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hazelfoureyes · 24 days

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⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 (keep reading)

Alastor lets you leave the hotel! Together! For soup. Later, your plans to make Alastor lose his obsession backfire. But like, in a hot way so you’re not that mad about it. A+ for effort?

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: smut, I once again misuse a fucking prayer in a sacrilegious way, soup, spoon feeding, Angel texts, so much cum, bondage, tentacles, just good ole fashion fucking in the radio station, not quite dubcon but Alastor doesn’t really listen, hell has twitter and lets be real it’s just normal twitter, giant Alastor, Horse Luci」

Minors DNI ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You finally managed to leave the hotel. It was of course with Alastor at your side, microphone pressing into the small of your back like a third arm. It was as if he worried you’d just turn around and run.

He opened every door, pulled out your chair, and when your left hand shook and dropped your food he took on the task of feeding you. It was embarrassing, to say the very least. The sinners in the restaurant staring, a brave few filming or typing furiously on their phones.

You got a buzz on your own cell, a gift from Angel when he realized Alastor wouldn’t let you speak with others alone.

He texted a link to a post on some hell site, to a photo of you right then, at that exact moment, being spoon fed by the radio demon. You considered smashing your head into the table until you blacked out. If you got up and left would you make it back to the hotel before someone realized you weren’t a sinner? You were absolutely terrified of someone noticing you as heaven sent.

Heaven kicked? Heaven thrown. Yeah that one felt right.

“You need to eat. You can’t heal like this.” Alastor sounded concerned, but you fought the urge to care.

He hadn’t apologized to Husk, but Husk did say Alastor seemed to avoid eye contact which was basically a gift to him. Alastor had come to your room to dress you the next day as he always did, neither of you mentioning the day before. The hall was magically pristine by the time you left.

A tiny sliver of you thought he felt embarrassed. But decades of experience told you that Mania didn’t afford embarrassment, the stricken couldn’t be truly manic if something like that was holding them back.

Maybe it had been such a shallow cut he hadn’t gotten the full punch of Mania?

Another attempt to feed yourself, slowly bringing your spoon to your mouth, “You know when I heal I am going to finish my task and leave, right?”

An odd laugh, a non-existent tear wiped away, “Adorable. No. I promise you, that won’t happen.”

“Alastor.” You put the spoon down with a clink.

“I love when you say my name. May I offer you more reasons to hold it in your mouth?”

“Al-,” you groaned, “I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed, a show of pretending to think about what you said, “Wrong! You can. And I argue, you will.”

You tried again with the spoon, regretting soup. Your appetite had been shot for awhile and it seemed easy enough. Wrong. Again. There was a constant tremble to your hands since arriving. Perhaps experiencing pain for the first time was rattling your body so much that it couldn’t cope. “Why would I ever do that? This is literal hell.”

Alastor leaned over, taking the spoon from you with ease and bringing it to your mouth, “Because I’ll make you understand it’s where you belong. They didn’t appreciate you,” his grin widened, “Not like I do. Like I can, if you’d let me.”

Annoyed and flustered, you took the help to eat. “Thank you.” A spoonful, “How can you say that though? I’m the one and only Cupid.”

“Actually, no. You’re not. You are just the current incarnation. They’ll replace you.”

You regretted telling him that. They could. Just replace you, that is. There was nothing stopping them. You stared into your soup, lips curling down.

“Don’t look so defeated. I’ll make you happy, for eternity.”

Your eyes rolled. “When do you plan on starting that eternal happiness?”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could see his hand slow, then become completely still. Had you wounded him?

He pivoted, “Doesn’t Cupid have wings?”

Another spoonful, “Of course.”

Alastor waited while you took a drink, determined to make you eat the entire bowl, “Where are they?”

A pause. Where were they? You hadn’t realized you couldn’t feel them. They weren’t everpresent, but their weight still sat between your shoulder blades at all times. Always. Normally. But now?

“You don’t know? That’s troubling.” Alastor read your face with ease.

You shot him a look. Stop doing that. Stop replying to unspoken thoughts.

“Apologies.”

Another text before you could snap at him.

You slid the phone away from Alastor, face red. “Do you think, honestly, if you’re capable of it, that I’ll ever be able to go home?”

His hand came to your neck, running over your collarbone, “For the record, I’ve never once lied to you.” You rolled your eyes, fine, okay, “With your heavenly body, even as weakened as you have been here, I’d say just a few more weeks.”

You turned the phone face down.

“Good…that’s good. If you plan on winning me over, your countdown has started.” You pushed the soup away, appetite gone. The idea of never returning to heaven made you nauseous. He slid it back to you, face stern despite the smile he wore.

The walk home was quiet, your stomach full of unwanted soup.

No, not home. The hotel.

He usually spoke a lot, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. His hand replaced the staff, settled on your back as he guided you. You could feel the warmth through your clothes. How could he be so hot and not be sweating? Another sinner thing?

The thought hadn’t left you by the time you came into view of the hotel gates. Maybe you had been replaced. How would you know? Maybe that was why your wings were gone. Surely there was some way to communicate from hell.

You found Lucifer as soon as you returned, unbothered by Alastor’s presence, “I need to speak to heaven.”

Alastor was saying something but you had gotten quite good at tuning him out. Lucifer snapped back, the men quickly devolving into arguing again.

“Lucifer.” You said it with your chest.

His apple topped cane whirled, a golden circle appearing with a crystal clear image of heaven’s glowing gates through its center.

A loud noise erupted behind you, a high pitched static wail, familiar tentacles flailed and a long shadow of a growing Alastor stretched across the wall. His back was bent into the lobby ceiling, perhaps three stories tall now.

The sounds of magic popping as Lucifer shapeshifted accented the sounds of horror with that of whimsy. You approached the portal, those black tendrils slithering around your ankles but you easily slipped out of them as their owner's energy was pulled to full demon Lucifer slamming into him.

Almost, you could see it.

A monstrously large hand came down, shaking the hotel and knocking various objects off their perches in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie, someone else you’d come to enjoy the company of, flew down the stairs.

The common area was filled with the sounds of yelling and breaking glass. You crawled over his hand as Alastor’s fingers curled around your body gingerly. He tried to pull you from the gateway but while he slowed, Lucifer now a flying horse kicking him in the face, your outstretched hand strained to enter the portal.

Your fingers grazed the doorway, the air around the lobby fizzing and warping as a desperate screech tore from Alastor’s wide and impossibly thin chest. The grip tightened around you. A static whine threatened to pop your eardrums.

As your fingertips pressed past the ring, they stopped. Something impenetrable and unseen between you and heaven.

Alastor must have noticed it too, his grip loosening as you clamored on hand and knees to the portal. Your palm ran over the doorway, searching for a hole or seam to rip. Just under your skin was your home, bright and clean and painless. A tiny ‘no’ fell from your lips, smacking at the barrier with your open hand.

Alastor returned to his normal, still terrifying, height. Lucifer came forward, their fight losing motivation, his small hand on your shoulder as you sat on the hotel lobby floor. He closed the portal and apologized, “Sorry kid. Let’s try again when you finish that task, okay?”

Alastor’s arms went under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. You didn’t resist or argue. Your eyes were unfocused, vision blurry with tears, as you were carried past the others. Vaggie looked ashamed, which was odd given she had more character than half the archangels could muster together between them.

There existed permissions for who could enter the heavenly realm, a list meticulously kept. They’d removed you from that roster. They’d locked the doors behind you.

You felt good. The final week of your first, and hopefully last, month in hell was marked with taking off your sling for the first time.

A good three day wallow in a metaphorical cave helped you emerge with renewed vigor. Of course they locked the gates behind you, otherwise you’d just go home. That made sense. That made sense.

That had to make sense.

Deciding to take a risk and attempt to expedite your homecoming, you and Angel made plans. Like a teenager in a party movie you snuck out of the hotel when Alastor was asleep. Well, so you assumed. You weren’t really sure what he did behind closed doors.

Angel brought you somewhere he felt people would be receptive to discussing love and talking to angelic beings, and admittedly also very high.

Sling off but still being as gentle as you could, you leaned across the small standing-only table to talk-shout with a rather cute aquatic demon. An eel? Or maybe some kind of water-fond lizard? It didn’t matter, his glasses were cute, both of you a little drunk, and you quite good at saying the right things.

And all of the right things were said, and you felt maybe if nothing else you’d enjoy your first demonic lay, when the power shut off.

Everyone filed out, bummed and bothered to find most of the neighborhood shrouded in darkness.

Angel tapped your shoulder and pointed up the hill to the hotel, radio station a glow with a red light, “Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Nothing to do but to stare, you stayed quiet and angry while he flagged down a taxi knowing the trip would be fast without traffic lights, “Guess Daddy Dead Eyes is calling you back.”

Anger grew and grew in your chest as you were charioted home.

Jesus, to the hotel. Stop doing that.

You burst into the radio station tower, Alastor barely reacting. Until, that is, you marched up to his desk.

Pinned before you could react, his body pressing into yours as your ass ran up onto the desk.

“Sneaking out like a child?” His voice was low, soft, unnatural. “Why do you intentionally torment me?”

“I have done,” you tried to move but only succeeded in rubbing your stomach against his crotch, “no such thing. You’re just possessed.”

He responded by pressing forward, no accident, as his eyes narrowed on you, “Correct. I am a man possessed.” When he rolled himself into you, an alcohol primed groan escaped your mouth.

“I thought you didn’t care about those things,” your eyes flashed to his lap pushing into you and then back to his glare.

“You’re my exception that proves the rule. If you’re so desperate for attention there’s no need to leave the hotel to find it.” His smile was poisoned by the simmering anger in his eyes, “Dear.”

It was the alcohol and annoyance at losing a chance with glasses-man, Jake or Jark or something not worth a scrabble move, that made you sneer a reply, “Not yours. I am a divine creature, demon. Your body would just filthy me.” Nose up, feeling absolutely better than him in every sense, you pushed him off and left.

That was easy. Wow.

Proud of yourself, you made it to the elevator before you realized— illusions. Perhaps his illusion was the idea sex with you was worth the effort, more so than others. He said it himself before, he didn’t care for such things. Perhaps if you could show him it was as boring and unattractive as sex with anyone else could be, maybe you could shatter his mania with disappointment.

You pulled a u-turn and heel-toed right back into his station. Giving him no time to react this time, you climbed onto his chair and straddled him, “On second thought, try your worst. Let’s get it out of your system and move on.” You ground your hips down. He only smiled up at you, amused. Taking his hands you set them on your waist, giving him permission to handle you, “Claim me. Make everyone know I’m yours.” He didn’t move. You were starting to feel embarrassed, had he goaded you just to make you look stupid? He would. But your kind invented the tension before sex between enemies, “If you can.”

That did it. His hair visibly stood on end, “It is not a matter of ability. It’s about-”

“If you can’t, that’s fine. No need to start lying to me now. But don’t say I never gave you the opportunity.” You smirked, hoping he enjoyed a taste of his own sardonic medicine, and lifted yourself off of him.

His hands came to life on your hips, helping you rise and then flipping you onto your stomach. Your arms pushed radio transmitters and various old timey fuckery away to make room for yourself.

Those talons slipped up the center of your bottoms and crooked into your underwear. Long and strong, his fingers felt you. “Is this a perk of a heavenly body or is this,” two fingers dipped into your already wet and relaxed entrance, “all for me?”

You fought the urge to respond with anything other than malice, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

In heaven no one needs preparation, no one needs lube or required stretching to keep things whole and fun. You would love to say that quality followed you down, but unfortunately, like perfect health and angelic wings, it had not.

You decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. Always an easy excuse to offer yourself.

Alastor’s hands pulled away and up, finding the place just above the Rosie’s Emporium clothing tag and ripping the bottoms and underwear clean in half.

You bit into your hand to keep your excited shriek to yourself but unfortunately couldn’t stop your legs kicking up. His laugh echoed off the many windows.

Why couldn’t he be worse at this? Why couldn’t Alastor be clumsy and meek and awkward at sex? No, the menace you’d gotten almost used to was confident and commanding, you felt yourself twitching in anticipation. People have a misconception that Cupid was a chaste and wholly emotional creature, which was false. First of all, Cupids varied based on the incarnation. Just like other heavenly creatures their personality was varied and unpredictable.

Personally, you weren’t suited for the job. If you were honest. Why couldn’t your quiver just be full of Eros and Agape? Even of those two, sexual love was more your speed. Romance was fine and lovely but perhaps you’d gotten a little jaded.

Luckily for you, fucking Cupid was something many winners had on their afterlife bucket lists and you rarely found yourself with an empty bed.

Your attention was stolen back, Alastor’s clawed hand grabbing at the flesh of your thighs, “Oops.”

Focus. Why were you doing this again? Your system was metabolizing the alcohol now, and with the air cooling off your exposed sex, everything was awash with lust. Did you want to diminish his mania or were you just horny?

Would it really be so bad to admit you were both?

Deep breath, you remembered. Boring. Banal. The plan was to be motionless and not provide him any satisfying sounds. Don’t touch him, don’t try to push back on him, no tricks or fancy shit. The sooner he was over this you could make someone trust in love and fuck off home.

Seconds turned to a minute, your ass in the air as Alastor’s hands pawed at your skin. You wanted to ask what the hold up was, but you didn’t want to give away how much you were needing him to just fuck you already.

“Do you miss flying?”

You looked around, were you so drunk you missed an entire chunk of conversation while thinking about how to hide thirsting for his dick?

“Yes…?” True statement.

“Allow me to help with that.”

There was a moment you half expected to be chucked out the window, but almost worse than that, you heard him seat himself in the chair again before your body was picked up and off the desk. “Alastor! I don’t-,” Hands flailing, feet moving around the best they could, you struggled against the familiar tentacles he had command over. “I do not allow it!”

Your hands batted at them fruitlessly. One came under your knees and folded them to either side of your chest before wrapping around your waist twice, a second across your chest like a seatbelt snug and secure. Had you been on the floor you could almost be mistaken for taking a deeply devout praying stance. Only your arms were free to move, the position making you open and incapable of taking back any semblance of control.

“Alastor!” Stretching, you could almost reach the edge of his work table, but your fingers and toes curled in as you were seated on something hot and stiff. Your lips quivered, desperate to keep silent as you were pulled down onto him. Reaching back your hands found his stomach, raking your nails across the skin in need of anything to grip.

When you heard him chuckle to himself, you knew you were already losing. Plan backfiring entirely. You pulled your hands back to your center, taking ahold of the tentacle nestled between and across your chest.

“Heavenly Father,” his voice was quiet but sure, your eyes so wide you worried you’d get stuck making a permanent face of utter shock and despair, “bless us and these thy gifts which we receive from thy bountiful goodness, through your name, our lord.” You were lifted off his lap, Alastor’s swollen tip dragging along your unstretched walls as he said the Lord's prayer, “Amen.” Pulled back down before the second syllable even reached your ears, you cut into your bottom lip as a scream bounced around behind your teeth.

Heathen.

“I would think you of all people knew how to finish a prayer.” Alastor chided, “What will heaven say?”

If heaven knew you were being impaled midair on an overlord’s cock, they’d create a second hell for you to rule. Population of none. Except maybe some horny nuns.

As he found a pace he seemed happy with, slow and long draws out of you, you realized how fucked you were. Looking down, you could see one of his hands was settled at the base of his cock, those long fingers draped down his balls. The other hand was unseen and unfelt.

“Alastor.” You tried to sound stern.

“Oh I doubt heaven knows my name. Not yet at least.” He sounded unbothered, almost unaffected. “Not until I’ve spirited away their little angel of love.”

You were almost insulted at how easily he could speak despite being buried so far into your wet, hot cunt. Maybe you had been spoiled in heaven, people usually so turned on by the idea of you that they were coming undone as soon as you were wrapped around them or in them in whatever way you decided.

A broken chant of “be bored, be bored,” in your mind as Alastor hummed, that mystery clawed hand falling at your back. Biting your lip, you tried to think about anything other than how full he was making you. Did the glasses man at the club have a cock as thick as Alastor’s? Would you have been as satisfied as you were now? Every down thrust made the tuft of fur at this base press against your ass. Soft. You wanted to grind against it, the idea pulling a wanton moan out.

Fuck. Failing to distract yourself because you got distracted. It was so hard to think about anything else than your body being pushed open again and again. The blood on your lips was sweet, licking them clean before finding a new spot to bite down on. Quiet.

“Ah, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

Could this son of a bitch read minds? Could sinners read minds?!

If you didn’t reply, that was confirmation. But if you did reply, you were breaking your goal of not talking.

“Just…,” you took a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be rough, “I’m not really feeling like making any noise.” A shrug, the best you could manage at least while bound and held aloft in the space above his lap. Pretending this was normal and boring was a feat. “I’m not a vocal person during sex. I prefer to just lie there and get serviced. Don’t mind me.”

That sounded awful. Perfect.

“Oh? Well then, I guess I’ll not worry myself.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Less perfect. He began to hum a little tune as your body, partially upright, was now being tilted forward at a 45 degree angle from his lap. His cock was bending in you, head pressing harshly up into your walls.

Heart beating so fast you felt a dizzy spell hit you, that renewed anticipation almost as arousing as the sensations.

His humming continued like he was reading the paper. You’d never ridden a roller coaster, but you’d seen many people do it before and this was surely the same feeling; right at the peak before the drop. When the ride operator stills you and lets you stare down at the height before you. Your stomach was flipping, excitement tinged with fear.

You were pulled off his dick until you felt the bell of his red tip get just outside your entrance. Was he going to pull out entirely?

No. He pulled you down by way of shadows and fucked you just a couple inches into your cunt. His head was dragging out past your tight hole and smashing back in, directly hitting your g-spot. The spongy bundle of nerve endings was dented with every thrust.

You weren’t used to having your entrance stimulated so much, the skin luckily becoming slick as your own wetness was fucked out of you.

“That feels weird, please.” How quickly you gave up. “Stop pulling out like that.”

A considerate sigh, “But you’ve gotten so wet, my dear. You’re dripping down my thighs already. I don’t think you want me to stop.”

Could you cum like this? You felt like you could, maybe if you just…you quickened your breath, faster and faster. Your stomach heaving, you felt the crescendo of pleasure.

“On second thought!” He stopped.

Your toes wiggled, hands gripping the tentacle on your chest. Quiet. Shh. Don’t argue. Boring. Don’t care. The building orgasm waned, you felt your blood pressure lower. This really was hell.

Alastor’s head was just sitting in you, burning hot and throbbing. You were sure you could feel his heartbeat.

You two were locked in a standoff. Someone had to let on they were enjoying themselves; Alastor releasing pent up frustration with your attitude toward his affections, you chasing down a rare penetration-only orgasm.

An idea struck you, a way to hopefully antagonize him and bruise his pride enough to force him into your hand (pussy), “Thank God. I think it’s almost my bedtime.”

Alastor’s smile strained, a twitch coming over his left eye. A trap. But the idea of letting you down and off of him seemed far worse than the small defeat you were offering. “Allow me to rock you to sleep then, sweetheart.”

Success! Shit!

You reached out, the angle of your punishment allowing you to grab the edge of the table and grip. Alastor’s annoyance translated to an inhuman pace, him pulling you off entirely from his cock before bringing you back down. He was positively slipping in and out of you, your lower lips puffy and soaked around him. This degree of wetness was something you couldn’t remember feeling outside of marathon sessions.

When your hands tightened, a shock of pain tore down your arm, a scream bringing Alastor to a sudden stop. “My collar…” Pain was apparently not a kink you enjoyed, though you briefly wondered if heaven allowed it at all.

You couldn’t even fuck properly. You couldn’t do anything right. All you managed to do was fail. A sting to your eyes as the air hit your welling tears. Did humans feel this pain often? Your body was righted and turned, you looked down to Alastor’s face as you were brought to him. He looked so soft, usual smirk a sweet toothless smile, “I told you to keep the sling on, didn’t I?” He looked happy.

Your arms found his shoulders and your head came to his chest, “Shut up and finish already.” He didn’t release you from the binding, instead pulling the right arm under the hold of his slender tendril to keep it safe and out of the way. His hands were both at the base of his cock while you were gently riding him. Well, “you”. He was still using his powers to manipulate your body on and off of him. Alastor’s fingers were spreading your arousal down his shaft and along his tightening balls, if you had looked at his face you’d have seen a weakened man there, furrowed brows and lust drunk eyes. But you didn’t look, trying to hide the same expression on your own features.

Left hand free, no need to hold yourself up, you made lazy, and you hoped subtle, circles around your clit. You weren’t sure if this was a total failure or not, but you could finish and say something good came of it. You, specifically.

Things were quiet, though. The loudest sound in the room was the wet pop coming from where his body was meeting your sopping hole. His breathing was fast and soft, sighing when he bottomed out. Another bite to your lip, a few more deep hits to your cervix, and you enjoyed a small but satisfying release. The hand on you stayed through, riding out tiny waves of pleasure as you twitched around him. When you felt his release you sighed, you did it. You think. Maybe. Regardless.

As he slowly lifted you, you considered if your legs could hold you—

Up you went and back down you fell as he took a new, quicker pace.

“A-Ah-lastor?! You,” you bit your tongue, “already finished?”

You had made a mistake earlier that you hadn’t even realized. But Alastor had been holding it between his sharp teeth, “How many times?”

Absolutely no idea what he was talking about, you gasped out a reply, “What!?”

“How many times should I fill you before you’re too filthy to return to heaven, do you think?” He couldn’t be serious. “Three? Five? You see, the advantage of using my tentacles is that I don't get tired.”

Oh, but he was serious.

The battle was entirely forfeit somewhere around the third time he flooded you with his seed.

“These aren’t the usual screams I enjoy from my studio, but I’m not averse to them.”

When he felt you’d learned whatever lesson you were supposed to be taking in by the pump full, you were finally removed from him. He covered your lower half with his coat around your waist. It would be lying to say you were surprised to find his wide shoulders and small waist wasn’t just an illusion of his well tailored, yet oddly torn, coat. He was annoyingly attractive. Who gave him the right?

Your legs gave out when you tried to stand, warm hands pulling under your armpits to get you back on your feet. As much as you wanted to push him away, you were still a little tipsy and your legs still getting used to full blood flow. His arm held out for you to use for stability, you took it and wobbled silently to the floor you both lived on. Before you left the elevator you looked down and saw a line of white dripping down your inner leg. Took longer than you expected, honestly.

When you turned to the right to go to your door, his arm came around your waist and shepherded you to his room on the left. You shot him a look, asking what he thought he was doing.

He laughed, “Oh, after tonight’s little escapade, you’re moving!” He opened his door and gestured for you to enter, “Welcome home, my dear.”

What was worse than a failure? A catastrophe? This was that.

“Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up.” A hand patted softly at your ass before ushering you inside.

He did just that, wiping you down and undressing you before settling you into his bed. Exhausted and sore, you decided to argue after sleep.

When you awoke, you checked your shredded bottoms for your phone. Nothing.

An answer was found when you mentioned it to Alastor, who asked what you were searching for so early in the morning, “Perhaps someone at that venue you enjoyed has it? Too bad you can’t go back and ask.” He was resting his back against the headboard, you realized he’d unbuttoned his shirt quite a bit. “Oh well!”

How was he always making you scream?

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

#alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x you #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #smut

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ohimsummer · 3 months

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✎ . . .❝…YOU LITTLE THIEF! ❞

—poly! stsgverse, some light shoko x reader, implied stsg x reader (?), ntm just some goofy silly antics

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ reader is able to skate like this during their getaway >:3 ( read the sequel! )

The Jaws theme is playing on the soundtrack within your mind. They’re both clueless, none the wiser to the incoming threat that slowly creeps up behind them. Whatever is on Gojo’s phone must be life changing, the way he and Geto are so transfixed, smiling and laughing as if they’re not about to be pulled into the depths. The perfect opportunity reveals itself when they part, leaving a gap just big enough for you to squeeze through. Locked on the target, you pick up speed, careful to avoid any stragglers between you and your prize, until…

“Hey!’” Gojo exclaims as you zoom between them, gaping at the bare hand that just held his phone. “Give that back!”

Twirling around, you stick out a tongue in reply, still gliding away as both men try and fail to run after you on their own skates. Both are stuck fumbling through groups of people, pros or others clinging to the rail just to stay upright. Your escape is swift, efficient, and they haven’t even covered half the distance by the time you’ve kicked off your skates and scurried over to the booth Shoko has claimed.

“Lookie!” Your squeal is eager, victorious, mischievous. She squeezes in next to you as you switch on Gojo’s phone, unfortunately having locked during your get away, but lucky for you, opening his camera doesn’t require a password. “Say cheese!” And Shoko leans in close, hand braced on your thigh, as you snap the first photo. And then another. And another. Picture after picture, photo after photo in rapid succession. A video of you and Shoko faux pouting, before bursting into laughter. Your selfie. Her selfie. A short clip of you puckering your lips, holding up a peace sign and blinking your lashes. You’re doing another where you and Shoko’s hands are forming a heart when something catches her eye.

“Move, move!,” she warns, and tugs you away from the wall of the booth, shared with the roller rink. You don’t question her, having spotted the tuft of white during the frantic turns of your head, and Gojo’s fingertips just brush the collar of your jacket as you settle into Shoko’s lap, mere inches out of his reach.

“Hand that over, you little thief!,” he pouts. Geto, leaning on the rail, mutters aloud ‘And how the hell were you running in roller skates…?’ but it’s mostly drowned out by Gojo’s next exclamation. “What do you think you’re doing with my property?”

You switch the camera, holding it up to snap a quick photo of them both. “I’m taking pictures, duh. Souvenirs. Something to remember us by.”

“Oh, are we dead?” Shoko squeezes her arms around your waist, and then answers her own question. “I suppose we will be, for this, right?”

The two of you share a girlish giggle, before Gojo, unamused, holds out his palm. “Phone, now.”

You don’t think you like this tone. “Why don’t you get out of the rink and come take it from me?”

Shoko, ever the instigator, mumbles an ‘oooh!’. She and Suguru are audience to the brief standoff between you and Gojo, before he straightens up, nibbles his lips in contemplation, narrows darkening blue eyes at you.

“Oh, just wait, you are gonna be in for it.” And you three watch him roll off towards the nearest rink exit.

Geto lingers a second longer, and so he spots you tucking his friend’s phone beneath your shirt, before leaping from Shoko’s lap. Gojo reaches one of the openings where the rink ends and black carpet begins, making eye contact with your fleeing figure and running for his shoes as you disappear into the darkness outside. Shortly afterward comes Geto. He leisurely slips off his skates, replaces them with his boots, and strolls over to join Shoko at the booth.

“Those idiots.,” she laughs as he slides in opposite of her. “How’d he let her steal his phone anyway? Thought Gojo had spidey senses?”

“We were…looking at something.” Geto hesitates on his words.

“Something?” Shoko sends you a text that goes unread and unanswered. “As in another picture of some model?”

A selfie of you, specifically. But Geto will never admit that, especially not to Shoko. “It was.”

She gives him a teasing grin. If she knows, he can’t tell. “Must’ve been quite the looker, huh?”

He props a hand under his chin. “Oh, yeah. You have no idea.”

tagz: @anthoosies @staryukis

#poly! satosugu #satosugu drabble #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #shoko x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #sashisu imagine #jjk x you

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norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

Note

hi, are you taking requests for smut too? i'd love one for charles, where usually he's not really into rough sex but one day he just goes for it and surprises y/n

A/N: Charles doesn't seem like one to have rough sex, but this was fun to write

Warnings: Rough sex, public sex, not really you're on his yacht, whatever just enjoy, p in v, wrap before you tap, slight bondage, dirty talk, spanking, slight ass play, daddy kink, sue me okay I popped off with this one

You hated tan lines, which is funny considering your boyfriend posted the ultimate tan line picture a year ago around this time. Charles was careful in picking a place that would allow you privacy.

He didn't want cameras capturing you naked on his yacht. Besides, you're his fiancée you should be allowed to tan nude on his boat if you want too. Smiling at the seclusion, you take off your top and soon your bottoms enjoying the way the sun warmed your skin.

"Sunshine, you need sunscreen." You laugh at his comment as his summer break photos are infamous for him always having the worse sunburns ever. "Maybe you should wear the sunscreen." Taking the bottle for him.

"I don't care if I burn, just don't want you too. Now give it." Reaching for it, you pull back. He shakes his head and goes to grab it again, only for you to do the same. "Give it here." You squeal as you and Charles wrestle for the bottle, everything ending when Charles's hand wraps around your throat and pins you down.

"When I say give it, you give it." His voice stern, the look in his eyes and hand on your throat as your squirming. You can see the lightbulb go off, throwing the sunscreen away he smirk. "Awww, did my little sunshine get excited by this? That's cute." Hand careful to not hurt you or cut off your oxygen.

"Charl." You buck your hips, but his hand pushes it down. "Nahuh, stay here. Don't touch yourself." He whispers removing his hand and dipping into the back of the yacht.

Holy fuck. Charles as never once acted this way towards you. He never had rough sex with you, you didn't mind it. But, shit....were you turned on like crazy. Unable to help yourself you dip your fingers in, whimpering when you feel a pool of wetness. "Mmmm." You screw your eyes shut, rubbing your clit gently.

"Are you really that much of a slut, you can't wait?" Eyes flying open, your fiancé stands there holding a piece of rope. "I'm so wet, Charles. Look." Smirking you spread your legs wide, showing off your pussy. His nose flares, trying to stay in control.

If this was a normal sex night, he'd drop to his knees and eat his fill drawing out gorgeous moans. But, this wasn't a normal sex night, and he was going to show you that. "Tsk, can't even listen to simple instructions can you?" Stepping forward his hand in on your neck.

Gasping he shoves you back on the plush deck. The front of the deck was for people just lay, it was simple and your favorite spot on the yacht. "Charl, please it aches. Help me." You beg trying to get some type of friction. "Stop." You freeze, the command settling deep in your bones.

He let's go of your neck, flipping you onto your stomach you yelp. "This is what happens when you don't behave." He bites your ear, letting go as he sets your hands on the railing. "Gorgeous ring, who gave it to you?" You giggle at the question, but moan when a stern slap to your ass is given.

The rope in his hand was being tied around your wrists and railing, not to tight, but enough you couldn't break free. "My fiancé." You moan, trying to lean back to rub into him. His body over yours. "Hmmm, very lucky guy." Humor in the words, you smile glad to know he was still his soft self. "Very, very lucky indeed. But, let's not talk about him." Charles smiles, seeing the smile in your eyes.

"You're right. I'd rather make you scream." You try to hit back with a quip, but you gasp out a moan feeling another slap to your ass. Spreading your legs, Charles hums rubbing the soft flesh before trailing his hand to your pussy. "How gorgeous you look, Sunshine. Fuck, that fiancé of yours better never fuck up." You nod, trying to form the words.

You couldn't as Charles was always good with his fingers, the way he'd move them should be illegal. "Do I need to finger you or eat you out, Sunshine? I want to make sure you're ready." The soft words, has you blushing. How in the world could Charles be so sweet and then so nasty at the same time.

"No, I got a little needy earlier when you were napping." His jaw twitches but says nothing as he nods. Standing up over you he pulls off his swim trunks. You hate that you couldn't turn around and see him. Charles naked it stunning, he was just perfect. "Condom, or no?" Charles was making sure he didn't overstep.

He's never been rough with you before and he refuses to go too far that it's too much. "No condom, fuck Charl hurry. I'm so wet and needy. God I want to feel you fill me up, please." You beg pulling your knees up and arching your ass up. "Fuck." He curses wrapping a hand around his cock, pumping himself a couple of times.

Getting back on his knees, he pulls you down. He thrusts up watching the way his cock moves between your ass cheeks. "Charles, next time. Just fuck my pussy Daddy!" You moan, unable to help the words fall from your lips. "Sweet jesus, Sunshine." Charles slides into you, his cock even harder from hearing you call him that.

You let out a loud moan, Charles holding your hips as he takes deep breaths trying to calm down. He doesn't wait, moving back and forth fast. "Yes, yes, uhhh." You gasp, shaking your head as Charles fucks into you fast. The sound of skin slapping, and your moans drive him crazy.

"Such a dirty slut got needy and used your own fingers to get off. Then you don't even wait a minute before you're touching yourself again. Were you that hungry for Daddy's cock you needed to misbehave huh?" You yelp Charles's fingers digging into your hair as he arches you up.

"Speak." He changes his pace but keeps the same deep thrusts as he circles his hips and goes forward sending your eyes to roll into the back of your head. "Yes, I'm a dirty slut." You gasp, Charles releasing you, falling forward you moan.

"That's right, you are a dirty slut. But, my dirty slut." He whispers reaching down as he rubs your clit sending you over the edge. "Oh, GOD CHARLES!" As he fucks hard into you, but the movement of his fingers on your clit slow driving you crazy. Moving fast he tugs on the rope watching fall.

Pulling out of you, you whine hating when he leaves you empty. Moving he towers over you, as he pumps is cock you sit up sucking him down. The feeling of your mouth on him sends him off the edge as he comes deep in your throat.

Pulling off of him, careful to not overstimulate him. The two of you gasp for air, before falling into a fit of giggles. "Are you okay?" He asks, pulling you into him. "Yes, you?" Placing soft kisses on his chest. "I'm perfect. By the way, maybe we should do that again." You smile loving the idea.

"Definitely."

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 scenario #f1 smut #f1 imagines #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

Text

Stuck On You

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dark themes, slut shaming, obsessive behaviour, smut.

Word count: ~6k

Summary: When her email is hacked and racy photos she'd sent to her boyfriend find their way onto Myspace, she becomes the social pariah of Oxford University. She turns to the only person she believes is intelligent enough to be able to help; Michael Gavey. Could uncovering the truth of the situation make things worse than they already are?

Author's note: Written to celebrate one year of my blog existing. Sorry for the delay. Crumbageddon beat the shit out of me. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Using a painting of that former duchess as a conversation piece, he describes what he saw as her unfaithfulness, frivolity, and stubbornness, and implies that he prefers her as a painting rather than as a…as a living woman,” her voice shakes, stumbling over her words, watching as her essay papers slip from her hands, fluttering towards the rug of the study.

“Sh-shit…I’m sorry,” she stammers, leaning down to snatch them back up, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment as she attempts to rustle them back into order.

“Everything alright?” Professor Ware asks, shifting in his seat and clasping his hands in his lap.

“Distracted by her own portrait, I should imagine,” snarks Farleigh, cutting her off before she has a chance to reply.

He smirks up at her, before returning his focus to the screen of his Macbook, fingers tapping quickly across the keys as he sits on the floor with it in his lap, leaning back against the armchair she currently sits in, his legs crossed at the ankle.

Of course he’d left it until the last minute to do his essay. Lazy prick.

“Stop it,” she hisses, knocking his shoulder with her knee.

“Why? It’s up again already anyway,” he retorts with a casual shrug, not bothering to look at her this time.

Her blood runs ice cold, dread gnawing a pit in her stomach. That would be the fourth time this week.

“Where?!” She demands, leaning down to snatch Farleigh’s Macbook from him, ignoring his protestation of “hey!” as she clicks on the minimised Internet Explorer window to see her Myspace profile already open.

Just as he’d said, there she is. Her profile picture depicts her in a lacy two piece lingerie set, laying on her bed, her cleavage, stomach and thighs on full display. She’d thought the angle flattering when she’d first held the digital camera above herself and snapped the picture, but now it’s splashed all over the internet for everyone to see. It makes her feel sick.

“I have to go,” she says hurriedly, shoving Farleigh’s Macbook back into his lap and stuffing her essay papers into her bag.

She almost trips over Farleigh’s long legs in her rush to escape the tutorial room, the air suddenly feeling too thick and difficult to breathe, as her heart hammers in her chest. Her feet carry her down the hallway in quick strides, no particular direction in mind, just eager to get away.

It had all seemed like innocent fun at first. She had felt excited on the second day of Fresher’s Week when a group of girls from the floor of her accommodation had invited her to go shopping with them

They had wrinkled their noses as she had beelined for the Ann Summers in Westgate Shopping Centre, lured by the big, red sale banner in the window.

“Oh darling,” India had cooed, “don’t buy that rubbish. We’ll get the train into London and take you to Rigby and Peller in Mayfair, if it’s lingerie you’re after.”

She had balked inwardly at the thought of how expensive that would be, but had simply smiled politely, stating “this is fine”, more than happy with the matching black lace set she’d picked from the sale rail.

Back in her room, she’d tried it on, loving the way the material hugged her curves and felt against her skin. Excitedly, she’d dug out her digital camera, contorting herself into various poses that she felt best displayed her assets, until she was satisfied she had several that looked good.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend, Jake, since she had left for Oxford and he had gone to Brighton. Their reading weeks didn’t align, which meant they’d have to wait until the term came to an end to see each other at Christmas.

Emailing him the photos had felt like a nice way for them to maintain some sort of intimacy, despite the distance, and he’d certainly appreciated it, as a couple of hours later she’d gotten a text from him which simply said “wow!”

The high from that had left her with a smile on her face for days, until she’d stepped out of a tutorial a few days later to see a missed call and a text from him.

“What the fuck are you playing at?!” It had read.

She’d called him back straight away, the urge to vomit growing acrid in her throat as he’d told her what he’d seen, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she’d scrambled with shaking hands to free her laptop from her bag, to confirm what Jake was saying.

There it was. Her Myspace profile picture had been changed to one of the lingerie photos she’d sent to him. This one was a full length photo she’d taken, aiming the camera at the mirror in her room.

The hot prickle of tears had burned beneath her eyelids, as she’d drawn in a shaky breath. “Wh-why would you do that?” She’d whispered tearfully into the phone.

“It wasn’t me!” Jake had snapped angrily. “Perhaps if you hadn't taken those bloody photos in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?!”

“It just looks bad. I think maybe we should cool things for a bit, I can’t with be someone that—”

Tears had rolled down her cheeks as she’d pulled the phone away from her ear, seeing the call had cut off. She’d run out of credit. In a way, she was grateful; she didn’t want to listen to Jake ending their relationship, to continue to blame her for something that wasn’t her fault.

She had taken the photo down, changed her profile picture back to what it was before, and changed the password for both Myspace and her email. However, the damage was done, the whispers of “slut” as she walked to lectures had already started.

Another two days later she had entered the IT lab to print out her essay, and saw a group huddled around a computer, laughing together. They had turned, immediately quietening down, their voices hushed whispers as they looked at her.

She had pushed them apart, already knowing what it was they were all looking at, but wanting to confirm it. Just as she’d suspected, her Myspace profile was open. This time her photo had been changed to an over the shoulder shot. The side of her face and her buttocks visible as she’d arched her back.

Running back to her room, tears of humiliation blurring her vision, she’d taken the photo down again and changed all her passwords. But once again, it was too little, too late. A print out of the photo slipped beneath her door that same day, with the word “whore” scrawled across it.

Her friends were already starting to pull away, the invites to the pub had dried up into nothing. When another photo had been uploaded, Felix had pulled her to one side.

“Look, I think it’s incredibly daring of you to be doing what you’re doing, and I respect the fuck out of you for it, really I do,” he’d said, eyes filled with sympathy as he’d looked down at her. “But a few of us really aren’t comfortable with how you’re going about…getting attention, so I just think it’s for the best if we take some space until you’ve figured out whatever this is.”

She had been stunned by his words, her eyes going wide as her mouth had dropped open. “You think I’m doing this to myself?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to think? We’re worried about you. There are better…healthier ways to make yourself stand out. Just come clean and all of this can stop.”

Turning away in disgust, anger and betrayal flaring white hot in her chest, she’d walked away. This was happening to her, she wasn’t complicit in it, and yet people continued to act like it was her fault. She had started to wonder if she really was to blame. Had she tempted fate by taking those photos in the first place?

Today was the fourth time a photo had been uploaded and having fled from the tutorial with Professor Ware and Farleigh, she finds herself in the Bodleian Library, having walked on instinct.

It serves as a quiet refuge for her in moments when she feels overwhelmed, hiding among the shelves, admiring tomes that are older than she is. She’d come here on her first day, when the influx of new people, sights and sounds had become too much, and she had crouched between the stacks the first time one of her photos had been leaked. The smell of old books and the peace and quiet feels safe.

Walking silently between the study tables she spots him, alone, as he always is; Michael Gavey. He is hunched over a notebook, scribbling furious notes, stopping occasionally to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

She had thoroughly embarrassed herself the first time she’d met him, the only time she had ever spoken to him. It had been the night of the fresher’s welcome dinner. She’d heard his outburst in the dining hall, heard how he had answered the subsequent multiplication sum flawlessly and been bowled over by how effortlessly brilliant he was. It was intimidating.

Yet, later that evening fuelled by the courage of five tropical watermelon flavoured Bacardi Breezers, she’d stumbled over to him in the rec room, ignoring how he’d recoiled slightly at her advancing towards him.

She’d wrapped an arm around his neck, taking no notice of the way he’d stiffened beneath her touch.

“Wha’s nine hundred and ninety nine divided by thirteen?” She’d slurred into his ear.

He had bristled slightly, before answering quietly. “Seventy six point eight five.”

She had giggled, patting his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. “Don’t even know how to check that, but I’ll take your word for it, genius.”

Kissing his cheek, she’d stumbled away, leaving him to wipe away the sticky residue her lips had left behind, while Felix and Farleigh had fallen about themselves, laughing, finding it far funnier than she’d intended for it to be. She had ended up making him a laughing stock without even meaning to.

The memory fills her with shame. She really did find him impressive. He was precisely the type of person she had wanted to rub shoulders with when she arrived at Oxford, yet she had made a fool of herself instead.

She smiled at him whenever she caught his eye on the rare occasions they crossed paths, but he’d either look away or stare at her expressionless.

Perhaps now was her opportunity to make amends. She has no friends now anyway, so it’s not as though she has anything to lose.

Walking over to his table, before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, she sits down heavily in the seat next to him, depositing her bag onto the tabletop.

Michael’s pen pauses its movements, and slowly his head turns to the side, narrowing his eyes at her in silent question.

She suddenly has the urge to run, realising this was a terrible idea. She feels enormous discomfort beneath the scrutiny of his gaze yet, determined to push through it, she offers him a bright smile.

“You’re Michael, aren’t you?” She says, attempting to sound more cheerful than she feels.

“Yes,” he replies simply, placing his pen down and straightening in his seat.

“Thought so. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” he cuts her off. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” she swallows, shifting awkwardly in her seat. She hadn’t anticipated him being quite so blunt. “Well, I wanted to apologise for how I behaved on the first night. I thought maybe we could be friends?”

He scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into the faintest of smirks. “As if I’d be friends with someone who’s reading literature. Why pay all that money in tuition fees for a glorified book club?”

For a moment she doesn’t know what to say. Shock, offense and hurt swirl in a hot mixture in her chest. She fights the embarrassing urge to burst into tears. Her voice is small and weak when she finally asks “How do you know what I’m studying?”

Michael nods towards the desk. “There’s a book of Robert Browning poetry sticking out of your bag.”

“Right, yeah…” She feels her skin heat up, turning to slowly tuck the book further down inside, still able to feel his eyes upon her. It’s disconcerting to be observed so closely.

“Where’s that group of losers you usually hang around with anyway?”

The question takes her by surprise, and she laughs softly, though there is no real humour to it. “I don’t think they want to hang around with me anymore.”

“So you’re a Norman no mates too then?”

His expression has softened, a slight playfulness brightens his blue eyes as she looks back at him, and she can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. “Hmmm. So they got bored of you then?”

“No…I–”

She sighs exasperatedly, running a hand through her hair, before digging through her bag to pull out her laptop. “It’s probably easier if I show you.”

Setting the laptop down on the table, she loads her Myspace page, the same picture she’d seen on Farleigh’s Macbook earlier still set as her profile photo. “Someone keeps changing my profile picture to this. I sent my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…some photos and now someone has them and keeps doing this every time I change it back.”

Michael’s expression is impassive as he stares at the screen. “Have you changed your passwords?”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“So, you’ve been hacked.”

“Looks that way…I don’t suppose you know anything about computers? Maybe you could help me figure out who’s doing this?”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, staring intently at her, “so there it is, pretending to befriend the college nerd because you need computer help. Do you not think it’s a bit of a tired stereotype to assume that because I’m reading maths I’d be able to help you with your IT issues?”

“No, it’s not like that!” She protests, her eyes welling up with tears. She turns away, defeated, deciding this is a lost cause and closes her laptop. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sighs. “Well, there’s no need to cry about it. I can help you, just not right now. Are you free later this evening?”

She sniffles, her eyes going wide as she looks at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nods, closing his notebook and slipping his pen into his breast pocket. “I’ve got a tutorial in twenty minutes, but I can help trace the IP of whoever’s hacked you. I’m on the first floor of the Brasenose, second room left of the staircase. I’ll be back around five.”

Nodding, she immediately feels lighter, the possibility that this may finally come to an end instantly lifting her spirits. A chance to get her life back. “That’s perfect, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much.”

He rises, his gaze remaining fixed upon her. “See you later.”

The way he addresses her, first and last name, sends a shiver down her spine as she watches him turn away and walk slowly out of the library. She wonders what she has gotten herself into, but with no friends and no other options there is little else to be done.

She is filled with restless energy for the rest of the day, unable to sit still or concentrate during the only other lecture she has that afternoon, until eventually she finds herself standing outside of Michael’s room at quarter past five, the hours leading up to that feeling as though they’ve lasted an eternity.

Where there is the faint sound of music or talking coming from the doors she’s passed already on her way here, she is struck by the eerie silence she is met with from his, and wonders for a moment if he’s even home.

Nervous excitement crackles like electricity through her body and her knock is louder than she intends for it to be. She hears shuffling from the other side, until the door swings slowly open. Michael stands poker straight on the threshold, staring down at her.

“Did you bring your laptop?” He asks.

Yet again she is taken aback by how forthright he is, but she nods, stepping in as he moves to the side to let her pass.

Looking around the room, she takes in the plainness of his bedspread, the shelves of mathematics and physics textbooks, the desk set up in the corner that has his laptop open on it. There is nothing that gives even the slightest indication as to who he is as a person.

The sound of him clearing his throat startles her attention back to him, and she turns with an apologetic smile to face him. “Sorry, always weird being in someone else’s room…”

“Right,” he replies, his gaze unwavering as he looks at her. “Laptop?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” embarrassment heats up her skin, as she rummages in her bag, taking it out and handing it to him.

He settles it next to his own on the desk, before taking a seat.

She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around, not quite knowing what to do with herself. “Um…where should I…?”

“Anywhere,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, not looking at her.

She settles on the edge of the bed, running her hands over the soft cotton of the duvet cover. It’s an odd sensation to sit so casually in the space that she knows he sleeps. It feels too familiar, too intimate.

Glancing to the side, she notices the shimmer of gold and purple in the bin. She smiles to herself, having learned something about him in spite of the lack of personal effects in his room. He has a sweet tooth, evidenced by the Crunchie bar wrappers in the bin.

“Password?” He asks, and her head snaps up towards him.

“Hmm?”

He turns in his chair, resting his arm on the back of it, glaring at her over his shoulder. “The password for your laptop, what is it?”

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Is it safe for me to tell you that?”

“It is if you want me to help you,” he sighs.

She squirms uncomfortably. He has the innate ability to make her feel small, foolish, but what’s most disconcerting is that she doesn’t dislike it, there is something about him that draws her to his condescension.

“It’s Shakespeare,” she tells him sheepishly, “with a four in place of the first A.”

“What about the passwords for your email and Myspace accounts?”

“The same.”

“The same?!”

“I’ve changed the passwords each time a new photo has been posted, but it’s just easier to have the same one for everything.”

He groans, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you’ve been hacked, typical fucking liberal arts student.”

She lowers her gaze, fingers plucking nervously at the bedspread. “Different passwords for every account, got it.”

“Well, that’s a start, yes,” he tells her, turning back to the screens. “Has anyone but you had access to your computer?”

“No, it stays in my bag when I’m not using it.”

She sits watching him tap away at the keyboards of both laptops alternately for a few moments before she speaks again. “I’m not stupid, you know,” she tells him, her voice sounding meeker than she means for it to. “English Language and Literature is no less of a respectable course than Mathematics. I wrote an essay on the Robert Browning poem, My Last Duchess, recently. It’s a fascinating piece, focusing on the Duke of Ferrara using a painting of his former wife as a conversation topic. The Duke speaks about his former wife's perceived inadequacies to a representative of the family of his bride-to-be, revealing his obsession with controlling others in the process. Browning uses this compelling psychological portrait of a despicable character to critique the objectification of women and abuses of power. It’s a compelling commentary on social status and elitism.”

“What would you know about either of those things?” He asks, continuing to type.

“More than I’d like to,” she says quietly, “I don’t fit in here, not really. I earned my place with a scholarship.”

He pauses, stiffening, glancing over his shoulder at her with a “hmm”.

“I’ve managed to get into the access logs for both your email and Myspace accounts,” he tells her. “There are two sets of IPs that have accessed both accounts in the last week, but both are eduroam IP addresses.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that whoever is uploading those photos is doing so from the university.”

The revelation hits her like a punch to the gut, she feels paralysed, unable to speak as his words sink in. A part of her had wanted to believe it was Jake. To think there is someone at the university who is doing this to her makes her feel nauseated. Her mind races with the possibilities of who it could be. Felix? India? Farleigh? What reason could any of them possibly have to want to do that to her?

“What should I do?” She asks worriedly, staring at Michael with her brows pinched together. “Do you think reporting it would help?”

He swivels his chair fully around to face her and shakes his head. “Not if you intend to keep your scholarship. Rocking the boat over leaked nudes won’t look good to the university board, they’ll take issue with the fact that you even took those photos in the first place.”

“So I just have to let this keep happening?” She feels her throat tighten, wetness rims her eyes.

“Change your passwords,” he says matter of factly. “A different one for every account.”

She nods, expelling a shaky breath, before standing. “I should probably get going. Thank you…for everything.”

Before she goes to bed that night, she changes her passwords - a different one for every account she owns, and deletes the newest uploaded photo, returning her profile picture to its original state.

As far as she is concerned, that should be the end of it. However, her breath hitches, icy cold fingers of fear gripping her heart when she logs on the following morning. Not only has her profile picture been changed to another photo from the set she’d taken for Jake, but the “about me” section now reads “vapid cunt”.

On autopilot, she dresses, taking her laptop and walking the six minutes from Christ Church Halls to Brasenose College.

As soon as Michael’s door opens, she flings her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. He stiffens, not returning the gesture, until she finally pulls away.

He straighens, adjusting his glasses. His hair is rumpled from sleep, clad in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms.

“God, I’m so sorry, I woke you up,” she says tearfully, “I should go. I didn’t think, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he says flatly, ushering her in.

She sits down on the bed. It’s unmade, still warm from where he’s been sleeping in it. The feeling sends a shiver down her spine, despite her emotional distress.

Gingerly he sits next to her, keeping a respectable distance as she removes her laptop from her bag and opens it. “It’s happened again. I did everything you said to do, but it’s happened again, and it’s worse this time. Look–”

Handing him the laptop she shuffles closer to him, her thigh pressed against his. She can feel the warmth of him through her leggings. It causes butterflies to flutter in her belly, it’s been so long since she’s been this close to anyone.

Michael doesn’t stiffen at her touch this time, whether it’s because he doesn’t mind it or is too distracted by what he sees on the screen, she’s unsure, but it’s progress.

“Hmm. And you’re sure you changed your passwords?”

“Yes, all of them. I don’t know what else to do. If I report it, I risk my scholarship, but if this carries on I’ll lose it anyway, because how can I concentrate when this keeps happening?”

He says nothing, closing her laptop and passing it back to her.

“I’ve worked my arse off to get here, to earn my place, this can’t be what ends it,” she says miserably, tucking her computer back into her bag.

“I’d suggest focusing on your studies and less on your peers,” Michael says matter of factly. “You haven’t made the best choice of friends since arriving here.”

“They’re not my friends,” she whispers, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “At least not anymore. Do you think it’s one of them doing this?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he replies bitterly, “stay away from them. I’ve got a lecture this morning, but maybe when I’ve got some downtime, I can do a deeper dive, perhaps see if I can track the logins to a device type.”

“You’d do that for me?” She whispers, looking at him with eyes full of appreciation.

“That’s what mates are for, right?”

“Thank you…just…thank you,” she tells him with sincerity, holding his gaze.

She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, desperate to kiss his cheek as a gesture of her gratitude, but remembers the first time she’d done it and cringes inwardly. Though Michael’s hand doesn’t clutch back, he doesn’t move it away and, after a few moments, she realises they’re simply sitting holding hands, looking into each other's eyes.

He is beautiful in his own way. His stare, though intimidating, is piercingly blue, and his lips are soft and plump. She swallows, lashes fluttering in embarrassment when she realises she’s staring at his mouth.

Chancing her luck, she leans in, planting a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back at lunchtime, okay?” She whispers, before standing and moving towards the door.

He simply nods, fingers raising to brush over the spot where she’d kissed him. The sight puts a spring in her step for the rest of the morning, almost enough to forget about her being hacked. Almost.

She stops at a vending machine in the rec room on her way back to Brasenose at midday, deciding to buy Michael a Crunchie, an additional thank you for him going out of his way to help her.

As awful as having her privacy violated has been, she is grateful that it has brought her and Michael closer together. She had started the term wanting nothing more than to be his friend, and had royally fucked it up.

Now it seems they have mended their rift, and the prospect of being more than just friends is on the cards. Admittedly, he isn’t her usual type, but there is something about him that excites her. She hopes that once this is all over, this can be a fresh start for her at Oxford; her and Michael, just the caliber of intelligence she had wanted to associate with when she’d first applied.

She knocks at his door, hesitating when he doesn’t open it.

“Michael?” She calls out, brow furrowing in concern when he doesn’t answer.

They’d agreed upon lunchtime to meet, where was he? She tries the door handle and it’s unlocked, gingerly she pushes it open, peering slowly inside. He’s not there, but if he’d left it unlocked then he’d surely be back soon and wouldn’t mind her waiting inside for him.

She steps into the room, finding it much the same as before, only this time the bed is made. Walking over to the window by the desk, she stops to admire the view of the church, startling slightly when her bag knocks the computer chair, disturbing the mouse and taking Michael’s laptop out of sleep.

As she is about to turn back to the window, she notices her Myspace profile is open in edit mode in his browser. She frowns, a feeling of unease washing over her, as she steps towards the desk, her hand trembling as she reaches for the mouse.

She minimises Internet Explorer, gasping when she sees a folder open on his desktop, filled with the photos she had sent to Jake, all of them, even the ones that hadn’t yet been set as her profile picture.

Her heart pounds as she selects all of them, deleting them before clicking on the recycling bin to empty it.

“You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to not create back ups, did you?”

Turning, she sees that Michael has returned, so quietly she hadn’t noticed. His fingers clutch at the USB stick that’s clipped to his cargo shorts, lips turned up into an expression of smugness.

Tears prickle her eyes, as her heart lurches, the only word that escapes her is “why?” as she looks at him with arched brows, her face pinched into an expression of emotional hurt.

“Why?” He repeats, cocking his head, advancing towards her as she shrinks back into the corner. “Because someone needed to take you down a peg or two.”

“You’ve ruined my life!” She cries, tears slipping down her cheeks, looking at him in disbelief.

This has to be a dream, it is too surreal. Any moment now, she’ll wake up and all of this will have been a terrible dream.

Only it’s not, it’s real, real as the heat of his breath that fans across her face as he looms over her, having backed her fully into the corner between the desk and the window.

“What life? Pretending to play a part with people that don’t really like you? Using your pretentious choice in reading material to make yourself seem intelligent?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” She says defiantly.

“Oh, I know all about you. Hiding your scholarship from those vapid cunts, so they won’t sniff out your working class background and drop you. The variations of John Browning as your password - adding a different number to each variation doesn’t make it a different password, stupid girl.”

“I was nice to you…” She offers feebly, almost pleading with him.

He smirks, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gripping harshly, forcing her to look at him. “You felt sorry for me. But it’s not me that needs pity, is it? It’s you. Poor little scholarship slut. You love that My Last Duchess poem so much because you see yourself in it, don’t you? Think you’re being objectified, treated unfairly. Well, let me tell you something, you are like that poem, but in the sense that you’re better in pictures than you are in real life.”

“Stop it,” she whispers, trying to pull away from him.

“Truth hurt, does it?” He asks, his grip on her face remaining tight. “That’s a pity. I enjoyed those pictures, really enjoyed them. It’s a shame the real life version is so whiny and pathetic.”

“I’ll report you,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I don’t think you will, somehow. You love the attention,” he tells her, dropping his hand from her chin to her shoulder, turning her and backing her up towards the bed. “I’ve seen how you look at me. If I wanted to fuck you right now, you’d let me.”

“I–I wouldn’t!” She stammers, feeling her face grow warm.

With a gentle shove from him, she topples back against the mattress, and he is quick to move over her, caging her in. “Liar,” he whispers in her ear.

She shudders at the sensation, despising the way her body betrays her, as heat pools between her legs. She shouldn’t be turned on by this, yet she can’t deny the way he sets her pulse racing.

“I haven’t ruined your life, but I could and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He hisses.

The weight of him on top of her, his warm breath fanning against her neck, it’s dizzying. She wants to tell him to get off of her, to push him away, yet she cannot find it in herself to do so. There is a part of her that’s curious to see how far he’ll push this.

When she doesn’t say anything, he carries on, nimble fingers moving to the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down. “I’m going to treat you like the desperate, little slut that you are, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

She whines, lifting her hips as he rids her of the bottom half of her clothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks.

His gaze falls between her legs, tentative fingers reaching out to brush through the wetness that has gathered there. She sees a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and wonders if he has ever done this before.

She knows his moment of hesitation would be enough for her to push him away, grab her clothes and report him, yet she feels compelled to stay. If this is his first time, then she wants it to be her. She enjoys the dynamic of the power he has over her, while simultaneously being able to take something from him.

Wanting to bolster his confidence, urge him to continue, she sits up, eager hands unfastening his belt and unzipping his shorts. It flips a switch inside him, and he’s surging forward once more, pinning her beneath him as he pushes his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps against the shell of her ear.

“I want this,” she mewls desperately, feeling the head of him resting at her entrance.

“You’re going to keep letting me do this to you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll wear that tarty underwear from your photos for me, won’t you?”

“...yes.”

He presses forward and is met with resistance, not having fully prepared her. He draws back and pushes against her again, repeating the motion until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. It’s exquisite torture, a pleasurable hurt to be split apart by him, to feel so full.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he stills and she can feel his inexperience in the way that he tenses, but isn’t prepared to give up when they’ve already come this far. She rolls her hips against his, a breathy sigh escaping her as she feels her sweet spot rub up against the head of him.

He screws his eyes shut, jaw going slack, before beginning to move his own hips, pulling back to slam forward once more, quickly finding a rhythm that suits him. This isn’t careful, considered lovemaking, they rut against each other like animals, both of them allowing instinct to guide them as they seek out the movements that feel most pleasurable.

She clings tightly to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, their breaths coming in hot, shallow pants.

“Fucking knew this was all you needed,” he mutters, “someone to teach you a lesson, see you for what you really are.”

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands sliding down to his backside to push him in deeper, causing him to groan.

“F–fuck,” he stutters, picking up his pace when he feels her start to tighten around him. “Tell me you’re mine, you don’t need anyone else, just me.”

“‘M yours,” she gasps, pushing her hips against his, zeroing in on the precipice she is about to fall from.

A particularly harsh thrust is the final shove she needs, and white hot waves of euphoria wrack her body, as she cries out in ecstasy. Suddenly, Michael is withdrawing, leaving her to clench around nothing as he paints her inner thigh with sticky warmth.

He collapses beside her, and she stares into the lightly fogged lenses of his glasses, their noses bumping together.

“Are you still going to ruin my life?” She asks, hazy with pleasure.

For the first time, their lips meet, a messy clash of tongue and teeth, that’s sloppy and wet, their breaths still heavy and movements uncontrolled.

“You’re going to let me,” he whispers when they finally break for air, “because you’re mine.” Resistance is futile, she will let him. She wants this, needs this. After all, Michael Gavey is the type of person she came to Oxford to associate with in the first place, and she’s gotten exactly what she asked for.

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #ewan mitchell #michael gavey saltburn #satlburn michael gavey #saltburn #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #satlburn fan fiction #satlburn fan fic

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 8 months

Text

imagine zoro being at your side

a/n: reading has a condition that causes her to fall asleep

The dining table was filled with plates and half empty cups of alcohol. Everyone was talking away, laughing, and arguing as Sanji continued to serve various dishes. Zoro leaned back into his seat, chugging down his…fifth? Sixth? Well, another beer. The food was delicious not that he would compliment the cook – he wasn’t that drunk. He listened as Franky told a story about his childhood and he laughed at the funny parts, but throughout the conversation his eyes moved to where you sat. You were next to him, elbow on the table as you forked around the food on your plate. Taking little bites as you laughed at Franky’s youthful tales. The smile on your face brought warmth from the tip of his toes to his cheeks and Zoro tried to hide it but it was plain as the day, that he was completely…

Zoro lost his train of thought as your eyes glazed over – a tell tale sign that you were about to pass out. It was a condition you had, from what Chopper had explained. It had something to do with low blood pressure and, well, Zoro really didn’t understand. All he knew was that when that look came across your face, he had seconds to get to you before you passed out. Everyone took to call you the Sleeping Princess, the moniker even made its way onto your wanted poster – along with a photo of you sleeping mid battle during the Wano fight against Kaido. It was your pride and joy when you saw the poster and had it framed next to your bed.

He remembered the first time it happened in front of him; you were sitting on the railing of the Merry with Luffy, feet dangling over the water – fishing and chitchatting away. Zoro had known about your condition but never seen it in person. He had joined Luffy and you, talking and fishing, as he stood at your side. Luffy was going on and on about catching fish for dinner, and Zoro was chastising the captain warning him to not fall into the ocean. He was busy watching Luffy that he hadn’t noticed you drifting backwards or the way your arms slumped. It was Luffy who shouted for him to help you that drew his eyes to you; immediately he moved behind you, allowing you to fall into his arms. He slowly lifted you up against his chest, attempts were made to shake you awake but Luffy said not to bother.

“Right, her condition…” His eyes took in the softness of your face, and he felt heat rise to his cheeks. You seemed to be sound asleep, and he started toward the women’s dorm, kicking the door gently open. The room was empty, and he realized he didn’t know which bed was yours; but then he noticed how all three beds were pushed together and figured either side was fine. He moved to the right side of the bed and laid you down, covering you with a thin blanket that sat on the edge of the bed. Zoro gazed down at you and felt something he hadn’t in a long time….an earnestness in his heart.

Now, he often was at your side as much as he could and as much as whatever situation the crew allowed but he had trust in his friends. Everyone knew the signs and there was always someone there to help you – especially during fights. While Chopper had worked hard to find a cure, it seemed your ailment was just something you were born with, and nothing was to be done. That was fine because you never allowed it to stop you. That’s what Zoro found the most attractive about you – the strength of your will. He loved you for it. Loved you like no one else.

“You’re fine,” he whispered, hand moving around your shoulder as your head slumped against his chest. He scooted your chair closer to his, arm protectively resting across your chest. He sighed as Luffy noticed and asked if he could have your plate; Nami swiftly smacked him on the head and Zoro asked Sanji if he could wrap up your plate. “She’ll be hungry when she wakes.”

The cook agreed, giving the captain a death stare as he removed the plate from the table. Zoro held you close to his body, hardly listening to the conversation around the table and when you stirred against him twenty minutes later, his fingers brushed away strands of hair from your face. Eyes blinking, the swordsman’s handsome face came into focus, and you sighed contently. “Hey…”

Zoro chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on top of your head. “The Sleeping Princess is awake – had a good nap?”

Sitting up, you yawned and kissed him gingerly on the cheek. “It’s always a good nap when I wake up in your arms.”

The man blushed so hard, the entire table exploded in laughter and teasing – much to his dismay. He shouted for everyone to shut the hell up but then the teasing grew louder, and all Zoro could do was hold your hand as Sanji retrieved your food, admiring the way you effortlessly returned to the conversation as if nothing had happened. And when you looked over to him with a kind, grateful smile, he felt his dedication to you grow stronger.

...............................

tags:

@posessedbytheinternet @smolracoon25

@notthemainblog @xentaipriest

@xitara666 @rouzuchan

@southside-otaku @dimplewonie

@stuckinthewrongworld @yourmomsgirl

@zoroshispanicwife @reneeprika

@themossiestchick @cyberneticsmoker

@starrlovet @simpx4xanimexmen

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #one piece spoilers

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answer2jeff · 3 months

Text

i was just thinking about dad!carmy missing his wifey when she's on a girls trip for the first time since their daughters birth and anxiously waiting for her to call him...

valeria has just been put to sleep after a seemingly endless hour and a half of rocking, soothing, and shushing.

"relax baby, mommy's gonna be home before you know it," carmy says, kissing the top of valeria's head and wincing a bit when her little fist tightens around his thick index finger. "yes i know," he sighs as she lets out one last wail of 'mama' followed by incoherent babbles before her body begins to relax at the sound of her daddy's soothing hums. no one is exactly sure where the song came from. maybe it's a pre-existing song further expanded on with different notes. maybe it's a whole new song with a lack of words he made just for his little girl.

carmen's back is sore and his hands mourn the weight of his precious girl in his arms, even if he's more than happy that she's finally at peace in her crib. the reality of his temporary loneliness really sets in the moment he closes the door to his daughters nursery.

he tries to distract himself from the sight of your nearly empty home. he's been wiping down the perfectly spotless kitchen counter with a microfiber towel for the last 3 and a half minutes while he scrolls aimlessly through your Instagram with his free hand, smiling to himself with every photo of you glistening in the summer heat. a margarita in one hand, a friends shoulder in the other. he's always thought you're the most beautiful when you're happy. with the sand in between your toes, salt water frizzing up your hair, the sun caressing the spots of your skin he wished he was the one to hold and kiss—seeing you free warms something in him.

meanwhile, you're falling onto your back and feeling the silky cold fabric of your hotel room bed against your skin. the bikini you've had on for hours is still a little damp from the ocean. it makes you shiver. you giggle at your 2 friends who pile into your shared bathroom, ready to puke and laugh and cry at their sickness from alcohol. you decide that you should kill some time before it's your turn to shower and boil yourself in delicious hot water. the balcony calls your name, and you quickly grab your phone from your beach bag, getting up to slide the glass door open to your left. the air feels warm and sweet against your sunkissed skin. your bare feet patter against the concrete foundation before you lean against the railing. you don't even bother to check anyone else's attempts at communication with you today. carmen is the only thing on your mind.

carmen nearly jumps at the sound of his cellphone vibrating against the bathroom sink. he quickly spits the minty toothpaste out of his mouth and accepts your call, raising it to his ear and wiping the corner of his lip.

"hey, baby," he breaths into the line, smiling almost uncontrollably as he drops his toothbrush back in the mug. the absence of yours with that pink little clip that covers the bristles is so disheartening. it's kinda silly, the way he frowns at the missing pieces of you all around your house.

"hi!" you chew on your bottom lip. it's like you're hearing his voice for the first time again. the petname sends butterflies swarming through your stomach. hell, even with a ring on your finger, it feels like you'd just met yesterday. the sound, smell, and feeling of him could never get old.

carmen yawns, leaning back on the bed and feeling his stomach drop when the little dip in the memory foam mattress has completely raised up to its original form. god, he misses the weight of your presence. but he tries to keep it cool.

"i was just thinkin' about you. well, i've been thinking about you this whole weekend," he laughs, running his hands through his sweatlogged curls. "glad you called."

"i know," you whine, "me too. missing you both, actually." your head feels fuzzy when carmen's little huff of agreement hits your ears. for a moment, his calm attitude surprises you. but maybe it shouldn't. he insisted you should go on this 2 day trip, swearing up and down he could handle being with valeria for a little over 48 hours.

"missing you so much more."

you didn't doubt his ability to keep his temper down and his self-discipline up when taking care of her, but you almost felt a little guilty.

"how are things?" you anxiously ask. carmen goes to answer dishonestly, but you quickly clarify. "and before you tell me, i know things have probably been kinda crazy. but oh my god, carmy, thank you for letting me do this. really, i mean—"

"what?" he cuts you off with a chuckle. "letting you? baby, you—you needed it. fuck, you earned it." carmen sits up in disbelief. it pains him knowing he can't fill in the much needed space of valeria's mother, but the guilt of ever daring to ask you to fly back home would kill him even faster. all he wanted was for you to be happy. even if that required sacrifice. especially since he knew deep down you did that for him every single day, even if you didn't notice it.

"mhm."

"i'm so glad you're having fun. things have been hectic, but i'm managing, okay? valeria has just been..." carmen pauses, gnawing at the inside of his cheek and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to find the right words.

you relax a bit, letting out a deep sigh of relief. but the anxiety still eats at you. the feeling of your bikini strings digging into your skin and the sand on your inner thighs forming what would soon become a rash if you didn't shower soon certainly wasn't helping with your situation.

"...tough recently. that's all. nothing for you to worry about."

"i know, i know. i just—i don't know. i feel bad. like, my mom instincts are screaming 'go home and take care of your daughter like a proper mother you sick, sick woman! you're not a teenager anymore! god, your poor husband is taking time off of his career too! not just you,' y'know?"

the attempt of trying to make some light out of your guilt just comes out awfully sad. carmen sighs, wishing he could just envelop you in his arms right then and there and drag you back into bed, kissing and squeezing and softly biting your neck and shoulders. but his needs can be dealt with when you get back. this, your sanity and your happiness, is far more important.

"try not to even think about it like that, sweet girl. just enjoy yourself. promise me you'll do that? not just for me, but for you?"

you nod, humming in agreement and sitting down on the cheap plastic chair on the balcony. you knew he was right. carmen spends next few minutes whispering over and over again how wonderful of a person, wife, and mother you are. he assures you that this is right and that it's good for you. oh, how he wishes he could take every worry that ails you and toss it away. or even carry it on his own shoulders if he absolutely had to.

"call me when you get to the airport on monday, okay?"

"okay, i will. i'll text you as soon as i take off and as soon as i land. promise."

"alright, thank you. g'night, baby. get some sleep so you can have even more fun tomorrow."

"yeah, yeah. okay. gotcha."

"i love you."

"i love you, carmy."

"so much," he breaths.

"so much," you reply.

taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

#carmen berzatto #ugh this was so cute #also i wrote this in 30 minutes please excuse me if there are any typos!!#carmen berzatto blurb #dad!carmy x mom!reader #the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy berzatto

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rascal-xo · 1 year

Note

Can i request one where reader and ghost go to the zoo as a date 💞 and bonus they get to pet capybara's too 😭 i love capybara's

Bittersweet | Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader |

Chapter summary: You and Simon take a day trip to the zoo

Warnings: FLUFF, Affirming!Simon, language

Word count: 792

A/N: This popped up on my twitter feed and I HAD to add it to this blog.

“I don’t think they like me, Love.” Simon chuckled, watching the penguins waddle away into the water at the sight of him.

“Their first time seeing a ghost, I bet." You smile, earning a small nudge from your fiancé, whose face is covered by a balaclava but his eyes as bright as ever. You lean on the metal railing while Simon keeps a hand around your waist.

It's bittersweet, being here with him. You're both enjoying yourselves, but there's that familiar cloud of sadness hanging over you both, knowing that today could be the last time you get to do something like this together for a while.

Simon will be deploying back to base with the 141 in just two short days. You dread the week before he has to leave, scared and full of emotion, just wishing he could stay longer or never have to leave the peacefulness of your home.

You watch the little babies follow after their mothers, while others swim under the decorative bridge happily.

“What’s got you so quiet, darling.” Simon asks, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “These little things can’t be all that interesting.” He jokes, you smile to yourself at the sound of his voice.

You take a deep breath before answering, not wanting to ruin the peacefulness of the moment. "I worry about you, Si." you say softly, feeling Simon's gaze turn to you.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead through his mask before pulling away slightly to look you in the eyes. "I always come home, don’t I? I don’t want you worrying, it’s not good for you love.”

You know he's right, he always comes back, but the thought of him being in harm's way is enough to keep you up at night. The thought of having Johnny or the Captain at your front door with Simons dogtags, is a constant fear of yours.

"I know you do," you say, “Just wish you could stay.”

"I know," Simon replies, his voice soft, almost regretful. "But duty calls, and I have to answer." You nod, understanding his dedication to his work. You also know that the time apart is just as difficult for him as it is for you.

You spend the rest of the afternoon wandering through the different animal exhibits, dragging Simon to hold various exotic creatures while never once missing the opportunity to snap pictures of him on your small camera.

Pictures you’ll eventually print out to remember back on.

As you approach the capybara exhibit, you can't contain your excitement. "Simon, look! They're so cute!" You see the sign to hold one and almost run off without him. You hand him your camera and run up to the line.

Simon smiles at your excitement, making sure to snap a photo of you getting to hold one of the pups. You can feel the warmth of the animal's fur against your skin as it nuzzles into you

"I think it likes you," Simon says, chuckling as he looks at the photo he just took. You’re smiling up at Simon in the shot, with small animal in your arms. The perfect candid moment.

He was going to make sure he keeps that one in his vest, once printed out. You can't help but grin, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. This moment, captured forever in time

As you make your way back to the car, the sun starting to set on the horizon, you hold Simon's hand tightly. You don't want to let go, not wanting to face the reality that he'll be leaving soon.

You both know that tomorrow will be spent running errands and packing for his deployment. It won't be a fun day, but it's a necessary one.

As you reach the car, Simon opens the door for you before making his way around to the driver's side. You're lost in thought, when he reaches over and takes your hand in his. You turn to look at him, seeing the small smile on his face.

“Don’t go holding any capybaras without me while i’m gone, you hear?” He chuckles, lightening the mood.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Lieutenant.” You say sternly, joking.

“Oh god, Love. I don’t wanna be Lieutenant yet. I’ve got two more days.” He whines, with a hearty laugh.

You take his much larger hand, now cupping it with both of yours and bring it up to your lips. “Come back to me, Simon.” You say against it, not wanting to feel anything but him.

He watches you with more emotion in his eyes than he had ever had before in his life. He would come back to you, one way or another.

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wheeboo · 5 months

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holidaze | boo seungkwan

SYNOPSIS. in which you take your boyfriend on a holidate down the city. PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. kissing!! n just me being very whipped for him tbh :') WORD COUNT. 1.1k

notes: these r actually pics on our date guys. i took these pics of him <3 he did this for me. anyways i def didn't write this at 4am. happy holidays everyone! why r these actually the most boyfie pics ever i'm crying sobbing dying

There's nothing more better than venturing down the city at night with the spirit of the holidays filling the air. Festive lights are hung on streetlights which cast enchanting glows on the sidewalks and reflect off the wet and icy roads. Christmas trees are scattered throughout the city, standing tall and decorated with a dazzling array of ornaments, tinsel, and twinkling lights.

There's also nothing better than spoiling your boyfriend to a little date. Seungkwan had insisted that there wasn't any need for you to pay for everything, but tonight, you were all too determined to show just how much you appreciate him, even if it means arguing who would pay for the bill at the restaurant you chose or who would buy the matching stuffed animals you spotted in a store and couldn't resist buying.

Seungkwan has done nothing but warm your heart than any gift ever could. He's already a gift to your life, and tonight is your way of reciprocating just that𑁋to make sure he feels just as cherished as he's made you feel every day, simply because he deserves it, even if he doesn't think so himself.

"Do you think they'd like it? I'm scared I got the bad scents." Seungkwan fiddles with the paper bag of scented candles in his hand, his opposite arm linked around yours as you both continue your stroll down the glittering streets.

"My parents will love it. You don't have to worry about a thing," You reassure him with a gentle smile, giving his upper arm a small squeeze. "And even if they don't, it's the thought that counts, right?"

Seungkwan grins back, the worry lines on his forehead smoothing out. The city lights seem to reflect in his eyes like twinkling stars. "You're right. I just want them to like me, you know?"

"They already love you, trust me," You assure confidently. "Just be yourself, and they'll see how amazing you are."

Seungkwan could only shyly cower his head down to your words, the cold air nipping at his cheek that he attempts to hide away. You already know he has every right to be nervous meeting your parents for the first time tomorrow, but you also know that he'll win them over with his genuine and bubbly charm, just as he won you over from the very beginning.

The two of you trail up to a set of rails overlooking the sidewalk below and the looming buildings surrounding the area. There's some distant holiday music that you could hear from the nearby stores. Seungkwan leans against the rail, releasing a breath that creates a small mist in the chilly air, a thoughtful expression travelling across his face.

Smiling to yourself, you take out your phone and snap a few candid photos of him against the backdrop of the city lights.

"Look back at me," You call, and Seungkwan turns to face you, a small smile to his face that you manage to capture before he playfully swats at your phone. "Hey, hey, wait𑁋just a few more... Okay, I'm done. See?"

He pouts when you swipe through the photos, showing him the blurry ones and the ones where he's mid-swat like a cat batting at a toy. "Oh my God, you make me look so goofy."

"But look at these ones." You show him the two where you perfectly captured him looking back at you and smiling naturally. "You gotta post these! You look so pretty."

Seungkwan just rolls his eyes and turns away to admire the lights of the city once more, biting back the shy grin to his face. As you tuck your phone away, you walk up to him, sliding an arm around his waist and leaning against the rail beside him.

And when you both turn your bodies to face each other, your eyes gazing into his, a smile crosses your face, and you can't help but to let a hand pinch his cheek, perhaps a bit more harder than intended. "You're so cute!”

"Ow," Seungkwan winces dramatically, his hand coming up to cup over yours on his face, but he doesn't take your hand away𑁋he doesn't want to𑁋and instead leans more into your touch.

You furrow a brow, noticing how cold his face feels against your hand, trailing a thumb lightly over his cheekbone. "You're freezing, Kwannie."

The warmth of your thumb seeping through the chill of Seungkwan's skin sends a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the winter breeze.

"Just a little," he mutters quietly. “But you feel warm."

His dark eyes are like pools of melted chocolate under the city glow. The playful banter has faded, replaced by a quiet intimacy that settled comfortably around you both. You knew you should pull away and head back to the warmth of your apartment, but something keeps you frozen to this moment𑁋to the way his gaze seems to pierce right through you and make you feel so seen.

Then a sudden urge, soft and insistent, sprouts within you.

Your smile blooms into a full, somewhat mischievous grin as you take your hand away from his face. Leaning in, you press a gentle kiss to his cheek, right on the spot your touch had warmed up moments ago. It was a soft, fleeting peck, barely more than a whisper of your lips against his skin, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you both.

Seungkwan can practically still feel the kiss lingering when you pull away, a blush creeping up his neck and painting his skin and ears with a rosy hue. The flustered look to his face was enough to send your heart into a giddy leap, and as you cup his face again, you feel it's grown significantly warmer under your touch.

"All better now," You whisper teasingly as you continue to hold Seungkwan's face gently between your hands. "Are you blushing?"

Seungkwan lets out a scoff, lightly shoving your hand away from his face. "No."

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"You are!”

"H-How can I not when you kiss me like that?"

His words make a chuckle leave your mouth, and you stretch your arms to wrap around his neck, closing the distance between your bodies. His own hands come to instinctively rest at your waist, breath hitching from the way your closeness sends another wave of warmth through him.

But before he can say anything, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips, catching him off-guard once more. When you pull back, there's a playful glint in your eyes, and Seungkwan is left speechless and dazed, his cheeks now an even deeper shade of red. His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, and he lets out a choked laugh, a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"You're... you're really something else, you know that?" Seungkwan stammers, his fingers playing with the hem of your coat as he avoids your eyes bashfully.

You tilt your head slightly. "In a good way hopefully?"

He leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of your cold nose, his lips lingering for a moment. When he draws back, a few snowflakes land in his hair. "In the best way possible."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify

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here-but-forgotten · 6 months

Text

drabbles and concepts / call of duty

alejandro x reader / Rudy x reader / soap x reader / Gaz x reader / price x reader. I am currently feral.

implied fuller bodied reader. implied f!reader.

If you want to use any of these as a prompt for your own story, please do! just tag me I want to read it >:) you can also talk to me ab them in my ask box if you’d like.

tags / @lucyisdoingfine @frogchiro

guess who’s ovulating

♡ soap being a menace panty stealing thief but not really. like, he is a menace, and he is stealing your panties; but he never takes too many and he always washes them in a nice gentle detergent after he’s cum in them multiple times :(( he’s a gentlemen I promise. just ignore the part where he sneaks into your room daily to steal your newest pair or to lay out a pair for you to wear when you get out of your shower ♡

♡ the only people able to keep up with a feral darling who’s just in a wonderful hell of ovulation being Alejandro, Kyle, and Johnny. on a calm week, captain price is in there too. they’re the only ones who can keep up with you; keep you cumming and making you rest and drink enough water before delving back into you.

♡ Gaz taking your panties off and making you rub his thigh, having the denim rub against your clit, making a wet spot on his thigh while he watches you; you completely bare and exposed while he stays nice and dressed with your pretty pussy rubbing against him.

♡ alejandro with an s/o who loves to bake. Alejandro who loves to come in on them baking, pushing them against the counter with his hips, pressing his hard-on against your hips, before pushing you onto a clean section of the counter and breeding you. Grabbing your hair and holding your throat with his hand, only to rail into you harder. Groping your pretty body before you’re allowed to cum; alejandro making you finish your cake before resuming, musing you for being willingly overpowered by an older man. Spanking your ass before you finish; his focus on making you have a shattering orgasm, leaving you leaning against him with your body weight. just for him to pick you up and clean you up before your cake is done baking <3 this is definitely not based off of anything I’ve been talked about doing with an online friend

♡ your perfect and wonderful and charming husband rodolfo cornering you in the restroom of a family holiday gathering, covering your mouth with his hand and groping your body under him just to leave you needy. Doing that two more times until you’re rutting your hips against his own, keeping you on the teasing edge until the gathering is finished and you’re fucked on the couch. definitely not based off of anything spoken about pt. 2

♡ alejandro coaxing you onto the couch with him, getting you to bounce on his cock, slapping your pretty ass every so often to keep up your pace. telling you how good of a girl you’re being, how good you feel, how you’re so good at taking his cock and making him feel good. Keeping you riding him till it’s too much for you, just for him to flip you onto the couch and rail you into mush </3

♡ rudy is a menace who loves your ass so much. he is groping. he is grabbing. he is massaging. he is holding it while you ride him and while he rails into you and while he takes all his stress out on you. asks for ass photos. Will buy you cheap panties just to cut and rip them off of you so.

♡ you know what rudy is a panty thief too.

♡ Gaz will offer to help you remove your mascara by fucking your throat <3 looking up at him while mascara runs off your face and his eyes looking at you so lovely. praising you for taking him so well and gagging on his cock. petting and stroking your hair while tears roll off with your mascara <3

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pinksugarscrub · 2 months

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Starstruck

Hobie Brown x fem! reader (high school au)

@rexlroze, @the-kr8tor What better place to stir up drama than high school? ✨️Enemies to lovers✨️

Part(s): Prologue, ???

Visions Academy. Elitist? Yes, but the school of your dreams. An hour trip from Harlem on the subway. But if your mom’s dingy blue bug held up for another year you wouldn’t have to worry about paying for a Metrocard.

It was incredible when you visited on a campus tour. The music program was world renowned. You plan to take every course available but you need to be in that music room. Smell the polish from the guitars and touch the marble of the grand piano. You shiver just thinking about standing in the auditorium. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. Everything your family could ever have dreamed of for their daughter.

So it doesn’t bother you to work until the dead of night with customers that make you want to tear your hair out. Visions makes it all worth it and well, being able to pay for your own gas is nice too.

It’s Friday, the parlor is loud and bustling with families, high schoolers, and disgruntled adults who just want to pay. Life couldn’t be any better than this.

“Manolo where are my damn pizzas?” Yuri screams over the bar separating the kitchen and the cashiers. Stacking empty boxes into her hands before shoving them under the counter.

“What do you expect me to do!?” He yells back. Antonio, his younger brother slipping on what you assume is the ghost pepper Manolo never picked up. “I’ve got six other orders before damn what’s his name. Tell him to wait his fu-”

You tune them out as you smile politely to the little girl in front of you who’s asked for a to-go cup.

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” you chuckle. Watching her run back to her parents. It was sweet, reminding you of your own dad and mom back home.

“(y/n)!’

You don’t react as Yuri spins you around, pushing you towards the kitchen where boxes and boxes of pizza are stacked up. “Go, I expect you back within two hours eh?”

You also don’t react when she glares down at Antonio. Who is usually your delivery boy but is currently nursing a burn on his hand. The poor guy really was as clumsy as a deer.

“Two hours (y/n)!” She repeats.

Then the door slams shut behind you. Your car keys in hand and a bag draped over your shoulder that burns into your side with how many pizzas are stuffed inside. Don’t even ask how that worked, Yuri has her ways.

You sigh as you hop down the steps. Gently setting the bag in the passenger's seat once you reach your car. It takes you a second to set up your phone with directions along with music. The speakers are surprisingly clear as you turn the volume up and drive off. The city becomes a blur and the clock ticks back at you with each and every stop.

The last apartment. A pink building that’s chipping and full of overgrown vines that reminds you of a photo you saw at a pop up show once. You walk up the steps, the last two boxes in your hand.

“O’hara…”You mumble, “O’hara, O’hara- ah ha, there.” The loud buzz of the intercom makes you recoil as it echoes across the street. A minute later a voice rang through, words muffled and unintelligible

You shift nervously on the balls of your feet. Leaning close to the speaker against your better judgment.

“Hi! For Mr. O’hara?”

More words? You’re sweating at this point. You’re almost hitting your two hour mark. A second later another buzz rings through and the door unlocks.

You sigh, muttering under your breath. “Oh thank god.”

You quickly swing the door open. Scaling the steps once you see yellow caution tape and a note stuck to the elevator.

By the time you reach the fourth floor you’re huffing. Holding onto the railing you catch your breath.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,”You huff in exasperation. Eyes wide as you see every door number is faded or falling apart. “These people need a better landlord.”

You almost shriek as you see what time it is when you look down. You have less than fifteen minutes.

Running through the numbers as best you could. You settle on a door with punk themed stickers. You hope this is the apartment or the tenants will at least be nice enough to point you in the right direction.

Before you can even knock the door swings up.

“What do you mean-”

You stand there visibly in awe as you stare into the most beautiful set of eyes you’ve ever seen. Silver piercings and earrings decorating his face. Wicks pulled back into a ponytail.

“Oh hey! Can we help you?” A second face pops out from the side of the door. A kind smile on his face.

You clear your throat as you avert your gaze. “Yes, uhm, I’m looking for 4D?”

“O’hara?”

You melt inside as you hear his accent. British? But not exactly?

“O’hara,”you confirmed. Smile wobbly as you force your butterflies down. You really need to get out of here.

You don’t notice the two exchange a look.

“Oh, that’s us love.” He grins as he stares down at you.

“Great!” You beam. Mentally storing the name in the back of your mind. For what? You don’t know. It’s not like you had the courage to ask for his number.

It takes you less than a minute to hand the boxes over.

“How much do we owe you?”

This confuses you but your smile never wavers. “I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure you prepaid online.”

“Right right!” The second boy nods. Dragging his friend inside by the arm and snatching up the pizza with his free hand. “Thanks!”

The boy with wicks sends you a wink before closing the door behind them.

You wait until you’re out of sight to swoon. It lasts for about five seconds when you realize it’s been exactly two hours.

Yuri’s too busy when you come back to scold you. So the rest of your shift goes smoothly. Your mind drifting to the boy every once in a while. A small smile on your lips.

The phone rings and your bliss is broken. You hold your breath as insult after insult hits your ear through the receiver.

You feel like an idiot. The boy’s pretty face fading into obscurity. You blink back tears as you talk with the real Miguel O’hara.

What a shitty night.

#atsv #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #spiderman atsv #atsv hobie #spiderpunk #hobie x reader #spider punk x reader

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drysdaleknieslee · 3 months

Note

omggg i am obsessed with your juraj works! could you maybe do one where you and juraj are out maybe with the team or something, and you get talking to this guy and juraj gets all protective and slightly jealous, so he takes you home and absolutely rails you into oblivion 🫢 thank you love <3

Thank you for loving my work (I haven't written smut and you guys give me a lot of practice 😉) I love protective guys so I hope you like this 🩵

I hope it's not too rushed at the end!

It was an annual charity for the Montreal Canadiens and there was a fundraiser involved every time. You and Juraj arrive hand in hand as you start to see the familiar faces of the teammates and their wives or significant others.

You smile and hug Arber and Stephanie and then of course Cole (he get's pouty if you don't) and you strike up a conversation with Kirby.

As the night went on, you taking group photo's with the wives and girlfriends, you nudge Juraj lightly. "Hey I'm just going to the bar to refill my drink ok?"

"OK, srdiečko, just be careful ok? There's a lot of people here" he says looking around nervously.

"I'll be ok Jur, I'll come right back."

I grab my glass and head over to the bar and order another drink. With the crowd that was in here it was taking the bartenders a while to get the drink out. And I didn't notice how cold it was in there until you felt the goosebumps on your arms. Your dress has spaghetti straps so there wasn't much to cover.

"What's beautiful girl like you doing at the bar by yourself?" you heard someone slur behind you.

You roll your eyes before turning around to face the stranger and your forced to smell the strong stench of alcohol and sweat. This guy was at least your fathers age, shirt undone from the partying, and eyes wandering all over you making you severely uncomfortable.

"I'm not alone" you try to say in the most polite way you can.

"I don't see no boyfriend. You don't have a ring on your finger," he tried to grab your wrist for emphasis but you snatched it away before he could, making him aggravated, "whoever he is I bet he ain't doing it right."

"That is none of your concern." Your looking for someone you know but everyone is wrapped up in their own conversation to notice your silent cry for help.

"You know it's rude to ignore company." he says before taking a step towards you but he stops. Arrogance is now replaced with fear.

"I'm so sorry srdiečko, didn't mean to leave you waiting" said the deep Slovakian voice behind you. Suddenly, you feel his strong hand wrap under your jaw before tilting you head back and initiating a heat filled, jealousy ridden kiss. Smearing your lip gloss. Juraj never broke eye contact with the stranger who's face was beet red at this point.

Juraj smirks at his reaction and runs his thumb across his lip for emphasis. The stranger throws his drink back before adding, "you can have the bitch. She would've been a quick fuck anyways."

Everything happened so quickly after that because all you know is Juraj threw a right hook directly at this guy's nose, followed by another, punch, followed by a crack signifying something was definitely broken on his side.

Security was called to escort the guy out as apparently he had multiple complaints against him already. Juraj looked disheveled before turning to you to make sure you were ok.

"Jur, I'm ok. Are you ok? Your hand has to be broken-"

"Did he touch you?"

"No. He almost did, but he didn't."

He was still angry but he relaxed a little after that. We called it early as Juraj's bleeding knuckles weren't gonna fix themselves.

The ride in the car was silent. Tension was there as Juraj's good hand was gripping the steering wheel and the other gripped your knee.

"I should've checked on you earlier-" "Juraj, stop. It's not your fault. I should've left or called for you. Let's worry about your hand first then everything else."

When you arrive home you instruct him to go to the bathroom and to wait for you. When you grab the first aid he's leaning against the sink with his head down. Upon hearing you, he lifts his head with the most solemn look.

You grab his hand lightly and dab a cloth with alcohol on it. He winces slightly but only for a second. He doesn't stop looking at you.

"I'm glad you're here. I hope you know that." he barely says above a whisper.

"I'm glad I'm here too. And that your always gonna be there to protect me."

You finish wrapping his hand before placing a chaste kiss on his lips. He deepens the kiss by wrapping his bandaged hand around your neck, moaning softly.

His hands move to the hem of your dress in an attempt to take it off before you stop him. "Your hand needs to heal Jur."

"I'm not made of glass my love, and I don't expect to treat you like you are either."

He knows the effect his words have on you as you, as you start to dampen and squeeze your thighs together, which goes unnoticed by him.

He lifts you swiftly before carrying you into the bedroom to lay you on your shared bed. His lips now make contact with your shoulder blade and down between your breasts. He hovers there for a second before blowing on your nipples, releasing a moan from you as your nipples harden.

He leaves a light kiss on your right while he begins to pinch the nipple on your left. Your back arches as he engulfs your right nipple in his mouth. After doing that, he switches sides, giving both sides the needed attention, but you needed him somewhere else.

"Juraj" you say as you choked on your own words.

"Yes my love?"

"I need you."

"Use your words," he says sternly. "I need your mouth, down there."

He removes himself from your chest and hovers over your face with a shit eating grin. "Say it correctly and I'll do it."

Your bucking your hips at this point and he's loving this.

"I need you to eat me out Juraj."

"With pleasure."

He gets on his knees and starts to lift your dress up. You lift to assist him. He glances up, eyes hooded and dark. You didn't wear panties.

"You better be glad we don't have practice tomorrow," he said darkly before bringing his face closer to your entrance. He starts to kitten lick you lightly, making your body jerk with each stroke before licking a long stripe up your entrance. You lift your hips with a moan at the sensation and he places his good hand on your hips to hold you down.

Nothing filled the room but the sounds of your panting and whines and his lewd noises. You grab his hair for leverage as the coil in the pit of your stomach starts to form. Your whines becoming more frequent, telling Juraj that you were close.

"Cum for me love," he says while inserting his index finger and curling it to hit your g spot. Your mouth drops open as stars fill your vision and you release on his tongue.

His lips are wet with your release as you try to contain your composure. "We're not done srdiečko. I think you have one more in you."

He starts to unbuckle his belt and undress and you mustered up the little energy you had to remove your dress. After removing his boxers, he collects some of your release, making you convulse lightly, as he uses it to pump himself a few times. His tip, angry and red and leaking pre-cum. You wrap your legs around his waist and he balances himself with one hand while he lines himself at your entrance.

He slowly pushes himself in, letting you adjust. After adjusting you signal him to move. He begins to gain a rhythm and his head falls back in pleasure. The angle that you're in has him hitting every spot every thrust. You notice his arm start to shake after trying to support himself.

You look at him and his eyes are screwed shut in concentration. He's trying to hold you up without hurting himself further in the process.

Jur, let me ride you. Your in pain."

He slows, still buried within you, as he flips you both so now you're on top. He released a sigh and a moan as now he is buried at the hilt. He's fully in you, and imprint in your stomach only makes him harder.

"You did well my love, let me finish," you say as you start to get a rhythm. Groans and moans now fill the room along with the sound of slapping skin. Your eyes rolling in the back of your head as this new angle has you feeling Juraj everywhere.

You start to clench and the grip on your hip tightens which each one. "Let's do it together."

With one last rut of your hips, both you and Juraj release a joined moan before you collapse on his chest. "We'll shower in the morning. Just let me hold you for a second," he said. Your eyes eventually close listening to the sound of his heartbeat. No matter what happens, you know he'll always be there to break a few noses for you.

#juraj slafkovsky imagines #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky

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specialagentlokitty · 1 month

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Aizawa x reader - I need you

Balancing on the top of the lamppost, you studied the street below you, carefully watching as a few people went about their routines.

It was late, night many people would be wondering around at this time, which was the perfect time for most villains to strike.

Putting your hands in your pockets, titled your head to the side a little, listening to changes all around the ward.

Jumping on a few lampposts, you made your way to the next street, doing the same thing.

Someone pointed up at you and grinned brightly, giving you a happy wave and you waved back, jumping down, landing lightly on your feet.

“Oh my god! Whisper!”

You smiled, making your way over, hands stuffed in your pockets as you approached the woman.

“Can I have a picture?!”

You nodded your head, letting her take a photo with you, and you offered a wave as you jumped back up to your vantage point, making your way past the streets.

Your quirk wasn’t overly spectacular, you had enhanced hearing and strength, that was it, everything else you had to work hard to get.

You stopped again, looking around.

That’s when you heard it, the sound of your name being called out, not your hero name, but your actual name, something only a few people knew.

Spinning around, you jumped up to the rooftops running over them to get to your destination a lot easier.

Jumping down, you landed on your feet, coming to a stop on a quiet bridge where a familiar figure was leaning against the railing.

“Eraser?” You asked.

He spun around, looking at you, and you walked over to lean next to him, resting your arms on the ledge.

“What’s the matter?” You asked.

“You came…”

You turned to look at him, giving him a soft smile.

“You called..”

He seemed tired, and you sighed softly, turning a little to look at him.

“You haven’t been sleeping properly.”

“When have I ever?”

This made you laugh a little bit, giving him a small smile, and you looked to the water below.

“What’s going on…?”

Aizawa sighed heavily, resting his back on the railing as he looked up and down the road, making sure there was nobody else nearby.

“I just wanted to see you…”

“We never said we couldn’t be friends when we broke up, you know that.”

“I know but it didn’t seem fair… I thought maybe you had moved on or something…”

You walked in front of him, holding your hand out, and he looked at you.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet, it’s nearly rush hour anyway.”

He nodded his head, taking your hand in his, letting you lead him to your apartment.

You took your hero equipment off, putting some sound blocking headphones on, making your way back out of your room.

Aizawa had taken his capture scarf off, leaving it on the floor by your couch, and you sat down, placing a cushion in your lap, gesturing for him to lay down.

He didn’t think twice and laid down, having been so used to this routine with you.

You ran your fingers through his hair slowly, giving him a warm smile as you looked down at him.

He covered his eyes with his arm, and you carried on watching him carefully.

“Shota? What’s going on? It’s not like you to call me.”

He sighed heavily, moving his hand away from you.

“Why did you come?”

You smiled.

“Because I promised you I would always come when you called for me.”

“Why? After what happened? We broke up yet you’re still there…”

You sighed a little bit.

“Just because we broke up doesn’t mean I don’t still love you Shota, I’ll always love you, even if we aren’t together. What happened wasn’t either of our fault, it just happened. We didn’t have time for each other.”

“That’s my fault…”

“Stop blaming yourself, okay? It wasn’t, sometimes life gets in the way. It just wasn’t the right time.”

You carried on working your fingers through his hair, still smiling down at him.

It had always been like that, you helping him relax, you had always been there for him, helping him with everything, sleeping, making sure he ate.

Yet he didn’t do anything for you.

He never repaid that favour, he was always so busy, he neglected you by accident, he never meant to, and it was true when everybody said you were too perfect for him.

“I’m sorry.”

You gently slapped his arm.

“Stop it right now Shota.”

He sat up, taking the cushion, gesturing for you to lay down as this time, so you did, resting your head on it as you looked up at him.

He carefully took your headphones off, then covered your ears with his hands.

The noises from outside were still there, a little louder than normal, but it didn’t hurt your ears.

“I want us to get back together.”

“What?”

He smiled a little, leaning over.

“I want us to try again, once more.” He whispered.

“Shota…”

He leant down, brushing his lips against yours, not quite in a kiss, but you could feel them.

“I need you by my side…”

You leant up, fully kissing him this time, and he smiled into it.

You pulled away, moving away so you could sit up to look at him.

“I’d never say no to getting back together with you moron.”

He chuckled, leaning over, putting your headphones back in for you, then placed a hand on the back of your head to kiss you again.

He was going to take better care of you this time, he was going to make sure he didn’t push you away for a second time.

When you pulled away, you laid down, letting him rest his head on your shoulder, covering his eyes with your hand.

“Go to sleep Shota.”

He hummed, nodding his head, wrapping an arm around your waist.

For the first time since you left he was fully relaxed and at ease having you there, you were his calamity, his calmness and you were going to be his top priority in everything from now on

#my hero academia imagine #my hero academia x you #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #mha #mha x you #mha x y/n #mha imagine #mha x reader #Aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #Aizawa imagine

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strangerquinns · 2 years

Note

8. “I’m not okay if you’re not okay.” for the angst prompts with eddie or stevie?

love everything you write, you’re v talented 🤎

Steve Harrington x Reader | 2.3k+ words

With everyone else worrying about Max, no one else seems to notice your symptoms, that you too are within Vecna's grasp.

"I'm not okay, if you're not okay" / send in a angst prompt / thank you so much anon you're so sweet!

You groaned slightly as the pulsing migraine that seemed to never leave you grew worse and worse with each passing second. Around you, everyone was gathered in the basement of the Wheeler home. Nancy sitting on the couch with Robin beside her, and the kids sitting on the floor with Max. Steve sitting on the far side in the armchair, and that left you, sitting on the floor to the side.

The glow of the television was making your headache worse. That should've been the first sign with everything that had happened in the last twelve or so hours. With everyone's, including yours, focus on Max being under Vecna's curse - it didn't occur to anyone that any of you could fall victim as well.

With the death of Chrissy and Fred - and now the threat against Max - everyone's been running on little sleep and even less food. So when you started feeling a little less than well you chopped it up to the recent events.

"Hey Nance, is it ok if I go and crash in the guest room? Not feeling too good." You spoke up, causing everyone's attention to be on you.

Steve watched with a worried look on his face as you stood up from your place on the floor.

"Of course," Nancy spoke, standing from the couch, prepared to lead you up to the room.

As you moved to walk past him, you felt a warmth grasp your hand gently. When you looked down you saw Steve's fingers entangled with yours.

"You ok?" He voiced, his voice laced with worry. "Want me to come with you?"

"I'm ok. Just tired, haven't really slept...given the circumstances." You let out a dry laugh, "Stay...I'll be fine."

Steve nodded his head as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go of it. He sat back in his seat and watched as you ascended the stairs and out of his sight. When he went to look back toward the television and caught something in the corner of his eye. He quickly looked to see Robin staring at him with a knowing look.

It seemed obvious to everyone in the group, but the two of you, that you and Steve were in love. You'd known each other since the first grade but it seems that in the last few years the two of you have been really close. With everything dealing with the Upside Down drawing the once childhood best friends back together.

"Don't," Steve spoke with a stern look on his face.

"What? I didn't say anything," Robin spoke with a smirk.

"You don't have to," Steve sighed leaning his elbow on the armrest, so he could rest his head on his hand.

"Can we fast forward to the part where the two of you stop making heart eyes at each other and just get together already? It's starting to get annoying." Dustin said, keeping his gaze on the movie.

Steeve's only response was lightly smacking the back of the teenager's head.

♡

You walked down the hallways of the Creel House with the floorboards beneath your feet seeming to creak with each step. The house was so dusty that you were sure the air was 85% dust and nothing else. With spiderwebs dangling from nearly every corner and railing. Ahead of you, a little was Dustin and Steve, with the younger one sweeping the flashlight against the floor to light up the path.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" You asked, slowly walking along the walls as you peeked at the photos hanging on the wall. Some so sun-bleached you couldn't make anything out.

"Anything that screams Upside Down. Or Vecna-y" Dustin answered

"I don't think anyone of us knows what is Vecna-y besides Max," You spoke up as you moved to catch up with them.

"Anything out of place." Dustin sounded annoyed, rolling his eyes.

He continued down the hallway as you and Steve fell into step beside each other.

"God, the older he gets the more asshole he becomes," You laughed

"You're telling me. His ego is becoming unbearable." Steve shook his head.

He looked down at you and watched you for a moment. It was hard for him to not noticed the dark bags under your eyes when you came down from the guest room that morning. You looked more tired than when you went to bed.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asked, causing you to turn to him with a confused look. "You said last night you weren't ok...and you seemed a little worse for wear this morning."

You pursed your lips slightly, flashes of your nightmares coming back to you.

"Just a rough night's sleep. Worrying about Max...worrying about Eddie...really thought all this stuff was behind us. You know?"

Steve nodded his head "Yeah, I know what you mean."

As the two of you passed a bedroom you started hearing the tick...tick...tick of a grandfather clock. You stopped for a moment and looked into the room to see a large clock standing in the middle of the room. You were confused at its placement, especially since it was a replica of the one down in the main entrance.

"Steve, you see this?"

You turned toward your friend but were welcomed to an empty hallway. The ticking got louder before it stopped and instead began to chime. It was so loud that it made you jump back slightly. But when you looked into the room it was gone...and instead in front of you looked like your old living room.

Sitting on the couch was your mother, her head in her hands, as she sobbed. But something about her cries sounded off. Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach as you stepped forward hesitantly.

"Mom?" You called out "Mom? What's wrong?"

She continued to cry and seemed to be ignoring you.

"He left us. He left us...." She cried

You walked a little closer. "Mom? W-Who left?'

"...All because of you..."

"Momma, you're scaring me," You spoke as you reached down to gently grab her shoulder.

"It's your fault he left! It's your fault he left us!" Your mother snapped up and started screaming at you, scaring you enough to cause you to fall back against the floor. "It's your fault your father left! Your fault!"

♡

"...and couldn't understand why he couldn't just have returned you know? I mean how many times do we have to call before he finally just does it?" Steve spoke, telling a story about a customer at work.

But when you did respond that was finally when he noticed that you weren't beside him. Steve looked around confused when he didn't immediately see you. But when he turned back to the end of the hall, he saw you, standing in the middle of a doorway.

"You find something?" Steve called out, moving back down the hallway toward you. When you didn't respond he called out your name, posing it more like a question. "Come on dude..."

When he got closer to you, Steve was able to notice and realize that something was wrong. Goosebumps broke out across his skin as an unsettling feeling started to fill his gut. He called out your name again, this time more timid and scared.

"This isn't funny," Steve took the last few steps and moved to stand in front of you.

His worst fears came true as he looked to see you deep within Vecna's curse. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with them fluttering quickly, only showing the whites of your eyes. Your head was tilted back slightly with your entire body stiff and rigid in place.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Steve called out, placing his hands on your shoulders and shaking you. Deep down he knew that wasn't going to do anything, but the desperate feeling coming over him was enough to make him sick. "Don't do this to me, god, please!"

The desperate screams of Steve calling your name echoed through the old home like a nightmare. Everyone quickly raced to the two of you. They all came up the stairs to see Steve shaking and patting your shoulders and arms frantically as he called your name. The panic was obvious in both his voice and all over his face. His brown eyes were wide with fear as tears quickly began to fill them.

"What happened!?" Nancy asked the moment she got to the two of you.

"I-I don't know...one more moment we're talking and the next she's like this..." Steve stepped back, panting and running his fingers through his hair. "...I don't even know how long she's been like this...I-I didn't notice she wasn't beside me anymore."

"Does anyone know her favorite song!?" Robin spoke, quickly joining in Steve's panic.

For a moment Steve's thoughts became a little clear at the mention of a song.

"Center console of my car, Blondie tape...go now!" Steve shouted toward Lucas and Dustin.

The two of them scrambled before quickly turning back down the hall and out of the house.

"Max, we might need to pause Kate Bush for a moment," Nancy spoke

"Of course," The girl spoke, quickly turning off her Walkman.

It felt like forever, but it was only a few minutes before Dustin and Lucas came racing back up the stairs. With every minute they were gone Steve thought for sure he was going to pass out. But the moment the Blondie tape was placed in his hands, he worked quickly and placed the headphones on your ears.

But the moment they slipped onto ears, your feet began to rise from the ground, as you lifted into the ground. Everyone froze for a moment as they watched you rise with your eyes fluttering more violently.

"Fuck, fuck, no!" Steve screamed, slamming the walkman shut and quickly searching for your song. "Come on baby, come on...don't do this to me..."

Steve didn't care that he was openly crying.

His only focus was on you.

Praying to whatever god that listened that you wouldn't be taken away from him.

♡

"...I am here to end your pain," Vecna spoke as he loomed over you. His monstrous features became more haunting from the shadows that crossed over his face.

You quickly shook your head as you tried to run from him, but soon felt something wrap around your ankle. You were barely able to catch yourself before your body was propelled down to the floor. Another vine see wrapped around your wrists and you were lifted up in front of him - Vecna. You cried uncontrollably as you faced him.

"Please...please...I-I don't want to...d-die...please..." You begged with tears falling down your cheeks.

"Let me end your suffering," Vecna spoke before his large hand came and began to hover over your face.

You remembered listening to Max as she told of her experience with Vecna and the fear that came over her.

It's enough to make you sick, twisting your insides with the deep fear that you are going to die. It's like acid moving through your veins.

Buy soon a song began to echo everywhere around you.

Follow by voices.

"Don't leave me, baby, please, please...I love you...please..."

♡

A large gasp left your lips like your lungs weren't able to breathe the entire time you were under, along with your body falling. You let out a scream of surprise as you felt the free fall take over your body. A pair of arms wrapped around you tightly and pulled you into their chest, acting as your cushion as you fell. You let out uncontrollable sobs that came from you the moment your brain was able to register that you were safe.

You saw the relief on each of your friend's faces along with a few crying. Robin turns to find comfort in Nancy and Max doing the same with Lucas. In your ears, you could hear the vocals of Pat Benatar in your ears. Your hand reached up and pulled the headphones off as you relaxed into someone's chest.

"I've got you...I've got you...." Steve whispered softly in your ears. "You're safe."

You turned around in his arms and nuzzled your face into his neck and continued to cry. You hadn't felt this safe in a long time, resting in Steve's arms. But that acidic fear Max talked about still lingered slightly.

♡

The sound of the bedroom door opening caught your attention. When you looked up you saw Steve sheepishly standing in the doorway. After Creel House, everyone gathered at Steve's home. His parents were gone on another trip, so the Harrington house became everyone's safe haven. You'd even gone and got Eddie from the boat house so he could shower and sleep on a real bed.

"I-I wanted to come and check on you...see how you were doing," Steve spoke, his voice holding a bit of nerve.

"I-I'm ok..." Your voice was still hoarse from the crying and screaming of earlier. "A-Are you ok?"

Steve hesitated for a moment before walking further into the room and closing the door behind him. You watched as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. His hand reached out and gently grabbed yours as he looked down at you. Steve's face was pinched with worry and you could still see the fear swimming in his brown eyes.

"No, damnnit." He frantically spoke "I’m not okay if you’re not okay. Do you not realize how much you mean to me? God...for a second I had to think what it would be like in a world without you because I thought for sure he'd..." Steve couldn't finish the sentence, "I can't lose you."

"I'm ok for now," You spoke softly, "I-I didn't know what was happening either, I promise, Steve..."

"I believe you, hey, hey" Steve caressed your face as he noticed the panic you were starting to send yourself into. "I believe you."

You moved to wrap your arms around him, once again needing the comfort of his arms. Your face nuzzled into his neck and let his scent surround you. It was his musky cologne, laundry detergent with a hint of his body wash. The scene was purely Steve and was the only thing to make the fear go away.

"I heard you...you know..." You spoke up, voice slightly muffled by his neck. "When I was under...I heard you."

Steve nervously laughed "Did you?"

You pulled back to stare up at him, so he could see and sincerity and severity of your words. "I love you too, Steve."

A smile tugged on the corner of his lips, as his body seemed to relax slightly. Steve moved quickly caressing your face before bending down and kissing you deeply. His lips molded perfectly around yours as they moved in sync.

Steve pulled back and pressed his forehead against yours. "I'm not letting anything happen to you. Never again."

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