#not saying he doesn’t deserve it but like to an outsider that shit looks SO funny
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The amount of pure violent hatred the MGS fandom feels towards Huey is so funny because you’ll see a tweet that says something like “I hope this motherfucker burns alive, he deserves no respect after what he did.” And then the attached picture looks like this:
#not saying he doesn’t deserve it but like to an outsider that shit looks SO funny#I can confirm as an mgs fan who didn’t know much about anything past the third game for a long while#mgs#mgs huey#mgs peace walker#mgs pw#huey emmerich#mgsv#Huey: ‘you wouldn’t hit a guy with glasses would you???’
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STWG Daily Prompt: Date Night
“Does Thursday work?” Jeff asks, voice tinny and sort of muffled. Eddie can hear the sound of flipping pages, the creak of the plastic from the phone's speaker.
“Shit, sorry dude.” Eddie says, looking at the loose pages of lined paper he's scribbled his schedule on. It works for him, and it's better than nothing. “That's date night.”
A pause. For a moment, all Eddie can hear is the sound of Jeff breathing through the speaker.
“Date night, huh?” Jeff eventually asks, and Eddie can hear the smarmy grin he's wearing. It's leaking into his voice, the absolute delight in it all. Just the right side of teasing, the bastard. He'd hate it, would snap and snarl and throw it all back if he wasn't also fucking delighted.
He could say that now. He had a boyfriend, who holds his hands and kisses him and schedules date nights. He gets this. He gets to talk about it with his best friend. Can mention he has a date and doesn't have to hide the fact that it's with his boyfriend. He gets to share in the gentle ribbing for once. It's not just him on the outside looking in — as they tease Gareth for getting a date with a girl from his English class, or Jeff hitting his anniversary with his girlfriend.
Eddie's been domesticated and he doesn't mind in the slightest.
“Yes, it's date night,” Eddie retorts, trying to send as much faux malice down the phone as he can. He's smiling though, as he sits at the kitchen table, phone cord absently tangled through his fingers. “And Steve's been working hard planning it, so I will not be rescheduling.”
“I didn't ask you to,” Jeff laughs, tone light.
“Well good.” Eddie teases, wishing they were having this conversation in person so he could stick his tongue out. Really ham it up.
Another pause, and Eddie uses the silence to flip through his papers, looking through all the events and dates and times he's scribbled out. Fuck, he really needs a calendar.
“So?” Jeff prompts, drawing the word out. “Tell me about date night.”
“You sound like your mother,” Eddie laughs, holding the phone in between his ear and his shoulder, pinning it there so he can free up his hands. So he can sort through his papers and fidget with the phone cord at the same time “Begging for gossip.”
“You love my mother,” Jeff retorts — snappish — but it's obvious he's smiling. Laughing through it. “And you say that like you aren't gagging to talk about it. Come on.”
“Okay fine,” Eddie relents. Sighing as he sinks into his chair, slouching, his socked feet skating across the floor. “You caught me.”
“Not hard,” Jeff laughs.
“Steve’s been talking a lot about wooing me lately,” Eddie starts, ignoring Jeff’s teasing. He finds himself smiling as he talks, creeping across his face uncontrollably. Fuck, the things Steve does to him. “As if he hasn’t wooed me already. So he’s planned this like, romantic dinner at home. Instead of going out to Enzo’s he wants to like, bring Enzo’s to us? Said he was going to treat me right. Have the fancy dinner I deserve, where we can play footsie under the table and hold hands without, y’know, worrying.”
By the end of his sentence Eddie’s feeling like he’s melting into his chair, insides melting into something soft and gooey. Pulling his hair across his face to hide his blush. Jeff can’t even see him, but he can’t help it. He wants to giggle and kick his feet. Jump and scream and flail around. It’s all building up inside him, this honey sweet affection. He doesn’t quite know what to do with it all.
“He going to light candles? Have soft music playing in the background?” Jeff asks, teasing melting away into something softer.
“Literally yes,” Eddie exclaims, dropping his hair and trying not to wiggle too much in his seat. “He’s so sweet, I’m going to throw up.”
“He’s good for you, man.” Jeff says simply, and it means a lot. That other people can see it — can know — just how happy Steve makes him.
[Part Two]
#steve harrington#eddie munson#jeff stranger things#steddie#steddie ficlet#stwgdailyprompt#My Writing
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hi hi!! could i request blade, dan heng, jingyuan, (and anyone else u may want to add) reacting to finding out you’re being creeped on at work please? i’m going through a similar situation at my job atm and would really appreciate it :’) thank u! <3
I hope the situation gets resolved soon sweetheart, you don’t deserve some creep making you uncomfortable or being well…a creep in general.
Jing yuan:
The dozing general seemed a bit more alert when you admitted to him that you were being creeped on at work, a place where this sort of thing shouldn’t be happening at all but is nonetheless.
He can tell that you were greatly affected by it and would do anything and everything in his power to rid you of it all. Jing yuan promises that the anxieties and the stress of having to constantly look over your shoulder, praying that the person responsible for all of it wasn’t nearby would be gone in a heartbeat.
His status as the General was more then enough to scare the creep stiff and profusely apologise for not knowing that you were his partner, rather then apologise to you like he should be, only for Jing Yuan to smile apathetically and say:
‘I’m not the one you should be apologising to,’ he then gestures towards you, ‘they are. So I’d suggest you get on your knees and plea for forgiveness. Quickly.’ He adds with a seriousness as his eyes glowed gold upon opening them and his smile faded.
Needless to say that the creep handed in their notice not long after the encounter with the General.
Dan Heng:
Hates, hates, hates seeing you this scared and uncomfortable by the actions made by one person who thought that it was acceptable to be a freak. All Dan Heng wanted to do in that moment was comfort you and reassure you that everything was going to be okay, but how could he when he himself wasn’t quite sure that was going to be the case?
He hates being uncertain, especially when it’s in regard to your safety in general, because he couldn’t fathom anything happening to you and he was there to protect you like he should’ve.
So instead he helps you in arranging a meeting with your manager about the creep’s behaviour towards you, going as far as to keep a list of all the things they’ve done during their tenure at your workplace in the instance should you not be believed. ‘Just in case.’ He’d say to you as he produced a thick folder filled with the creeps vile actions within the past few months alone.
Thankfully your manager wasn’t a piece of shit and the folder of evidence was enough to take action against the creep, and within immediate effect the bastard was gone by the end of the week; Just as procedures were later put in place for the safety of all employees who believed they were being harassed in the workplace.
After all was said and done, Dan Heng would still want to walk you to work and back, just as a precaution and a reminder that he was always going to be with you no matter what.
Blade:
Doesn’t take to the fact that you were being creeped on lightly and especially not when it was at your workplace either, and he will most likely try to take action into his own hands through any means necessary.
He’s aching to unsheathe his blade and put it to good use and end the pathetic creeps life for ever coming near you with impure intentions without feeling an ounce of guilt. However Blades sets this thought aside and decided to focus on you instead by standing guard outside your workplace until your shift finished.
He didn’t care. He’ll stay as long as he needed if it meant knowing that you were going to be okay, and even if the creep did try to pull something, Blade would be there within seconds to rip them to shreds. However Blade was already an intimidating bloke alone with his physical appearance, that he didn’t need to do much to scare the creep stiff, staring them down with his ruby eyes.
His natural stone face was also benefactor that Blade had going for him in terms of frightening the creep into handing in his notice that very same day. While It may not be how he wants it to end, but that didn’t mean Blade stopped waiting outside your workplace for you.
Just incase a new creep arises in the old one’s place and he needed to get a bit…physical.
#hsr imagines#hsr imagine#hsr x reader#hsr x you#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#Honkai star rail imagines#Honkai star rail imagine#dan heng x reader#dan heng x you#Dan heng imagine#Dan heng imagines#hsr dan heng x reader#hsr blade x reader#hsr blade x you#blade imagines#blade imagine#blade x reader#blade x you#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x you#jing yuan x y/n#hsr jing yuan x reader#hsr jing yuan x you
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triple trouble, atsumu miya
pairing atsumu miya x f!reader
word count 1.6k
synopsis atsumu steals every reporters' attention as he introduces the media to his triplets during a post-game interview; or, more accurately, his triplets steal all the attention. like father, like sons.
content contains domestic fluff, dad!atsumu, atsumu & reader are married and so in love, babies, mention of pregnancy
more in this collection!
The flashes of cameras going off, the constant exclamations of “Miya! Miya!” coming from the crowd of journalists and reporters all vying for his attention, the fact that the foldout chairs they use for all these post-game interviews are harder on your ass than falling on asphalt — all of this is being handled with ease by a smug Atsumu Miya.
Or, normally all of this would be handled with ease by a smug Atsumu Miya.
But right now, the Atsumu Miya struggling to take a seat in the most uncomfortable chair known to man, dyed hair a mess, his usual trademark smirk replaced by furrowed brows and a look of concentration, doesn’t appear to be the godlike adversary on the court. In fact, he looks oddly human.
The cause of what has humbled this cocky athlete and reduced him to mere mortal man are the three chubby toddlers he’s cradling in his arms.
All of them are identical, from their chubby cheeks to their little grubby hands. Heads full of thick, dark brown hair (reminiscent of their father’s natural color) poke out from Atsumu’s hold, and the eighteen-month-olds’ eyes are all full of childlike wonder as they watch the crowd, confused as to who all these people are.
After finally getting settled into his seat, Atsumu addresses the crowd casually, as if he didn’t spend the last two minutes ensuring that his baby boys weren’t going to slip from his arms while he tried to prepare for this interview. Akimitsu is secured in his left arm, Akihiko in the right, leaving poor Akinari to cling onto Atsumu’s neck.
While athletes have been getting more comfortable with bringing their kids up on stage with them, no one has ever seen a professional athlete haul his three babies with him.
A fact that one reporter is more than happy to point out.
“Miya, wife put you on babysitting duty?” A male journalist calls out from the crowd. A few chuckles follow, but Atsumu just smiles at the mention of you.
“Nah. It’s not babysittin’ if they’re your damn kids, right? Besides, she deserves a break.” A few appreciative murmurs flutter through the crowd.
After the initial surprise of seeing identical triplets being carried in the MSBY Black Jackals’ setter’s arms, the reporters are back to business as usual. They’re all professionals — even if hearing Atsumu give them a great quote to use as a hook (“I respect Nakamura as a human bein’ but calling him a setter for a professional league volleyball team is an insult to setters everywhere.”) is followed by him cooing sweet words of affirmation to whichever of his sons happens to be babbling in his ears.
“Nakamura isn’t a very good player, is he, Akihiko?” No one outside of your family and his teammates have ever heard Atsumu sound so affectionate. His words are practically coated in sugar, and it’s hard to remember that he’s insulting another player in the league whenever he’s practically bumping noses with his toddler son when he says it.
Akihiko, most likely due to his father’s influence, lets out a stream of enthusiastic gurgles that Atsumu automatically translates to him being in complete agreement with him.
“Write that down.” He says to the crowd. “Even my baby knows he’s shit at the game.”
There’s a few more minutes of Atsumu answering the usual post-game questions, but halfway through one of his responses, Akinari loses his grip on Atsumu’s neck and is about to tumble to the floor before Atsumu’s reflexes kick in. You’ve made a joke once that you think Atsumu’s reflexes have become heightened after becoming a father; his athletic instincts have merged with the famous “dad reflexes” all fathers seem to be gifted with. (Atsumu tells reporters that this is why he keeps on becoming a better player; people think his family would hold him back, but once again, family is his greatest blessing.)
“Ya gotta hang onto me, buddy.” Atsumu can’t even pretend to be stern when he tells this to Akinari, who only smiles at him and exclaims something unintelligible. He shifts Akinari to his left arm, relaxes back in his seat, and is even excited to answer a question concerning his play style compared to Tobio Kageyama’s, but as he readjusts the two boys in his arms, Atsumu can’t help but startle at the fact that he has three kids. Not just two.
Momentarily panicked, he almost wants to ask why the hell no one told him one of his kids jumped ship but then he feels a tug on the bottom hem of his volleyball shorts.
Peering under the table, Atsumu is greeted with the sight of Akimitsu’s mischievous little face. He’s the oldest of the three and takes after Atsumu the most — meaning, he’s the cutest little nightmare there could ever be.
“Whatcha doin’ under the table, Mitsu?” Atsumu asks, and Akimitsu gives out a happy, gleeful shriek. He’s clapping his grubby hands together and cheering.
“Dada found me!”
“I did find ya, buddy.” Atsumu coos. “Now why don’t you come sit on daddy’s lap?”
After wrangling up all his kids once more, Atsumu sighs and looks up at the timer in front of him.
“I have enough time for one more question.” He tells the crowd.
“Are you excited to get out of here and get back home to the wife?”
“I’m always happy to come home to [Name]. If there’s a professional league for motherhood, she’s going into the hall of fame. I don’t know how she handles these fools by herself all day.”
Akihiko takes a tiny, chubby hand and smacks Atsumu in the face. Repeatedly.
“Home! Home!” His slaps get slightly more aggressive, but Atsumu’s received some serves with his face before, so it doesn’t really phase him. “Home! Mama!”
“Well, you heard the man.” Atsumu actually gives a genuine smile for the cameras. “We gotta head home.”
You’re applying your moisturizer in the bathroom despite the mirror being fogged up from the hot shower. It’s probably why you don’t anticipate strong arms wrapping themselves around your body, and you gasp before your muscle memory recognizes him. Your body easily relaxes against his, and you’re smiling as you ask your husband,
“Had a good day today?”
“We took ‘em in two straight sets. Slaughtered the other team to the point where it wasn’t even fair.” He angles his head just right so he can kiss you on the cheek, but you gently slap him away.
“I’m putting on moisturizer right now.”
“Great. My lips are dry.” He goes in for another kiss, and even though you’re giggling, trying to pull away from him, he still plants a peck on your soft skin. “Should I go for seconds, just for good measure?” He teases.
“Hmm, I guess so.”
“Oh? What’s with the change? Realize how much you can’t live without my touch?” He pulls you in closer to him, your back pressed firmly against his chest. He’s fresh out the shower, stray droplets of water greedily clinging onto his skin.
“Maybe.” You tilt your head back on the front of his shoulder so that you can see him. “You know your interview is trending on Twitter, right?”
“Oh, yeah? Bet Nakamura’s pissed.” Atsumu sounds too happy at the concept.
“No. There’s actually an interesting clip that keeps going around. Someone already used it as an intro for a thirst edit of you.”
You like it when Atsumu is thinking. There’s an adorable crease in between his furrowed brows, and you can practically see him going through the memory files in his brain, trying to figure out what could possibly be worthy of inspiring an edit of him.
“You seriously don’t know?” You’re laughing at him, and it’s the sweetest sound in the world. Atsumu doesn’t take kindly to being the butt of a joke, but from the moment he saw you, he knew he’d do anything to stay by your side, even becoming a fucking court jester if that’s what it took.
You reach for your phone on the counter, taking a few seconds to load up the fan edit you have favorited.
He’s burying his face in your hair, hiding away as he hears the audio of him going now why don’t you come sit on daddy’s lap playing on a loop. He groans when you let it replay, uncharacteristically shy as you keep telling him to watch it.
“The comments are the best part, though, baby!” You haven’t been able to stop giggling at jackingthejackalsoff’s very bold and very true statement of yeah, if i were [name], i’d pop out triplets for him too tf 😭🙏.
As Atsumu’s hands travel to rest against the growing swell of your belly, you tease him. “So, when the twins are born, do you think you’ll have enough space in your arms to haul all five of our kids, or should we finally use that baby chest carrier Shoyo gifted us?”
“I can carry all of ‘em and you onto that stage.” He regrets making this smug remark whenever you slightly drop your teasing tone and use what he dubs The Mom Voice on him.
“Oh? If that’s true, then why did it take you so long to realize Akimitsu crawled out of your arms while you were busy calling your opponents scrubs?”
“Have I ever told you what a wonderful mother you are? And this moisturizer! Wow, I don’t know what you’ve been doing with your skin, baby, but keep it up.” He’s peppering your face with more kisses, hurriedly trying to change the subject, and you gladly let him.
#atsumu miya x you#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu x reader#hq x reader#hq headcanons#fluff#one shot#drabble#hq fanfiction#atsumu headcanons#dad!atsumu#imagine#series: sweet everything
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𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 || 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒
★SUM when you decide to break up with your boyfriend, you never thought you’d end up sleeping with his enemy.
SMUT!!!! Fem reader, one night stand turned lovers, oral (F and M receiving), sloppy make outs, cheating (reader and her bf are cheating on each other), mentions of drunk sex but it doesn’t actually happen, hangover sex, creampies, phone sex (readers bf calls and they pick up mid deed), Jack doesn’t give two shits lmao, he’s kinda switchy???, “I can treat you better than he can” trope, reader is a celebrity but her personal work is not mentioned, use of y/n, unhealthy relationships, Jack does not live with Luke in this fic, readers ex boyfriend is not named and can be whoever you’d like it to be.
WC of 3.2K, not proofread 😥
♪ Practice - Drake
“All I want to do is go out and you’re already acting like a bitch.” Your boyfriend says as he buttons up his shirt
“You promised this time we would stay in.” You said from your spot in the room as he shifts his eyes to look at you from the mirror and his brows furrow “so what? You want me to be inside all the time and be boring? I have a social life I have to keep up with, y/n. You can either stop being a pain in the ass about it and come with me or stay here by yourself.” He says as he walks out the room and with a heavy heart you follow him outside.
Sitting in the passenger seat silent he drives you both out to some random club with random people and quickly ditches you without even saying goodbye
Your boyfriend immediately left you in the corner as soon as you both got there, and there you were standing there like you knew you would be. Everyone's drinking and smoking who knows what and it makes your skin crawl at the fact that you have no clue who your even around right now.
"Hey beautiful. What're you doing here alone?" Some random creep says to you and you have to physically hold back from cringing into your skin, the alcohol evident on his breath.
"Sorry, I'm not looking for anyone" you say and quickly down your drink to move to the dance floor to get away. Bumping into strangers you realize the alcohol kicks in quicker than you thought it would. Eventually finding your boyfriend and rolling your eyes at the way he’s obviously flirting with another girl, you quickly realize you’re gonna have to find another way home tonight.
Trying your best to forget about your shitty excuse of a boyfriend, you very quickly start to dance with some random. Though the lights are extremely dark, you could tell he was handsome.
Told you he’s seen you around before, and than he’s been plotting on you for a while. His offering of a drink somehow turnt into you grinding against him and in the blink of an eye you’re stumbling into his apartment, drunk and insanely horny.
Lightheaded. That's the only word you could use to describe how you feel so early in the morning.
Forcing your eyes open you see the man who’s name is apparently Jack laying on your chest-knocked out asleep. You sigh and grab your phone to check the time: 5:30 am, you have a few notifications from the group chat you and your friends share; most of it just your friends being they’re usual crazy selfs with your other friends entertaining it.
Your hand finds itself into his hair, stroking it while he lets out quiet snores against you. The buzz from the alcohol must've followed you into the next morning cause you still feel so relaxed, head spinning but in a good way. You feel jack shift against you to pull you closer and you look down at him.
His eyes are on you now, mumbling a "good morning" while his hands run down your back and he presses a kiss on your collarbone. The action makes your heart flutter and you whisper "good morning" back to him, hand pushing the hair out of his face while he scoots up to lay his head in the crook of your neck.
“Jack, I really shouldn’t be here-“ “I know you have a boyfriend, pretty girl. I don’t care about him. He doesn’t deserve you.” He cuts you off with a mumble of the last part and you’re stuck in minor shock
You don’t protest his statement knowing that he was right. If your boyfriend can have some fun why can’t you?
You two have simple conversation, him asking what time it was and how you were and you responding. You scrolled through instagram seeing yet another picture of your boyfriend leaving the club with some random woman and he watched silently while rubbing his hands onto your waist. He suddenly hums and makes small pecks into your neck, kissing around until he finds a spot that makes you breathe a little heavier and leaning your head to the side so he can get better leverage at the spot.
"What're you doing?" You whisper, curious but making no effort to stop him. "Kissing you." He replied blankly, mumbling small praises in between the kisses. You move his head so you could kiss him on the lips— sloppily but passionate. He pinches your sides to make you gasp so that he can slip his tongue into your mouth, groaning into the kiss.
He moves a knee between your legs so you don't close them, moving your shirt up so he can kiss down your torso until he gets down to your pants. He looks up at you; asking with his eyes if he can remove them and you nod. He wastes no time taking your pants off and removing your underwear, dick twitching when he sees how wet you are.
'''S all for me?" He mumbles into your thigh and you nod again, breath hitching in your throat. "Use your words." He says, kissing up and down your thighs-both arousal and nervousness pooling in your stomach at the sight of him kneeled down in front of you. "Yes. All for you." You say, and you could barely get another word out before he begun to lick a stripe up your slit.
An audible gasp left your mouth while a groan left his, and your hand—that was previously holding your shirt up—flew to his hair and gripped onto it for balance.
"Why didn't you tell me you tasted so good?" Jack said, words coming out slurred due to him not bothering to stop the attack on your pussy. "H-when was I supposed to tell you tha- oh my god." you said, words getting cut off when his tongue circles your clit.
He's really eating you out now, head mushed between your thighs, licking and sucking every part of you his tongue can reach. You don't know how he became so alert so quickly, he just was damn near asleep barely even half an hour ago. The feeling becomes too much, you squirming around and him grabbing both of your thighs to bring you back to him, mumbling a "stay still for me" into your core as he continues.
It's only a few more moments until you get closer to the edge, whines and moans increasing in pitch as Jack inhumanly speeds up. " Jack, I'm close" you whine, and he just hums as he continues. Your thighs closing in on his head as you cum and him groaning, trying to practically drink it before you have to forcefully remove his head from your pussy. His eyes are low, filled with lust and you're panting, trying to catch your breath.
“I’m not done with you, pretty. Let me fuck that loser boyfriend of yours out of your head, hm?” He says as he drags you closer to the middle of the bed, near his now hard dick that was now very obviously poking through his shorts.
The fact that he’s not wearing a shirt makes this process much easier, as all he had to do was slide down his shorts and kick them off. You’re staring at him and you don’t know what to think right now, he’s huge. He looks at you for a brief moment before smirking, “you like what you see?” He says and your face gets a little hot when you realize you’ve been caught. He spits down into his hand and gives you a little show, jerking himself off and teasing his tip on your slit.
“I wanna suck you off” you suddenly blurt out and he can’t help but chuckle a little. “Next time, lovely. If I don’t fuck you right now I think I might explode.”
“Jack please don’t tease me” you whine and he kisses up from your collarbones to your ear, and whispers a beg for it into your ear. “Please, please, put it in. I need to feel you.” Was all it took from you before he put a hand next to your head and he was pushing himself into you.
He pushed in slowly, part of it wanting you to get you to the stretch, but the other part of it was for him to not cum quickly. “You’re so fucking tight y/n, god.” He groans out and you moan out when he finally bottoms out inside of you.
Jack doesn’t waste any time pounding into you as you quickly grab onto his shoulders for support. “Oh!” You cry out and he grunts in reply, “so fucking wet too. This turn you on? Having a real man take care of you like this.” He says as he grabs you by your chin so you can look at him and you sob out a yes for him.
“Feels so good, Jack. So full of you, fucking me so good” you whine out and he lets out what would seem to be a quiet whimper “keep talking to me like that and I’m definitely not gonna last long, baby.” He licks his thumb and brings it down to your clit to rub it in fast, tight circles that makes your jaw drop and your toes curl.
“Oh fuck! Jack!” You say as your back arches off the bed and he puts his other free hand on your back for support. “Come on baby, let go for me. Cum on this cock.” He whines into your neck and with a few more thrust you were creaming all over him. He keeps going and you quickly get overstimulated while he holds your hips down into the bed
“Just a little more, pretty. I’m gonna cum so fucking hard into you. Fuck.” He pants out and like he said, after a few more deep thrusts, he cums inside of you.
He gently lays on top of you as you both catch your breaths and come down from your orgasms. He kisses your temple and whispers about how he’s going to run you a bath and bring you some water.
“What am I going to wear? And as much as I would love to stay here I have to go home.” You whisper and he tells you not to worry about it, that you could take one of his shirts and he’ll take you home his self. You don’t object when he carries you to the bathroom and sets the water temperature to warm.
Begrudgingly getting out of jacks car and giving him your number, you grab your keys and walk into your very empty apartment. Usually you’d be upset, however this time you’ve never been more grateful. You wash your face and put on a movie to lay on the couch and rest.
You’re rudely awoken when your boyfriend walks through the door at 11:30 am and you don’t even bother to ask him where he’s been when you know exactly where he was.
“Hey babe.” He says and you hum a small “hey” back to him. He doesn’t even know you didn’t come home last night and you plan to keep it that way.
“What’s up with you? All relaxed.” He says and you shrug “I was taking a nap…” you say and he side eyes you. You don’t usually sleep unless he comes home but he lets it go as you were probably tired.
It’s been a few weeks of you and Jack sneaking around while your boyfriend doesn’t have a clue. And a part of you feels bad about it but then again he’s cheated multiple times and you’re simply not in love with him anymore.
Tomorrow, your boyfriend has a game against the New Jerseys devils which excites you because then you get to see Jack again.
“Why are you so happy to go? Never seen you this excited to see me kick some ass in a game before.” Your boyfriend chuckles as you mentally groan and put on a fake smile “just happy that I get to see my boyfriend play.” You lie straight out of your teeth, well not really. You are watching your boyfriend play, just not him. he smiles at your statement. “You know, recently you’ve been acting different. And honestly, I love it so much. You’re so much more calmer and it just makes me happy that knowing you regained that trust in me.” He said and you didn’t even respond. Just smiled like you didn’t know what was happening
“Only thing that’s pissing me off is that Jack kid” he says and you freeze. “…What do you mean?” “I mean like, he’s just some pretty boy who thinks he’s the shit. Thinks he can do whatever he wants and tonight I’m gonna beat his ass in this game tonight to show him who’s boss.” You don’t say anything once again and you’re left with your thoughts while your boyfriend flips through the tv to find a channel to watch.
By the time you left the house, your boyfriend was already on the ice getting ready to start his match. You’re about to sit down next to your friend when a text comes through your phone.
Jack 🤍
Come meet me after the game.
You shoot back a 👍 before putting your phone down and talking with the girl beside you.
It was obvious who was going to win. A devastating game for your boyfriend with a 4-0 to The new jersey devils but a celebratory one for your affair partner. Your boyfriend doesn’t even look at you, just gets in his car after taking off his gear and goes home. You don’t even care anymore, and after you see all the boys leaving the opposite teams locker room, you text Jack asking if it was okay for you to come to his apartment and he immediately sends a yes.
You walk into the place and immediately you’re hugged by him, which sends butterflies to your stomach and a bright genuine smile to your face.
“Missed you, gorgeous. Saw how I kicked ass out there?” He says as he pulls away to look at your face and you smile even harder “I did! You played so good, super proud of you” and he gives you a deep kiss as you both giggle.
“You have to stop! What if you leave a mark?” You whisper laugh and he nips at your ear “don’t care anymore. Let them know how much I love you.” He says and you suddenly feel flustered “Jack….” “Y/n. You don’t have to be with him anymore. I can take care of you so much better than he can and you know that.” He says with so much seriousness in his voice that you’re left speechless
“Jack-“ “I genuinely love you. seriously. I want to be with you.” He says and you have no words so you just kiss him again. The kissing turns into him pinning you against the wall and the grinding and groping is very evident.
“Take all this off baby. I need you right now” he says as you’re quick to push him down onto his couch. “Not this time. It’s your win. Let me take care of you” you say and he whispers a fuck while his eyes run along your body.
You take off your top and after a few minutes of kissing and grinding, you drop to your knees and he lets out a gasp of pleasure at you palming him.
You unzip his pants and he’s breathing heavily, anticipating what you’d do next. You spit onto his dick and roll your hand around it for a few strokes before giving gentle kisses to his tip.
“Baby don’t tease, thought you were taking care of me?” He whines out as you giggle “I am. Be patient for me.” You say and his next words fall flat on his tongue as you start tonguing his head.
Finally granting his wish, you dip your head down and take him fully down your throat. Your cheeks pulling in to suck him tighter while your head dipped up and down. A groan of surprise leaves his mouth as his eyes immediately become hooded.
“Fuck, angel. Such a nice mouth you have on you” he groaned out. But his muttering and whining was quickly cut off with the way you sloppily put your tongue on his balls
“Holy shit. Oh my fucking god baby. You’re incredible” he moans out as you continue to jerk him off while popping of on his balls out of your mouth and moving on to the one beside it.
You took him back into your mouth and your hands worked around what you couldn’t reach, the head of his dick kissing the back of your throat in a pleasureful burn and you can feel tears swelling in your eyes when he gently grabs your head and begins to start fucking his full length down your throat.
His moans and whines become more desperate every second and it’s obvious he’s close to cumming. Although you’re enjoying your time here, your phone suddenly starts ringing. It’s your boyfriend. Jack groans out partly in annoyance and in pleasure and then he gets an idea. “Wanna show your boyfriend how pretty you look when I cum down your throat.” He almost cries out and you moan around him “please baby, can I pick up the phone at let him he- oh fuck, let him hear how well you take me?” He says as he struggles to keep his composure with the way you’re deepthroating him, cutting himself off with his own moans
You hum in approval and Jack doesn’t waste any time picking up that phone and putting your boyfriend on speaker.
“Hey. Where are you-“ and all that’s heard is a loud gag through the room and the sloppy noises of your mouth on jack’s cock.
“Fuck baby. Keep going please. I’m so fucking close, oh my god.” Jack says as he throws his head back, face flushed and neck red as you hold his hips down and begin bobbing your head up and down again.
“Y/n?! What the fuck is happening?! Who is that?!!” Your boyfriend frantically says as Jack takes the phone. “She’s a pro at sucking dick. Honestly I have no clue how you could even let her out of your sight” Jack grunts out and hangs up the phone, not even wanting to bother with him right now.
A few more bobs of your head and Jack is cumming down your throat. Chest heaving as he does so. “Oh fuck, you’re so perfect, holy shit.” He whines out and you’re determined to clean him up completely, continuing to suck him off until he was completely finished
“Fuck- you trying to kill me over here? God” he says with a small laugh as you finally pop off his dick, catching your breath.
As you and Jack bask in the afterglow, your boyfriend is blowing up your phone and before you can reach for it, Jack stops you.
“You don’t need to worry about him anymore. You’re mine now.”
© copyright of ilythena. Do not repost or translate onto any other websites.
#jack hughes x you#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes smut#nhl x reader#nhl x you#nhl x y/n#jack hughes#jack hughes x y/n#new jersey devils#ꨄ angie’s works.
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Soulmate AU Part Two
Part One | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Steve doesn’t come to school for a week. Rumors are swirling around about why he suddenly disappeared after he turned 18, people speculating that it’s not Nancy to wildly inaccurate tales about Steve being linked to someone like old Mrs. Click. Nancy shuts down, telling people it’s none of their business but everyone still finds out they broke up.
When he finally comes back to school, Eddie almost can’t stand to see it. His eyes are sunken in, hollowed out with dark circles. The normal golden glow to his skin is gone, leaving a sickly hue and an aura of fuck off attitude. People keep their distance like he has the plague. This just feeds into the rumors that something horrible must’ve happened, especially since Steve has a cuff wrapped around his arm, hiding the name from prying eyes.
Eddie doesn’t engage with the gossip, even when the guys from Corroded Coffin try to shit talk Steve around him. Gareth suspects something but he hasn’t put the pieces together on how Eddie covered up his arm on his birthday and hasn’t let them see his wrist since that day, and how he’s suspiciously quiet in the face of the biggest jock in school having a hard time with whatever news he received. No one thinks anything of it because they were spaced so far apart. Everyone thinks Eddie is sympathizing with Steve’s situation. Instead he’s watching Steve’s life fall apart and it’s all his fault.
Steve can feel Eddie watching him, following him in the corridors, quietly staring at him while the gossip around them grows louder. He doesn’t understand why Eddie hasn’t said a word to him, not when he found out, not for an entire year, and definitely not now, when they both know what the other has written on their wrist. Maybe he’s waiting to see if Steve is going to lose his shit over it. Finally snap and tell everyone to fuck off because his soulmate is the freak and even he doesn’t want Steve.
When Steve was younger, he dreamed of his soulmate, held the imaginary person close when things got hard or when he felt like true love couldn’t possibly be real when the universe paired up people like his parents. But maybe Harringtons weren’t destined for happiness.
Eddie deserves someone better, someone he could love, who understands his interests, not some privileged spoiled rich boy whose idea of romance is flowers and sweet diner dates. Eddie would probably scoff in his face if Steve asked him to go on a date. He can hear the condescending laugh he’d receive if he showed up at Eddie’s trailer with flowers.
But fate, it seems, isn’t done with them. They keep running into each other. It’s inevitable, like clockwork, they’ll be standing at opposite ends of the hallway staring at each other, both too choked up to say anything, brushing past each other without a word. They end up at the nurses office at the same time, staring at the ground to avoid looking at each other until one of them gets called back for help. Steve’s picking up the Mayfield girl while Eddie’s outside smoking and Eddie nearly inhales the blunt when they make eye contact.
It all comes to a head one night, when Steve’s car won’t start and he’s stuck working on it in the parking lot after school. It happens to be on the same night as hellfire, Eddie the last one out of the drama club room, freezing at the edge of the parking lot when he spots Steve.
Part Three
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*found this in my drafts and i was prob heartbroken when I read this lmaooo*
Eddie Munson didn’t do girlfriends, he didn’t do love outside of the platonic kind for that matter. Eddie loved girls, he loved sex, but the romantic bullshit just wasn’t for him. He didn’t have the money to pay for expensive dates, he didn’t have the maturity for a real relationship, and he didn’t even have anyone to bring a significant other home to. He had no family, I mean sure he had Uncle Wayne and Wayne was a great guy. But Wayne worked a lot and he was often grumpy when he came back from work, not the friendliest guy to meet. As a matter of fact, the only person in Eddie’s life who met Wayne was Y/n.
Y/n was someone very dear to Eddie. Y/n was Eddie’s fuck buddy, the girl that maybe he loved a little more than platonically, but most of all, Y/n was Eddie’s best friend.
The whole fuck buddy thing started after a horrible hookup on her end, and Eddie was certain that he could be better than whatever scumbag she went out with that night, and he was. He would never admit how proud he was of that, though.
Eddie is slightly aware of his feelings for his best friend, he’d never tell her, but he would be lying if he said her presence doesn’t make him feel better. That the sight of her doesn’t just have him turned on, but brings him a sense of inner peace. He knows what these feelings are, but he also knows that they’re wrong. People like Eddie don’t deserve to feel those feelings, especially towards someone as great as Y/n. So he’s just letting them be for now, because he knows that she’ll find better eventually and he’s going to be okay with that, because having her as his best friend is good enough.
“Oh fuck Eddie.” Y/n moans from underneath him, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.
Eddie rocks above her, panting and moaning the entire time. “Fuck babe I’m close, so fucking close. Oh shit, here I come babe.” He says as his eyes squeeze shut and he fucks his orgasm into her, her climax quickly approaching.
He pulls out and rolls next to her, both of them panting. They make eye contact and smile, both of their stomachs doing flips, neither one knowing about the other.
“We did good, huh?” Eddie says jokingly and pulls a cigarette out, offering her one, which she happily takes.
Y/n laughs out loud and lightly hits his chest, “Shut up.”
“No I’m serious, that was one of our best rounds yet.”
She laughs again, but slowly goes into a trance.
Eddie lightly shakes her shoulder, “What’s wrong y/n/n?”
You look him in the eyes and Eddie gulps, “Eds, I think I’m in love with you.”
Eddie freezes, even though he’s in love with you, he also knows that your feelings aren’t real. Maybe you guys have slept with each other too many times that you’re just getting confused. But you can’t love him and you can’t be in love with him. You’re far too good for him.
“Eddie please say something. Please tell me you feel the same way.”She now has tears in her eyes knowing that she’s going to lose him.
“Y/n, baby, you know I can’t. I’m sorry, but you’ve known me for how long, I’m not a relationship guy.” He says and he shrugs you off.
You look at him incredulously. To not reciprocate feelings is one thing, but to completely blow you off by saying ‘i’m not a relationship” guy after all of your history together, is what makes you mad. And the tone he said it in, too, like an arrogant prick.
“So that’s that? You can’t say anything else.” She says with tears now streaming down her face.
Eddie is feeling a lot of things right now and that’s never good. When he feels too much he gets overwhelmed and deals with it by being angry. He’s never been angry at her before, though, but seeing her cry, mixed with her “confession” and he’s still dealing with his feelings for her, Eddie is feeling more than overwhelmed.
“What else do you want me to fucking say? You’ve known me for how many fucking years? Never once have I done relationships, and you’re no fucking different. What did you think just because we have a bit of history it would make any difference.” He yells at her, taking another puff of his cigarette trying to calm his nerves.
“‘A bit of history’ is that what your chalking up our years of friendship to now? You never act like this with me, and I try to be honest with you and you just lash out on me? I’m your best friend, not some asshole at school, try treating me with a little respect.” She says, finally putting her clothes back on while he stay naked under the covers. Even with the clothes covering her, she’s never felt more exposed in her life.
“Respect?!” Eddie laughs out loud. “I just had you a moaning mess underneath me and you’re demanding respect?” He instantly regrets saying this at the pain on her face, but again, he won’t let her see that.
“You are such a selfish dick, I’m leaving.” She says and starts walking out with tears and mascara streaking her face.
“I may be selfish, but at least I didn’t sleep with my best friend and catch feelings, ruining years of friendship!” He yelled back even though she’s already almost out the front door. Now he’s not only selfish, but a selfish liar.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie x reader#eddie munson angst#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson x you#best friend! eddie munson#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson smut
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Headcannons: Milf!abby anderson x reader (part 2)
Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4
☆ Milf Abby who tries really hard to talk to you but you’re making it so fucking difficult.
☆ Milf Abby who tries calling, texting, literally all forms of communication but you leave her on read and you don’t even pick up.
☆ Milf Abby who’s frustrated but she knows she deserves it.
☆ Milf Abby who wakes up one morning to see you sent her a text.
With shaky hands she clicked on the message. The simple text read 4 words:
“me, you this Friday?”
Abby blinked, and she sat in silence for a while.
Holy shit this was happening.
She responded with a simple “ok ill pick you up at six”.
☆ Milf Abby who jumps up from her bed and yells “I got the girl!” But soon regrets it when Aubrey walks in and tells her to shut up.
☆ Milf Abby who was on cloud nine all week.
☆ Milf Abby who tells her coworkers about the pretty girl she’s going on a date with on Friday.
☆ Milf Abby who smiles at you, when she picks up Aubrey, and her heart feels like it could explode when you give her a little wave.
☆ Milf Abby who asks Aubrey what your favorite color is because she wants to wear an outfit in that color, because she read in an article it’ll increase her chances.
“C’mon baby tell me” Abby groaned.
“Give me chocolate first”
Abby’s jaw dropped. “Aubrey its 9pm, you know you can’t eat chocolate at this time”
“No chocolate, no color”
Abby let out a sigh as she walked out of Aubrey’s room to her secret chocolate stash. She pulled out a chocolate bar, and she gave it to the little girl. Aubrey immediately opened the bar and she took a big bite.
“ok talk”
“she likes green” Aubrey spoke with a mouth full of chocolate.
☆ Milf Abby who takes her daughter to bed, and orders a custom suit in green.
☆ Milf Abby who goes to work the next day and finds out they hired someone new.
“Who is he?” she asked while looking at Nora.
“I don’t know man��
“as long as she doesn’t break my record”
Nora rolled her eyes “of course he won’t abs, you’ve won the most cases in this whole firm”
☆ Milf Abby who tenses when she sees who was hired.
☆ Milf Abby who felt sick when he walked towards her.
“hi I’m- “
“heaters dad”
“Yeah” he chuckled “my name is actually Jason”
“I’m Abby”
The air was tense.
“what do you want dude” Abby said irritated.
“Look are you and the new teacher together?” He asked. Abby felt her eye twitch at his question.
“It’s none of your business”
☆ Milf Abby who thought her week was ruined, but when she got home her suit had arrived.
☆ Milf Abby who almost pees herself on Friday morning because today is the day.
☆ Milf Abby who takes the day off to get away from Jason and to relax.
☆ Milf Abby who spends hours on Pintrest to look for the perfect hairstyle.
☆ Milf Abby who’s ready by 3 in the afternoon.
☆ Milf Abby who asks Aubrey and her dad how she looks before she walks out.
“So how do I look?” she watched her dad smile at her.
“you look perfect Abby”
“now go get your girl!” she heard Aubrey yell.
☆ Milf Abby who made you a bracelet, and flowers out of paper.
☆ Milf Abby who sees Jason’s car outside the school.
☆ Milf Abby whose heart shatters when she hears your conversation.
“I’m going on a date with Abby” she heard your voice.
“Isn’t she too old for you? She’s in her 40s isn’t she?”
“what does age have to with anything?”
“she’s old”
yeah she was.
fuck, Abby knew too old. She didn’t even stay to listen to the conversation.
Abby ran out the school and she sobbed in her car. She should’ve know this would never work.
If only she stayed behind to hear how you defended her. If only she waited for you.
☆ Milf Abby who came home crying.
“Mommy what’s wrong- “Abby walked right past her daughter
“it’s ok let her go” she heard her dad say.
☆ Milf Abby who fell asleep crying.
☆ Milf Abby who wakes up with multiple texts from you.
“Hey where are you?”
“Abby?”
“are you ok?”
“I’m waiting for you”
“I’m home now”
“did you change your mind”
“Abby?”
With a shaky breath Abby blocked your number.
☆ Milf Abby who ignores your existence once again.
☆ Milf Abby who sees you smiling at her, but she just nods back at you.
☆ Milf Abby who tells you have no future together.
Aubrey climbed into the car, and before Abby could drive away she heard a knock on her window. It was you.
“Hey” Abby said after lowering the window.
“Hi Abby- “
“call me Mrs. Anderson” she watched as your face dropped.
You cleared your throat “I’m sorry Mrs. Anderson, I just wanted to ask what happened the other night?”
“I realized that this wasn’t going to work”
“why?”
“because you’re too young. I need someone more mature”
“Oh”
Abby could feel the sadness radiating off you.
“You should go for someone your own age”
“Ok Mrs. Anderson, I understand. Thank you for your time”
☆ Milf Abby who feels bad after her daughter calls her stupid.
☆ Milf Abby who makes a realization by the help of her daughter.
“You made my teacher sad”
“Aubrey I don’t care stop telling me- “
“you do care. I see the way you look at her” Abby sighed at her daughter’s answers.
She does care. She downloaded social media to stalk you. She stared learning internet slang for you.
“Heathers dad said that he wants to ask her on a date-”
“what?”
“I heard him say that he’s going to ask her out but then I said no because you wanted to go on a date with her”
Then it clicked.
He was there that day to cause trouble.
fuck.
He wanted to get into Abby’s head. And he did. He started working at Abby’s law firm to watch her. To figure out her moves. Her weaknesses.
He must’ve heard her and Nora talk about the age gap. She made a mistake.
☆ Milf Abby who runs to unblock your number and calls you.
☆ Milf Abby who felt like she could cry when you didn’t pick up.
☆ Milf Abby who whimpers your name when you eventually pick up the phone.
“what do you want Mrs. Anderson?”
“No look I made a mistake, please listen- “
“you can’t keep doing this….You say you like me then you ghost me- I’m sick of your shit Abby”
“look I heard Jason say that you deserve someone younger- “
“well maybe I do”
Abby went quite at that.
You spoke up again: “I need someone who’s mature, someone who can communicate but what do I know Abby I’m immature, am I not? Because apparently you know what that maturity means”
“Please” she sighed.
“Please I’m begging you” Abby begged again.
The line went quite for a while.
“Come to my class tomorrow so we can talk”
☆ Milf Abby who goes to work the next day and she goes to Jason’s office.
☆ Milf Abby who confronts him, and almost beats the shit out of him when he calls her a grandma.
☆ Milf Abby who gets into trouble but it was worth it.
☆ Milf Abby who goes to your class later that day.
She watched as you sat behind your desk. “Sit” you commanded and she did.
☆ Milf Abby who tells you the whole story.
“sorry won’t cut it Abby, you said the same thing the last time”
“Just because he said that doesn’t mean you have the right to ghost me”
“I’m sorry”
“Look just one more chance please”
“why should I trust you?”
“because I’m me”
You rolled your eyes at Abby’s response.
Abby reached out to grab your head, and your head snapped in the direction of you interlocked fingers.
“words mean nothing” you spoke.
“just trust me please and-” but before she could finish you leaned in to kiss her.
It was slow, passionate, and it was filled with so much love. Abby pulled away, only to get up and walk to side of the desk where you sat. She went on knees and she and put her hands on your waist. The two of you started at each other.
“Fuck” she breathed before you kissed her again.
☆ Milf Abby who jumps up when she heard Aubrey yell “ew!”
☆ Milf Abby who was really embarrassed.
☆ Milf Abby who turned as red as a tomato, she felt like a teenager being caught in the act.
“Why did you go on your knees?” you asked, still heavily breathing.
“it’s a way of showing submission” she shrugs.
“I’m trying to show you that you have me, despite our age difference” Abby explained.
“I’d let you do anything to me” she confessed.
☆ Milf Abby who goes home that night and smile the whole time.
☆ Milf Abby who keeps touching her lips, because yours were there.
☆ Milf Abby who apologizes to Aubrey for seeing such an act.
“It’s ok” the little girl reassured her.
“Now go get her before Heathers dad does”
☆ Milf Abby who shows up to school the next day to bring you lunch.
☆ Milf Abby who spells out the words “May i be your girlfriend?” with different fruit in the lunch box. All you did was smile at the sight.
☆ Milf Abby who was chewing her nails, waiting for your response.
“This is very romantic Anderson” you spoke. She watched as you but the lunch box on the table, you walked towards her.
“Get on your knees Abby” and she did so immediately.
“Why?” she asked while being on her knees.
“you’re too tall, I can’t kiss you when you’re standing”
The two of you shared a quick kiss.
“So is it a yes?” Abby asked, her lips inches away from yours.
“Yeah”
“Fuck yes” she breathed as she got up, picking you up and placing you on your desk. The two of you shared another kiss before you pulled away.
“Promise me something”
“What?”
“No more ghosting”
“yes ma’am”
“you’ll tell me if you feel insecure”
“yes”
“and one more thing Abby”
“what?”
“you aren’t too old for me. I like my women mature” you added as you wrapped your arms around her neck. Abby chuckled.
☆ Milf Abby who wanted to kiss you again before she heard your daughter yell “fucking finally” as she stood at the door.
“Who taught you that word?”
“grandpa did”
“of course he did”
☆ Milf Abby who was the happiest women ever, since that moment.
☆ Milf Abby who knew you were the one.
☆ Milf Abby who already goes wedding ring shopping and who plans your future together despite only dating you for 2 days at that point.
My pookies (the tag list): @mousymaven @lia-winther @zombholic
#abby anderson tlou2#abby tlou2#abby the last of us#abby tlou#abby anderson#abby anderson angst#abby anderson drabble#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson fanfiction#abby anderson fic#abby anderson fluff#abby anderson headcanons#abby anderson imagine#abby anderson smut#abby anderson x f!reader#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x y/n#abby anderson x you#abby x fem!reader#abby x reader#abby x y/n#abby x you#tlou abby#tlou art
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Valentine’s Day smut w Ethan Landry since tomorrow Valentine’s Day and I’m kinda lonely 🥲
I ended up going all in on this lmao. It's 3.6k words, I hope you like it!!!
The Admirer - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader
This contains SMUT - Minors DNI
Summary: After swearing off Valentine's Day, your secret admirer gives you hope that not all guys suck.
Contains: *Oral - f and m recieving, fluff, inexperienced!Ethan*
A/N: I got another request after this one for a non-smut Valentine's Day fic, and I might not make it to that one today. I'm so sad about it😫
Valentine’s Day, or as you liked to call it ‘Just another regular day’, isn’t something you celebrated. You used to hope that someone would do something special for you, but after your previous boyfriend dropped the ball every single year and didn’t see the point of celebrating it when you’d go all out for him, you stopped caring about the holiday. This year, with you being single, you were happy that you weren’t going to feel disappointed by the lack of someone else’s effort.
As you got up to get ready, your roommate was heading out the door to get to her first class early.
“Awww,” you heard her say, angling your head to see what she was talking about. “There’s some balloons and roses out here.”
“Who do you think left it for you?” you asked, as she shook her head.
“No babe, this is for you. Look!” She brought the basket containing all the cute Valentine’s Day stuff over to you. You glanced at the tag, seeing your name. “This is so cute! It doesn’t say who it’s from, though.”
“This is probably some kind of prank,” you scoffed, as she rolled her eyes.
“What college kid is going to spend that kind of money on long stemmed red roses for a prank?” she asked, smiling at you. “You have a secret admirer!”
You tried to fight the smile that was forming on your lips, but you couldn’t. This was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you.
“Ooh, they left a card, too,” she said, pulling the envelope out of the basket. “Open it!”
“Okay, okay. Jeez,” you said, peeling the heart-shaped sticker that was sealing the envelope.
You smiled as you started to read it, a blush creeping up on your cheeks.
“What does it say?” she squealed, as you giggled at her excitement. “Sorry, this is just so cute. I need to know.”
“Okay,” you sighed, “It says: I hope you don’t mind me doing this for you. I think you’re really special, and you deserve to be treated like you are. I’d like to take you to dinner tonight if you’re interested. I know it’d be easier for you to make that decision if you know who I am, but I’m a little nervous. I got you a present, and if you do want to take a chance with me, I’d like you to wear it. I’ll see you around today, and if you are wearing it, I’ll meet you in the flower garden at seven.”
Your roommate saw a jewelry box sitting in the basket, “Oh shit, this must be what he wants you to wear!”
She grabbed it and handed it to you. As you opened the box, you smiled at the sweet gesture. “It’s a necklace with a little heart on it,” you squealed, showing her before snapping the box shut.
“Are you going to wear it?” she asked, a huge smile on her face.
“Yeah, I think I can give whoever that did all this for me a chance,” you said, taking the necklace out of the box and hooking the clasp around the back of your neck.
“He said he’ll see you around today, I wonder who it is,” she sat there thinking. “I bet it’s someone you already know.”
“That’s the thing, I know a lot of people. Fingers crossed that it isn’t the creepy English professor,” you sighed, starting to get nervous.
“I don’t think it’s him. There’s no way he’d walk into our dorms with roses and balloons and drop them off outside a student’s door,” she said, “Okay, get up! You need to get ready so you can figure out who this is!”
You made it through your first two classes of the day, and still had no idea who your secret admirer was. You were hoping that it would be obvious. When you sat down to have lunch with your friends, Tara looked over and saw the necklace.
“Aww, that’s so cute! Is it new?” she asked, as Ethan and Chad walked up to the table, sitting down with their lunch.
“Yeah, someone left some stuff outside of my dorm for me this morning. This was in a jewelry box,” you smiled, as Tara started to get excited.
“Do you know who left it?” Mindy asked, glancing over to Ethan.
“No, but whoever it is wants me to meet them in the flower garden at seven,” you smirked, “I’m really excited.”
Ethan was trying to fight the smile on his face as Chad fist-bumped him under the table.
“That’s really sweet, I bet he’s a good dude,” Chad said, taking a bite of his food.
“I hope so. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before,” you said, “I was hoping I’d figure out who it was before tonight. The card that was with the stuff said he’ll see me around today.”
“Maybe you already have seen him today,” Mindy mumbled as she scrolled through her phone.
“Yeah, maybe,” Ethan said, rubbing the back of his neck. He was starting to wonder what your reaction would be later in the night when you walked out to the flower garden and saw him sitting there. As happy as you were with what he’d done for you, he was still scared of rejection. “I think I need to get to my next class.”
“Dude, it doesn’t start for thirty minutes,” Chad said, before noticing the anxiety on Ethan’s face. “But I don’t blame you for wanting to beat the heavy foot traffic.”
“Yeah, it can get a little crazy. I’ll see you guys later,” Ethan said, standing up and throwing away the rest of his food.
“That was weird,” Mindy said, as Chad nudged her with his foot under the table. “What?”
After lunch, the rest of the day flew by. When you made it back to your dorm, your roommate helped you get ready.
“You look so cute!” she said, taking in your appearance. You didn’t know what your secret admirer would be wearing, so you were really hoping you weren’t underdressed.
“Yeah, but what if he shows up in like, a suit or something,” you laughed, looking down at the outfit.
“This guy has to know you. I highly doubt he’d show up like that,” she said, adding some light blush to your cheeks. “You look hot, don’t overthink it.”
You grabbed your phone, the ‘6:40’ on the screen making you nervous.
“Fuck, I need to go. I’m going to be late.”
“Be safe. Text me if you need me,” she smiled, walking you to the door.
The February air was chilly as it started to get darker outside. Your hands slid inside your jacket pockets as you walked the path to the garden. The only flowers bloomed were the winter ones, but the fountains and the soft glow of the lights on the ground made everything look so beautiful in the distance. You saw someone sitting on the bench, your heart racing as you stepped closer.
“Ethan?” you asked, your eyes adjusting to see one of your best friends sitting there. You were relieved when you saw him in his normal attire.
“Hey,” he said, “Sorry if this is a little weird.”
You smiled at him as you sat beside him on the bench.
“You’re the one that left me that stuff this morning?” you asked as he rubbed his hands against his lap.
“Yeah, I’m sorry if you’re disappointed that it’s me.”
“Why would I be disappointed?” you asked, taking one of his hands in yours, attempting to calm his nerves. He smiled at the gesture. “I’m happy it’s you.”
“Really?” he smiled, “I’ve been so nervous all day.”
“If you would’ve asked me out, I would’ve said yes. Don’t get me wrong, I love that you did all this for me, but you didn’t have to,” you said, as he started to rub his thumb against the top of your hand.
“You’re worth it. I got the idea the other day when we were at Tara’s, and you were talking about your ex never doing anything special for you. It bummed me out because I think you’re amazing and deserve the world. I thought today would be the perfect time to shoot my shot,” he started to laugh, “If I knew you were interested, I would’ve said something sooner.”
“I think you picked the perfect time,” you said, as his eyes looked between yours and your lips. He started to lean in, but then he just stopped.
“Uh, maybe we should get to dinner,” he said, looking away and standing up.
He grabbed your hand as you stood up. You started to walk towards the garden exit when you stopped him.
“Wait,” you said, standing in front of him. He looked confused as you grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. You stood on your tippy toes as he leaned down to kiss you. He had a goofy smile on his face when you pulled away. “I thought this was the perfect spot for our first kiss.”
“I think it’s the perfect spot for our second one, too,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again. “Now, let’s go to dinner.”
“Okay,” you giggled.
He held your hand as you walked down the sidewalk towards the restaurants on campus. You bumped into Chad and Tara outside of the cute little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that the friend group regularly liked to go to. Chad was excited, while Tara was confused.
“Wait! Ethan was your secret admirer?” she asked, looking up to Chad. She stared him down as she realized he already knew. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you tell her everything,” Chad said, motioning to you, “Mindy knew, too.”
“What the fuck?” she said, smiling as she looked at your hand in Ethan’s. “You better treat her right.”
“I will,” he said, “We’re going to dinner, I guess I’ll see you later?”
Chad shook his head, “No, I’m staying at Tara’s tonight.”
“Oh, cool. You guys have fun,” he said, waving as you walked into the restaurant.
Chad and Tara walked in a few minutes later, sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant. They didn’t want to make things weird, even though you kept catching Tara glance over to you.
“So, you had no idea it was me?” he asked, after the waitress took the drink order.
“No, I didn’t think you were interested in me.” His eyes went wide.
“I’ve always been interested. Since the first day Tara invited you to have lunch with us,” he smiled, “Chad tried to push me to ask you out.”
“So why didn’t you?” you questioned, as the drinks were sat down in front of you.
“I guess it was the whole ‘the hot girl could never want the dorky virgin’ thing,” you started to laugh.
“If anything, I think it’s hot that you’re a virgin,” you smirked, his cheeks turning pink as he sat across from you. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s the innocence factor.”
“So, if we had sex, would you be less into me?” he started to get embarrassed, “Wait, forget I said that. That was dumb.”
Watching him get so flustered as he spoke and stumble over his words was adorable. You didn’t want to keep the conversation sexual with it being the first date, but you did need to assure him.
“No, it would be even hotter that you wanted to do that with me,” you smirked, taking his hand in yours on top of the table. “But there’s no rush for that. I don’t want you to think it’s a deal breaker for me if you want to wait.”
“Okay, that’s good to know,” he said, moving his hand from yours so the waitress had room to set the food down. “Thank you,” he said to her as she walked away.
After both of you ate, Ethan wasn’t ready for the night to end.
“Do you want to come to my dorm? We could watch a movie or something,” he said, lacing his fingers in yours.
“Sure,” you smiled, as he led the way. “As long as it’s something that’s so romantic it’ll make me cry.”
He started to laugh, “Deal.”
When you made it to the dorm, he suggested Titanic.
“You know it’s three hours long, right?” you asked, sitting on his bed.
“It gives me an excuse to spend more time with you,” he shrugged, grabbing his laptop. “As long as that’s okay with you.”
“That sounds perfect.”
You snuggled against him as he pushed play, his arm wrapping around you as he held you close. His hand started to rub your side; the simple motion very soothing.
“Okay, I need to sit up for a minute or I’m going to fall asleep,” you said, removing your head from his chest.
“I wouldn’t mind if you fell asleep on me,” he said, turning his head to kiss you.
“Yeah, but then I’d ruin the rest of the date,” you said, kissing him again.
His hand went to the side of your face as he deepened the kiss. Your lips flowed so well with his. You were both getting turned on when he pulled away. You had a confused look on his face, and as badly as he wanted to keep going, he cared about you too much.
“I don’t want you to think this is all I want from you,” he said, his breathing heavy.
“I know it’s not, but I told you earlier, we can wait as long as you want to.”
You laid your head back on his chest, trying to focus on the movie when you noticed the bulge in his jeans. It took everything in you to turn the attention back to the movie. You almost felt wrong to feel this way, but you’d known him for almost a year. It wasn’t like this was the first time the two of you had spent time together.
As Rose and Jack started to fall in love, you felt his hand rubbing against your side again. You didn’t feel like you could fall asleep this time as the movie started to get interesting.
“Hey,” Ethan said, “Can I kiss you again?”
“Mhm,” you said, angling your neck so his lips could reach yours. The position wasn’t that comfortable for you, and he could tell, so he scooted you off of him and hovered over you.
“Is this okay?” he asked, leaning in closer. You nodded before he connected his lips to yours. His hand went to your hip as yours went to his hair. When your shirt started to slip up a little and his fingers brushed against the exposed skin, you gently pushed him off you.
His eyes were dark with lust, you were sure yours looked the same.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, “I’m sorry If I did.”
“No, you didn’t. I’m just, uh, fuck,” you sighed as he waited for you to continue, “You’re really, uhm…fuck it. You’re making me wet.”
“Really?” he smirked, trying to hide his excitement that his lack of experience didn’t seem to matter.
“Yeah, the way you’re kissing me is just…ugh,” you groaned, the sexual frustration evident to Ethan.
“You could let me take care of you,” he said, his hand running along your thigh over your jeans.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” you questioned; he quickly nodded his head. “But what about you, though?”
“We can talk about that after,” he said, leaning back down to kiss you. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
He started to slide your shirt up your torso as you sat up a little to make it easier for him to pull it over your head. His mouth started to kiss along the newly exposed skin, stopping at the top of your breasts.
“Can you help me with this?” he laughed, as you reached behind yourself and unhooked it. “Okay, I think I’ve got it from here.”
He slid the straps down your arms and tossed your bra to the other side of the room. You started to whimper when he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling across it before he switched to the other side. His hands were running along your thigh, over your pussy and up to the button of your jeans.
When he unbuttoned them and started to slide the material down your legs, the anticipation was killing you. You felt how his mouth moved against your nipples, desperate to know how good his mouth would feel when he ate you out. Your whimpers got louder at his actions and your own thoughts.
He started to kiss lower, your body squirming underneath him.
“You okay, baby?” he asked, looking up at you.
“Mhm,” your eyes fluttered closed as he kissed you even lower over the material of your panties.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, leaning back to slide those down your legs, too. “If what I’m doing doesn’t feel good, will you tell me?”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine, but yes, I will,” you smiled, your breathing heavy.
He leaned in, the simple lick to your clit making your hips jolt. He looked back up at you, “That felt good, keep doing that.”
His tongue flicked again as he watched you. Your hand went to his hair when you looked down at him, the eye contact turning you on even more.
“Oh fuck,” you moaned, as his tongue dipped inside of you. “You’re doing so good, baby.”
The praise you were giving him went straight to his throbbing cock. He was proud of himself, happy that he was making you feel good. He’d thought about this so many times, and this was better than he could’ve ever imagined.
His mouth continued to move against you, going back to your clit as he slipped a finger inside your core that was dripping with both his spit and your own arousal.
“Right there,” you gasped as he angled his finger just right.
“Can I use two?” he asked, as he pulled away from your sensitive clit.
“Please,” you said, as he added another finger. “Oh my god.”
“That feel good?” he asked, watching the way your eyebrows knitted together and your jaw dropped.
“Yes,” you moaned out, his fingers making your orgasm start to build.
Your pussy started to occasionally flutter around his fingers. He wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but he knew it must’ve felt good as your moaning got louder. His mouth went back to your clit, sucking it into his mouth.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, as his fingers and mouth kept moving. He felt like he could cum at the feeling of your walls spasming around his fingers, not to mention the borderline-pornographic moans falling out of your mouth.
“How was that?” he asked, crawling up the bed to lay beside you.
“Holy fuck,” you said, your breathing still labored. “That was perfect.”
The throbbing in his cock was starting to get painful as he waited for you to catch your breath. He didn’t want to ask you to do anything for him, because he wanted you to know that everything he’d done for you earlier in the day wasn’t to get into your pants. It was to show you how much he cared about you.
“So…about me taking care of you…” you smirked at him, “Can I?”
“Only if you want to,” he said, “No pressure.”
“Oh, I want to,” you said crawling on top of him.
He sat up a little as you helped him take his shirt off. When you kissed his neck, he started to smile. It felt good, but he also felt the necklace he gave you brushing against him.
As you kissed over his chest and down his abs, he couldn’t stop watching the way your ass stuck up in the air. He almost wanted to cave and fuck you, but he was determined to hold out, at least until next time.
You quickly unbuttoned his jeans as he lifted a little so you could slide them down, grabbing onto his boxers as you did so. His cheeks reddened as he was fully exposed in front of you, nervous about what you thought.
“The shy guys always have the biggest dicks,” you sighed, licking his tip. You watched him as you teased him with the gentle licks, before focusing on taking him in your mouth.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned as you started to suck. “That feels so good.”
Your mouth kept moving, your drool sliding down the rest of his cock that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You started to stroke him, the combination of that and your mouth making his orgasm quickly creep up.
His hand went to your hair as his hips started to thrust a little, making you gag around him.
“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, the pretty sound making you suck a little harder.
His eyes screwed shut as he released his hot cum in your mouth. His legs were tingling as you were overstimulating him a little, whines flooding out of his mouth.
“Sorry, babe,” you said after pulling away, “I couldn’t help it. Your cum tastes so good.”
It was your turn to crawl up beside him, laying your head on his chest as he caught his breath.
“Can we do that again sometime?” he asked, his fingers tracing along your back.
“Whenever you want,” you giggled, as he got quiet. “What are you thinking about?”
“Just how hot it was to see you naked wearing nothing but that necklace,” he mumbled, getting sleepy.
When you sat up, his eyes opened. He didn’t want you to go anywhere. When you started to smile as you posed on the bed beside him, he started to laugh.
“Will you draw me like one of your French girls?” you asked, referencing the movie that you didn’t get to finish.
“The best I can do is a stick figure with boobs.”
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Do you have anymore platonic fics in those drafts of yours 👀
The f1 fandom has a severe drought of those and your my supplier lol
The Menace
Austin Butler x female!reader Formula one grid & female!driver!reader
Summary - After Y/n’s boyfriend cheated on her, she really had that post break up glow!!
Warning - swearing, alcohol, cheating, break ups
A/n - Your wish is my command, currently sat in the hairdressers with toner on lolll 😚
Few notes -
1. No shame to Austin Butler
2. Face claim is Kaia Gerber
3. Reader drives for Ferrari, taking Carlos’ spot
-
f1gossip
Rumour has it: Ferrari driver Y/n L/n and her boyfriend, actor Austin Butler have been rumoured to be broken up after Butler was seen in a club just outside of London Soho. L/n had to dnf from the Sunday race in São Paulo last weekend after her car suffered some mechanical damage in the formation lap.
Liked by username and 2,836 others
username After the season Y/n had this year in Ferrari, she doesn’t deserve this!!!
username Oooo he has fucked up!
= username Lost a rare find, he’ll never find one like herrrr
username Y/n just get with me, I’ll treat you right😚
f1gossip
Rumour has it: After it was rumoured that Ferrari driver Y/n L/n and actor Austin Butler had broken up, L/n was seen this morning supposedly with bloodshot and puffy eyes on the streets of not so sunny Monte Carlo. With a few days to go until the new Las Vegas Grand Prix, how will Y/n spend her short time off?
Liked by username and 3,922 others
username Poor girl is going through a breakup but paparazzi still want to barge into her busy, disgusting 😒
username She still slays tho!!
username I would say she’ll get redemption in Vegas but with the car atm I highly doubt
= username AGREED
username Hoping for a post break up glow 🥹
= username OMFG CAN YOU IMAGINE 🥵🤤
scuderiaferrari
Las Vegas…we’re coming for you
Liked by f1 and 87,926 others
username Hoping for a good Ferrari weekend pleaseee
username After Y/n’s break up she deserves a miracle this weekend 🙌🏻
username Charles what are you wearing??? 😃
username Just wait it we all see Austin crawling back for her, just you wait!!
username Polar opposites, Charles all dressed up and Y/n keeping it simple but effective
username Please someone beat Max and get first PLEASEEE
yourusername
Any boys in Las Vegas, I’m here early but please no Elvis 🤮
Liked by georgerussell and 107,936 others
username YOOO MISS GURL
username She really out here shaming him publicly. Love it 😍
landonorris And this is why we call you the menace
= yourusername So glad I live up to the name 😋
username austinbutler Look what you missed out on loll
username Not her mentioning his biggest role and then putting a throwing up emoji next to it LMAO
maxverstappen1 Y/n don’t get to crazy
= yourusername No promises 😇
= danielricciardo She is definitely going to get black out drunk tonight omfg
= maxverstappen1 100%
austinbutler
Never really liked red Ferrari, it’s tacky and old fashioned
Liked by username and 54,926 others
username Oh shit he’s fighting back!!
username Their pr teams are gonna be so annoyed with both of them frrr
username Patiently waiting for mother to put him in his rightful spot 😌
yourusername Everyone is a ferrari fan, even if they say they’re not, they are Ferrari fans - Sebastian Vettel 😚
~~ Liked by sebastianvettel and 123,037 others
username OMFG SHE SNAPPED BACKKK
username The Menace is back at it again!! 🙌🏻🙌🏻
charles_leclerc Sort yourself out mate
~~ Liked by yourusername and 109,935 others
username Not both Ferrari drivers clapping back LMAO
yourusername
Babes get over yourself 🍾
Liked by lewishamilton and 113,025 others
username Girl really said ‘Calm your fucking ego down’ 🙌🏻
username LOVING THIS 🤍🤍
username Hot ass female driver and some random drivers
sebastianvettel Loved see the grid again, thank you
= yourusername Always 🫶🏻
username austinbutler
username You just know that Y/n and Lewis were best dressed there!! Hands down!!
mickschumacher You definitely brought the party 👏🏻👏🏻
= yourusername It’s my job Mickey!!
username THE CAPTION She really is the menace!!! 🤩
f1 posted a story
username FERRARI DRIVERS ARE SERVING CUNT OMFG 😍😍
username Y/n is really showing her really style and I’m living for itttt
username THE HAIR SUNGLASSES MAKEUP AND WHOLE OUTFIT 🥵🥵
username Charles really let her have spot light and rightfully so!!!
username Austin really fumbleddd
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#formula one#formula one x reader#lando norris#charles leclerc#max verstappen#daniel ricciardo#carlos sainz#oscar piastri#sebastian vettel#lewis hamilton#yuki tsunoda#george russell#pierre gasly#mick schumacher#ferrari racing#scuderia ferrari#forza ferrari#ferrari#ferrari f1#austin butler#austin butler x reader#formula one x y/n#formula 1#formula racing#lando norris x reader#charles leclerc x reader#max verstappen x reader#carlos sainz x reader#daniel riccardo x reader#oscar piastri x reader
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Little Mouse | Pairing biker!Joel Miller X fem!Reader
Summary: Date night. Your favorite. You're dressed up and ready for a good time, only to find out that your sleazeball boyfriend is really just a jerk. Stood up and now alone in a bar on the bad side of town, you quickly come to realize you shouldn’t be there for more reasons than one. An unexpected savior to your shit night, a masked motorcycle rider quite literally saves your life, not caring whose blood was on his hands as a result. His only ask as a token of your appreciation? That you go for a ride with him. What could ever possibly happen?
Rating: 18+ Minors DNI, like seriously, this shit is dark AF. I say this with love -- GTFO.
Word count: 10K (yeah, we know, wtf)
Warnings: Implied cheating (fuck her boyfriend) mentions of being stalked, suggestion of sexual assault/rape (not by Joel!), murder, blood, alcohol (reader is tipsy), switchblades, motorcycles, prey/predator complex, dom/sub, use of ‘little mouse, little one, baby’ also ‘sir and daddy.’ Fingering, female stimulation, dub-con, collaring, leather kink, mask kink, face-fucking, blowjob, praise kink, painful sex, choking, reader crawling on her knees, unprotected sex, brat taming, p in v, cowgirl, size kink, creampie, ownership kink, breeding kink.
Authors Note: I AM SCREAMING. This was such a treat to work on with the lovely and talented @josephquinnswhore. This is my first collaborative fic, and the whole time Tay and I were just crying at how much we wish this version of Joel was real. This was truly a labor of love. Whether this is a hit or a flop, it doesn't matter to me, as I was lucky to get a sexy new friend out of it. Tay -- ilysm. Thanks for working on this with me.
P.S. to my U.S. followers, you get this earlier than Saturday because it's already Saturday across the world, so enjoy your Friday night smut sesh.
The thudding noise of your fingers tapping against the hardwood of the bar makes for an easy outlet for your anxiety, although the woman next to you gives you an irritating look, obviously annoyed by the vibrations rolling their way down to her elbows resting on the bar top.
Twenty minutes. That’s how long you’ve been sitting at this miserable bar, the Cadillac Lounge.
It's quite a shit little dive – you had expected something fancier, but your boyfriend insists it’s ‘one of the best’, citing their famous hot wings and heavy pours. If it was truly one of the best, then shouldn’t he be here by now. Where the fuck is he?
In the 20 minutes that have passed since you got here, not only are you getting uncomfortable sitting at the bar by yourself, dodging glances from questionable patrons, but you've come to the conclusion that not only is he late, but he’s also a cheap bastard, and probably doesn’t think you deserve anything fancier.
Hell–you're dressed way too nice to be in a bar of this caliber in a sketchy part of town you’d never been to before. It's loud outside, and some people in the bar are too drunk—too rowdy, yet the man behind the bar stays silent as he passes you your second dirty martini. A marvel they even know how to make a martini. His silence makes you think it’s an all-common occurrence in this place; a pretty girl at the bar by herself, waiting for some shitbag guy to walk through the door.
The dress that clings to your body is one you bought specifically for this occasion; specifically for him – a mid-thigh-black leather dress – hoping he’d take you out somewhere nicer than a run-down bar where the stool legs were uneven and the television hardly caught reception. The soft material hugs every inch of you perfectly, and the spaghetti straps allow for plenty of cleavage to be seen. Your wallet aches as you remind yourself of the price of your black red-bottom heels; the effort you’d put into getting your nails manicured, and eyelashes done.
The floor is mismatched, an ugly shade of dark red wood that hasn't been cleaned in god knows how long; by the way your heels stick to the floor with each step, you can only assume it's been months, maybe even years. The pool tables in the back of the bar are dimly lit, and the floor surrounding them is a dark crème colored carpet, although there are plenty of stains, deep red and mustard yellow from wine and beer spilled in the ‘no drinking zone.’
A ping from your phone alerts you of a text message, and you stop your anxious tapping on the bar, almost dropping your phone onto the floor you were fumbling so fast to see what message you’d received. The woman two seats down finally adverts her irritated gaze from you.
Hey, not gonna make it tonight – I'm going to give Ashley a ride home from work, sorry to leave you hanging.
Ashley, as in his former ex-girlfriend, Ashley. He’s skipping out on date night to give his ex-girlfriend a ride home? What the actual fuck.
You blink stupidly, the longer you stare at the screen the blurrier the words become. Tears gather in your lash line, and the letters melt together to become large black shapes, eventually becoming unrecognizable, but it’s too late to forget them; they’re ingrained into the back of your eyelids, and when you finally close your eyes, a few tears fall from the outer corners.
What an asshole. You’re done. This is the last straw.
You begin to furiously tap out a response to him, leaving nothing but little click click click echos in the air as you do. Hot tears streaming down your face, no doubt ruining your mascara, you hit send on your response.
You know what – if you’re gonna give Ashley a ride home from work and leave me in this absolute shitshow of a bar, by myself, on OUR date night, you can fuck right off. We’re done.
Jerk.
You drop your phone back into your purse, and your fingers instinctively grip around the stem of the glass in front of you. You haven't even taken a sip from it until now; the vodka is sharp and bitter, but it slides down your throat with ease. You angrily slam the $15 cocktail, with a mission in your mind. Get drunk and forget your douchebag boyfriend, er, ex-boyfriend.
“Another,” you say, signaling to the oddly quiet bartender. Seriously, what’s with this guy? He eyes you down before finally nodding, and reaching out his hand to swipe the empty glass from in front of you.
As you sit there waiting, you realize that everything about you stands out, suggesting the way you obviously don't belong here – not in this bar, in this part of town, not even in this dress, the one that clings so perfectly to your frame, hugging your tits just right. You shift in the stool under you, beginning to feel uncomfortable, leather sticking to your now too-warm skin, sticky from your tears and the flush spreading from each martini you’d greedily consumed.
Mr. Silent I don’t say anything bartender places your third martini in front of you. You take a sip in silence, attempting to forget about the reality you are currently in.
Suddenly the low hum of the bar’s ambiance is interrupted by an unwelcome interloper. A man, reeking of booze, staffers toward you, his leering, yellow-twinged, bloodshot eyes filled with inappropriate lust as they shamelessly gaze at your breasts. “Hey there hic gorgeous,” he began, his breath a foul mix of whiskey and cigarettes, “looking awful sad over here, ya hic need some company?”
You stiffen, fingers lightly clenched around the stem of your martini glass, and shoot him a withering look.
This guy is a walking cliche of all things repulsive, like a welcome sign to the shitty part of town you were in. With him closer now, you’re able to really get a good look at him – his dirty and oversized clothes hanging loosely on his skeletal frame, a foul body odor clinging to the material, eyes hungry. The mostly gray and thinning hair that remains on his balding head indicates he’s too old to be interacting with someone your age, and his leathery and wrinkled skin clearly tells the story of a life spent mostly in the bottom of a bottle.
With his tone, you’re able to understand his intentions clearly. You take another sip of your drink and manage to squeak out a pathetic response, one that has no real bite or purpose, “sorry…’m not interested.” The man sits on the empty stool next to you anyway, leering eyes still painfully obviously drinking you in. You gaze at the bartender as if to say a little help here, but it’s useless, he’s not going to be of any more service than what’s required.
The full realization of the situation you’re in begins to wash over you – you need to leave. Now.
You slam the cocktail and let out a sputtering cough as the vodka begins to make its way back up your throat, now tinged with the flavor of bile. You grip the edge of the bar and your knuckles bleach white as you try and fend off the sudden wave of nausea that hits you like a freight truck.
Maybe drinking three martinis in the span of less than half an hour wasn’t your brightest idea.
The man drops his forearms to the bartop in front of you and begins to lean into your personal space, before spitting out “pretty thing like you, I bet you taste real fuckin hic good,” he says with a coy, husky laugh, making you shudder. Shivers shoot down your spine in alarm, the hairs on the back of your neck standing in full salute, your instinctual response warning you of the looming threat.
His eyes are dark and his pupils are unnaturally dilated, the thought makes your skin crawl as you note he’s not only a drunk, but also probably under the influence of some kind of drug, which uproots the fear of this interchange turning violent; a dark scenario where your rejection makes him angry and unpredictable.
The voice in your head shouts at you once more – LEAVE.
You stand and push your rickety, uneven stool backward, not even bothering to pay for your drinks before you grab your purse and storm out of the building, fighting to move your shaky legs fast as the bottom of your heels stick to the floor once more. You ignore the shouts of the barman telling you to close your tab, but you ignore them. Now he says something.
Once outside, the night air is brisk, but a welcome refreshment from the revolting encounter. You pause to take a look around at the world around you. The street practically screams danger to a young woman, let alone a drunk young woman. The dodgy streetlights that are functioning emit a hazy glow and don’t do much in the way of helping to light the path around you.
You walk around the corner and steal a glance behind you before you rummage through your purse, opening the golden clasp, it’s cool on your fingertips and the sensation only adds to your growing anxiety. Your fingers fumble around in panicked haste to find your phone. Finally. You sigh a breath of relief as your fingers grasp the cold metal. You jab at the screen, but quickly find that it’s dead. Shit, shit, shit. Your last sliver of safety snuffed out, leaving you alone – you hope – in the unforgiving night.
You think you might be sick as the wave of nausea returns. Your belly emits a low grumble and wait… fuck. No, you really are gonna be sick. Your pace begins to quicken as you scramble to find a place to throw up, away from the peering eyes of the residents who live on the wasteland streets that surround you.
You stumble your way into the back alley of the bar, and the world begins to spin. Your heart pounds in sync with your dizzying head – the sickening laughter from the creep at the bar still ringing in your ears, deafening you to the life surrounding you. The grimy brick walls of the alley offer you little comfort, the rough texture of them leaving small indents on your hand as you lean into the wall for support, and empty your stomach onto the asphalt beneath you. You cough at the secondary burn of the alcohol that now sears your throat for a second time tonight.
Although your stomach is empty, you continue to dry heave, bent over at your waist and staring at the rocks beneath you, when you hear the thud of loud footsteps behind you. Before you can register what’s happening, a grotesque shadow looms over you, and his smell hits you.
Oh no.
“Came out here to make it easy hic f’me, didn’t you, princess,” he snarls. “You knew what you were doin’, wearin’ this leather piece, didn’t ya babydoll?” He lurches out to grab you, but before he can, another figure materializes out of the darkness. His silhouette was hard and sharp against the pale light illuminating the alley, an unlikely savior in this hellish scene. Before you can even blink, he has the creep pinned up against the wall, his large forearm pressing against his throat. “You leave this nice girl alone, yeah?” he says, voice dark and menacing. He presses harder against the man's throat, “or I’ll make you fuckin’ regret it,” he threatens. Your savior spoke evenly, although there was an obvious underlying tone of threat muffled behind the black motorcycle helmet he wore.
“Chill out, man…was jus trying to have a good ti–” before he can even finish the thought consisting of violating you, your savior draws his head back and smashes it forward, the helmet connecting with a sickening crack against the creep's nose. A sharp, visceral sound reverbs through the alley, catching the attention of a few passers-by. They pause to look at what’s happening, but quickly keep moving, knowing better than to intervene. The now bloody man lets out a startled yelp, his hands reaching up instinctively to grab his now very broken nose.
“What’d you just fuckin’ say t’me?” Your savior grumbles. “You do this often, huh? Come out here into back alleys, whip out your limp little cock, and try and show pretty ladies a good time,” he huffs.
“I’ll show you a good time,” he says, snaking his free hand into his back pocket. There came a click, a sound as sharp and quick as a viper's bite, and the creep audibly whimpers, knowing what made it. There it was– a switchblade.
The creep continues to gravel with the man holding him captive in his strong grasp, “listen, man, I was just messin’ around…I swear! I’ll leave her alone, you can have her, fuck, please just let me go! I promi–” before he can finish the sentence, the silver blade was already plunged up into his ribs. The sound of the gurgling man choking on his own blood catches your attention, a result of your savior's expert maneuver with the blade. Still holding the man flush against the wall with his broad upper body, he uses his free hand to open the visor of his helmet. Eyes glaring into the man’s now, he pushes the blade in deeper as says, “Oh, I will,” and a masked grin washes across his face as the crimson red blood begins to pour out onto his gloves and the ground below; your savior moving his feet as not to dirty his boots.
With a swift movement, he releases the blade, and you watch in shock as the man thuds to the floor, sticky red blood stains his shirt and begins to pool on the pavement below, body limp, eyes glued open like he never saw it coming.
Is this really fucking happening right now, you think to yourself, rationalizing you’re probably hallucinating or something.
You watch as the man reaches a gloved hand to pull his visor, a smear of blood left behind as he pulls it down, hiding what little identity he had revealed to the creep. He turns his frame to face you and begins to stride forward, little drops of crimson falling from his gloves onto the floor by his sides as he does.
Eyes wide open like a deer about to be hit by a truck, you stare at him – your savior? You doubt it.
He just murdered a man in cold blood and told him he would have you. Surely that must mean you were going to succumb to the same fate or worse. Your fight or flight response kicks in, deciding on flight, and you begin to quickly back away from the man and the scene that just unfolded in front of you like a fucking horror film.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he says, narrowing the gap between your bodies.
You don’t respond as you continue your trek backward, gait unsteady as you try and keep your heels and ankles steady in your six-inch stilettos. Scared, you step back until your body unexpectedly meets the cool, hard metal of a motorcycle, causing you to let out a small squeak.
His strides are large and it’s not long before he has you trapped against his body and the motorbike; leaving you nowhere to run.
“Cat got your tongue, little mouse?” The man’s question is rhetorical and humorous. His large figure looks over you, a leather jacket clings to his broad shoulders, preventing you from looking anywhere but him.
You sure feel like a little mouse – small and defenseless. He tilts his head, looking down at you curiously as if you were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
And you are.
“You – you – killed that man,” your heart was in your throat as you spoke, unsure if your whispered accusation traveled the short distance to his ears.
“Yeah, little mouse, I did. Creep like that – trust me, he had it coming,” he says, voice muffled but sure.
His large palm begins to rise to your line of sight, and your heart sinks to your stomach as you stare at the blood now ever so close to your face. He pauses before he drops most of the bloody fingers into his fist, leaving but one clean finger out as if to point to something. He drags it over your cheek, down the razor edge of your jaw, and uses it to tilt your chin up to face him.
“You know, I probably saved your life – really should be thankin’ me,” he says, presumably gazing back at you, face still hidden from view by the helmet.
“And you can start by comin' for a ride."
You gasp.
He’s got to be fucking joking.
“I promise, you’re safe with me, alright?” He says, voice soft this time.
Right. Safe with the dude who just murdered another dude in the alley behind some sleazeball bar.
You can tell his words aren't a request.
Everything about his demeanor is commanding.
He demands attention.
Your attention.
Perhaps it was the heartache or the way he just saved your life, maybe even the three martinis you’d smashed in a short duration of time, your rational thoughts impaired from the alcohol content flowing through your blood, you internally agree to his demands. And for some unfathomable reason you can’t comprehend, his voice melts you like butter, his attention making you feel special.
A pang of arousal shoots through you.
“Okay…” you say, voice sweet like honey, but hesitant. If you’d kept him waiting long, he doesn’t mention it.
“Good girl,” he says, nodding to the back of the bike.
He knew you were an obedient one. He could tell. He reads your emotions like braille, it is as if he can feel every single thought running through your brain.
You need a protector, a savior, someone to tell you what to do and care for you. Someone who would do anything for you. You need him.
His hands hover over your waist, guiding you to the back of the bike, a safeguard, he would catch you if you slipped. As if he would ever let you fall.
You swing your leg over the back of the seat, sending your already tight dress higher up onto your hips as you do. The motorcycle's leather seat is cold against your inner thighs, a welcomed reprieve from the growing heat there. His hungry eyes watch as you adjust yourself, slowly gazing at the bareness of your legs, now prickled with small goosebumps in anticipation and response to the chill in the air.
“Here little mouse, take this,” he says, wiping the bloody gloves onto his tight-fitting denim jeans before taking off his leather jacket and handing it to you, revealing a white mesh tank top that clings to his sun-kissed skin. You can’t help but notice that his shoulders are littered with freckles, all over his toned arms and shoulders, and the back of his neck. You find that small detail about such a harsh man a little endearing.
“Leather on leather,” he says, pausing to eye you up and down, “looks good on you,” he finishes. He places his hand on your bare thigh, his touch causing you to hold your breath, making sure you’re stable before he too mounts the bike.
“Hold on to me real tight,” he commands. You follow his instructions, your arms wrapping firmly around his waist, your fingers coming to a clasp as you scoot forward, your breasts pressed firmly against his warm and inviting back.
“Atta girl,” he praises.
Fuck. His words go straight to your already aroused core.
He couldn’t be sure if it was a button from the jacket pressing against him, or your nipples, but he decided it was the latter considering how cold you’d been moments beforehand.
The thought causes his cock to stir in his jeans. His mind can’t help but wonder, with your soft hands all over his toned body, rousing deep and vulgar thoughts in his head.
Your sweet little palms, what would they feel like wrapped around his—
He pushes the thought down, adjusts himself slightly, and turns to look over his shoulder at you as the bike begins to rumble to life. He jabs the kickstands with his heel and faces forward once more, palms firmly grabbing the clutch and throttle on the handlebars.
The loud sound of the engine and the rhythmic vibration it gives stimulate your now aching clit. The only barrier between your sopping cunt and the bike was the sheer lace panties that did nothing to stop your slick from leaking onto his leather seat.
With your body glued to his, you both tear through the inky black of the night. It was apparent that this side of town not only lacks security, but safety too, the buildings are all run down and cars seem to be left on cinder blocks, being stripped down for parts and left to rust. For the first time tonight, you’re grateful you’re not alone – grateful to be with him.
It seems the government had also neglected the quality of the roads, loose gravel flings out of the crevices of the back tire of the motorbike, and you grasp on tight to avoid the giant potholes that have now become a major problem on this one street. Without much warning, although you could have predicted it would happen, the bike jerked violently beneath you, the rear tire hitting a pothole with an unforgiving thud.
You gasp and your grip around his waist loosens in surprise. The sudden jolt sends your hand sliding down, and before you can correct it, your fingers brush against his already painfully stiff cock. He freezes in response. The feel of his hard bulge causes you’re already sticky folds to dampen further. You grazed the area for less than a few seconds, eventually finding your common sense and snatching your hand back up to grab your wrist, but the tension in his body tells you he felt you do it. That he liked it. You did, too.
You have no idea where he’s taking you, and though the streets of the unfamiliar town were a labyrinth to you, he seemed to navigate them with ease. Not before after, the bike comes to a slow as he pulls up to a nondescript warehouse.
Once inside, you take in the smudge and the grime of the shop. There was a surprising order to the chaos around you. The walls, washed with a pea-like hue of green, were the perfect backdrop for the display of tools in every size and shape imaginable, arranged perfectly above the wooden workbench. The air stank of oil, sawdust, and metal, but there was a certain comfort to it, a testament to the hours of sweat and hard work spilled within its confines.
With the two wheels of the bike are now stationary beneath you, he kills the engine. He swings his leg off to stand at the side of the bike. He offers his hand to steady you as you get off yourself, leaving a little wet spot on the seat from your slick as you do.
You know you’re aroused, but you don’t seem to notice just how much, but he sure does, eyes glued to the mark of you. The sight makes him shift and he adjusts himself to accommodate for the shrinking amount of space.
Taking in the surroundings, you do a tiny circle, before stopping facing him.
“Why – why, am I here?” you cautiously ask, not sure if you want the real answer.
“To say thank you t’me, properly, little mouse,” he rasps, voice dripping with suggestion.
You wonder what it means to thank him properly. A surge of desire courses through you like a bolt of lightning, your body responding with intensity at the thought.
He takes a step forward, and his overwhelming presence engulfs you, bringing with it the scent of musk, twinged with sweat and the sickly sweet copper smell of the blood left on his hands.
It’s absolutely intoxicating.
In your haze, your fingers reach out to touch the cool plastic of the black tinted helmet visor, curiosity gnawing at you for just a peek of the man that had you enthralled; you hadn’t even seen his face and yet you were completely dripping for him.
Before you could catch a peek, his fingers gripped your hand tightly in warning. He tilts his head to the side as if you’d really just tried that.
“What do ya think you’re doin’, little mouse?” The warning in his voice only made the need between your thighs that much stronger.
“I—I just wanted to...” you whine pathetically, trailing off as your mind begins to fill with obscene thoughts, rendering you unable to finish even a single sentence.
Although you can't directly see his face, you can feel his harsh stare burning you to your core. His firm grip around your wrist causes your nipples to harden in response to the touch. Everything in your vision blurs suddenly, the room nothing more but a mere haze, you almost don’t feel the right grip on your hips as he maneuvers your body, pushing your chest over his bike. A small noise of discomfort leaves your lips as the fuel cap of the bike digs into your breastbone. It hurts, but you don’t complain, not wanting this to end before it’s begun.
With his hard cock now pressed firmly against your ass, one hand grips your waist and the other holds the back of your neck. His fingers are cool and they send a shiver down your spine at his touch, his grip tightens on the back of your neck, holding you in place – trapped.
He hadn’t ever let a woman touch his bike, let alone ride with him; you should be grateful.
He was doing something for you.
“You’ll take what I give you, little mouse, not a sliver more, got it?” He growls.
You mewl under him; your non-verbal response only adds to your lack of cooperation, in his eyes, you were challenging him to make you submit to him.
He leans down, chest now flush with the curve of your back. You don’t dare to look back at him, feeling your legs tremble as he pushes his hard erection further into the exposed skin of your ass. Your leather dress had ridden right up, making for easy access, which his thick fingers happily take advantage of as they trace the thin lace of your panties.
He can hardly pry his eyes away from the now-drying stain your slick had left on his seat, and now here you were; pressed under him and fucking soaking for him.
“Now listen here, little mouse. When I speak, I expect you to answer me, or this all stops. Got it?” he says.
You tremble at his words and pout as he halts the small glide of his fingers along the lace between your folds. Caught up in the sensation, you don’t respond quickly enough.
“Answer me,” he commands while pulling his hand away and landing a swat over your pussy, the sensation on your clit sends a little shock through your body.
Senses returning to your head now, you nod frantically, eyes widening as you stutter, “Y-yes, sir. I understand.”
Seemingly satisfied with your response, his fingers resume their tortuous motion of gliding over your still-clothed folds, only taking a moment to recover from the moment you called him sir. It serves a bigger purpose, a large part to play in your dynamic. He rests his helmet on your shoulder and lets out a husky sigh, his own need beginning to catch up with him.
“How badly do you want it, little mouse?” He asks, a hint of challenge in his voice, hoping to get a ride out of you, and frustrate you further.
“Fuck–ppp, please touch me…I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll do whatever you say,” you say, realizing your begging is no better than the creeps back in the alley.
Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you, finally soothing the gnawing, aching need inside you. He traces his thick finger over the crease between your folds before he hooks the edge, and pushes the soiled fabric to the side. Your cunt has a visible sheen from the slick that’s spilled over from all of his teasing; a warm invitation for his fingers, your inviting hole sucks two of them in and clenches around him.
“So wet for me already, little mouse, fuck–,” he trails off. You moan in response, knowing he’ll expect an answer to his comment. He grins as he skillfully curls his fingers inside you to meet the spongey soft texture of your g-spot. He fucks his fingers in and out of you, every prod stretching you, getting you ready for him.
He can feel you crawling towards the cliff of your orgasm, but he's gonna take his time with you.
He knows you want to cum, that's obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come.
“Stop thinkin’ so damn loud,” he gruff voice circulates inside your head and descends down to your core, sending you spiraling.
Your fingers struggle to find purchase on anything as he continues to drive you closer and closer to your release, fingers prodding in and out, only leaving periodically to circle your clit before going back to their home inside you. The line between pain and pleasure has blurred; being bent over the bike is starting to get uncomfortable, and your neck is starting to ache from his hard grip that keeps you from slouching over. The blood is beginning to rush to your head, the lack of circulating air in the building and your lust cause your skin to heat, and small beads of sweat begin to form on your chest and forehead.
You're so, so close. When was he going to put a stop to this?
As if to read your mind once more, he says, “I know, baby. Doing so good. Concentrate on me,” his words bring you back to your surroundings, drawing you away from your demented brain's imprisonment of unease.
Your legs tremble against his groin, and the sweet moans that leave your lips echo through the workshop. You think he might, but he doesn’t tell you to shut up, he doesn’t cover your mouth. The pretty little noises coming from your throat only urge him to ram his fingers into you at a quicker pace, as if it were his personal mission to make you finally come.
Your mind goes foggy as your whole body stiffens. Your fingers find a tight grip on the leather seat of the bike and mindlessly, you dig your nails into the material, creating several crescent moon-shaped marks into the leather as you do. He rides out your orgasm with you and doesn’t stop until you totally soften under him, legs weak and shaking from overstimulation and pain from the position you’re in.
Now satisfied, you catch a glimpse of your handiwork on the seat. The once perfect material was now marked by your desperation.
“Tsk, tsk, little mouse – markin’ up my bike left and right tonight,” he says, voice firm, “I ‘otta punish you for that,” he scolds.
It was already too much, the position he had you in, his taunting and tormenting. What would a punishment look like? you wonder.
“‘M sorry, shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you sputter, head still dizzy from your release.
Still inside you, he pushes his fingers aggressively deeper into your hole and he holds them there. The noise is obscene; the squelching of his fingers pushing into you, slick dripping down your legs, coating his fingers. It only made him hungry for more. Beneath the helmet, he licks his lips, clenching his teeth as his eyes roll into the back of his head. What he wouldn’t do for a taste of you.
“You're gonna be,” he says. The emphasis on his promise he makes you tremble, anticipation eating you from the inside out.
“Gonna come for me again, little mouse,” he orders.
Fuck. No.
“I–I can’t, it’s too much, I’m too sensitive, and my, fuck, my legs hurt like this,” you say.
Your words fall on deaf ears, as he ignores your pleading. You were going to come again, and he was going to make sure of that.
He inserts a third finger and continues to fuck into you. His thumb reaches out to your clit, the small amount of pressure has you lurch forward with a yelp, the nub already extremely sensitive from your first release. The hand that’s gripped the back of your neck jerks backward harshly, forcing you back into his body. He wouldn’t allow you to do that, try to escape him.
Holding you into his chest, he reaches his free hand around and finds your clit once more. His fingers move antagonizing slowly as he makes soft circles around it, his pace decreasing, the overstimulation going with it. Your pain begins to flourish into something softer, and he once again has you crawling the stairs to your climax. You fight the temptation to jerk your hips, to fuck yourself stupid on his thick fingers, and make yourself come all over his already, soaked and pruned fingers. The added texture to his fingers adds to the sensations you’re experiencing.
“Bein’ such a good girl, there you go,” he sets a stable pace, murmuring to you, rubbing sweet circles onto your clit, and resuming fucking his fingers into you, “gonna give my mouse what she needs.”
“P-please let me come,” the plea leaves your desperate lips like a need, a key factor to your survival, like if you didn’t come again you were sure to die. The coil inside of your lower stomach winds once more, and your legs continue to shake, the only thing keeping you upright was the strength of his arms and his fingers unraveling you. Each swipe of his thumb on your clit is calculated, like he’s figured your body out already. He knows you’re close, the way you’re trembling and babbling senselessly, the way your hole clenches around his fingers, contracting to tighten around him to keep him inside.
“You can come, little mouse – come for me, baby, soak my fingers,” he says.
You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like you were nothing but a pool of gas ignited with a flame. Your knees buckle, and he holds you tight to his chest. His sticky fingers leave your hole and away from your swollen clit.
“Such a good girl,” he praises in your ear. You revel in it, letting his words soak deep into you to your bones. He moves his slick-coated fingers up to your lips, “Now clean ‘em for me,” he commands, once again leaving no room for there to be a question about what he wants. You do as he orders. He presses his fingers into your inviting mouth, and you lap at your release and suck him dry.
He doesn’t give you but a minute to recover to catch your breath, now satisfied with your cleaning job, before he grabs a fistful of hair to spin you around, gently, but assertively. Your eyes drop down to his waist, and you see his hand on his leather belt. He begins to unbuckle it, the metal making a small clank as he releases its clasp, and yanks it off, leaving a whip sound in its wake.
You watch in anticipation as he uses both hands to make a small loop in the belt. You swallow your anticipation as you realize what he’s doing. It’s not long before he has it perfectly sized to accommodate your head, and he slips it onto your crown, and begins to lower it around your neck. Once there he secures it tightly, leaving enough room for you to breathe, but tight enough to feel its presence before tugging at the makeshift collar and deeming it satisfactory.
“Get on your knees, little mouse, he gruffs. “ Told you I’d punish ya for what you did to my bike,” he continues, voice lusty and low.
You pause, slightly dumbstruck.
Is he serious?
The little voice that gnawed at you to leave the bar earlier in the night comes back in full force and tells you that he most definitely was and that you’d be wise to listen.
You drop to the cold cement floor, knees meeting the harsh ground coated with little flecks of sawdust and grease. Your perky tits were practically spilling out of your leather dress at this point. You don’t care. You don’t even care about the bruises that were now forming from the position you were in; you want to be a good girl, give him what he wants – impress him. You were ready to worship at the altar of the man who had saved your life.
He watches you and palms at his hard cock before turning on his heels to walk away.
The fuck. Where’s he going?
He walks over to the side of the shop. This side was more empty than the primary workspace, but primarily occupied by a file cabinet in the corner and an aging bed, presumably only used for mid-workday naps. There’s an old rusted heater next to the bed, too close to the wall for comfort, you wonder how many cold late evenings this man had spent in this workshop, every little detail gave you some insight into his life, it felt familiar. Like you know him, that he was just an ordinary man; although you know he was far more intriguing.
He pauses by the grimy mattress. His fingers fumble for the button and zipper of his jeans, and he slowly undoes them, letting them fall to the floor, finally releasing the giant cock that was restrained behind the denim fabric. He takes himself in hand, tilts his head down, and spits for lubrication.
“Crawl to me, little mouse,” he says, dark gaze fixed on yours, “come get this cock,” he adds, stroking his length up and down, letting his weight lean onto the back wall of the shop as he gawks.
Crawl to him.
The words pierce you like a bullet, tearing through your flesh until you have no choice but to tend to the wound to stop the bleeding. You're his little pet, and you’ll do anything to make him happy.
You tilt forward, placing both palms on the ground so you’re on all fours. Eyes transfixed on him, and god, his cock, you begin to move, slowly crawling the distance of the shop. The already barely secured fullness of your tits gives way with the change in angle, allowing them to spill completely out of your dress. The sensation of the cold ground under your hands and knees, the cool air drying the stickiness on your inner thighs, and the thickness of the makeshift collar on your throat spur you on. You begin to crawl faster, needing to get to him sooner, needing to taste him.
Once in front of him, he pushes himself off the wall and comes to stand directly in front of you. He continues to stroke at his cock, and you salivate at the sight of his angry red tip weeping beads of pre-cum, veins boldening from the blood rushing through him. You want so badly to touch him, but you wait for him to give you the okay to do so, your palms patiently resting on your knees.
“You want this, little mouse,” he asks, already knowing the answer to his own question. “It’s all yours, come get it, baby,” he says, giving a nod of permission.
You reach up to take the weight of his heavy cock in your hands, and you admire the way your fingers barely touch. You stroke his length a few times, mouth watering at how silky soft his skin feels and the warmth it exudes. You look up at him from under your lashes and playfully dart your tongue out. You flatten it and lick a teasing stripe up to the tip of him, maintaining his gaze as you do.
“If you know what’s good for ya, little mouse, you won’t fucking tease me,” he says, the words still bite, but you can tell he’s losing his resolve. As much as he wants to pretend he’s in control, you’re the one with all the cards.
You slide the tip of him into your waiting mouth, wrapping your lips around, feeling a slight sting in the corners as they stretch to accommodate him. You stay shallow on his length at first, working up to wet him with your spit. After a moment, you feel confident you have enough lubricant to fully take him.
You begin to pick up your pace, allowing his cock to glide down your throat, kissing the back of it as you bob up and down. He lets out a satisfied sound, and you hum in response, savoring the taste of salt and musk that dance over your tastebuds.
Using the makeshift collar as leverage, he wraps the free material around his fist and pulls it taught, holding you with his cock stuffed down your windpipe. Your eyes begin to water, it’s so much, but you stay put. Spit begins to pool at the corners of your mouth, long dribbles of it spilling out over your lips and down your chin to your chest.
“Fuck, little mouse – so good, baby. Being such a good hole for me,” he praises.
His words encourage you to open wider, letting your jaw relax as you do. He pulls the leather strap tighter until you feel him deep in the back of your throat, your lips wrapped obscenely around the base of him, nose flush against his skin. He’s so deep you can hardly breathe. He holds you there a moment longer until you begin to tear up.
He slightly retreats, allowing you to catch your breath, your lips resting just around the tip of his girth. You look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mascara smudged, and he smirks. He was fucking wrecking you, and he loves every second of it.
He allows you a second to catch your breath, before he once again pulls at the belt, sending you right back down to the base of him. He lets out a deep, guttural groan in response. He could feel your heartbeat on the tip of him this deep, and it was almost too much. He pulls back and fully retreats out of you this time, bringing with him strings of saliva that fall onto you pristine but red-marked skin.
“Up,” he says, finally allowing you the opportunity to find relief from the cement that turned your knees and shins cherry red. You do as he says, pausing momentarily to brush the debris from your flesh before looking up at him. He pauses momentarily to admire you before bringing both hands up to undo the buckle of the belt, releasing you from the collar.
As you look up at him, you can’t help but feel distaste towards the helmet, wishing you could just see the man behind it. You had given yourself to him completely, submitting to this dangerous and exuberant man. Why wouldn’t he show his face? You whine loudly in response to his touch on your sensitive neck, the belt had left a thick plum-colored mark ingrained into your pretty skin, your entire body was sore from the events of the night and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.
Through his pleasure, his moans and raspy breaths of exhale, each and every opportunity for you to hear him have been tainted, unfairly muffled by the thick plastic. The noises he makes are primal, deep, something you crave more of; he’d been giving you so much tonight, made you cum hard more than once, and fucked your throat raw, but it isn’t enough; you want more of him, all of him.
You hadn’t been bashful the entire night, but suddenly you aren't confident enough to verbally ask him; multiple attempts have already been made to try and convince him to take it off, which he has quite harshly rejected.
He seems to sense your shift in energy, the anxiety radiating off of you like a pungent smell. His fingers grip your chin, curling them underneath to make you look up at him. Your mind flashes back to when it did it earlier in the night, only this time his hand wasn’t covered in blood. You suppose you should have felt some sort of relief at that, but your unease only worsens.
His masked figure continues to glare down at you, looking as if he might offer something sweet in his words, but he doesn’t; instead, he simply says, “ready for a different type of ride, little mouse?”
His words go straight to your already wet and stretched cunt. He’s finally going to fuck you.
He puts one knee onto the mattress, causing the springs of the frame holding it to scream out, the squeak an alarm that the sheer weight of them might be too much for their rusty coils to handle.
He pulls you flush against his chest and reaches his arms behind you to unzip your dress, and you're grateful, the leather fabric had pooled at your hips at this point and you were starting to sweat under the heavy folds. You sink into the warmth of him, the side of your face flush with the cool plastic of the helmet. As he works to release you from your cloth prison, the dress you were once so excited to put on, your gaze drops to the back of his neck, and you notice a patch of sweaty salt and pepper curls under the bottom edge of the helmet. You reach your arms up around him and intertwine your fingers around the locks. You had thought maybe he was older, but seeing the greying hair was the confirmation you needed.
With him now so close, you take in the opportunity to smell him, and fuck it was absolutely invigorating – like fresh coffee in the morning, the smoke from a campfire, and wait…is that, patchouli? Fucking patchouli? Because of course, your masked, murderous savior would smell like patchouli. You take a deep inhale through your nose, and hold it at the top, as if to commit his scent to memory.
He finishes with the dress, and you step out of it, also deciding to ditch the scrap of panties that no longer serve their intended purpose. Now bare, you stand in front of him innocently. You were nervous, unable to see his expression, unsure if he likes what he sees.
It doesn’t take much for him to give you the confirmation you need that he in fact, does, his rock-hard cock practically staring at you, begging for something to bury into. His rough and calloused palm traces over your arm, leaving goosebumps as it trails down. He latches onto your wrist, pausing to gently trace the blue veins and feel your pulse. His gentleness causes you to melt.
He takes a seat on the mattress, pulling you with him.
For the entire evening, your body had been riding the line between pain and pleasure, and it had never been more blurred than right now. Your knees are shaking as they find the broken springs under the grimy mattress.
It's almost too much, your knees ache with bruises forming on them from their assault on the cement. Straddling his hips, he reaches between your bodies to position himself at the entrance of your wet and waiting hole. You sink down onto his length halfway, eyes falling shut as you do.
Fuck – he’s big. Almost too big.
His hard cock fills you so good; and he gives you a second to adjust, frozen in pleasure for a moment when he finally reaches the hilt of you, the tip of his cock nudges in a painful pinch. For a moment he’s panting and just holding you on top of him, hands tightening around the delicious flesh of your hips. He’s just using you to keep his cock warm until he can catch his breath. He can tell by your incessant squirming that you’ve never had something so big stuffed inside of your small frame, and he was here to change that; fill you up how you deserve to be.
“Shit, baby – you’re a tight one, aint’cha,” he says, groaning breathlessly.
You begin to find your pace on him, rolling your hips into his as you find a rhythm, gliding effortlessly over his thickness with the help of his praise, his filthy words encouraging you to fuck him harder. His hands are still firm on your hips, leaving little bruises at the fingertips, and he assists your rolls back and forth as you grind your clit against the thick black hair at the base of him, teasing your swollen clit with each move as you do.
“I’m going to ruin you, little mouse, fuck you so good all you’ll ever think about is me. All you’ll ever feel is me.” His claim is arrogant, but rightfully so, the way he’s filling you to your ribs was something that couldn’t ever be competed with.
He knows it, and you know it. You are doomed to be a prisoner to an approach to sex you’d never experienced. Addicted to every touch.
The possessive nature of this man wouldn’t ever be matched with anyone else.
They would all fall short.
He had broken you to need him.
His hands roughly grasp at your breasts, pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers, and an airy moan leaves your lips as he watches them bounce, he gives them a harsh slap, earning a yelp from your lips as the sensation. The sting lingers and the red mark it creates is more proof of what this man’s doing to you; creating evidence that you’d remember long after he was gone, the ghost of the touch you’d feel one night in the future when you needed someone, no one would ever compare. He was leaving his mark on you.
His calloused fingers are thick, wrapping around your neck, applying a small amount of pressure to the side of your neck along your pulse point, until your vision goes a little fuzzy and you subsequently relax into his hands with the notion.
With as much as he's taking you—he curses under his breath when you let out a whimper of pleasure, holding the position, slipping his thumb into your mouth which you greedily sucked on, he feels the hum of a muffled moan.
“Such a good girl,” he moans, “squeezing my cock so fuckin’ tight, little mouse. This pussy was fucking made f’me,” he praises, his words practically dragging you over the edge, and you cream all over his cock as he continues to relentless thurst upwards inside of you, practically touching your lungs.
Your slick makes it easy for him to fuck into you right to the hilt, burying himself into the most sacred part of yourself. Greedily, you clench down onto him, sucking him back in when he tries to retract from your hole. In your delirium you swear you can feel him in your stomach, you’d never had someone so fucking deep inside of you before. Wet mewls escape your lips as you feel him drag his cock in and out of you, reaching places no other man had ever been. With the way your cunt greedily swallows his cock, he starts to feel a sense of infatuation, he would do anything to keep you.
“This pussy isn't goin’ to take too nicely to another cock, will she, little one? She likes me too much,” he says, but you find it hard to concentrate on words when there are so many things stimulating you – his cock, his hand around the column of your throat, the growing need budding in your clit, your intense desire to fucking look at his face.
Before you can register what’s happening, loud moans leave your lips, when they do the saliva that had accumulated inside of your mouth falls, dripping down onto the visor of his helmet. A gruff moan leaves his lips, one of shock and pleasure, seeing you drool all over him on his cock was a sight that spurred him on.
“Fuckin’ you so good you can’t even think properly, can you little mouse? S’alright, just let daddy make you feel good.”
Daddy.
You want so badly to cum.
But there’s something holding you back.
You need to see him. It's no longer a question or a curiosity. It's a non-negotiable.
“Shi–-shit, I’m so close, ugh I need to see your face,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes, “Please let me look at you while I cum on your cock,” you beg.
He ignores the request, your hips still grinding onto him, until you pout and beg once more, “Daddy, please!”
He grips down tight onto your hips, urging you to come to a slow, and eventually a full stop. You feel his cock twitch inside of you. He releases his grip and reaches up to place both hands on the helmet – yes, yes, yes, take it off – he pauses with his palms on the sides, before using the strength of his arms to take the helmet completely off.
The cool helmet now in his hands, he sets it off to the side on the mattress, and the inside rolls to face up.
That’s when you notice it – a small label, curiously out of place. You focus your gaze and the small letters focus in view; it’s a name.
His name.
Joel Miller.
You smile and decide to tuck the new knowledge away, for now, and turn your attention back to him.
Oh my.
He’s fucking hot.
Seeing him for the first time is jarring.
Like you should’ve expected him to look exactly like this, perhaps you’d expected him not to be so fucking handsome.
His wide brown eyes are watching you, the stare lingering on your face, the same stare you’d felt burning into your soul the entire evening. His pupils are dilated, a sentiment of his arousal for you. You want to take your time admiring him, in case he changes his mind and reverts back into the comfort of his helmet, but it’s too late for that; you’ve seen him.
You’ll remember every detail of him until the day you die. The patchy facial hair, his full mustache trimmed neatly; a small heart shape on the left side made your heart swell, it's well-groomed but still simultaneously unruly. He's a man who looks after himself. On the right cheek, there is a single dimple; showcasing itself as he bites the inside of his cheek.
It seems you finally had him like putty in your hands. He looks anxious, his eyes scanning your face frantically, searching for anything that would make you retreat from him, any sign of regret.
Your hand reaches out slowly as if approaching a stray animal, your pleading eyes begging for this one thing, just one simple touch. He flinches slightly as if this kind of feeling of your skin on his was foreign to him, but he doesn’t move, nor resist your action.
The pad of your soft thumb rubs over his lips, and you lean forward as if to kiss him.
You don’t.
Instead, you pause with your lips inches away from his, your hot breaths mingling together. A smirk washes over your face, and you flint your gaze up to his.
“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you whisper seductively.
What the fuck.
You uttering his name catches him off guard, rendering him surprised and vulnerable. He looks at you like he just got stabbed; he wouldn’t be the only one tonight. Like a bear preparing for a fight, he growls, and bucks his hips up into you, beginning to fuck you again, hard.
With his cock stuffed inside of you and the sight of his face, you’re close to your release.
Eyes gazing into his for real for the first time tonight, you feel a wave of pleasure overcome you, and you spill over onto him like a broken yolk. You fall forward, body limp and sore, and he lets you lay there, his chest your strength. He pauses, letting you work through your orgasm.
Once your shaking has subsided, he brings his hand up to your jaw. He smooshes your cheeks together, your lips puffing as he does. He stares at them for a moment, his expression mirroring your own, eyes dark with desire, before pulling them to his in a fiery kiss. His tongue explores the recesses of your mouth, and you welcome it with a moan that rumbles from the very core of your desire. Fuck, finally. You savor the taste of him, all salt with a hint of mint.
His lips part from yours, and he begins to chase his own release once more, his cock resuming its relentless pace, fucking in and out of you.
Seeing and feeling your orgasm already had him close. For the first time tonight, he finally got sips of fresh air, each breath filled with the sweet scent of all things you. He was absolutely ravenous.
“Fuck–,” he gasps, his orgasm not far off, “Gonna come, little mouse, wanna shit–wanna fill you up, make you full of me,” he says, breath heavy and shallow with each thrust.
“Yes, daddy, please,” you pant, moans weak and timid.
“Fuck, Joel, give me your cum, want it so bad” you beg, your walls pulsing and squeezing around him, your cunt crying to be filled.
He gives you a few more shaky rolls of his hips, and then slows, balls deep inside you.
“You’re mine now, little mouse,” he says, shooting long, thick ropes of milky white release, painting your cervix with his seed.
At that moment you realize you are his, nothing more than a little mouse caught in his trap – and he’ll never let you go.
END
...or is it?
Tagging: @sydneyinacoma @darkheartgatita @elegantduckturtle @alltheglitterandtheroar @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @reddedmiller @morallyinept @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @secretelephanttattoo @ruinmepedro @papipascalispunk @dins-riduur-anthe @untamedheart81 @planet-marz1 @pascalpvnk @elvinaa @joeldjarin @javiscigarette @cavillscurls and @toxicanonymity (our queen of dark fics and source of inspiration)
Oh hey! You made it to the end. Cool. Thanks for reading. Since you're here, I'll pass on a reminder that I'm just a horny little wannabe fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy. Likes and comments are wonderful and much appreciated, but reblogs are really what counts in making people see this, especially for smaller blogs like mine. If you like this, please consider reblogging.
#dark joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal#joel miller smut#the last of us#kinktober#dark writing#pedrohub#collaborative writing
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you don't know what i deserve .·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.
ft. okkotsu yuuta
it’s 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. you're on your own—just you and the dead body.
info : ̗̀➛ tags: gn!reader, neighbor au, strangers to lovers, yuuta & reader are a little strange, happy ending // cw: death, light angst, vulgar language, canon-typical violence...but pretty mild imo
thoughts : ̗̀➛ helllooo. back on my bullshit. let's call this a very belated birthday present to my beloved <3 // read this on ao3
wc : ̗̀➛ 5.1k
The human body contains a shit ton of blood.
Which is not something you think about often, but now you are forced to confront this fact in real-time. People… have a lot of blood.
And it stains. No matter how many times you wash your hands. There are still flakes of blood wedged underneath your fingernails. Part of you thinks it'll never go away.
...And then there's Sailor Moon.
“I am the pretty guardian who fights for love and justice! I am Sailor Moon! And now, in the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!”
Cue trumpets and flashy poses; the makings of a battle. Your comfort anime blares in the background of a morbid scene, the flickering TV casting a soft glow on a sight that will inevitably haunt your nightmares.
Because it's 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. Still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. You pace in your tiny living room, unsure of what to do, of how to proceed. The pretty Sailor Guardians won’t save you now. You’re on your own. Just you and the dead body.
How romantic.
The chill from outside has swept into your apartment thanks to that annoying fucking prick who left your window open. Honestly, people these days have no decency. The least he could’ve done was close your shutters after tumbling through your bedroom window like a deranged acrobat. Now you’re, like, moderately cold.
“What a fucking mess,” you sigh.
Blood seeps into the earthy Persian rug that you got for half-price at a flea market a few months ago. It’s dark; puddling, like... like a knocked-over glass of chocolate milk, spilled all over the kitchen table. Or, maybe chocolate syrup would be more apt. It doesn’t matter, though. You can always get a new rug. You know, if you make it out of this situation of yours intact and not in a dingy prison cell for homicide.
Hmm. You might be sorta kinda screwed.
The police, of course, are out of the question. No matter your side of the story, it wouldn’t hold up in trial. No, no, no. A foreigner murdering a Japanese citizen? Even if it was in self-defense, it wouldn’t matter. Forget prison—you’ll probably be hanged.
So, you could run… But you probably wouldn’t get far. Or, you could do what every naive murderer in the movie about karmic retribution does and try your darnedest to get away with it.
“Option two it is!” you quit pacing and announce to the room. Thankfully, the body doesn’t respond.
A weak knock at the door sounds off—a gunshot. Your heart stalls, your head snapping to the entrance of the apartment. Who the hell is at your door? The person at the door knocks a second time, a little bit more insistently, and you start to sweat. “Hello, is everything alright? I—I heard a scream.”
You step up to the peephole and squint. A mild-looking man shuffles his feet outside your door. It’s your next-door neighbor, bathed in the ugly yellow lighting of your apartment complex. He smiles like he knows that you can see him.
This… isn’t ideal. You could choose to not answer him, but that probably wouldn’t work. What if he called the police? You take a breath. “Everything’s fine,” you call out.
The man’s smile freezes in place, somehow more eerie than a frown; his hands burrow deeper into his pockets. “Oh!” he says. “Are… Are you sure?”
You turn away from the peephole, a little unnerved. “Yeah, why?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard a lot more than a single scream.”
A slow, dreadful feeling starts to seep into your gut. “Pardon?”
There’s a pause. You swallow.
“These walls are thin.”
Fuck. He knows. Oh God, he knows.
No—that’s impossible. You were the only one to scream. Yasuhiro… He didn’t get the chance to. So this is just a concerned neighbor checking in on you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can prove it, prove that you’re okay.
You open the door a smidge so that you can peek through, then step outside and shut the door behind you. Your neighbor, what’s his name again? Okkotsu, right? Okkotsu’s brows lift at the sight of you, then relax. He’s wearing a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweats that should probably be criminal in Japan. His eyes flicker up and down your frame. You suppress a shiver.
“Just a horror movie,” you broach, offering him a polite smile. “I’m an easy fright.”
Okkotsu pulls a hand out of his pocket to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. His gentle smile has dimmed. “I’m not sure I believe you,” he says in an apologetic tone.
You both notice the tremor that runs through your body. Nosy fucking neighbors and their lack of sense when it comes to minding their own business. You stare mulishly at the floor. His shoes are simple. Black; scuffed. His left foot taps once against the floor. Whatever. You don't have to answer to him. Gathering up your resolve, you start to speak. “Listen, Okkotsu-san,” you say but are cut off quickly.
“Is that blood?”
That makes you freeze, eyes glued to the floor. A cold set of fingers dips under your chin and gently lifts it. Your gaze meets his: two pools of an endless, starless night. It flickers to a spot beside your ear knowingly and you reach for it.
He’s right. Blood sticks to your fingers, not yet dry. Lurking in the crevice behind your ear. You missed a spot.
“Well spotted.” It’s fruitless to lie now. You know it, he knows it. Now it’s a matter of who’ll crack first.
“Are you… Are you injured?”
Physically? No. Psychiatrically? Well, you just murdered a man, so.
“I’m unharmed.”
Okkotsu blinks owlishly. “Is that so?” He murmurs curiously, tilting your head to the side to observe the blood staining your skin.
You readjust your head and mimic him, blinking slowly. “Okkotsu—”
“Yuuta,” he interrupts.
You blink again. For such a mild, polite-seeming boy, he really is quite rude. And confusing. And terrifying. And you kinda sort of want him to die. “Okkotsu-san” you repeat. “I think it’s best if you leave.”
Okkotsu Yuuta’s smile returns, and it’s dangerously innocuous. He breathes your name out like a question. Starless eyes wander to your front door, then go back to studying your own. “Can I come inside?” he asks, quietly.
Everything stills, even your heart. You’re not quite certain you’re alive, when you ask, dubiously, “The apartment?”
Okkotsu just smiles.
You let Okkotsu come inside.
Which is absolutely fucking insane, but you have a feeling that your neighbor’s worse off than you are, and that’s truly saying something.
You hear him lock the door behind you before you start. Silently, you lead him past your living room, past Tsukino Usagi flying down the sidewalk on the way to school—the start of another episode, then—past your browning house plant hanging from the ceiling, into your quaint kitchen.
It’s nothing special. A small green stove with two bunsen burners on top. A sink; limited counter space. A couple of peeling cabinets. Tied in together with a white backsplash, shifting colors with each flicker of the TV. To the side, a small table sits, with two mismatched chairs tucked into it.
Oh, and there’s the dead body, too. Practically dribbling blood, painting your discounted rug muddy red and the surrounding blue tile purple.
Okkotsu lets out a soft sigh. “What a mess.”
You consider him from the corner of your eye. “That’s what I said,” you frown.
He shrugs, still looking at poor, dead, Yasuhiro. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
Yeaaaah. It’s true.
A giggle escapes you, the reality of the situation finally hitting you. “Fuck,” you whisper in between the giggles. “I’m fucked.” It’s true. Utterly and thoroughly—no condom used.
“Not yet,” you barely hear him say over the fracturing of your composure. This is impossible. You killed a man tonight, then showed a stranger the corpse. You’re an idiot. You’re a freak. You can’t hide a dead body. You really might as well bend over and get it over with. Fuck.
Hands gripping your knees, you struggle to catch your breath. When did you lose it? Ah, who cares? Dead. You’re dead. The noose is looped around your hollowed throat, tightening by the second. Perhaps there’ll be two corpses on your kitchen floor by the time the sun is up. Perhaps you should’ve just let him kill—
“Breathe with me,” Okkotsu mutters, right in front of you, long hands gingerly clutching your shoulders. Which is strange. You had no idea he got so close. His thumbs swipe up and down, around and around, and you are flummoxed. But Okkotsu is patient, his chest compressing and expanding with each measured breath, and you are compelled to follow him. Slowly, you come down from your panicked high. You let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding back to the imposing guest in your apartment. The other imposing guest in your apartment.
The body in front of you lays eerily still, impervious to your mini breakdown. It’s not purple, or rotting, or excreting out the last remaining fluids left in its underwhelming husk. It’s just—laying there. Laying, not lying, because it is no longer a breathing thing that rests; now an object to be placed. Dehumanized, in every way. Then again, what is dehumanization if not just another word for murder? What is murder, if not just the taking away of a person’s autonomy? Dead bodies can’t rest. It will never lie again.
The dead body lays.
And you wonder for how much longer you’ll keep your own autonomy.
When do the dead start to attract flies? Realistically, you know it can range from a day to a few days for a decomposing body to become…obscene, depending on the environmental conditions. It hasn’t even been a few hours. You doubt flies will start buzzing around any time soon. If you move to crouch down and touch it, it’ll probably still be warm.
The swipe of a thumb over your shoulder brings your awareness back to your neighbor.
“Why are you helping me?” You ask, wiping the tears that have beaded up in the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is steadier now, but you’re still trembling. That damn window is still open.
The hands on your shoulders release, and you look up to gauge his thoughts. He’s frowning. His eyes cloud, then sharpen: lightning against a black sky. “You need to get rid of the body, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway.
“Then we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. I bet we’ll be done before dawn.”
He makes to walk away but you stay rooted to your spot, trying to figure out why this strange, strange neighbor of yours who makes friends with stray cats and tends to the apartment garden is willing to become an accomplice of murder for you.
“Okkotsu, are… Are you in love with me or something?”
Your neighbor stops, then snorts, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns back to face you. A soft pout lies on his lips as he skillfully evades your question with a request of his own. “Hey, if you’re gonna ask me something like that, why don’t you use my name next time?”
You don’t ask again.
You have far bigger problems than interrogating Okkotsu Yuuta, so you push it aside and stalk toward the body. Okkotsu joins you, and the two of you peer at the deceased man before you. It’s… Still. The blood has stopped its puddling; a thin line stretches the column of its throat. His throat was slit neatly, gracefully, like an act of love. It wasn’t one, but, maybe you gave Yasuhiro what he wanted, in a terrible, twisted way. How magnanimous of you.
Yasuhiro wasn’t an attractive man. Limp brown hair framing a slightly uglier-than-average face. At least he had the decency to close his eyes before his last, dying breath. They were blood-shot and wiry, the last time you saw them open. Bouncing haphazardly in its sockets like they couldn’t discern which corner of the room you stood in.
Okkotsu perks up at the sound of your harrumph. “What?” he questions you, and you slide your eyes over to him. Okkotsu Yuuta is distinctly pale, a trait that you’ve always noticed and have always sort of admired on him. It suits the subdued, yet haunted look he’s got going on. Black lashes feather the whites of his eyes, as well as the endless void of his irises. Yeah, he’s almost doll-like, in that gentle, haunting way of his.
“You’re creepier than the corpse,” you tell him instead and turn away, just barely hiding your smile. The laugh that rings out from him sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.
Just kidding. It actually sounds kind of sweet.
Okkotsu follows you to the bathroom, where you’ve grabbed pretty much all of your cleaning supplies. You stuff them in a bucket and he hauls it out of your arms, the two of you shuffling back to the kitchen.
“So how should we go about this?” You muse, staring at the body. The movies you’ve seen are the only reference you have for the disposal of dead bodies, but those usually end with the killer getting caught, so you’re not so sure about mimicking their methods.
“I’m not sure,” Okkotsu says, tilting his head in thought. “Severing his limbs without the proper tools would be difficult. I guess we could carry him and bury him somewhere unassuming—unless you have a car that we could use?” A quick glance at you confirms that you don’t. He rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “Right. A garden cart will do, then. We should check to see if he has any identifiers on him, first, though. Oh, and we can’t forget about the teeth. Do you have any pliers?” He turns to you casually, eyes widening at the sight of your awe.
Thin black brows furrow in confusion. “What?” He asks.
You blink. “Have you…ever…?” Your voice dies in your throat.
Thankfully, he gets it. “Oh. No! No, I’ve never murdered a person,” he denies, dipping his head and tugging the neckline of his plain white tee. A curious look crosses his face. “But I could,” he tacks on cautiously.
You hug your arms and give a half-assed shrug. You can almost feel the weight of a kitchen knife in your dominant hand; the quick, fluid motion of ending a life.
“Anyone could,” you acquiesce, dismissing the conversation. Okkotsu hums mournfully in return.
According to his ID, Yasuhiro Souta is a twenty-seven-year-old male who lives in Chiba. What he was doing tumbling through your window in the middle of the night is anyone’s guess. Well, he did tell you, sort of shakily before he made to lunge at you, that you were supposedly his Valentine for the night. How sweet!
Snip. You met him for the first time a little over two months ago. He dropped his wallet on the train, so you picked it up and handed it to him in a silly attempt to be a decent person. It resulted in the man refusing to let go of your hand for a solid five minutes. Yes, yes, what an adorable meet-cute! Snip. When you managed to pry your clammy hands out of his vice-like grip, it was your stop, and, oh, how fortuitous, it was Yasuhiro’s as well! He followed you off the train into a random coffee shop, and it was only when you got the help of the employees that he backed off, the doorbell chiming as the glass door swung behind his back. Snip.
You thought that was the end of it, and proceeded about your day, running errands for a few hours until you retreated home. It shook you up for a little, yes, but it was nothing too crazy. You doubted you’d ever see him again.
Snip.
You slice Yasuhiro’s ID with your scissors until it’s a pile of ashes.
Okkotsu’s on his knees, holding a pair of pliers to the light. Wedged between the metal lies a crooked tooth. He hums to himself, plopping the tooth in a ziplock bag. He wears a pair of green garden gloves he grabbed from his apartment; you’re wearing a matching set. The rubber’s a little too big for you, but you’re making it work.
It's as Okkotsu calmly adjusts the head in his lap, preparing to yank another tooth that you stare at your strange partner, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this situation. It’s been happening every so often: your acceptance of reality swinging in the opposite direction like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.
You shouldn’t have killed him.
You don’t care for Yasuhiro Souta’s life. You don’t care for the man who intended to assault you. But there’s not a chance in hell that this won’t get traced back to you.
You're fucked.
Why did it have to be like this? Why do bad things happen to good people?
That’s the way the cookie crumbles, darling.
And you crumble—crumbled—are crumbling when you turn to your neighbor. “Okkotsu-san,” you say, picking at your dirty nails.
“Yuuta,” the man insists. What a freak. He's a freak, and he's good, and you don't deserve it.
You take a deep breath, mulling over your doomed fate. It doesn’t have to be his, too. “You should get out of here. While you still can.”
There's an awkward pause. The strange man pulls out another tooth and plops it in the baggy. “There,” he says warmly, then draws to his full height. “Do you have a coffee maker?” You ball your fists around the plastic handle in your hands. Calm, calm, stay calm. “Did you hear what I just said?” You ask.
“Oh, I did,” Okkotsu hums. “I chose to ignore it.”
Your hands begin to shake as you repeat his words. “Ch—Chose to—”
Okkotsu says your name pityingly. “I thought we already had this conversation," he questions with pinched brows. “Why are we—”
“We?!” You interrupt, incensed. We. It's as if the curtains have been drawn open, allowing the rays of the illuminating, scorching sun to trickle through. It blinds you, and you have the urge to pull your eyes out and shove them down his throat. “You thought we? Who are you? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”
“I think I know a few things about you,” Okkotsu smiles sweetly, gesturing to the dead body in your apartment.
“Do you, now?” You laugh and toss your hands up to the ceiling. “Great! I have an idea!" You glare, the metal edge of your scissors catching the light. "If you know what I’m capable of, then you should get the hell out."
A pause. You pant, more worked up than have been all night and it's fucking ridiculous and you hate it. You want to choke—you want him to choke. On your blood-soaked fingers, preferably. He'd probably lick them clean.
Unaware of your depraved thoughts, Okkotsu’s lips pull into a frown. He sighs, running a ghostly hand through his hair.
“I’m not scared of you,” he tells you, quietly.
You hold your breath. “Maybe you should be.”
Your insufferable neighbor takes a step forward, that stupid frown still on his stupid doll face. “What’s your plan?” He prompts. “Do you intend to confess? To go to prison?” You shake your head slowly and he softens. “You don’t deserve that,” he says, like he really means it.
Why did you let this man into your house? Why is he offering you hope? It’s too much. The scissors slide out of all your fingers save for one; your limbs sag with a weariness that’s settled deep in your bones.
“You don’t know what I deserve.”
Okkotsu stops and considers you. Your chest heaves, your heart pounds, and you want out. You want out, and he can get out, and you don’t know… You don’t know why…
“If you want me to judge you, I won’t,” says Okkotsu.
You shake your head at his dismissal, your eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t judge you,” he continues, and there goes his cold, calloused hand again, gingerly tilting your chin upwards. The pair of scissors in your clutches drops fruitlessly to the floor. When you look up, there’s something like pleading in his endless, starless eyes. “Trust me,” he begs.
You shouldn’t. You know it with every fiber of your being that you should not trust Okkotsu Yuuta. The man who blinks like an owl and stares at you like you’re a mouse he can’t wait to swallow whole. Who blushes pink whenever you hold the elevator door for him. Who has cold fingers that cradle you so gingerly—who touches you like he knows you—who doesn’t cringe at the sight of dead bodies but gives a damn about a bit of blood staining the outside of your ear.
You shouldn’t. Trust him. But you—you feel as if he’s reached inside your chest and plucked out your pulsing, blackened heart.
“Do you love me?” You ask Okkotsu Yuuta again, heart throbbing in his hand.
His eyes don’t stray from yours. “Ask me again with my name,” he says quietly.
…You don’t know if you want to.
Releasing a breath, you push past him, snatch the ziplock bag from the floor, and stride towards the stove. “I’ll make coffee,” you say, already fiddling with the grinder.
Okkotsu lets you depart with a sigh.
“So what do you like to do when you’re not helping random people bury bodies?” You ask Okkotsu a couple of hours later. You stumble over a root in the dark, and Okkotsu’s quick to grab you by the waist and steady you. You continue, a bag full of your keys, water, pepper spray, freshly-bleached gloves, a burner phone that Okkotsu already had, for some reason, and two sets of clean clothes swinging against your back. You fidget with the shovel in your hands mindlessly, trying to get it to spin. A garden cart with a tarp draped over it creaks along the grass floor. The two of you have walked for who knows how long, but, according to him, you’re getting close.
The man beside you hums, surprisingly chipper for the nefarious activities afoot. “When I’m not busy, I like to garden and crochet. I also like making food for my friends from time to time,” he says in a simple, humble manner. The last part doesn’t surprise you. He’s brought you helpings of food on the most random occasions, showing up at your doorstep with self-proclaimed “leftovers” and shoving full plates into your arms with a velvety smile. That does beg the question, though…
“Have you considered us friends this whole time?” You squint at him in the dark, only the moonlight carving out the contours of his subtle, delicate features. You’re kind of surprised. You two made decent neighbors but only ever talked in short bursts outside your rooms. Your conversations rarely ever broke past polite mumblings about the weather.
Okkotsu pouts. “You mean, we’re not friends yet?” He asks, before breaking into a twinkling laugh.
“Shut up,” you bite, but you laugh too, lightly shoving at his arm. Okkotsu, bless him, pretends to stumble. It takes you a moment to suppress the heat burning the tips of your ears, but you do get it under control, eventually. “I meant… Before?”
His expression smoothens out before he gives a soft shake of his head. “No, not quite. But, I wanted us to be."
It’s quiet for a moment, nothing but the rustling under your feet and the ever-present, cacophonous sounds of nature. You spot a nest of sleeping birds tucked in between the branches of a tree and smile.
“Well,” you try to keep your cool, eyes sweeping over the forest's shadows, “Better late than never.”
It strikes you halfway to the burial grounds that Yasuhiro didn’t bring his phone with him to your apartment in his depraved, intoxicated state. He crawled up a tree, through your cracked-open bedroom window—conveniently avoiding cameras. So, once you’re done with this, you very may well be free.
It’s a terrifying notion, freedom.
“What about you?” Okkotsu asks you, something like ten minutes later. “What do you like to do for fun? Besides watch Sailor Moon, I mean.”
You bite your lip to keep from grinning. “Well,” you wonder aloud. “This is pretty fun, wouldn’t you say?”
Okkotsu lets out a little breath before he softly admits his agreement.
It rained earlier today, you forgot. The ground crumbles like clay when you swing the shovel into the ground. You and Okkotsu take turns making a grave, taking water breaks in between. There is hope alive in you, you realize, as the two of you work in tandem.
Yasuhiro Souta is lowered into the ground with all the dignity a dead man could possess. He lays atop a tarp and your old Persian rug. A stream rushes somewhere nearby, bubbling like blood, and you pray that the body will make good fertilizer. When your hand shakes, Yuuta grabs it.
You bury your clothes on the way back, a mile out. The sun peaks over the horizon.
When you return to your room with Yuuta in tow, your emotions overwhelm you: you are terrified and gleeful and sorry for all you’ve done.
It is mournfully quiet as you mop the purple tiles blue, bleach burning your nostrils and freshly scrubbed gloves. Yuuta’s left to clean the garden cart in the gardens. He returns shortly, though, offers you a small smile, and helps you scrub every inch of your apartment.
You scrub, and scrub.
And scrub.
“You’re beautiful,” Yuuta says to you when you’re in the middle of wiping your brow. You’re sitting cross-legged on your rugless kitchen floor, where a dead body once lay. Sweat clings to your skin in uncomfortable places and you reek of bleach. “Shut the fuck up and scrub, Yuuta,” you command.
Yuuta’s serene smile is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen before.
You could probably fall in love with him, you contemplate as you watch your neighbor make fluffy pancakes in the comforts of his own kitchen. If you haven’t fallen in love with him, already, that is. You doubt you’ll ever have a connection with someone as profound as the bond you share with the soft-spoken man who helped you bury a dead body.
Love, you marvel, in the span of a few hours.
It’s disquieting.
After multiple showers, and after Yuuta’s stuffed you with more pancakes than you can chew, the pair of you are lounging on his tatami mat, a much-needed change in scenery. You have like, three hours before you need to go to work, which, Yuuta agrees, is crucial to maintaining a veneer of normalcy. Which means this impromptu nightmare date will have to come to an end—as all good things do.
“I should probably get to bed,” you say after a lull in conversation.
Yuuta nods, reasonably. “That makes sense, yeah.”
“Got work in the morning and all that,” you continue in a nonchalant tone.
“Make sure your window’s locked.”
Fine. “Walk me out, will you?” You request. Okkotsu Yuuta, ever the gentleman, agrees, even though the front door is only a handful of feet away. He pushes himself off his knees and stands at full height, though his starless eyes are, as always, trained on you. You would probably find Yuuta’s full attention a little unsettling if you had not just slit a man’s throat that night.
You avoid his gaze all the same—stopping at his doorstep with your hands twisting at your sides. Yuuta stops beside you and waits patiently for you to string your words together.
You clear your throat. “Hey, um—”
“Hi,” Yuuta interrupts, and you smile, filled with the courage to go on.
“So, the thing is… Well, I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere far without you. I acted quite amateur back there, you’d think this was my first dead body I was trying to hide, or something, ha. Um, so yeah, thank you—from the most sincere and vulnerable depths of my heart. I guess I’ll see you around? Okay, bye.”
A hand wraps around your wrist before you can run home with your tail tucked between your legs. Yuuta murmurs your name in a soft, dulcet tone, and you’re not certain you’re prepared to hear whatever he has to say. You turn to face him anyway, because, well, you owe him that much.
“Yes?”
“Don’t you have something to ask me?” He chides.
The pit in your stomach swoops. “Not that I recall,” you lie with a straight face.
“Try again,” Yuuta smiles sweetly, like a haunted little doll.
“It’s been a long day, you know—”
“Cold, I’m afraid.”
“My brain isn’t functioning at its peak—”
“Hmm, getting colder!”
“I don’t think I can.”
A pause. You avert your gaze and allow yourself to get analyzed by Yuuta’s doleful, starless eyes. “Hey,” he calls your name, asks you to look at him.
You look at him.
“Good," he hums.
You roll your eyes, loop an arm around his long neck, and drag him to you.
Okkotsu Yuuta tastes like the earth. From dust to dust, you are at the end and beginning when you capture his lips between yours. He responds quickly, hands digging firmly into your waist as he knocks you into his door frame, and you quickly learn what it means to be savored. You intended the kiss to be a quick, rash, thing, but he slows you down, melds into you languidly like you have all the time in the world. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you both moan, breaking apart for air. Yuuta slips his hands underneath your shirt, and for once, his cold hands burn, lighting the fire for something you’re not certain you’ll be able to finish.
“Go ahead and ask me already, love,” Yuuta murmurs into your ear. And, well, fuck. You melt. “Yuuta,” you whisper as he nips at your neck. “You love me, yes?”
At that, he bites down at the hollow of your neck. You gasp, then sigh when he instantly cools the wound with his tongue. “Obviously,” he replies, quite simply, thumb swiping delicately at your stomach.
“Great,” you gasp, and Yuuta looks at you and beams.
And, there goes your heart again, pulsing in his cold, calloused hands. Cradle it gently, Yuuta, won’t you?
fin. if u made it this far, ily
#mushy writes .𖥔 ݁ ˖#yuuta x reader#yuta x reader#jjk x reader#okkotsu yuuta x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#yuuta x you#yuta x you#jjk x gn!reader#tw: blood#tw: death#m.jjk#m.yuuta#battle scarred;#yuuta my beloved <3
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Baby Doll |
༅ Pairing: Dbf! Joel Miller x f!reader
༅ Summary: You got a new tattoo, and Joel doesn’t know how to feel about it at first.
༅ Word Count: 1,605
༅ CW: SMUT 18+ unprotected p in v (Pls no babies wrap it), fingering, lots of nicknames, spitting, choking, roughness in general, talking you through orgasm, heavily implied age gap (reader in mid 20′s, Joel mid 40′s)
All of my dbf! Joel is pre-outbreak, but he’s not a father (I’m sorry!)
ꨄ Let me know what you think, feedback and comments are always welcomed as are requests/ ideas! ꨄ
My masterlist
The one thing Joel loved calling you was baby doll. He wasn’t sure where it came from, it just came out one day and you loved it. You loved the way it spilled from his mouth when he moaned, how it sounded when he was giving you a quick goodbye kiss so your dad didn’t see. How it sounded when he was half asleep and wondering if you were still laying there half awake. So when you were out with Joel one night, your fingers intertwined as you walked downtown, the neon lights from a tattoo shop flashed ahead of you and your eyes lit up instantly. “Should we?” You nodded towards the building, trying to coax the man inside. He laughed, not taking you seriously at all. “What would you even get?” You thought about it as you looked down at your hand in his, and met his eyes once more. “Baby Doll” flew out from your lips so confidently, he didn’t know what to say. “There’s no fuckin way you’d get that darlin. You’re too chicken shit to do somethin’ like that, you know your dad wouldn’t like it one bit.” You felt as if he was challenging you, and something inside you burned, you needed to prove him wrong. Joel had no idea what you were capable of doing. “We’ll see about that, Miller” you cooed as you walked away from the tattoo parlor, after you slyly typed their phone number from the window into your phone.
That’s how you ended up here in this moment, panicking when your dad asks why you won’t get into the pool. “I just got this pool put together, honey. You really don’t wanna swim?” Your face got hot, maybe because of the slowly setting sun or because you knew he’d have questions about the ink on your lower back and you don’t have the guts to tell him it’s a nickname his best friend calls you from time to time when you’re intimate.
“No, I'm good right now dad, thank you though!” You hollered back, trying to seem a little too ‘okay’. Joel sat next to you on the swing, you looked at him over your shoulder and told him you're going to get another beer from inside. “Alright baby, don’t get lost in there” He joked sarcastically which earned him a well deserved middle finger from you. The fridge was empty and it left you to be the one to refill it. As you bent over to restock the shelf, a hand gripped your ass cheek, causing you to gasp and drop the beer bottles in your hands. You turned fast to look behind you and there was Joel, standing there with his shirt half buttoned, covering his mouth to keep from laughing. “I’m sorry darlin’ I didn’t mean to scare you” You gave him a mock of his laughing and dryly said, “ Yeah I’m sure” Bending down to start cleaning the broken glass, Joel held the fridge door open for you so it didn’t keep hitting your backside when he let out a slight gasp, saying, “Sweet girl, what’s that on your back?”
Your eyes looked straight ahead like there was a camera there to catch your reaction, and you knew you were fucked. He wasn’t supposed to see it, not yet anyway. Just as you rose to your feet, your dad walked in, asking if everything was okay. “I heard some stuff breakin, just wanted to make sure you’re alright honey” You gave your dad a quick smile, reassuring you were fine. Joel however didn’t look fine. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. You couldn’t help but feel like you had the upper hand on him. Your shoulder brushed against his as you made your way back outside to your seat from earlier. You told him you’d do it, and he didn't believe you.
The night came to an end and you drove to Joels after leaving your dad, your bag to spend the night in the backseat of your car. He waited in his truck for you to arrive, walking in the house together. He hardly spoke to you since he saw the barbed wire heart tattoo on your backside with the words ‘Baby Doll’ inside of it in a really pretty gothic font. “Baby, I’m gonna go shower” you quietly told him, leaving a kiss against his scruffy cheek. The hot water beating down your back took your mind off everything from earlier. As you stood there with your arms crossed against your chest, you started wondering if it was a bad idea, doing that. You were pulled out of your thoughts when a hand had a fist full of your hair, pulling you towards a naked wet body. You whimpered out as you quickly found who’s chest you were flush against, his other hand over your mouth tightly. “You are fuckin crazy baby doll, do you realize that? Gettin that tattooed knowin your daddy’s gonna wonder who calls you that, ‘cause he sure doesn't” His voice purred in your ear, your eyes rolling back as you wiggled your ass against his growing cock. “Filthy fuckin’ girl. You got yourself branded with a name only I call you.” He tutted at you, his hand traveling from your mouth to your aching cunt. Your hand reached up behind you and into his dripping wet hair, moaning his name softly.
He was almost to your clit when he nibbled your earlobe, telling you, “Show me the tattoo for real this time. You wanna be a big girl and get it, can’t be afraid to show me.” He was right even if you didn’t want to admit it. You scooted forward, letting him run his finger over it. He was quiet, which meant he either loved it, or he thought it looked bad. A groan came from him when he grabbed you and pinned you against the shower wall. “It’s a pretty tattoo, sugar, real pretty. You amaze me more and more everyday.” He abruptly connected his lips onto yours, his fingers latching onto your clit. You moaned in his mouth as you turned your face from him, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter as your needy clit was finally being paid attention to.
Joel dipped his head to put a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it before biting gently. You could’ve cum all over his hand right then and there had he kept that up. He knew how sensitive your nipples were and how it makes you want to go crazy. Joel let go of your nipple after teasing and sucking on it, seeing he had you right where he needed you. He grabbed your face roughly, his forehead meeting yours “You’re truly all mine, you get that? You won’t ever forget with that on your body, crazy girl. Fuck me, you’re so wet. Open your mouth” His hand never moved as you opened wide, not knowing what he was doing. He did something new, he spit in your mouth.
He spit in your fucking mouth and moaned as he put his cock inside you. The water pooling at your feet lightly, the droplets beating over his shoulder. “You’re such a good girl, I knew you’d like that” He praised as he sloppily kissed your jaw, trailing up and down your neck. He pumped into you, whimpering your name. “Fuck baby doll, how am I ‘sposed to last when you’re so fuckin tight for me? You don’t know how bad I wanted to fuck you right there at that fridge baby. Crazy girl got my nickname for her tattooed right above her ass, so I can see it every time I fuck this pretty hole” Joel knew what exactly to say to get you undone and become a horny slut for him. Your moans mixed deliciously, a deadly combination sometimes. “Joel I’m close baby keep going-fuck, don’t stop” You rolled your hips opposite of him and played with your nipples, giving a pinch as Joel went deeper and was hitting that one spot that ends you every time. Your legs started to move closer together, your body on the brink of bliss. Joel grunted, feeling your walls squeeze around him. “Yeah cum for me like a good girl, sweetheart. Play with that pretty pussy, don't stop until you cum” He grunted as he put your hand on your clit, thrusting harder.
You couldn’t focus, it was all too much and you released all over him, screaming his name as your free hand found his hair and pulled with each wave of orgasm. Your mouth on his and he drank your moans, giving his to you. “Fuck I-I’m gonna cum darlin” Joel tossed his head back with a few more thrusts, he shoots his load into you, your name mixed with curses. You got down on your knees, sucking all your mixed juices off him. He leaned against the wall, groaning louder with each head bob you did. “You nasty little girl, tryna milk me dry. I’m fuckin empty, I left every last drop of cum inside your pretty little pussy that belongs to me, sweet heart.” He watched intently as you slapped his half hard tip on your tongue and chuckled before he helped you up. You finished your shower before Joel and told him to hurry up. Dried off and clothed, you sat at the kitchen table as you waited for him. He came down shortly afterwards, dressed and looking slutted out. “Ready for round two?” you playfully asked, and all he managed was, “Shut up, baby doll.”
#dbf! joel smut#dbf!joel miller#dbf joel miller#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#the last of us#tlou hbo#dbf!joel#joel miller fic#pedro pascal#dbf! joel x f!reader
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Ultraviolence - E.L & C.M
(pt. 1)
Fandom: “Scream Vi”
Pairing: Stepbrother! Ethan Landry x fem! Reader, Chad Meeks Martin x fem! Reader (not in this chapter), Ethan Landry x Chad Meeks Martin (not in this chapter)
Warning: dubcon, stepcest (stepsister x stepbrother), reference to being siblings while fucking (I’m sorry), jealousy, p n v, Ethan isn’t a virgin in this, loss of virginity for reader, Cherry popping, slight blood kink, scent kink, sir kink, dark! Dom! Ethan, sub! Reader, slight perv! Reader, Ethan is older (19/20), reader is of age, quinn doesn’t exist ig, masturbation, fingering, corruption kink, degradation, choking, a little bit of titty worship
A/N: this is the first part to the stepbrother! Ethan landry fic! <3 heavily imagining the way Ethan acts after the ghostface reveal for this, bc he’s just so cray cray and fine 😜 so he’s like, majorly unhinged and cocky 💗💋 reader is also hyperfem ! (I like pt 2 better honestly pls bear with me)
When you first figured out that your mom was marrying, you were ecstatic. She deserved to be married to a decent guy, and Wayne was someone in that category. He was nice, had money, and you didn’t dislike him.
When you first met Ethan, however, he made you nervous.
You didn’t hate him, per say. But the intense look he gave you the first time he was forced to shake your hand put a chill up your spine. His gaze itself cut into you like a knife. Polar opposites, him in dark sweaters, t-shirts, and jeans. And you? Clad in the shortest skirts, in the tightest tops.
The boy had ignored you the first few weeks of knowing each other. Now moved in, you’re both in the same house. Your rooms are right across from each other’s: yours completely covered in pink, with flower and hello kitty accessories laying about. Ethan’s is definitely different; a little bit less cluttered, most of it blue. A bookcase in one corner. You knew this because he left his door open quite often.
You regret not paying attention to that tiny detail.
It’s a sunny day. The sun is shining brightly down on you as you rest beside the pool in your backyard. Clad in a checkered pink bathing suit, your hair is thrown up with a claw clip and you’re spread out on a towel. Suntanning is one of your favorite activities, and today is great for it.
Wayne is at work and your mom is away doing errands. You don’t know where Ethan is. Probably in the living room watching a show, you suspect. It’s what he usually does.
You sigh, and pop the knuckle of your left hand. It’s definitely time for a drink, and you want to get your Bluetooth speaker.
When you go inside, you climb up the stairs to your room. Ethan’s door is slightly cracked, but not to the point where you can see inside. Not unless you’re close to it, at least. He must be busy.
You roll your eyes when you catch sight of the dress you’re going to be forced to wear at your mom’s wedding resting on the top of your dresser. You love her, but the woman does not have a good sense of style.
Grabbing the small speaker in your hand, you begin to make your way back outside.
And that’s when you hear it.
A groan, and then something wet.
Its coming from Ethan’s room, and sounds like him. And it’s as if the sounds he’s making started up right when you went to leave. And with his door unlocked? It couldn’t be that wrong to be curious and see what he was doing, could it?
You approach the door, not really thinking it through. And when you catch sight of the room through the crack of the door, it takes everything in you not to rub yourself.
You can see Ethan on his bed, shirt off and his bottom lip caught in between his teeth, his sweats pulled down to expose himself. He’s looking at his cock, face scrunched up in pleasure, and god, he’s big. You can feel your face heating up, can feel your swimsuit beginning to get soaked with more than just water.
“Oh… shit. Yeah, baby. You like that cock, don’t you? You dirty little bitch.” He growls, and it’s like he’s saying it directly to you.
And maybe he is. Because as his thumb is rubbing the tip of his cock, he looks directly at your quivering form in the door, thrusts his hips into the air, and cums.
You’re trying your hardest to avoid Ethan.
And who wouldn’t? He’s your fucking stepbrother and you just watched him jack off; not only that, but he orgasmed when he saw you watching. It’s fucked up.
You try to push the guilt of touching yourself later that night to the thought of it down. And it’s hard. Ethan sends you glances, a lot more noticeable than his usual ones, and when you make eye contact with him he looks at you with mischievous eyes.
And then comes the day that you’re both alone again. You’re on the couch watching a show, trying to get your mind off of Ethan. When of course, he comes down the stairs, wearing a black button up shirt and jeans. The shirt hugs his muscles and you try not to pay attention to that. He sits down beside you.
“Hey, sis.” His voice is amused, and you don’t look at him as you adjust your thigh highs.
“Hey, Ethan.” You mumble. The tv show is suddenly very interesting.
“I like this show, too. Really good.” He notes, as if this isn’t the first set of words you’ve ever really said to each other. His hand rests on the top of your thigh and the movement makes you jump out of your seat. You look at him for a moment and then scurry to the kitchen.
“Where are you goin’ sis?” He questions loudly.
“T-To…get something to drink!”
You go to the fridge to open the door and pull out a Cherry Coke, nervous hands skimming over other drinks to have an excuse to stay in the room for longer. You jump when you turn around and Ethan is leaning against the counter. He looks calm, a small smirk playing on his handsome face.
“Can you get me one too, sweet thing?”
The nickname makes you flush, and you turn around to reach back into the fridge and grab another Cherry Coke.
You hold it out to him, but instead of grabbing the drink his hand goes to wrap around your wrist to pull you closer. You inhale sharply when his hand comes up to move a piece of your hair out of the way. He then leans into you, so much that you can feel his breath. You clench your eyes shut and pull away when his lips almost touch yours.
“C’mon, don’t be like that.”
“E-Ethan…” he’s looking at you so intently, that it makes you flush under his gaze. And then his fingers move to the thin strap of your top, playing with it. He seems deeply concentrated on it. Or, more likely, your tits. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do or… or trying to start, but we can’t-”
“You’re really pretty, do you know that?” He interrupts, and you stutter, not really knowing how to reply.
“Y-Yes? I mean, a lot of people say it, but…” he looks up at you and smiles.
“You’re so sweet, too. So innocent..” he frowns, his grip tightening on your shirt strap. “But maybe you aren’t. Because you’re a little pervert, aren’t you baby?”
“I-I didn’t… I didn’t mean to-“
“But you did. Don’t lie to me.”
“I-I’m sorry…” you say, breathless.
And then, without warning, he’s kissing you. You gasp at the harshness of his mouth, and he yanks you closer to him by your hair. He turns you around to shove your body against the counter, as if you weigh nothing. You moan, and he reaches down to grope one of your tits in his hand.
“Let me see these. Now.”
You whimper, hesitant, so Ethan makes the decision for you. He yanks your straps down and your tits spill out, nipples hard and stiff from your arousal. He brings one into his mouth and sucks, his teeth scraping the swollen skin.
“God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see these tits, sweetheart.” His cock grinds against your clothed pussy, and you thrust your hips forward.
“This is… god, this is so wrong, fuck…”
“But you want it, don’t you? Dirty girl.”
His strong hands go underneath your ass and lift you up on the counter. He brings his mouth back to yours, and groans when you touch his hard bulge through his sweats. Fuck it. What’s done now can’t be undone.
“I do want it, sir. Wan’ it so bad.”
He lifts your skirt up, moves your underwear to the side, and sticks his middle finger in your tight heat. You hide your face in his chest, his smell making your brain cloudy, makes you forget the possibility that both of your parents could come home at any moment.
“You’re such a wet little thing.” He breathes. “Gonna let me fuck this sweet pussy, baby?”
You nod shyly, and he laughs.
“C’mon, baby, don’t get shy on me now. Let me see you. ”
You look up at him, and he grips your throat.
“Are you going to let me fuck you?” He questions again.
“Yes sir.”
And then moments later you’re bent over the counter, virgin pussy spasming around Ethan’s incredibly large length. You’re crying, the stretch painful, but nonetheless he feels amazing.
His big hands grip your hips harshly as he slams into you, sweat beading on his chest. When he looks down, your creamy fluid mixed with blood drips down his cock, and he grins.
“Awww, baby. You’re bleeding! ” He mocks. “Little virgin pussy can’t handle my fat cock, can it?”
You mewl, thrusting your hips back harder, craving more of him.
“Yeah, pretty baby. That’s it. Take your big brother’s cock.”
#I’m sorry this is sinful#Ethan landry#Ethan landry x reader#Ethan landry x fem! reader#stepbrother! Ethan landry x reader#stepbrother! Ethan landry#dom! Ethan landry#sub! reader#virgin! reader#scream#scream 6
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maybe angel!reader helping bucky thru a panic attack? like he thinks when he dies hes gonna suffer in hell for the stuff the winter soldier did and we calm him down and help him? u can add smut if u want but u dont have to !!
My Guardian, My Angel, My Love
Pairing: Bucky x angel!reader
Summary: For the first time Bucky gets to experience peace because of his sweet angel.
Word Count: 5.5k
Warnings: Angst?, actually a lot of angst, I don’t know how it got that way but it did, it gets happy though, fluff, smut (I can’t help myself), oral f!receiving, handjob, awkward sex talk, like really awkward, talk about heaven and dying, talk about life after death and immortality, angels based off of Supernatural but I changed a few things, blood, nearly dying, gunshots, reader doesn’t have a soul but can still love because I said so, reader knows when and how everyone dies but can’t tell them, reader has wings, 3rd person, age gap (reader is eons old), wings being a metaphor for sexual assault?, think Maleficent, no use of Y/N, so many emotions
A/N: This is not supposed to force any religion nor be an accurate representation of any religion. I din't go with panic attack, rather I had him almost die. I was feeling angsty
The moment Bucky’s knees hit the ground he knows it's over, that this is the end. He knew this was the way he would go out, on a mission, desperately trying to atone all his misdeeds. Tendrils of pain shot throughout his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. When his side hit the ground, he knew it wouldn’t be too long before he went, limbs feeling too heavy. He couldn’t hear Steve screaming for help, scrambling for anything to stop the bleeding.
What Bucky did hear though, was a ruffle, almost like a flock of birds flying by, then a figure he’d never seen before stood above him. She’s here to take me. It didn’t strike Bucky as odd that she was the only thing that was clear, the rest of his view blurry and unfocused. He tried to speak, he really did, but no words came out, the breath leaving his lungs not enough to push any words out.
The woman crouches down, hand cupping his cheek with such softness tears leave his eyes, wiped away by Steve in the quinjet who seemingly can’t see her. “Close your eyes, my love. When you wake up, I’ll be there.” Fuck, this is really happening. Fear coursed through his body, scared of what punishment his sins earned him. I deserve to go to hell for what I’ve done.
A guttural whine passes his lips; Steve chokes back sobs next to his lifelong friend. “Shh, none of that, now. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise. You can rest now.” All at once, the pain is gone. Bucky feels like he’s floating - it’s wonderful.
Bucky has no problem opening his eyes. What the fuck? This is hell? Well damn. The most wonderful sound meets his ears - a giggle, soft and delicate. “No, my love, this is not hell and you’re not dead.” She comes into view. She’s gorgeous. Wait, I’m alive! Apparently, Bucky says that last part because Steve’s gasp enters his ears.
“Yeah, Buck, you’re alive. Gave us a scare though, didn’t uh, didn’t know if you would make it.” Bucky doesn’t respond right away, too busy looking around for his mystery woman, only to be met with the walls of the med bay. “Hey, I’m right here, Buck, look at me.” It’s not the woman, rather it’s Steve.
“How long was I out? What happened?”
“A few days. It was touch and go for some time but you bounced back. When we were on the mission, Hydra had a sniper posted outside. He got you right in the stomach.” Bucky could hear the emotion in Steve’s voice, the fear of losing his best friend still leaving him shaken up.
“Well, they’re a pretty shitty shot if you ask me. Could have gotten one right between the eyes with one of those shit guns we got in the war.” Steve coughs out a laugh, turning into a belly laugh a few seconds later. Bucky would laugh with him, but the bullet wound in his abdomen says he shouldn’t. He still doesn’t see the woman, though. Maybe I just made her up.
A few days later, doctor Cho gives him the all clear to leave the med bay; however, he’s off duty for the foreseeable future and not any amount of his grumbling changed her mind. Still, Bucky hasn’t seen the woman. He feels a little crazy that he misses her, well crazier.
Slowly, he makes his way to his room. Steve offered to help but Bucky wanted to do this on his own, having been tended to his whole stay in hospital. He puts in his password on the keypad Tony installed when Bucky first arrived, when the fear that Hydra would come back and take him was too much to bear. His room is the same way he left it, except for a woman on his bed. Not just any woman though, it was his mystery lady.
Someone’s gonna have to put me in the cuckoo's nest. She laughs as if she can hear his thoughts. God, I hope not. “God has bigger things to worry about than such an inconspicuous fear as that, my love.” She sits up, facing him, the most beautiful smile gracing her lips.
“Can you hear my thoughts?” He feels like he already knows the answer, but asks anyway. If this woman is made up, of course she can read his mind. She just smiles and rises to her feet, walking over to him.
“What do you think, my love?” She tilts her head, a soft smile still resides on her lips. He feels so safe with her and she isn’t even real, just a figment of his imagination, a ruse to comfort himself in what he thought were his last moments. “I am very real, I’ll have you know.”
Bucky doesn’t know why, but he believes her. He believes this woman who showed up randomly on a field, who his best friend couldn’t see, and who disappeared without a trace. “How then? How did you do it?”
“Do what, my love?” She grabs his hand and leads him to the bed, helping him sit, finding a spot next to him.
“Save me, hear my thoughts, hide from Steve, disappear, get into my room, all of it. It’s not natural. Either you’re a ghost, or a mutant, or a reaper who was trying to take me. I don’t know, but you’re something.” Another laugh escapes her. He should be terrified of her, but he can’t find it in himself to be, her presence emanating calm.
“Well aren’t you a clever one? However, I’m none of those things nor did I save you. It just wasn’t your time yet. I’m an angel, though, to answer your question.” Bucky just stares, not believing her. This has to be a joke. “No joke, my love. If you want, I can prove it to you.” Bucky doesn’t even question why she calls him my love, the sound of it just too nice to stop.
Bucky just nods, words failing him. She rises to her feet, turning to stand in front of him. He hears them before he sees them, the same ruffle he heard as he lay dying. Then he sees them. A pair of dark wings coming from her back. She doesn’t spread them all the way, too big to fit in the small space of his room. “They’re black.” She throws her head back, a loud, beautiful laugh fills his ears.
“That was your first thought? You don’t like them? Personally I think they’re quite nice.” It was the first thing that came to his mind, the rest blank. Maybe he should have asked for more proof, but he knows she would never lie to him. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does.
“I don’t know. I guess I just thought they’d be white. With the whole angel thing, you know?” She hums.
“There is a lot humans have wrong about us. I mean, plenty of us have white wings, but they come in many colors. If you can believe it, this isn’t even my true form.” Bucky is confused, she looks so real. A tangible human, someone he can touch.
“What is your true form then? Can I see it?” That’s a little personal to ask, dumbass.
“Well, that is a little complicated. Only one human has seen my true form and it didn’t go well. I thought she could handle it, but when she saw me, well let’s just say she couldn’t see from then on.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting that answer. “Anything else you want to ask me?”
Her wings are still out, folded against her back. They look so soft. “Can I touch your wings?” Her wings shift slightly. If he wasn’t trained to observe everything and everyone, Bucky wouldn’t have known that she was uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t know-”
“That’s okay. An angel’s wings are very personal. They’re sensitive and even for an ethereal being, it's very personal - intimate.”Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. “I know your name, my love. Might I say, it’s very pretty, but you don’t know mine.” Bucky picks up on her attempt to move his attention away from her wings.
“What is it then? I can’t call you angel forever, however fitting it may be.”
“Well I don’t exactly have a name. I’m a cherubim. The only angels who have names are the archangels, the first borns.”
It was Bucky’s turn to smile.”My little cherub.” She doesn’t tell him that cherub is the plural of cherubim. Until this day, Bucky didn’t know that angels could get shy, yet here his sweet cherub is, shying away from his piercing eyes. He bets if he felt her face he would feel the heat on them. “I have to ask though, my little cherub, why did you come to me?”
She became serious, staring right into his eyes. “Because God commanded it.”
“What does God want to do with me? Out of all the people in this world, he chose me?” A pained look crossed her face and she walked over to him, kneeling in front of him like he was her God. Her hands ran up his arms, goosebumps rising at the pass of her hands. He almost stopped breathing - he could feel her hand on his left arm. He hasn’t felt anything with that hand since he fell of that train.
Hands still rising, she cups his face with both hands, making him look into her eyes. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” It wasn’t a question. She knew. “That is why he sent me. He sent me because you deserve it. You deserve to let go.” At that moment, Bucky broke down. Sobbing uncontrollably, somehow without pain in his fresh wound.
She pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around him. His face buried in her neck, arms clutching her back. She hesitates for a second, no one having touched her wings in thousands of years, yet she cocoons him with them, shielding him from the world. It only makes Bucky cry harder, her wings holding every bit of softness he thought they would. The comfort she brings unlike any other he experienced before.
Her arms rub his back as she coos to him. Soft words spoken into his hair. “Shh, my love, I’m here. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again. I will die before I let that happen.” The conviction in her tone sets him off more, unable to comprehend someone would do that for him without a second thought. A being, older than he can even fathom, is ready to give it all away for a mesley human. A speck of dust in her life. His entire existence no longer than a second when compared to hers.
That’s how it was for a while, Bucky’s sweet cherub staying with him. At night she would wrap her wings around him, keeping him safe. Bucky knows that her powers are the reason his nightmares are gone. At first he was glad that he could finally sleep, but then the guilt crept in. Why should he be allowed to forget the horrors he committed? Their families didn’t get that condolence.
When he told her this she wasn’t having any of it, wings jerking in annoyance. It was something that he picked up on, how when she experienced emotions her wings would move in different ways, always giving her away.
“I swear, my love, you’re going to make my wings turn gray with all this. I have lived a long life, longer than you can comprehend, so when I tell you that I have seen the best and the worst of this world, I mean it. And you, my love, are a good man. There is a reason God sent me to you.” Her wings surrounded him and he felt himself relax. “There is no quest to send you on, no mission that the world hangs in the balance of. It’s just you. A man who needs to see the good in himself.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, not meeting her eyes.
“You think your purpose is suffering for the things you couldn’t control? My purpose is to save you. My love,” she cups his face in her hands, wiping away the tears he didn’t know had formed, “I have done far worse things in my life. Horrific things, yet I’m here right now, with you. Please, let me take your pain away.”
None of this was easy for Bucky. No one has ever had their sole purpose be him. Back in the forties he took care of Steve, he stepped up when his father left. When he was no longer the Winter Soldier, Steve helped him, but Steve’s care never felt like this. Bucky knows that he’s fallen in love with her. He knows that she knows, but what he doesn’t know is if she feels the same.
What he doesn’t know is that she is fighting the same battle, the feeling of love is one she has never had before. It all came to a head one night, Bucky wrapped in her wings, her head on his chest. “Cherub?” She felt the vibrations in his chest.
“Yes, my love.”
“You said that we could be together for the rest of my life, right?” She did say that when he was worried that she would leave him after her mission was complete.
“I did.” One thing about her is that she never gave long answers to questions, not used to having to talk with humans.
“What happens when I die? Where will I go? I want you to be there with me.”
She sighed, thinking about how to convey her words properly. “When you die… you’ll go to heaven. It has already been decided. If you choose, when you go, I will be there with you for the rest of our existence, but you don’t have to make a decision now. My body will age with yours, follow you to the end of your life. When your time comes, we will leave and go to heaven where we will both be young again.”
Without hesitation Bucky answers, “I want that. I want you to be with me for the rest of eternity.” There was no doubt in his mind. Even though he met her a few months ago, he knew. “I have to ask, what is heaven like?”
She sits up a bit, shifting to lay on his chest, wings still cocooning them, keeping them in their own little bubble. “There is no one heaven. Not everyone who ever went there is in the same place. Heaven is made up of small pockets of personal heavens. People who lost their loved ones meet again, your happiest memories are relived, there is no pain or sorrow, you can have anything you want.”
Bucky felt the pull of his chest, emotion bubbling up. “Is my ma there? And Becca?” The words come out thick, a lump forms in Bucky’s throat. “Please, don’t lie to me.”
She looks into his eyes. “Yes, they are. They’re together and they’re waiting for you. I have seen them myself, right before I left to meet you. They talk very highly of you, my love.”
Tears fall from his face, the pain in his chest all the time at the greatest loss of his life eased slightly. “Can I talk to them?” He knows it's a long shot, but if there is a chance he wants it.
“I’m so sorry, my love, but I can’t. Even I don’t have the power to do that. If I could, I would.” A pained whine leaves his lips. “Hey, you know who is waiting for you too?” She waits a beat before speaking anyway. “Your dog from when you were a kid. He’s in his prime, always will be. His days are spent chasing rabbits around the yard.”
“Balto’s up there too?” A small smile graced his face, crows feet appearing by his eyes.
“Yeah. If it is any consolation, time passes differently up there. The longing you feel right now for them, they feel the same only it’s made easier by us.” Bucky only nods, staring into her eyes, seeing nothing but truth. His eyes flicker to her lips and back up. “You can, my love, I want you to.”
That was all Bucky needed to hear. Gently cupping her cheek, he guided her lips to his. There was no rush, no sense of urgency. They had all the time in the world and then some. Bucky never felt anything this good in his life and he was only kissing her. When she licked his lips, he opened mouth without a thought, brain clouded with love just for her.
He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of her tongue on his incredible. At his sound, Bucky felt her wings flutter under him. Breaking the kiss, he giggled. Bucky actually giggled. She reared her head back, slightly affronted by his laugh when she just kissed him.
“I’m sorry, my little cherub, it’s just that your wings tickled me.” She huffs and a second later, her wings are gone the only sign they were ever out is the small black feather on the bed. “No, cherub, don’t put them away. I love them.” She wasn’t really offended, but she wanted to tease him a bit.
Her wings were always out around Bucky, comfortable enough to reveal the most intimate and personal part of herself to him. He was the first human in thousands of years to touch them, but he was the only one to be wrapped in them. The only time they were touched was when a man cut them off her back. It was a time when she trusted humans, not knowing the atrocities they were capable of.
Her wings were white then, when she was pure and unknowing of the hate humans possessed. God crafted her a new pair. Of course she accepted them, but her feathers turned black, scared she looked to her father. When he said that it was because of the wrongs his creations did, it broke something in her, took away her purity, teaching her a lesson. Father never blamed her for it, he knew she would heal with time. It was part of the reason he sent her to the man she lays in bed with.
Bucky didn’t know this, he didn’t know how much she was betrayed by humans, only for her to trust him and him alone. She playfully glares at him before bringing her wings back out, sitting up on his lap. Gently, more gentle than he has been in years, Bucky reaches out to touch them. She lets him feel them whenever he wants, even wrapping him in them as he sleeps, but this was a completely different setting.
She was so vulnerable at this moment. Her wings flapped, a nervous tick of her’s, making Bucky pull away immediately. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She swallows before meeting his eyes.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to touch them. It’s just that only one other human has touched them. There was a time where I was naive and innocent, not knowing what humans were capable of.” She pauses and Bucky sits up, back against the headboard and laces his fingers with hers, feeling the softness on his metal hand.
“It was a man, he had a family, a kid and a wife. They struggled to survive, trading their valuables for a slice of bread. Father sent me to help them, take away their sorrows. Said he was an honest man trying to make an honest living.” Bucky senses where her story is going, hoping that it doesn’t end the way he fears, but the pain in her eyes is palpable, a human emotion angels almost never experience.
He waits for her to continue, not forcing her to speak. “At first, they were grateful, having everything they needed. They had their health, food on the table, but the man grew greedy. He wanted more. One day, as I was watching his child in a field, keeping her safe from the horrors of the world, he snuck behind me with a sword he got from a blacksmith, sharper than any blade. He-he cut my wings right off my back.”
Tears fell from her eyes, not having relived that moment for thousands of years. Bucky felt his heart physically ache. She was sent to heal him, but it was his turn to do the same. “You know, my wings used to be white?” She looks into his eyes, red with tears. “When he hurt me, Father took me back to heaven, crafting me another pair. They were white but when he gave them to me, they turned black.”
A whine leaves her lips and Bucky pulls her into him, careful not to touch her wings. “Oh, my sweet little cherub, I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I’ve never felt as content as I have with you, never so happy and I will do anything to keep you safe. I love you, no matter what you have done, I’ll still love you.” This only made her cry harder. Human emotions were foreign to her, but spending so much time with Bucky caused her to develop them. It was almost overwhelming, going from not having anything to having so much fill her body.
“Father said that it was because the man took my innocence, showed me the evil of the world. I’ve never seen him apologize for anything, yet that day he was broken, realizing that his creations, even the ones he thought were good, are capable of unspeakable atrocities. They will never turn white again because I’m ruined.” Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes. His sweet cherub thinking she is anything less than perfect breaks his heart.
“My cherub, you saved me, now let me do the same for you. Let me heal you like you have me.” Leaning back slightly, she took his hands in her own, drawing them up her waist to her back, moving them to touch her wings. At his touch, she gasped, eyes closing forcing more tears to cascade down her face. The feeling of his gentle hands, hands that have done so much harm, resting on the most violated part of her body was something she never thought would happen.
She didn’t know she could love until she met Bucky, finally placing a word to the indescribable warmth that spreads throughout her body every time she thinks of him. “I love you too, my love. Forever and ever, til you die, til the end of time, in heaven and on earth.” They were both crying, neither experiencing the tenderness of love before.
He brings her down, kissing her with as much passion as he possibly could, tasting the mixture of both of their tears. Her arms clutching onto him, trying to get closer. He did the same, one hand running across her wings like he was trying to wash away the taint of betrayal his kind caused.
Shifting on his lap, she feels the bulge of his cock, half hard pressed up against her. Gasping, she pulls away. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it just-.” She silences him with her lips, drawing a groan from him, subconsciously grinding down onto him. “Cherub, we have to stop, I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re vulnerable right now, I can’t do that to you.”
Her hips stutter on his. “My love, I want to, I need to. Need to be closer to you, please grant me this.” His hands run up and down her sides, soothing the heat of her skin.
“Any time you want to stop, or don’t like something, you tell me. Okay? This is about me showing you how perfect you are.” She nods, kissing him one more time. Bucky’s hands slide up her shirt, resting on her soft skin, palms feeling the goosebump under his touch. Looking up at her for permission to take her shirt off, she nods.
Bucky did that with every piece of clothing, every move he made. Soon they were both naked, her wings splayed out on the bed, twitching in a way he never saw before - arousal. “My, my love, I have to tell you something.” He pulls his eyes away from her wings to look into her eyes. “I’ve never done this before. Angels, we don’t do this, I don’t know what to feel right now.”
Hands cupping her cheeks, he smiles at her, relaxing into his touch. “Do you feel safe?” She nods. “Do you feel like you have to do this for me?” She shakes her head. “Do you want me to please you?” She nods once again. “We don’t have to do anything with this,” he gestures to his throbbing erection.
“I want to, I just need you to show me what to do.” The thought that she trusts him enough to take care of her makes his cock pulse, aching for some type of relief.
“Let me make you feel good, okay? All you have to do is lay back and tell me how it feels.” She nods her head in understanding, worries slowly fading away. He kisses down her body, taking the time to swirl his tongue around his sensitive nipples, grinning at the small gasp it draws from his cherubs lips.
Going further down, his face is right in front of her pussy, smelling her intoxicating scent. “Keep your eyes on me, cherub.” She gulps. For a minute, Bucky just stares at her pussy, breathing her in, memorizing how wet she is before his tongue flicks out onto her clit.
“Oh, that feels good. Can you do it again?” She was so sweet, asking so kindly for him to deliver her pleasure.
“Of course I can.” And with that, Bucky dives into her pussy, restraining himself from devouring her. He groans into her cunt, already addicted to her taste, the moans she lets out are soft and breathy, yet it’s one of the most beautiful things he's ever heard, only competition being her laugh.
“My love, I don’t, what is happening to me?” Bucky pulls away from her cunt, reaching up to lace their hands together.
“Just let that feeling wash over you. It’s okay, I’ll catch you when you fall, I’m here.” He goes right back to her pussy, lapping her juices up, eyes boring into hers. She was twitching on the bed, hips bucking up to meet his tongue. Bucky chuckles when he sees her wings flap, not knowing what to do with the pleasure coursing through her.
Her orgasm comes as a surprise to her, never experiencing one before, nor knowing what they were. Her eyes shoot open, wings beating wildly, body almost convulsing on the soft sheets. Bucky pulls away, not trying to overstimulate her. He almost cums at the sight of her, it was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
It takes her a while, but she comes down, wings falling limp on the bed as Bucky crawls up her body, resting in between her legs. “My love, what was that? I thought I was about to die.”
Barking out a laugh, Bucky leans down. “That was an orgasm, sweet cherub. How did it feel?” She whines, not able to put what she felt into words.
“Like nothing I have ever felt before. It was incredible.” Her eyes close. Bucky is perfectly happy to hold her, not caring about his own orgasm, but her eyes shoot open, wide and curious. “Can you have one, too?”
Another laugh leaves him. “Yes, cherub, I can. It’s a little different from yours though.” Her eyes squint in confusion, clearly not understanding what could be different. “Well, for one, what I have looks a little different to yours, doesn’t it?” She nods. Bucky never thought he would be giving “The Talk” to an angel, but here he was. “When I have an orgasm, stuff comes out of this tip, right here.” He grabs his cock to show her.
“Can I see it? How do I make you do that?” It was Bucky’s turn to be surprised.
“Cherub, you don’t have to do that.” Her glare is enough to make Bucky continue. “Um, there are a few different ways. I could put it inside of you, that feels good for you too.”
“In where?” Bucky huffs, not in annoyance, but this talk is turning him off. Not that he’s mad at that, but the conversation feels like talking to a child, someone who hasn’t experienced anything sexual and it wasn’t exactly turning him on, it felt wrong to have this talk naked.
“In this hole right under where I was touching you. There is another one under that, but it’s different from the other. Or your mouth, but also a hand. Pretty much anything that could rub against that area.” Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. His cock was going soft right in front of her eyes.
“Can I do one? I want to see you orgasm.” Her eyes were so bright and eager, he couldn’t say no to his cherub. He nods, only for her to glance down at his soft cock. “Why is it smaller now? I think it’s kind of cute.”
This has to be the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. No woman has ever called his dick cute, or made a comment on its size when soft. He gets compliments on how big he is when he’s hard, but soft is a different story. He’s a grower not a shower. He has to admit, his encounter is damaging his ego a bit. “It gets bigger when I’m aroused, but if it’s not touched it gets softer.” He’s lying straight through his teeth, he can stay hard for hours without touching his dick.
“If you touch it, it gets big again.” She switches positions, having him on his back, resting between his legs, face right next to his cock. He feels himself twitch and she jerks her head in surprise, giggling at her own reaction. She begins to almost pet him, it feels good but not what he needs.
He reaches down, guiding her hand to gather the precum at his tip, slowly pulling it back down, tightening her grip on his dick. “Oh, wow, it’s getting bigger. It’s so hard.” Her amazement at something so simple as a dick getting hard is endearing.
Bucky grunts when he twists her hand. “I liked that sound.” Her words make him groan again, cock all the way hard. His hips buck into her hand and he lets her hand go, trusting her to keep her pace. It’s slow but firm, driving him insane. He wants her to go faster, harder, but this is about her, letting her discover at her own pace.
“Spit on the tip, it’ll make it easier to move.” She does so without hesitation. Bucky’s head flies back into the headboard, moaning at her soft hands working his cock. “Just like that, cherub, you’re doing so good. This feels incredible.” Bucky meant every word of it. Her hand honestly felt better than the full blown sex he’s had in the past. Maybe it was because he loved her with all his heart, or maybe it was because she was an angel, either way, Bucky didn’t have it in himself to care.
“You look so pretty like this, my love. I love this, making you feel good.” Bucky’s hips pick up speed, feeling his orgasm building up in the base of his cock.
“Cherub, I’m going to cum. Please keep going just like that.” She figures he means orgasm since he is jerking just like she was. The urge to make him orgasm was almost too much to bear, wanting him to show her how beautiful he was when he lets go. “Oh, cherub, I’m about to, oh fuck.” He moans long and loud, cum spurting out of his tip. She gasps at the force of it but doesn’t let up her pace. She had never seen anything more beautiful than her love in this moment.
He has to stop her, not knowing that he needed a break. “Love, I want to make you do that again.” She scoops some of his cum off his stomach with her finger and just stares at it.
“You can taste it if you’d like.” She eagerly licks her fingers, eyes bulging at his taste, dropping down to lick the rest of it off his body. “Come here, cherub.” He pulls her into a kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. He pulls the cover over their bodies, her wings instinctively wrapping around him.
“Thank you, my love, for always taking care of me. I was sent to save you, yet I feel that it’s the other way around.” Bucky doesn’t think so. He knows that she saved him. They fall asleep together and in the morning they will find that her wings are just a bit lighter than the night before.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes smut#bucky x you#bucky imagine#bucky smut#sebastian stan x reader#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes au
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The Harrington Pattern Part 6
Yay! Another History Nerd Steve!! And I got a shit ton of awesome writing done yesterday so I was able to catch up to omegaverse. But it's looking like this one will finish first. As I think I have one or two more chapters to go on this one (as in past my backlog not past this chapter specifically).
In this chapter we get Eddie being a good dad, Mike getting introspective and Will getting some perspective of his own. And a little bit of Eddie keeping Mike humble for funsies.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03
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Eddie gathered Mike and El up and took them outside of Will’s hearing.
“Hey,” he said gently, “I’m not mad at you, okay? But I have to explain something to you both.”
Mike and El looked at each other in confusion. “About what?” El asked.
“About offering to help Will buy the staff,” Eddie said. “It showed that you are kind and generous people who only want to help their friend, but Will does not see it that way.”
“He doesn’t?” El asked.
“When you grow up poor,” Eddie said fiercely, “it is drilled into you that any help at all is charity and should be avoided at all cost.”
Mike and El looked at each other again, their confusion even greater than before.
“But why?” El asked.
“Because supposed ‘well meaning’ people,” Eddie put air quotes around well meaning, “think that when you are poor you don’t deserve good things and gifts like that always come with strings attached.”
“So Will thinks that if we help buy the staff we’re going to ask him to do something that he might not want to do but will feel he has to because we bought him the staff?” El asked in one great big rush.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Eddie said. “Do I think you’d hold it against him? No. But...”
“But when it’s all you know it’s hard to see there is a problem,” Mike muttered looking at his shoes, remembering what had happened only hours before.
Eddie’s expression softened. “The very like.” He gave them a group hug. “Besides Steve’s got it covered.”
Mike and El stepped back, confusion back on their faces.
“What do you mean?”
Eddie huffed out a laugh. “If the staff is still there on Saturday, Steve going to suddenly have ten extra dollars from Joyce that she gave him for Will’s meals that he didn’t end up spending because Will eats like a bird.”
El frowned. “But that would be a lie and friends don’t lie.”
Eddie shrugged. “Is it a lie or is it Steve stretching the truth a little to help a friend. After all your friends have lied for you. Lying to you to make you feel better is something that isn’t going to hurt anything in the long run.”
“I don’t understand,” El said, tilting her head.
“It’s like you could tell Mike he looks hideous in yellow,” Eddie pointed out. “But he wears it because it’s your favorite color. Him wearing yellow isn’t hurting anyone and it’s sweet he’s wearing it for you. So if he asked how the yellow hat looks on him you would say what? That it looks awful or that you love it because you understand the intentions behind it?”
El blinked. “You’re right. Thank you!”
Eddie smiled and began walking back to the table.
Mike started hurrying after him. “But I don’t look hideous in yellow, right? Right, Eddie?”
Eddie just kept walking with his smile turning into a feral grin.
****
Steve smiled at Eddie when he sat back down next to him. He bumped him with his shoulder. “If I’m the mom, you’re their dad.”
Eddie turned bright red and shoved his hair in front of his face. “Shut it.”
Steve bumped their shoulders together. “I think between the two of us we form one half-way decent parental figure.”
Eddie smiled that closed lipped dimpled smile that Steve loved so damn much and he couldn’t help but smile back.
Holy shit was this crush getting wildly out of hand. He just wanted kiss those dimples so, so much.
Across from them Mike raised an eyebrow. He looked between the two older boys and after a moment he made the connection. He thought about it for a moment and decided it wasn’t any of his business as long Steve didn’t take over their DnD time.
And considering how well Steve respected that time as friends with Eddie, he really didn’t think dating would change all that much. Just the level of PDA they would show would change.
Mike continued to watch them to see if they were a couple and hiding it or if they hadn’t gotten there yet.
His consensus? Hell if he knew, to be honest.
But better Eddie than Nancy at this point was all he was going to say on the matter.
They finally were all done with their food and they all split off again. He watched Steve and Eddie go off together and shook his head.
Will tilted his head. “What’s up?”
Mike knew what Will was. Had done for ages now. He just smiled at his best friend. “I haven’t held much stock in there being one person for you in all the world, but you know sometimes you see two people together and just think ‘yeah, I couldn’t see them with anyone else,’ you know?”
Will looked in the direction Steve and Eddie were walking away and nodded. “Yeah, I think I do.”
****
While there wasn’t much to do the kids still came home that night filled with tales of wonder and amazement.
But later that night Will came and knocked on Jonathan’s door.
Jonathan pulled off his headphones and motioned him in.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked as Will hesitantly stepped into the room.
Will sat gingerly on the bed. “How well do you know Steve?”
Jonathan sighed. “Probably not as well as I should. He was around in the outside of my circle and then we’d only really see each other when the world was ending. Why? What’s up?”
Will twisted his fingers nervously. “What would you say the possibility was of him liking guys?
That brought up Jonathan short. Sure there was a chance that Will was just projecting his hopes for Mike onto the older boy, but this was Will and his little brother was far too perceptive for his own good.
So he gave it some real thought. All the times he saw Steve in high school and around town. All the times they interacted to help save the world. And he was starting get a picture.
Jonathan shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible. It’s hard to tell admiring glances from signs of attraction.”
Will cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Would you say Max or Robin were pretty?” Jonathan asked scooting over on the bed to sit next to Will.
Will shrugged back. “I mean, I guess. My friends are attracted to them so they must be.”
“Right,” Jonathan agreed. “Is Mike good looking?”
Will snorted. “Not really, maybe when he’s gotten past the awkward giraffe stage. Steve though...” He ducked his head and blushed.
Jonathan laughed. “Fair enough. I’m not attracted to guys and even I know that Steve is hot.”
“So attraction is more than looks?” Will asked. “Like you can find someone of the opposite that you’re attracted to good looking, but you wouldn’t want to date them or have sex with them?”
Jonathan nodded. “So while it’s possible Steve could be attracted to guys, I really couldn’t be the judge of that. Why do you ask?”
“I think even Mike picked up on Steve and Eddie’s flirting today,” Will muttered.
Jonathan’s eyebrows really did shoot up on that one. If Mike picked up that Steve was flirting with Eddie...
But then again... actually.
“That makes more sense then you realize,” he told Will slowly.
Will straightened up. “What do you mean?” He was really getting tired of asking that phrase at the moment.
“Who would know more about what Steve’s flirting looks like from the outside,” Jonathan said, “then someone who witnessed it with his own sister.”
“Oh. Nancy. Yeah, you’re right that does make sense.” Will blinked away his confusion.
Jonathan smiled. “So did you get the answer you were looking for?”
Will thought for a moment. “I think so. I mean Robin and Eddie have come out to us, but Steve hasn’t.” He paused for a moment. “Though, I think that Steve may have hinted it to me earlier. I told him that I thought Eddie might like him back, but I don’t know if that was enough, you know? For him to come out, I mean.”
“It could be that Steve hasn’t figured it out fully himself,” Jonathan said with a huff of laughter. “Like he might know he has feelings for Eddie, but not what those feelings mean.”
Will nodded. “Thanks, Jonathan. I’ll let you get back to your music.”
“Oh shit!” Jonathan scrambled to stop the tape. He sighed when he realized it was near the end of it. He hit rewind and looked back at Will shaking his head fondly.
“I think you need to lay off the weed, dude,” Will said, getting to his feet.
“Never!” Jonathan shouted after him, but Will had already slammed the door behind him.
****
Mike was lying on his bed looking up at the ceiling. Unlike what he knew was happening in friends houses’, the near constant talking about how awesome their day was, Mike had made an excuse that he was just tired, that he did have fun and couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
In the dark comfort of his own room, he knew they weren’t lies. Not really. He was all three of those things, but he also had a lot on his mind.
Racism and homophobia. He remembered all the awful things he had thrown at Will. All the things he said to Lucas.
He knew his parents were conservative. Whatever the hell that really meant. But they weren’t bad people. His mom had never tried to tell him not to be friends with Lucas or that gay people were evil.
But all the little things were starting to add up. Gay men deserved to die because the disease didn’t affect anyone else and they just weren’t the effort.
But he thought about Will and Eddie. And yeah, maybe Steve, too. Did they really deserve to die just because of how they had sex? That didn’t sit well with Mike. It made his stomach turn uneasily.
Dustin had been right about the Vulcans, they were of different colors, too. So why couldn’t elves? Why were the Drow evil? Was that racism, too? Plus did it even matter?
Almost all the campaigns Mike had been in were what the game makers called home-brew.
Yes, they used the game as the framework, but then colored outside of the lines all the time.
After all, Vecna was just a lore character where only the dude’s hand and eye were left out in the world. But Eddie had taken that lore and turned it into an amazing story.
He got ready for bed and laid back down. He stared up at his ceiling again. He had been a bad friend for years. Ever since El came into their lives, she was his only focus. It was a god damn miracle that they hadn’t thrown him off before now.
There must be something that they still liked. He would just have to figure out what it was and lean into that.
And with that, Mike drifted off to sleep as tried to figure out ways to keep his friends.
****
Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13
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