

His smirk grew, telling you that you reacted exactly how he expected. “You didn’t answer my question.” He took another step forward.

“I don’t have to.” You stepped back.

He noticed your slight step back, he also noticed the tree behind you—he same one you’d almost fallen asleep against earlier—getting closer each time. “I think it’s only fair that you do, so, go ahead. Answer it.”

Now, there were two ways you could’ve answered this. Which one did you choose? The one you knew would get the better reaction, of course. “Make me.”

One step later, you were already back up against the tree, seemingly nowhere to go (you could easily step to the side), and Thomas right in front of you, head tilted downwards to look at you because of the height difference. “I don’t think you really want me to. You’re just saying that.”

“Oh yeah? Try me.” You whispered lazily, a small gleam in your eyes as you looked up at him.

He brown ones bored into yours, an almost-mischievous glint behind them. He leaned down, his mouth inches from your ear, his hand against the tree on the other side of your head. “Maybe I will.”

You couldn’t help the way your knees felt weak, something about his voice; the raspiness embedded in his low, deep tone. “Maybe you should.” You breathed out, watching him pull back, his eyes flicking between your eyes and somewhere else.

His other hand slid around your waist, large palm being a source of heat as if the night air wasn’t already warm enough. It was torturous, the way his lips ghosted around your skin, every area he passed felt empty after the heat of his presence left, the way you felt his breath brush her face when he laughed at his own teasing actions.

His hand slid around to your lower back, pulling it forward in an arch as your upper back stayed against the tree. Thomas looked down at you, the very tip of his nose so close to yours that the heat radiating from him felt like he was actually touching you. You bit the inside of your cheek, never good with the whole ‘patience’ thing.

Thomas, on the other hand, could’ve dragged this out all night. But when he met your gaze, the look in your eye let the thought slip from his mind. It was when you whispered some words that didn’t quite stick in his brain against his lips, that’s what got to him. He bent down and connected your lips, the kiss wasn’t a slow, savoring-every-moment type of kiss. It was a hungry, sloppy, impatient kiss that made it seem like he was devouring you.

It was needy and heated, more teeth-clashing and tongue-tangling than anything. His lips were chapped and rough, but then again so we’re yours after two years in the glade.

His lips trailed down your cheek, then your jaw, then right under your jawline, nipping at the surprisingly soft skin. His lips followed your jawline until they were right under your ear, finding a sweet spot you didn’t even know you had.

You breathed out softly, biting the inside of your cheek as your head tilted backwards, hitting the bumpy bark of the tree. To your left was his outstretched arm that he used to hold himself up against a the tree, and to your right was his head, slightly buried in the crook of your neck as he peppered the spot with little nips as kisses. He freehand—the one that was on your lower back—slipped down to the curve of your ass, squeezing all around the plump skin.

“How’s this for getting to know you?” He breathed against your skin.

You bit your lip, just a little, but enough that his scrutinizing gaze caught it. “I think you, uh, you should get to know me just a little better, y’know?” You said, a small lump in the back of your throat that wouldn’t go down.

“Hmm, think I should, huh?” He teased.

“Mhm, yeah… y-you should.” You nodded, teeth gliding over your own bottom lip as you tugged his hair gently so he’d look up at you.

The heel of Thomas’s palm dug into your ass, prompting you to jump up a little. To jump right into his arms. Your thigh hitched up on his waist, his hand gliding from your ass to under your leg, finger tips reach the the inside of your thigh. Your other foot steady on the ground— well, would’ve been steady if you hadn’t stepped on a tree stump. Your footing faltered, twisting your ankle in the process and you pulled from the recently rekindled kiss to wince.

He chuckled and lifted up your other thigh, practically holding you up until you got the hint to wrap your legs around his waist. Your back was pressed into the tree, bare shoulders are partially-bare upper back collecting scratches and green moss smudges.

Thomas didn’t waste anymore time, the fingers of his free hand already sliding down your torso and half under the waistband of your jeans. He only stopped for a brief moment, looking up at you as you nodded back—maybe a little too eagerly.

He didn’t even bother to unbutton them or unzip them for the time being, his fingers twitching with the thought of touching you in mind. While he was just as impatient as you, he still managed to find the will in him to tease you. Two of his veiny fingers swipes over your panties, starting at the beginning of your wetness and dragging them all the way up to your cloth-covered clit. You couldn’t deny nor hide it anymore, you were soaked—rather, your panties were.

“Damn, this all for me? Guess you liked the idea of me proving you wrong, huh?” He taunted.

Your eyes bore into his like you wanted to say something snarky, but you literally could not lie. He felt it. He felt what he did to you. He knew the slight power he had over you—although you were sure he didn’t quite know just how much power he possessed.

Reluctantly, you tenaciously nodded up at him, just a very slight head movement that you hoped he’d miss, but of course he didn’t. You were grateful he didn’t respond, with words anyway, but you could see see the glint in his eye that made you want to kick him, slap him, anything you could to get your point across. But he made you weak in the knees, figuratively and literally since one of his hands was under your ass holding you up, your legs raveled around his waist and connected at his lower back.

At first, when you felt his hand leave your ass, you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed by the loss of touch, or to expect your body to hit the ground. But it didn’t. He had you pinned against the tree, your legs already locked tightly around him, your arms slung around his neck.

His, now free, hand glides around to the front of your thigh, up your stomach (it would’ve gone under your shirt if he didn’t have other plans), over your tank top-covered breasts, fingers stopping momentarily to knead the dough-y flesh, and making their final stop around your throat just below your jaw—palm pressing against your airway loosely, pointer and thumb fingers settling below your ears on either side of your head.

The fingers caressing your sopping panties also became more active; drawing slow lines up and down.

“T-Thomas,” you stuttered, not because he hand was that tight, but simply because it was tight enough to warrant a gasp present in your words. “Don’t tease me.”

You were really in no position to be the one saying commands, but it was the sheer stubborn-confidence that impressed him enough to consider the choked out words. “As you wish.” He spoke, slipping two fingers past your panties, the material bunching to the side, and right into you without any warning. Well, to be fair he did give you a warning, just no time to process before you felt his long, slender fingers gliding against your walls.

“Fuck— Thomas.” You breathed out, your tone a little whiny. You were almost embarrassed at how easily you gave in, how easily you let him get you this way.

He gave your throat one last little squeeze and dropped his hand down to one of the straps on your tank top. He was considering sliding it under your shirt, but then he’d have to go through more trouble to get it off seeing as you were leaned against a tree. So, Thomas decided to take what he knew you’d give, and he tugged at the straps.

You knew your standards were low when consent made your heart swoon, feeling the nervous hot-and-cold sweats rack your body. But being the only girl in the glade, you were glad someone other than your friends was showing you respect…ish.

After seeing your nod, he slid the strap down and you pulled your arm back and through the thing fabric piece, the same was done on the other side. Thomas’s fingers were barely moving, too slow even for his teasing pace, but his brain had a little more focus on what he was trying to do with one hand.

A few seconds later, and you were gasping at the sudden coldness you felt against your pert nipples. It was an odd sensation, the glade was always hot yet when your bare chest was exposed, the air felt cool.

The chilled breeze caused the buds to instantly harden, making something of Thomas’s harden as well. “Shit, angel, no bra?”

You hadn’t worn a bra since today was one of those days— the ones with low energy, restless sleep barely giving you enough stamina to will yourself throughout the day. “No…” you admitted, almost shamefully.

Before you could even think, lips were wrapped around the sensitive buds, a tongue flat as it pressed over the top. You let out a noise somewhere between a whimper and a small moan, finger tangling in his hair automatically.

Thomas simply couldn’t leave your other side untreated, so he rolled your other nipple between his fingers while fucking you with the other hand. Every sound you made, whether it be a sigh, a moan, a whimper, a small whine of his name, each and every one of them seemed to be egging him on more. Like small pleas and begs for more of his touch.

And whether you knew it or not, that exactly what they were; your body whining, aching for anything he’d give you, grateful for the plainest stroke of his digits in your wet cunt, or the effortless drag of his smooth tongue across your pebbled nipple.

Somewhere between small praises and straight-up degradation, you manages you end up without any clothes and Thomas’s pretty face between your legs as you stand there against the tree; teeth clenched, thighs trembling, fingers scratching at his scalp leaving a stinging sensation in their wake. It felt good— the burn of your jagged nails against his already sensitive scalp, the sun un-ironically taking part in making sure it would hurt him.

The tree bark dug into your bare back as you simultaneously pushed yourself up on your tip-toes, squirming at the sensation of his tongue on your clit becoming too much, yet tugging his face further between your wobbly thighs with the grip you had on his brown hair.

Thomas decided he liked you best when you were like this; a sweaty, moaning, whimpering, indecisive mess for him— despite only speaking his first words to you less than an hour ago.

And quite frankly, you couldn’t care less. The only thing spurring you on, giving you the shamelessness needed to give yourself up like this was the undying need to cum. He had be fucking edging you this whole damn time, yet you couldn’t complain. Not while he was pleasuring you at least. Your protests came after you didn’t—after the way he’d suck on and swirl his tongue around your swollen bud, getting you right there, only to pull away as you were about to topple over the edge.

It might not have been verbal, but maybe you’d give his hair a particularly harsh yank, or dig your nails into his raw scalp with as much strength as you could muster. Unbeknownst to you, Thomas enjoyed it. He loved the way you whined and squirmed, body begging for a release even if your mouth was too stubborn to communicate it. He loved the pain you inflicted on him, the pricking sensation hurting so bad—yet not enough—that it felt good.

“Did I get you to change your mind yet, Angel?” Thomas spoke against your cunt, lips glistening with you juices, eyes dark as he looked up at you with a captivating stare that you fell prisoner to time and time again.

You bit down on your lip brutally, the discomfort not even phasing you anymore. You were sure your lips would be bruised and possibly bloodied in the morning for more than one reason. “Thomas… please,” There it was. The first real plead that spilled from your lips. Not the desperate whines or frustrated grunts you’d given him earlier, but an actual word that put your need on full display.

And it sounded better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“What’s wrong, princess? Am I not good enough for you?” He cooed, tone mocking your desire so damn condescendingly that if it were anyone else you’d send their skull flying against the maze walls.

But you couldn’t resist, he had you under his spell, wrapped around his finger. And you knew it. You both knew it. “Fuck me, make me cum… just do something for fucks sake!” Your voice held a guise of irritation and rage, but just behind that was the exact whininess that he was looking for.

“I think I like the sound of you begging for me. It’s pretty.” He whispered, whether to himself or you, you couldn’t find it in you to give a fuck anymore.

Thomas stood up, large hands sliding up the sides of your bare body, soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. A whimper slipped from your swollen lips, the feeling of his hands setting your body ablaze, leaving goosebumps only the chilly day’s managed to give you in their wake. You felt like you were sweating buckets, yet the warmth radiating off his wide hands (or maybe you were just small) left the rest of your figure feeling frigid.

His lips wet lips met yours, hand meeting your throat as you gasped lightly at the taste of yourself on his tongue as he poked and prodded at your own. You didn’t even have to think about how easily you let him in, you blatantly followed his command no matter what form in came in without a second thought.

Fingers feeling needy, you reached for his belt and he slotted his knee between your thighs, pinning you against the tree for the umpteenth time tonight. However, you didn’t hear a protest or receive a firm look coded with a not-so-hidden message, so you proceeded with your actions, fingers fumbling with the flimsy metal piece until you hear the telltale clanking sound of his belt slithering through the denim loops and clashing against the dirt floor.

His jeans dropped next, nothing to hold them up or keep them in their place as you unzipped them. His shirt had been discarded earlier, just before he got to his knees in front of you, so it was one less article of clothing in your way.

But that didn’t matter, the only one you care about was still on him. Dainty fingers lightly brushed over his bulge, your eyes dropping for just a second to catch a glimpse of his clothed size before you had to tilt your head back up due to the hand holding your throat. It was dark, but your eyes were well adjusted by now; well enough to see the tent his erection formed as you unintentionally teased him.

Your hands were impatient, your whole being was impatient, but you could at least do something about the need to have your hands around him. After practically grabbing his hard-on through his boxers, palming it roughly for just a second, you didn’t even wait to get your hands inside his boxers. Immediately, you tugged your hand up his length, his impressively long length. He groaned, cock already throbbing, twitching at the thought of being buried inside you.

The noise almost took you by surprise, and you were almost proud of yourself for being the cause. You brought your left knee up his thigh, situating it comfortably in the groove of his hip, and pushed down the remaining fabric. His free hand assisted you and helped slide the other end down until he kicked away the item that he’d be searching for in the darkness later.

Digits finding his hardness again as you continued to make out, your thumb carelessly swiped over his slit as you handled his tip, collecting the bead of precum that had you wetter than the brook you were settled by during previous hours. He felt the heat of your fingers disappear, only to return moments later with arousal that couldn’t’ e been just his.

You coated his shaft with your sticky mixture, eliciting a deep groan from the back of Thomas’s throat. Regardless of you having the last few touches that made gave other pleasure, he still wanted to remind you who was really in control.

His fingers tightened around the column of your throat, his body pressing you into the tree even more, hard enough for you to feel each ridge of wood jabbing into your back. You felt his knee pushing up against your cunt, your slick automatically coating his thigh as you couldn’t help but grind yourself against him. He smirked—you didn’t see—, your actions appearing needy, so much so, that they were almost pathetic.

“It’s hot as fuck knowing I made you this wet, that I got you to the point where you don’t give a fuck about how pathetic you seem, the only thought in your brain is the desire for pleasure. For me to fuck you, huh?” His words were spat with hot breath waving against your cheek, it was hard not to give in and accept his words.

“Please, Tommy… need you inside me,” until the words came out, you weren’t aware of how shameless they’d be, of how much you sounded exactly like he described. “‘nd I know you do too.” you added shortly after in an attempt to recollect some of your dignity. Didn’t work. He saw right through you.

But what did work what the whine you put on his name, the one that few called him, but only you could have him contemplating between fucking you like a normal person, or fucking you for so long and hard that neither of you could walk straight or have any cum left to give. Obviously there was only one choice in his eyes, but you couldn’t see it. You could only see blown pupils, so wide that just a sliver of brown, lust-tainted color rimmed the pitch-black darkness.

You resumed the position you were in earlier; legs squeezed tight around his waist as if your life depended on it, ankles locked in the back, heels digging into his spine a few inches above his tailbone. Your arms wrapped around the nape of his neck, while his hand was settled at the base of yours.

Striving to be a tease, Thomas watched your reactions while he rubbed his tip up and down your wetness, starting from your hole, up to the top of your clit, then back down. Something about the moves, so calculated, so precious, so damn taunting that it almost seemed like he was mocking you, it was all becoming too much. He had been edging you all night—well, enough to to feel like it was all night—that you knew he was nearing the end of his limits as well.

Impatient by nature, Thomas merely gave your throat a warning squeeze before he slipped his tip inside. He may have been ruthless with his teasing, yes, but he wasn’t heartless. He waited, kept his hips still against his own will until you nodded or squeezed his hair each time you wanted him to push in just a smidge further. He praised and affirmed you with words you didn’t even process since the only thing your mind could focus on was the contrast of pleasure with a little bit of sting. You wanted nothing more for him to be fully sheathed inside you, fucking your stupid—and so did he—, but you decided it best for you to take it slow. At first.

Once his hips were flush with yours, hard cock filling you in ways you didn’t even know existed, you adjusted your legs around his waist, shifting until the discomfort went away mostly. You didn’t even nod or give and indignation before you bucked your hips against his, causing a sigh to fall from his pink, kiss-bitten lips, while a light moan fell from yours. He took that as his sign you were ready, and he slowly pulled his hips from yours with a semi-gentle test thrust first before he saw you were okay, then he picked up his pace in a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so tight.” He groaned against your neck, hot breath symbolizing a warning before his lips were all over the soft skin.

You whimpered, your hands automatically lacing in his hair and tugging at the roots, nails occasionally scratching at his scalp. You don’t know how long your hand stayed like that before realizing you needed something better to grasp, to hold on and cling to like your fate was dependent on it.

One are tucked under his, the other following suit, and soon both hands were clawing down his back, the feeling prompting Thomas to pound away harder. Teeth against your neck let you know that you’d have to wear your hair down for the next few days, and possibly skip meals at the homestead to avoid being seen as well. Even so, you didn’t care right now. You were to wrapped up in the way his fucked into you, mercilessly pounding away at you pussy, the wet squelching sounds coming from where the two of you were connected absolutely sinful.

You knew the gladers had gone to sleep however long ago, but you also knew that a few had a hard time sleeping. Thank god Chuck had knocked out before you came out here.

The threat of getting caught is what caused you to bury your face in his shoulder, head leaning against his outstretched arm that was holding the tree for support. You nips and suck at the skin of his collarbone right where it connects to his shoulder, albeit much weaker and definitely less effort put in than him, but it gives you something to do, along with practically gouging your uneven nails down his sweaty back, to keep your mind off the seething moans that threaten to rip from your throat.

After awhile of hearing you go silent and feeling the pressure of both your lips and fingers on his skin increase, Thomas grows annoyed with your lack of sound. You feel his hand leave your throat, but you don’t exactly process it, your brain overwhelmed with too many things to worry about the loss of touch, but you do feel where it ends up. Your head is abruptly yanked back, yet somehow as gently as possible although is still leaves a pained sensation. Thomas’s fingers were in between the weaves of your—now very loose and incredibly messy—braid, forcing you to look at him as he fucks you. He seemed to know exactly what you were thinking.

“Don't muffle yourself. Let them hear your whiny voice, baby. Everyone should know how good I'm fucking you.” Without a barrier to block your noises, you let out a moan at his words alone. And then everything comes crashing down. You give up on trying to quiet yourself, only having enough left in you to chase that feeling that leaves you whining incoherent words that maybe he understands, digging and clawing at any available surface you can get you dainty little fingers on (which is most likely his back or shoulder), and letting yourself go completely—letting him take care of you.

And boy does he know how to take care of you. For someone you’ve never spoken a word to until tonight, he knows how to fuck you right. He knows how to have you in his arms, body practically limp and a deadweight which only impales you more on his dick. And when he hears that you’ve given in to more than just his one request by letting your jaw fall slack, any moans or whimpers just free to waltz out, he leans in close to whisper in your ear, voice deep and slightly raspy; “Good girl.”

He feels the way your fingernails grips his shoulders harder, possibly hard enough to draw blood, and the way your already-tight walls clench around him even more. Something in his mind clicks for him that doesn’t for you, probably because your too busy with the way he fills you up so damn well his tip kisses your cervix each time you come back down on him and he fucks back up.

“You like being called a good girl, huh? You like being told how good you feel around me, being praised for doing what I say like the good girl you are?” He knows what he’s doing at this point. But that was stop you from enjoying it nonetheless.

“F—yeah, fuck, I do.” You agree with what little sanity to have left, mustering a nod that almost spends every ounce of energy.

Your eyes have him in a trance; watery, pupils blown, looking up at him with the most innocent looking eyes he could ever think of. Except he knew you weren’t innocent.

“I bet no one else fucks you like this, huh, angel? No one else gives you princess treatment because they’re too busy trying to find a way to get in your panties to even think about treating you right. But a part of you likes it, don’t you?” You merely whined, words failing you as he smirked and kept going. “You like the fact that half the guys here probably jerk off to the thought of you when they’re alone, think of you as some little slut that everyone gets a turn with in their minds. The glade’s own whore, hmm?”

“F-Fuck, Thomas,” you whimper, the feeling his words give you turning into physical pleasure, not just for yourself, but for Thomas as well when he feels your warm walls squeezing around his shaft.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it; just whoring out and fucking every guy in this place? But your so damn innocent—too damn innocent, it’s why half the guys here can’t seem to get their mind off you.” He grunts between thrusts, as if his hips slamming into yours punctuates each word. “Don’t worry, after tonight I think enough people around here will have learned who got to fuck you. I’ll treat you right, princess.”

Both hands clenched at whatever they can, and Thomas feels the crescent-shaped nail marks already imbedding themselves in his shoulder and nose of his neck.

You were getting undeniably closer, and you were afraid that he might edge you again. Hell, you were afraid that you let him have that much power over you. In spite of your efforts, your own voice adding to the ringing in your ears as you bucked your hips downwards— if even possible with the force he had you pressed against the tree with. “Don’t stop… please, please don’t stop, Tommy.” You begged, pathetically desperate for him to finally let you release.

“Only if you keep making those pretty little sounds, angel.” And you did; effortlessly obeying his commands, when in reality it was inevitable that your sounds escaped at some point. You just didn’t hold back at all. At least you didn’t talk to very many people, otherwise they would’ve been suspicious of your barely-there voice if the hadn’t already heard you screaming the night before.

His thrusts became irregular, and at first you thought he was going to tell you that you didn’t do well enough for him, seize yet another orgasm from you like he had been doing all night. What you didn’t realize was that he was slowing down to edge himself, not wanting to cum to early or before you did.

Thomas decided you wouldn’t mind a few scratches on your back, maybe a few splinters, ‘cause it sure as hell looked like you wouldn’t give a damn right now, so he took his supporting hand off the tree and encased it around your throat, admiring the way his hand seemed to swallow you whole. His free hand fled to your clit, rubbing circles against the sensitive bud as you cried out his name. It was mindless, you hadn’t even realized it. That’s what made it so fucking hot.

Time and time again, you continued to impress him with how easily you could be controlled, completely fucked out to the point you only knew his name and the word ‘please’. “Atta girl. That’s right, let everyone know who’s fucking you like this.” You whimpered his name again, the word simply rolling off your tongue without a thought. He wasn’t even sure if you said it because you followed orders so well, or if it was really the only thing you could say.

“T-Thomas, shit—fuck, I’m g—” your sentence was left unfinished since you couldn’t breathe, your lungs on fire just like the rest of your skin. It could’ve been from the way Thomas’s hand was unconsciously restricting your airway a little too much, though, once he noticed he eased up. Either way, he got your message loud and clear. And he could feel his own release brewing in the pit of his stomach.

“Please… please don’t stop this time. I-I can’t take it anymore… need to cum.” You whined between shallow breaths before he could even speak.

His pace and force picked up to almost inhuman speeds, basically fucking you into the tree behind you. “I won’t, I promise.”

As if the words didn’t register, mindless pleas were pouring from you, “I have to—’m so close, Tommy, please.”

“I know, baby, I know. Me too, alright? So your gonna be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” It wasn’t until his thumb pressed against the bundle of nerves he was previously circling, did his words finally sink in.

Along with his gentle demand came your orgasm that you didn’t know had been so close the whole time. Your walls enveloped him so tight he was sure his dick would slip out, but it didn’t. It stayed inside your warm, velvety wetness, twitching but thrusting sloppily throughout your high as his neared.

You were seeing stars, and you were pretty sure they weren’t the ones in the night sky above you. Your nails dug so harshly into his chest and back that your fingers aches, and you could only imagine the number you’d done on him. The feeling was euphoric, sure you’d never come down from the drunken-high feeling. Your thighs shook, muscles spasming as your nerves felt like they were frying at the slight overstimulation he was giving you.

Feeling you cum around him, his cock twitched inside you, soon giving into the demands of your velvety warmth and wet squelching sounds. “Fuck, shit—such a good girl, angel… such a good fucking girl for me.” He moaned out, his voice the softest it’d been yet, but still somehow possessing the same roughness as before.

You felt a hot-warmth gush inside you, your face already buried deep in his shoulder again as you physically could not keep your head up. “Just for you.” You whimpered, enjoying the feeling of being completely filled to the brim, his hand coming off your throat to slide around the back of your neck in a somewhat-comforting hold. The feeling of being taken care of.

#the maze runner #tmr thomas #tmrthomassmut #thomastmrsmut #thomas tmr

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ivyjupiterwrites · 27 days

Text

MDNI - Tag You're It

I may or may not have been watching some tiktoks lately...This is what came from it. Just sexual themes, no actual smut sorry!

Also a more so neutral reader one for the buggy boy! Much implication that the reader is familiar with feminine things/mindset just as a warning/to let you know!

There's something so much about the thought of a shy boy being so run ragged by the hot thought of something he could so easily have if he just knew how to ask. Idk if that makes sense but tis the theme.

"I don't understand this whole trend." Roach lamented to you as he scrolled through his phone, thumb furiously swiping upwards. "If I catch you, I fuck you?"

You nearly choked on your drink beside him, eyes flying open wide you looked over to be met with a gaze of medium horror. Adding additional funny fuel to the fire.

You had of course heard all about it, the book it came from and the depravity surrounding it. You were certain Roach's life surely would be at least a few shades better not knowing. He was inexperienced as it was when it came to anything of that nature, even more so than you somehow.

Yet there there the two of you sat--with him watching you oh so expectantly--as if there was some intense lore you were to drop to cue him in.

"What's there to get? Pretty self explanatory I'd say?" You attempted to be as nonchalant as possible, dying inside yes, yet by some small miracle you were externally still. Face maintaining a rather serious, yet bored expression despite the shaken wasps nest within you.

Roach wasn't having any of it. Your reply was met with more throwing of his hands in the air exasperatedly and lengthily sighs. You could be downright infuriating at times. Particularly when it came to fucking him around.

"Uh oh I dunno--" he began in a funny tone after having taken a minute, "maybe, just maybe, why're girls so....strange?" which only cracked you up even more. You didn't have the answers to his question, you weren't sure anyone did.

"Whatttt???" You physically had to turn your head away from him to conceal the wide smile which rose the corners of your downtrodden mouth. He was hilarious at the worst of times--get him really going about something and he could have you in tears. Your feigned ignorance to his question warranted another series of vehement hand gestures and sighs.

"You know what I mean goddamit." you did, to some extent. Watching someone figure out in real time that there were many levels to the woman horny hierarchy was something within itself. The ranges were from as vanilla as snow to the darkest depths of the abyssal. This trend aligning more so towards the latter despite being no where near as bad as what it could. No where near as bad as some of the depraved things you'd seen.

"Okay but just hear me out for a second." having regained your composure you faced him yet again, this time attempting to lead him through the thought. Upon receiving a compliant, albeit biased nod, you proceeded. "What sounds so unappealing about a lil sexy tag-you're-it?" His brow shot up, curiously he silently awaited whatever you had to say next. "But instead of regular tagging, it's jamming your cock, tongue, whatever, into various holes 'til I'm quite literally sobbing from pleasure."

The look in which he gave you at your final sentence sent shivers down your spine. He quite literally sized you up, or checked you out--either way, it appeared you particularly piqued his fancy using the two of yourselves as the examples. Eyes leaving yours to slowly descend down your frame, thoughtfully, not rushed, before returning to meet your gaze. This time he didn't have a subtle hint of terror behind it, no, it was smouldering like you'd never seen before.

Roach mulled over your sweetly spoken words. He had to admit, explained like that, it didn't sound half bad. Or bad at all. Especially the way in which you had articulated it, so vividly that he was attempting to swoosh the beautifully sinful picture you had painted in his head away. It was hard to look someone in the eyes and talk to them while imaging what he was.

Especially when that someone was who he was talking to.

You.

"After a reassessment by the council, I concur, the ladies very well just might be onto something."

This is I feel like is what comes to Roach's mind. He has no idea how else running could be enticing. Unless maybe there was a special reward at the end. He's seen slashers and horror flicks, so he sorta gets the appeal. Sort of.

That's until it consumes his every waking thought.

Roach bides his time with the sweet imagery you had given him like a present--until it no longer suffices. His hand no longer suffices. And he isn't sure how to go about a solution.

(I like to imagine it like the audio 'at first I was like mmmm feet as a joke, I don't think it's a joke anymore'.)

Initially, Roach thought the whole example between you two, the idea of it--all of it--was a fantasy to keep in the back of his mind when he got bored. A forbidden fruit of sorts being battle buddies. You weren't exactly supposed or allowed to do anything. And so it was something he'd use on a rainy day when things were running particularly slow; or if he needed something sassy in the heat of the moment taking care of himself.

Until it wasn't.

He found himself watching you when you weren't looking, more and more--down to the point where the rest of the taskforce felt the need to point it out. His gaze trained on you so intently, they would've thought you were a roadside circus attraction or a cryptid or something from another planet. Thankfully for Roach, he was constantly wearing his goggles and helmet--so there was little to no chance of catching his pure, raw face reacting to you.

It began with when you were cleaning guns, running your hands up and down them. God your hands looked soft, he wasn't sure the last time he'd felt anything like how you looked. The little hums which would emanate from your parted lips, ones he wanted nothing more than to either kiss or shove something between.

You would be sitting there trying to apply lip gloss or hand lotion and he's glued to you. It was peak bad for him on missions, because when you were running around, the sole thing he could think of was recalling your conversation. Your beyond tight pants, the jostle of your body as you would hustle along, panting breathlessly.

You lived rent free in his mind for most of his waking moments, lewd, salacious delusions playing out in his head. Then, eventually, seeped into his unconscious ones. Roach was beginning to wrack up a tally of how many pairs of pants he could ruin cause good lord are the dreams wet. And many.

The excuses were also starting to run thin, ranging from a raccoon had stolen one pair while he was showering to another had gotten brains on them. "Roach, m'boy, the pants, they're supposed to be on you. How the bloody hell do you keep losing them??!" - Price I imagine, like really, that many pairs? Was Roach giving them away? Soap suggesting maybe he should've fought the raccoon for them back, he'd done something similar in Scotland with a bear apparently?

Roach was in a constant state of desperately attempting to stave off the lustly imagery to form any sort of coherent thought or sentence. Getting called on was a nightmare, a slurred, stumbling, fumbling godawful experience that left the others mocking him and wondering if he was on something. And if so, what, cause they surely needed some.

You had cursed him in ways he initially hadn't thought possible. Almost vexing his mind to revolve around how to get you in the very position. How to make it all happen. He had worked out what to do if given the chance, it was getting there that troubled him. Did he want to go there? Could he even go there? He wasn't supposed to, but goddamit he wanted to more than anything. It tore him apart.

"Are you okay?" Gaz eventually just had to ask him, seeing as none of the others were going to. They didn't touch that stuff, and if Roach was going through something, he'd get through it--their angle being if he wanted to go for drinks, they would, otherwise, give'im time.

Gaz didn't hold the same sentiment however when Roach just stopped being himself.

It was creepy, eerie and weird.

To have him quietly holed up in the corner like Ghost, brooding over god knows what when normally he would be bouncing around? When there were tons of unsupervised weapons like grenades, missiles and such just lying about? Yeah Gaz thought he should maybe talk it out instead of waking up to a huge hole in something, or himself. Or just not at all.

"Huh?" obviously being pulled from some part of his buggy little brain; Roach's head snapped up so he could meet Gaz's rather concerned gaze. "Uh oh... Yeah... thanks."

"Sure....No problem mate..." the conversation over just as soon as it had began, the scenario certainly did not unfold how he'd hoped.

Roach was unbearably dry, in tone, expression, hell even with his responses. Gaz was used to being met by a big greeting, typically accompanied with an equally large wave or finger guns or some other goofy ass gesture. This wilted flower version was like a phantom shell of who he normally was. Who he used to be. The hollowed, tired stare didn't suit his teammate, not in the least. It was unnerving as hell.

So promptly spinning on the heel of his boot when its just straight silence, Gaz is turning to leave Roach alone. Since that's what it appeared like, that the boy just wanted to be left to his own devices. Gaz didn't really want to, but he wasn't sure how else to tackle the problem aside from shouting 'what is wrong with you!?!' in his face. Gaz didn't figure that'd help.

He later decides the move is to confide in you about Roach, and how he thinks something is super off. To which you entirely agree. The bugs being buggy.... And when he goes on to tell you Roach tried to downplay him, you offer to tap in. Cause oh hell no, he was not going to just ignore Gaz.

"What's your issue huh?" kicking the bottom of his sole with the toe of your boot, you were at Roach the moment Gaz gave you the go ahead. Not that you really needed his green light to pester one of your closest friends.

"Didn't realize I had one." now more aware that his whole 'poker face' wasn't holding up to the trick, Roach was floundering. He was attempting to find any sort of excuse he could to cover his ass. Something smarter than 'a raccoon stole my pants while I was in the shower'.

"Well you've been holed up over here for nearly the whole flight." you returned as you crossed your arms over your chest, "Not to mention you brushed off Gaz? --D'you got worms in your brain or somethin'?"

"...Not that I know of." he carefully stated, side eyeing the surroundings like he a trapped animal. Like if your eyes were to meet you'd turn to him to stone. "Whaddya need?"

"For you to stop being so weird," you retorted with a good natured albeit disgusted frown, "Get outta that damned corner and come hang out." you tried coaxing him like the caged creature he acted like, your hand waving him along.

"Yeah okay...I will--just give me a sec." humming and hawing for a prolonged moment, he gave in, deciding to comply with your request. You certainly had expected a fight. Something. This all seemed surprisingly easy, you thought to yourself, before you seen him swooshing you away with his hand.

Understandably both confusing and irritating you.

"Uh-uh mister, I ain't going no where." crossing your arms over your chest, you showed quite plainly you wouldn't be obedient. Roach groaned at your defiant response, his head hanging back, shoulders slumping. There was a tenseness about him you had finally come to notice, no longer focused in on his emotional turmoil it was much clearer to see.

"Can you just go ahead please? I swear, I'll be right behind you." the underlying pleading in his tone had your brows furrowed. What in the blue infernal flames of hell was he going on about? The pained tone about him was strange. He could act like a kid but he never tended to whine like one. At least with you. Ghost and Price were another story.

"Why can't I just wait for you?" was your earnest response, offended he'd even suggest you to go ahead. You usually waited for him when the two of you were to walk anywhere. Lengthily he exhaled once more, nostrils flaring he chose to just rise to his feet.

Silently he loomed before you, peering down, just watching you. With his helmet and goggles obscuring 99.9% of his face, there wasn't much to be said about his expression. Unless he was talking or gesturing, you didn't have too much of an idea as to what was going on. Like presently. His stance suggested he wanted to fight you.... or perhaps had a brick in his ass?

Just like previously, you were thrown into yet another pit of confusion. What the hell was he doing?

Your eyes travelled down the frame before you, taking in his shoulders, tactical vest, and it wasn't before long your eyes rested upon...it. What he was ever so quietly as the grave to shamefully show you, or so you at least assumed from the way he bared it to you.

From beneath Roach's pants, ly his all too aroused cock, straining to be freed against his pants. For relief. The fabric looked like it was trying to choke it out, or burst, like it was painful. Or was going to jump out from behind the zipper and bite you.

"I can't stop thinking about that damned... trend you explained." he admitted lowly, and the way in which he spoke had you snapping your head up to look at him. Only to find now he had pulled his goggles up over his forehead, resting on his helmet. He was staring directly down at you, all sorts of emotions swimming in his eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you."

"That's what you've been thinking about?" you could've almost laughed in his face--as a matter of fact, there was a slight giggle to your tone as you spoke which caught his attention. Where you laughing at his advances? Exactly what he had feared. "You should've just come to me, I could've sorted that out for you, ya know."

To say he was sent reeling was beyond an understatement, as you had critically flat lined him with your mortal kombat-esque finishing move. Approval of his request. He had done it.

Roach's mind had drawn a blank as to what to even say, your sweet smile messing all the words up like alphabet soup. How could you be smiling like that after telling him he could do something so devilish to you?

"I'll even let you catch me before you gotta run too much." you winked to him, walking ahead as the two of you were supposed to be going to hangout. As you went ahead, you glanced over your shoulder at him. Roach was stuck to the floor where you'd told him he could enact his wildest fantasies.

So cheeky you were.

And he was absolutely going to take you up on that offer.

#gary roach sanderson #gary sanderson #gary roach sanderson x reader #roach call of duty #roach mw2 #roach cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #18+ post #18+ content #iicyify #cod 141 #can you tell im in love with him #uggghh #roach smut #roach sanderson #cod roach

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