#there is actual crack laced in their writing its so good
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ASKING FOR IT !
ft. og4 leon s. kennedy x fem!reader
tags. p in v, smut, cheating (not on reader), ooc leon sorry, he’s mean, negging, misogyny, reference to past rape/non-con, unresolved trauma, suicidal thoughts duhhh, he calls reader ugly a lot, leon subs for his gf but doms reader, non-con to consensual sex, manipulation, some .. uh waterboarding? he dunks your head in water, opioid addiction but it’s minor LMFAOO
note. haii… um feedback whether it’s good or bad appreciated really forced myself to write this so im like ack. hating everything i write but! ignore typos :3 it’s not as fleshed out as i wanted .. soooo it reads pretty jolty but yah 😭 and the smut is like not. IDK I’m ugh not into it just couldn’t bring myself to extend stuff that I really wanted to develop n he’s ooc. BUT!! again ignore typos or I’ll cry n feedback/constructive criticism appreciated <3
Leon has a girlfriend. He can never hold down a girl, his ability to scare women away is preternatural, so it’s a big deal. And she’s fucking hot. Not like model hot, but pornstar hot. She’s got tits so firm they might as well be bulletproof. Bottle blonde with eyes that swallow up her whole face. Her stomach doesn’t crease when she sits. It’s the type of beauty that takes its form in slashes of red lace and nylon. Not many women are out of his league, but she is.
They have hot sex like attractive people tend to do, and it goes something along the lines of this.
He goes:
Is that dick good, baby? You like it? Right there, baby?
And she goes:
Fuck, yes, baby! Harder, deeper— Oh, right there!
And then she doesn’t cum.
So there’s that, but he’s working on it.
Leon doesn’t take well to tips on how to fuck. Reading advice columns in the Men’s Health magazine leaves a funny taste in his mouth. It might be the blood from the castrated image of his masculinity. Who knows.
He struggles with that sort of thing. A nice face does nothing for a man who doesn’t actually like anything about himself. Leon’s still that wimpy self-hating loser he was all those years ago. In all fairness to God, there are a few added tweaks here and there. Some bug fixes. Now he’s drunk and shallow too! Misanthropic when he’s at his very best.
As a kid, mom told Leon to be a nice boy so he was a nice boy. Not because he was ever a particularly nice boy, but for her sake. So instead of acting out he would go and crush ants beneath his thumb in the front yard because there is this mean part of Leon that splinters inside of him like cooked bones.
Life to Leon is being fucked into apologising for being alive so it’s no wonder he’s still harbouring the insecurities of a boy he isn't.
When he was eighteen it was by ugly old men who abhorred him for being the embodiment of whatever it was they were hiding from their wives. His legs looked nice thrown over a pair of big shoulders. They were so thin back then, model-type shit. All of those men mildly resembled his dad, but that’s something he wouldn’t quite like to crack down on yet. Leon’s being open enough as it is.
When he was twenty-one it was his headache of a first girlfriend. It was the bullet wound in his shoulder. When he was twenty-two it was being passed around boot camp like a dirty needle. When he was twenty-seven it was Luis who was nothing and everything in between. It was a picture book princess like Ashley. The scar on his shoulder. Stigmata. Glory Be. Whatever.
(And Jack, it was always Jack. Pale all over like a healed scar.)
What Leon is trying to get across, he’s not quite sure. Maybe that he's nice in theory and the reality is he’s a self-confessed charlatan of niceness. Or that he can’t fuck. He can’t fuck because he is deeply traumatised. Yeah. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to say. It’s an excuse, sure, doesn’t make it the truth though. Leon can’t fuck ‘cause he’s useless at most things that don’t include guns. He can’t fuck ‘cause he was unattractive as a teenager and that solidified the way he feels about himself now.
Leon’s got one thing going for him - he fingers her pussy till his fingers prune. Eats her out till he gets lockjaw.
“Oh, you’re so good at that,” she says, kissing his slicked-up lips.
Then her eyes flit to his hard dick and she gives him that strange half-smile. One that seems to say: Not with that. His dick. Obviously.
His shit is big enough, it’s long enough— It’s enough. And it’s pretty. Could put a bow on to make it real cute. Could manufacture a dildo inspired by it. So Leon cannot for the life of him wrap his head around her problem. It’s not his dicks fault her pussy is fucking broken. Her broken pussy doesn’t get to make his dick sad. Doesn’t get to lay devastating blows on his gone-with-the-wind ego.
Another thing is, her sister is an ugly bitch. That upsets Leon and his dick in tow. You’re a student, taking a break for some reason Leon has not bothered to fathom. He couldn’t care less. Go do it someplace else. In this house, you’re nothing more than a cockblock. Leon could forgive you for being a cockblock if you weren’t ugly. Or vice versa.
It would be okay if Leon wasn’t stuck at home with you for hours at a time. Work fucked up his back, so he’s staying here in his girlfriend’s apartment eating her food, running her taps, fucking her badly and shitting on her sister.
You’re sat on the other end of the table with a soggy bowl of cereal while he nurses a juice box like a real man. What do ugly little things like you think about anyway?
When Leon was ugly he thought about forcing his dick into the cute girl next door between his more regular thoughts of what to eat for dinner and whether he stocked up on toilet paper or not.
When he was ugly, his day was made simply by a pretty girl looking in his general direction. So Leon makes sure to look in yours. Y’know, to fuel your perverted wet dreams. Your rape fantasies. What freaks think about when they’re near hot guys. Well, it’s strange actually. You tend to totally ignore him. When the two of you make brief eye contact, you don’t flounder or duck or bow your head like you’re shy— You just move on with your life. That bothers him. Leon’s hot now. He’s not the type of man you just brush over like that. He’s the type you gawk at in broad daylight, he’s the sort of guy you see in soft porn magazines.
“Good morning,” his girlfriend greets, “have a good sleep, sweetie?” She bumps your hip when you stand up to hug her.
She’s wearing stockings today. Oh, he loves stockings. He loves pencil skirts. He loves— He loves office wear. He wants to be put over her lap and spanked raw perhaps.
“Yeah, it’d be nice if your boyfriend stopped moaning like a girl though.” It’s said into her ear, but Leon hears it.
“I’m going now, honey,” his girlfriend tells him.
Like a good boy, Leon stands to bid her goodbye. Her blouse is sheer, shows off her black bra and he eyes it with distaste.
“What’s wrong, Leon?”
He doesn’t speak. Just glares at her perfect set of tits like a baby weaned off milk.
“I can’t take them off,” she snorts.
Leon wishes she could. Hang ‘em up in the closet and pop them back on when it’s time to play. Tits are for the bedroom. Otherwise, they’re too much of a distraction. Instead, he settles on slipping his hand up her skirt to check if she’s wearing panties. (There’s no panty line showing through her pencil skirt and that’s always a bad sign.) She shoos him away.
So Leon leans in for a kiss, and she says, “Nuh-uh, honey, you’ll ruin my makeup.” Then she gives in ‘cause Leon can be kinda cute when he tries hard enough. “Just one, okay?”
“Yeah.” Leon nods. Her kisses are analgesic. Which is unfortunate considering he has an opioid addiction. Almost an addiction.
“One,” she counts, Leon kisses her again, “two, three, four.”
She’s teasing him now.
“Okay, well, keep an eye on her, Leon.”
“I’m not twelve,” you say, exiting the kitchen to spare yourself the sight of him groping your older sister.
Yeah, and Leon’s not a bang nanny.
He wipes the red from his lips, takes his juice box from the table where you’re no longer and decides jerking off in the shower will make him feel better. Leon does. He finishes. Watches his seed wash down the drain and wonders if that was wasteful. A short intermission is taken, then he jerks off in front of her full-body mirror. His biceps flex and his abs tighten, and he looks fucking good.
Why isn’t she cumming? What’s wrong with her? Is she getting too old? Is menopause hitting already? She’s only thirty-something. It can’t be that, and she asked Leon to pick up tampons last week— Unless they were for you.
Nobody in this house tells Leon anything. Another shower is what he needs. No, he needs a smoke. Leon doesn’t smoke. He does the next best thing, rests idly against the railings of her balcony, observing the ballet of D.C. life. Man, he could throw himself over right now. Splat against the asphalt and that would be it. It’d all be over. Hauling his weight over would be no problem. Catastrophizing to pass the time. Men used to do this for a living in Ancient Greece. What happened to philosophising? Leon could be a philosopher, all they did was spout nonsense and he is good at that. Not at fucking, however.
Beer. Yeah. Beer. That’s what he needs. Leon ransacks the fridge to no avail. Health-conscious living is the reason for misery, he believes. See, very insightful, modern-day Socrates right here. Lean proteins, vegan substitutes, low-fat yoghurt— It’s so girly it makes him sick.
“She’s still on a health kick,” you say from behind him, “I thought it was a New Years thing, but she’s still, like, super into it.”
Why are you talking to him? Leon blinks at you owlishly. “Right,” he says.
You give him a funny look, turning back to the counter to use the coffee machine. Don’t you want him? You’re not shy. Why aren’t you shy? Shouldn’t you be shy? Ugly Leon was mute around girls whether they were short, fat, ugly or pretty. Shit, he is clucking for a beer.
“There's Chardonnay under the sink.” Well, that’s unhelpful.
“Yeah, I don’t- I don’t drink that.” He would like to finish his sentence off with ‘girly shit’ but you seem like the type to find that offensive.
“Figured.” The coffee machine whirs. A lobotomised silence ensues. “Good talk.”
You’re so ugly you’re asking for it. Perfect subject for the ‘I can’t make my girlfriend cum, is her pussy broken?’ experiment. Ugly girls don’t count as a fuck, right? Not when they’re sent to the very back of your mind after said fuck. He wonders how many girls counted the uglier him as an official lay.
You’re on your tummy reading a book. The Beautiful and Damned. Leon had no idea they wrote a book about him. The door creaking exposes his creeping against his will.
“Do you need something?” you ask without batting an eye.
The swell of your ass is nice. “Uh, yeah, I do.”
Rolling over and sitting up to face him, you tilt your head to the side. “Go on.”
“I want to have sex with you.” Woah. Okay. That’s a genie he can’t put back in the bottle. Fuck, why does he do this stupid shit? Leon should just kill himself. All roads lead to suicide. Every sign points towards suicide and he is still holding on for dear life.
Think about Sherry. Sherry won’t care, kids hit sixteen and don’t give a fuck about much, he reasons with the voice in his head. How about Claire? Oh, she’ll think good fucking riddance. Redfield? No way. You are truly out of options, Kennedy.
“I’m sorry?”
Oh, god no, Leon’s the one that should be sorry. “You heard me.” The apology comes out incredibly wrong. “I’m helping you out.”
“Helping me out with what? I’m sorry, Leon, I didn’t… I didn’t think I— I don’t know what made you think I wanted this from you, but I don’t like you—“
You don’t like him? Why not? He’d like a list of reasons with a page-long explanation. What’s not to like? The hair. It’s the hair. Blond is too girly. That’s what it is.
“—I mean, you’re with my sister, did you really think I would say yes? I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused, where is this coming from? Gosh, I really… I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m helping you out,” Leon repeats, using his hands to gesture at your face, at your body. “No one else is gonna do it.” This apology has gone way out of bounds. A simple sorry would have sufficed.
“What..?” Something doleful crosses your face, then it twists unpleasantly. “You think I want to have sex with you… ‘cause I’m not cute? Like, you think I’m…”
Ugly, yes. He does. Only a little. Can you turn over? He wants to make you cum. “You’re a virgin, yeah?”
“Oh my god, there’s, like, something wrong with you!” You stand to your full height in a pitiful attempt to appear frightening. That face is enough to scare a man away already. “Get out— And I am so telling her when she gets back home, I told her I didn’t like you, I told her and now you just-“
Leon grabs you by the jaw, squeezes you so tight it clicks. “Okay, sweetheart, here’s how this is going to go,” he starts, taking both your wrists in a single hand, “we’re going to start over, and you’re going to be a good little girl and apologise to me like you really mean it.”
“Apologise for what?” It comes out muffled through your forced pout so he chooses to ignore you.
“I don’t know what you fuckin’ said.” Leon should just end it here, he should let go of you and check into the nearest asylum. He’s hot. Leon is box blond. He’s tall enough to dwarf most girls. His face is nice. His body is nicer. So he doesn’t know what his problem is. Once pinned down, you shrink away from him, expression so sour your skin looks ready to melt off your skull.
And then he fucks you till you stop screaming. He leaves you in a withered heap, heads back to his room to take a well-deserved nap, hides his face in the pillows. They smell like her. He should think about killing himself some more. That gun looks awfully shiny. Nth time could be the charm.
She gets home in the evening, drops her bag on the floor to alert him of her entrance.
“I missed you.” Leon noses at her neck.
“You were sleeping.” She ruffles his hair like he’s a child.
“I still missed you.”
“Even when you’re sleeping?”
In the least creepy way possible, he wants to wear her skin as a suit, and she thinks his body doesn’t yearn for her at every sleeping second?
“The most when I’m sleeping, have bad dreams without you,” Leon mumbles groggily.
“How cute,” she muses, “good day?”
“Great day.” Leon nods. “Real productive.”
“Oh yeah? What’d you get up to?” A singular red nail strokes along his spine.
“Thought about you,” he answers, leaving out the part where he spent half of his time jerking off. Oh, and the part where he fucked her sister into submission. He raped you. He did. Leon doesn’t like that word. Far too harsh.
“Now, don’t push it, mister.” When she smiles there’s a lack of wrinkles— Not even smile lines, it’s artificial almost.
Leon’s good at pushing buttons. He should get paid for it. “It’s true, if you said jump I’d ask how high.”
“You’re so funny, Leon.” She kisses his head and laughs all prim and proper.
“Serious, babe, I’m super partial to jumping,” he says to hear her laugh again. He’s more partial to suicide. It’s great. A one-way ticket off of God’s green inferno. Who would he even be without suicide ideation?
“Alright, but I’d like you all in one piece.” She kisses his cheek. “No jumping, okay, honey?” She kisses his neck and his collarbones and his Adam’s apple and he’s unable to breathe.
“Okay,” Leon says. He gets it now. She’s mommying him. Maybe this is what Leon needs. To play house. A daddy to fuck his throat and a mommy to sit on his dick and tell him that he’s a good boy and he’s needed and he won’t have to think if he has a mommy and daddy to do that for him.
Can he backtrack on the rape thing? Trust Leon to take a good thing and ruin it in the worst way possible. If he kissed you he could’ve wormed his way out of it. Told her it was the medication he’s on, that he had a mental breakdown, a midlife crisis.
At dinner, your silence slips under the radar like cumstains on motel bedsheets. You pick at your food, and when Leon’s knee brushes yours under the table, you excuse yourself. Sometimes he thinks that he is a bad person, this can be backed up by many things. Violating you might outweigh saving the world.
In bed, he thinks about changing, about calling his therapist in the morning, he might take a leap off that balcony, cleaning up his act sounds terribly hard. Leon does this all with his head tucked into the hollow of his girlfriend’s neck. The thinking has killed his boner and now he can’t get it up. So he pretends to fall asleep. It’s an unconvincing performance ‘cause the moment she swipes a hand over his ass he lets out a disgruntled noise. Leon clenches so quickly his stomach caves in.
“You don’t like that, honey?”
He shakes his head, overgrown bangs falling in his eyes. Leon has a nice ass. It’s no wonder she wants to touch it, leg presses have done him wonders, but still, it’s off-limits. She can’t sweet talk her way into this anytime soon.
“Why, Leon?” She’s cupping his ass like he’s a girl. Leon’s not a girl. “You’d look so cute.”
“No,” he whines, and it sounds kind of sexy. He gets it. He can see the appeal.
“I think you just need some encouragement, baby.” She’s taking him apart like a gun. Folding him like laundry. Milks his prostate so well he sleeps like a baby. Not even a shadow of an orgasm to be seen from her side.
She leaves early the next morning and he’s left alone to ruminate. What he finds out today is that you’re pretty diligent at sucking dick when forced.
Leon thinks he would like to break you in a way that only he can fix.
He pushes your head down on his dick till your lips are stretched so far they split at the corners, you gag wetly each time the fat tip knocks the back of your throat, heavy balls slapping against your chin.
“Aww, look at you,” Leon coos, “little girl taking big things.”
Fat tears well in your eyes, a faint tremor betrays your effort to hold them back, a single blink and they roll down your cheeks like dewdrops. It might be the dick lodged in your throat, pulsing under your tongue— Yeah, no, it’s his dick in your mouth. That’s why you're upset. No other reason for it. Leon finds you a little ungrateful. A lot of women would pay for this, to drain his balls. Hell, your sister loves to do it.
“One at a time, sweetheart,” he says as he guides you to his balls, “can’t have you choking, can we?” You look up at him blankly. Leon thought he was funny and that’s all that matters. “Go on, spit on ‘em, get me nice and wet.” The drool pooling beneath your tongue drizzles his balls in clear strings, his drippy tip bumps the bridge of your nose, rests comfy on your brow ridge.
You’re struggling real bad. He’ll take it as a compliment. The thing is, you refuse to just lick them, pulling off each ball with a wet pop! and a dry cough. Leon starts to zone out so he shoves you off and quite pathetically, you fall flat on your back.
“You didn’t shave,” Leon notes in distaste, he was going to do you a favour too.
“No— Not for you.” You squirm like a fish on the docks when he hovers over you.
“Not for me, right.”
“Anyone but you.”
“You're not gonna do it for anyone, sweetheart, know why?” Leon clicks his tongue when you dodge his kiss, twisting your neck to keep a distance.
“Why?”
“No one else wants you,” he states, “you’re lucky that I want you.”
“Well, that’s not true.” You’re stubborn amongst all your other undesirable traits.
Leon scoffs. “What, so you ever had a boyfriend?” He runs his index finger along your slit. Bone dry. Serious? He assumes you’re still sore from yesterday.
“That’s none of your fucking business.”
“Don’t get mad at me, honey, I’m just helping you out.” Leon spits on your pussy, then on his thick cock for good measure, jerks his shaft and presses a thumb to his tip to guide it into you. Your lips fold inwards around him as he breaches your tiny hole. There’s too much resistance for it to be a smooth sailing journey, and you’re new to cock, cunt pushing him out as your body tenses. “I’m being nice to you, so you should say thank you.”
“Oh, god,” you mutter, brows knit in what might be pain or pleasure.
“Yeah, that’s what you’re calling me now?” The look you give him is priceless, small hands settling on his chest as you push at him weakly. “No, baby, you don’t get to do that.” Leon bottoms out, he rolls his hips forward to grind the head of his dick into your cervix, the fleshly opening moulds to his tip and you cry out. He can never tell if you’re enjoying it.
Leon sticks his fingers in your mouth to coat them in spit, you retch and he rubs figure eights on your clit, only then does your cunt loosen up its hold on him. It’s a quick process, the quicker he rubs you raw, the wetter you get, biting down on your tongue to keep quiet, but low groans slip past your cracked lips.
“Oh, there we go, baby, that’s it,” Leon coos, his cock slicked up by your wet pussy, sliding in and out with ease. His hips snap forward, forcing himself deeper into your messy little pussy, so wet you’re dripping down his balls, wetness stuck to your inner thighs.
“Fuck— I can’t, I can’t do it, ‘s too big,” you whimper, a hand slipping between your bodies to lay on your stomach. What you don’t understand is that he is big, yeah, but your pussy just needs to be broken in. Like a new pair of shoes.
“You’re doing it, baby,” Leon says, ‘cause you are doing it. You’re taking it. Body going rigid with each brutal thrust into your sopping wet hole. Whether you can take it or not isn’t for you to decide anyway. “I’m going to stuff your little pussy full,” he tells you.
“No,” you choke out, scratching at his chest, nails too blunt to do any sort of damage. Thank fuck. His girlfriend would go nuts.
It’s a satisfying victory, he covers your mouth to concentrate all his energy into this creampie, fills you to the brim, seed thick enough to stick to your insides. The original aim of his ‘experiment’ is forgotten, Leon doesn’t care if you cum or cry or pass out on his dick.
“I’m tellin’ her when she comes home.” Your threat is weak. He feared the consequences of yesterday, but you said nothing.
“You’re not telling her, you like me too much,” Leon decides, “I know you do, baby.”
“I don’t like you at all.” Your bottom lip trembles, fists balled up by your sides. The contempt only turns him on.
“No, but I think you know I’m right, don’t you?” No one else wants you, and you know that. Leon knows you know that. He’s the only one that is ever going to fuck you.
“Right about what? You’re a fucking psycho— I could get you locked up, I should get you locked up.”
“You should, so what're you waiting for?” If you did report him, Leon would just kill himself, going to prison sounds like a bore. “I think, sweetheart, that secretly, you really like it when I rape you.”
And your silence proves him right.
That report never comes. Duh. You love his dick. You like being roughed up. You know you’re deserving of it. Jesus Christ, Leon needs to call his shrink. Honestly, being around you is hard. It’s like his guilty conscience has developed a human body, shambling around the apartment in the shape of a malformed ghost girl, reminding him of the shit he’s said and done to you. You’re spinning in his necrosed brain like one of those music box ballerinas.
“Leon, be a doll and do me up,” his girlfriend is facing away from him, the smooth skin of her back and shoulders bared to him.
Leon only hears the ‘do me’ part, kissing the nape of her neck, reaching round to grab at her fat tits. “I love you…”
“I love you too, baby, but what do you think you’re doing?”
Leon makes a motion with his fingers, she sees it in the mirror.
“What is that, sign language?”
“No, I want to finger you.”
“Oh, well, that’s lovely, baby, but it’s not the time for that. I asked you to zip me up, Leon.” He zips her up while wondering how she can be so unaffected by him being so stupid.
“Hey, are you ready to go?” You knock on the door, you keep hiding your face from him today. His girlfriend said it’s ‘cause you have makeup on. Apparently that changes things. It’s sort of cute. Like, are you shy? You should be shy.
“Oh, no one likes cliffhangers, honey,” she says, forcing you to swap out some open-toe sandals for a pair of her heels. “Okay, Leon, I’ve left your dinner in the fridge, yes?”
Yes, mommy. “Yeah, babe.”
“And there’s snacks in the cupboard now, oh, and don’t use the tap water, it tastes strange so I stocked up— Leon, will you stop doing that with your jaw?”
Sorry, mommy. “Sorry, babe.”
“He’s totally fucking gurning,” you inform her in a way that screams playground snitch. He’ll choke you out for that.
“Gurning, what’s that?” His girlfriend asks cluelessly. This bitch is in her early thirties, Leon has no idea why she acts fifty. Whatever, it’s hot, he gets a girl with all the traits of an older lady without the sagging.
“Like, y’know, ‘cause he’s on meds.” What a little shit. Is this you getting back at him? Some petty fucking act of revenge? Getting his medication taken away from him by his health freak girlfriend?
“Medication? I didn’t know about this, Leon.” She looks at him like he’s killed her mother. Or raped her sister. If only she knew.
“Yeah, for my back, my back hurts, babe— Th-That’s why I’m on leave. My back hurts.” What a compelling act. Totally not a dude that’s two minutes away from injecting black tar heroin.
“Who prescribed them, a doctor or a vet?” You cock your head to the side. Fine. You fucking got him.
“Same thing.” Leon shrugs.
She makes him empty the bedside desk of pills. “Leon, good boys don’t do this. We don’t take drugs in this household, let me take them off your hands.”
“They’re- Babe, they’re not drugs, they’re for my back— I hurt my back.” Granted, his back stopped aching a few days back, he’s just taking advantage of the break. Also, he’s not a child.
“Your back, honey, I know it hurts.” She waves him off. “We can fix it, huh? I can book you in for acupuncture or cupping— Oh, what about a chiropractor?”
“Fine,” Leon says, voice cracking, watching in devastation as she takes his pills in a black garbage bag.
“Bye, Leon, see you later, honey.” She blows him a kiss and he catches it. He has to catch it.
“Yeah, bye, Leon!” You wave at him, looking happier than you have in days.
The door opens an hour later and Leon takes his hand out of his pants. You stand in front of him with red eyes and messy makeup. Leon, being the gentleman he is, takes you into his arms and rubs your back to soothe you as he tells you, more than a little cruel, I fucking told you so.
At least now you know that some guys aren’t as nice as Leon. Some men will spit in your face without considering how tight your pussy is, they won’t even think about how good your tits look in that push-up bra. See? That’s what the real world is like.
The bath fills as he bends you over the sofa. You’re prettier from behind, dress hiked up, soaked panties around your ankles. His hand smooths down the front of your stomach to cup your puffy cunt, prodding at your swollen clit. You shaved. Funny. Thought you were going to get a dick that wasn’t his.
Leon kneels, he spreads your ass cheeks to lick into your pussy from behind, tongue lapping up the beads of arousal that dribble down the seam of your cunt like sticky honey. He laps at your hole and you arch your back to push into him, his tongue fucking your pussy so well, sloppy sounds fill his ears.
“Been wanting to do this,” Leon says into your cunt, tongue making its way back up the centrefold of your fat pussy, he blows spit bubbles on your clit and then he nips at it until you cry out, startled by the jolt of pain. His dick kicks in his sweats. You taste good to make up for that face of yours.
You cream in his mouth so sweetly, toes curling against the wooden floor. Leon wipes his mouth on his forearm, then he wraps it around your neck, pulling your body flush to his. In his chest, his heart flutters when you press a delicate kiss to his bicep. He feels it and you can’t unfeel that.
“I’m sorry, Leon,” you get out through shaky moans as he sandwiches his shaft between your chubby pussy lips, bumping the tip into your clit as his hips move back and forth. “I’m sorry… Didn’t know-“
“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses behind your ear. “It’s alright ‘cause you know now, huh?”
“Yeah,” you agree tearfully, tilting your head so it rests on his broad chest, he gives your pout some wet kisses.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm, baby?” Leon nudges you with his nose.
Your idea of cleaning up might be far from what Leon’s is. He doesn’t think you were expecting something so extreme. But it’s for thinking you’re worth something— For thinking that anyone else would do as little as touch you. It’s to wash off that pitiful attempt at makeup.
He bends you in half over the tub. Your tits hang low enough to be squashed against the edge painfully as Leon dunks your head into lukewarm water. Holy shit. Tomorrow will be the day he overdoses. Why is he doing this?
A strangled noise passes your lips as he lets up, and you re-emerge, Leon wipes a hand over your face to rid you of the streaky mascara and sticky gloss.
“There we go, sweetheart, nice and clean.” He presses the tip into your leaking cunt, it catches on your hole, and you flail, water spilling over the edge, surface tension broken as it ripples.
Honest to god, Leon hasn’t fucked a pussy tighter than yours, and when he holds you beneath the surface? Man, you might deglove his dick. He works his cock into you, and when he’s balls deep in your sloppy cunt, Leon allows you to lift your head to which you pant and gasp and cough. All the shit a drowning person does when they’re tossed a lifesaver.
Your body sags, hanging limp with only Leon to hold you up as he roughly fucks in and out of your poor hole, heavy balls slapping against your skin.
“I love you, Leon,” you tell him, rubbing at your stinging nose with your fist, pussy tightening when he pinches your throbbing clit.
“Aw, do you, baby? You love me?” Leon laughs, the mean smile on his face hidden in your shoulder, “That’s so cute.” He rocks back and forth, shallow thrusts that are more for him than they are for you, rabbiting his dick into your squelching pussy until his balls pulse and his shaft twitches inside of you. “Real— Real fuckin’ cute,” he grits out as he buries himself to the hilt, shooting his load in your willing little pussy.
“I think so,” you whimper, thighs trembling as the knot in your stomach snaps and you coat his cock in your slick. Hey, his dick isn't a problem then.
Leon thinks about calling his shrink. The bad shit he does won’t fix itself like he wants. “Clean up,” he tells you, looking at the wet ground. The soaked rug. Your face.
“What… Leon, where are you going?” You use your palms to mop the excess water from your face. “Seriously, Leon? I just… I told you that…”
He has things to do - Leon’s going to call his shrink and very promptly throw himself over the balcony when she doesn’t answer his call.
#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy angst#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy angst#leon s kennedy smut#resident evil x you#resident evil angst#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut
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Two's Company - What The Hell Is Six? Part 3
Poly!Lost Boys x GN Reader x Michael
Series Masterlist
Summary: It's date night
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: swearing, touching, angst, arguments, flirting, lil kiss
I really cannot believe it took me so long to finish part 3 like...where did the time go?? It was almost an entire year...I just struggled to find the motivation but I finally did! Not sure if this is even good it's so late when I finished writing lol, hope you enjoy!
Dividers: @saradika & @firefly-graphics
“Okay…I’ll do it.”
“What?” Michael turns towards me and asks bewildered. I can’t blame him, I’m a little shocked by my own acquiescence.
I tear my gaze from David to Michael and briefly at our fingers laced together before meeting his eyes.
“I know this isn’t ideal Mikey, but you heard them, they won’t stop. We can talk about this more later, okay? Just trust me.” Squeezing his hand so tight, to help him to understand why I’m doing this. Why I didn’t have a choice other than to accept their ‘offer’. To protect him from whatever they’re truly capable of. If I said no, they’d take it out on Michael, I know they would.
He takes a moment to respond. Taking me in from top to bottom and squeezing back a non-verbal response before speaking. With more understanding than I initially thought he’d be capable of granting, he nods, brings our hands up to his lips to ghost them over my knuckles and finally lets out a soft 'okay' with a gentle smile only meant for me. I mirror the sweetness in his face back, until the moment is interrupted.
“Well that’s just adorable.” David snorted, all too eager to have our attention not on each other.
“But if you’re finished I’d like to get back to the date you just agreed to.” He directed impatiently.
“Fine, but there are some ground rules we need to establish first.” I said.
“Oh?” questioned David. He seemed amused by my answer, curiosity slipping through at what I could possibly come up with.
“First, no kissing or inappropriate touching-”
Paul cut me off to complain, “damn babe, those are all my go-to moves.”
Dwayne swiftly takes it upon himself to reprimand the wild blonde with an elbow to the side and a ‘shut up Paul’. While said blonde untangles his arm from the taller man's shoulders to soothe his aching side with a look of exasperation, like he’d been completely put out by the interaction.
“Ow, I was only kinda kidding. You can’t hit me like that man, you know I'm sensitive.” He croaked out in a very childlike manner accompanied by a pouty bottom lip. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually got into the fetal position next with how dramatic of a person he seemed to be. In a different circumstance I would’ve found the exchange funny and how close the two are adorable.
Instead of dwelling, I decided to continue. “Second, we won’t be going anywhere private, we’ll be in public the whole time. Third, no threatening or hurting Michael for any reason. No matter what happens on our ‘date’ you don’t get to do anything to him.” Emphasizing date with a quick eye roll. I may have agreed to this but I don’t have to be happy about it.
Michael let out a small chuckle from my right before he leaned down to whisper in my ear “My hero.” I try my best to hold back the smile threatening to sneak its way past my serious demeanor but it’s useless and I crack. I can never seem to hold myself back when it comes to Michael, he pulls every part of me to the forefront, good or bad, he always embraces it with open arms and a warm smile.
“Is that all or do you have any more demands princex?” Marko piped in, once again directing our attention towards the boys in front of us.
“That’s all for now, but if I think of any more I’ll be sure to let you know promptly.” I finish with faux nicety and the sweetest smile I can muster.
Pulling a sarcastic laugh from him followed by an even more sarcastic “Can’t wait.”
It seems Marko and I will be having the most lively time together on our date, if we don’t kill each other first.
This time, I hear a genuine laugh come from the same curly headed boy. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
I’m baffled at the comment. His joyous response sounded like it was directed at my previous thought, one I definitely thought to myself and didn’t voice aloud.
“Wait, I didn’t say anything. How-”
Paul decides to answer me first. “We've got all kinds of tricks we can show you baby”, with an additional cheeky grin thrown my way.
While David finishes with a “but we’ll save that for next time. We’ll meet back here tomorrow night where we usually park the bikes, right after sunset. Don’t be late.” He looks between Michael and I as the quartet begin to make their leave. Each boy giving their own version of a goodbye with waves and ‘catch ya laters’ till they’ve vanished from underneath the boardwalk back towards the stairs.
“So…we should probably get home and maybe figure out what the hell you just agreed to.” Michael announces after a bout of silence following the departure.
After Michael drives us back home, he seems to be in a better mood than I expected. He’s acting like his old self again, not letting go of my hand or some part of my body since we arrived. The truth coming out makes him much more at ease, which I can appreciate. The rest of the family noticed his sudden presence at the dinner table with stunned expressions, Sam even commenting ‘what were you dying for moms lasagna or something bud?’ as Lucy shoo’s that off with a wave of her hand and says she’s happy to see everyone together again for dinner with a beaming smile along her face, quickly changing the topic to grandpa’s aversion to giving him an overdue haircut.
Later on, Michael and I found ourselves in the bedroom we share. After a lengthy discussion of the night to come and having to only calm him down a couple of times from leaving to find the boys again and telling them to fuck off, we agree on sticking it out just for tomorrow. After the dates I tell them it won’t work and we can put this mess behind us, hopefully. The matter of Michael being a bloodthirsty creature of the night has yet to be discussed.
“I still don’t like this plan, just so we’re clear.” He proceeds to tell me one final time as we start to lay down to sleep with a few hours of darkness left cloaking the sky before dawn breaks.
“We don’t have any other options…unless one of your new special tricks includes time travel to before you met them.” I jokingly tack on as I cuddle further into his side.
He releases a light chuckle while rubbing my back soothingly. “Sadly no, that’s not in my abilities.”
“It’ll be okay.” I say, not certain if it’s more for his sake or my own. He silently agrees with a kiss to my forehead and a soft goodnight as we both fall asleep in the comfort of this small window of time we have together.
Michael and I silently wake up just hours before we would need to leave, having mostly slept the day away together. As dusk quickly approaches, getting ready seemed an easier task than I initially anticipated. He showers after me and dresses in his usual attire of blue jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, and his newly acquired leather jacket that I can’t help but start to like the more I see him in it. While I put on a nice tank top, black jean shorts, and sneakers, dressing fairly casual but also something I would wear on a date with Michael. My outfit showed a bit more skin due to the heat.
He gives me a once over before asking ‘Is that new?’ as he points to my top. I nod with a look of ‘yeah why?’ and he only shakes his head back before answering, “nothing, you just look nice…and not to sound like a jealous boyfriend but…I can’t say i’m happy seeing you wear something new for them.”
“Hey I can chan-”
“No.” He stops me before I begin. “Like I said you look good and I’ll just have to get over the fact that they’re getting to be with you tonight and not me, when all I want to do now is rip your outfit to shreds and toss you back in that bed till morning.” He says, as he grabs my hips pulling me into a heated kiss. Only allowing himself to pull back as I’m gasping for air.
“Very tempting offer.” I breathlessly snicker while running my hands through his thick head of curls. He pulls me back in for one more peck and reluctantly drags me along to the front door so we can head out.
We arrive at the boardwalk and Michael parks his bike exactly where David said they’d be, watching the crowd go by and laughing amongst themselves till we’ve made our way into the group beside them as they take notice. Michael helps me off his bike as we stand in front of them, hands still intertwined.
David looks at us like it’s cute we’re still trying to hold up some type of front to the situation, and I guess in a way he’s right, they have the upper hand.
Surprisingly Marko is the first to speak, “And here I thought you were dreading going out with us, but by the looks of that outfit I’d say you were trying to put on a show, feel free to show off even more skin if you’d like.” It takes everything in my body to stay calm because I know that comment is only meant to get a rise out of me. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
After I take a soothing breath I reply, “It’s hot outside and I’d rather not keel over from overheating, that’s all.”
He leans closer with a smirk and gives a half-hearted “whatever you say sweetheart”, before leaning back and giggling like school girls about it with Paul. I simply roll my eyes and turn my attention back to David.
“Let’s go.” He announces to the group as we all start to follow his lead. Dwayne walks in stride with Michael and I, sandwiching me between them, with Marko and Paul tailing behind us. I decide to chance it and look at Dwayne as he leans down towards me, not breaking eye contact for even a moment as we continue to walk. “Don’t let him get to you, he just likes to ruffle feathers. But for what it’s worth, you look lovely.” His lips lift into a half smile, half smirk once he notices the heat rising to my cheeks at the complement. I attempt to brush it off with a quick ‘thanks’ and steal a glance at Michaels now taut jaw and lingering gaze on us. I turn my attention forward as Dwayne’s hand coyly slides up my waist and is gone again before I even have time to register it as he picks up his pace to step in time with David. Michael lets out a scoff and pulls me closer to his side by our joined hands.
David walked us to a section of restaurants with outdoor seating we could all gather at, choosing a wooden picnic bench for us. Michael and I are sitting on one bench with the two natural blondes and brunette sitting on the other, while David decides to grab a lone chair from a different table and pull it up on the side so he’s seated at the ‘head’ of the table.
“So how is this going to work exactly? Are we all doing this together or…?” I decide to voice my curiosity before the conversation inevitably gets side tracked or leads to another argument.
All eyes turn to David as he fills me in. “We’ll each take you out individually - Dwayne’s first.” Nodding his head in the direction of his friend. My own gaze found its way back to his dark brown eyes, that same smile from earlier plastered on. In that moment a wave of familiarity washed over me, like I’ve gotten lost in those eyes a million times before and would continue to do so for as long as I’d be allowed to stare into them. Like how it feels to look into Michaels.
Michael.
Remembering he’s sitting right next to me I shake the previous thoughts away and proceed to stand to meet Dwayne on the other side so we can get this night started already.
But I freeze in my tracks as it suddenly occurs to me that Michael will be all alone with the other boys for the rest of the evening, and the thought of him being tormented and teased about this situation he has no control over sends a pang of guilt through me. I decide I have to try and ease some of the tension, if I can.
“Wait- before we go I have another condition to add.”
David leans back in his chair with a raised brow, gloved fingers tapping along the table. “Yes?”
“If this is going to work you can’t be at each other's throats the whole time I'm gone. Michael told me that he barely knows anything about any of you and vice versa, so while I'm on each date the rest of you are going to stay here and get to know each other - like real friends.”
“What?”
“I’m serious, you’re not going to sit here all night and fuck with my boyfriend behind my back, I’m not asking.” I try to muster up as much confidence in my words as I'm sure David actually has naturally coursing through him. He only ponders what I've said momentarily before giving a strained smile that doesn’t exactly meet his eyes and mutters out a quick ‘sure’. Looking towards the others that slowly nod along in agreement - even if their faces say otherwise.
Now feeling better about leaving, I let Dwayne lead the way out of the seating area towards the crowds of people scattered along the boardwalk for whatever he had planned.
Michael turns back to the remaining boys seated with him after staring daggers into Dwayne's back before the two completely disappear from sight. He speaks up before the others can, to get the ball rolling. “Okay so…where should we start?” He sends them each a questioning glance.
David stares back with the most incredulous look he can muster, like he couldn’t believe he was actually going through with the ‘getting to know each other idea’. After a minute a mocking smile takes over his face.
“Yeah…” He draws out. “We’re not doing that.” He says with little room for push back.
Michael crosses his arms over his chest and nods his head in a similar mocking manner, amused by the reply. “You’ve got a lot to learn, they’ll come back and expect a full report on what we talked about, want specifics to make sure you followed through on your promise.”
“We’ll make something up.” David again says matter of factly.
Michael scoffs. “They’ll be able to tell if i’m lying, how do you think I ended up in this situation in the first place? I wasn’t able to keep what you did to me a secret.” The other boys may not want to participate in this but he’d be damned if he got into trouble for not at least trying to play nice.
“Alright, fine. I particularly enjoyed watching you get your ass chewed out in front of half the boardwalk last night. It was the highlight of my week.” David faux relents, like he’s shared intimate knowledge of himself only few know and pretends as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders with a content sigh. Stifled giggles from the terror twins echo in the background.
“You know what, the only one you’re hurting is yourself. Keep it up and they’ll want nothing to do with you. Which will be the highlight of my life.”
Silence followed Michaels statement as the two were now sat in a heated staring match. The tension in the air rapidly increased as neither one backed down. If looks could kill they’d both be six feet under. Even the blondes, who hadn’t said a word since the conversation began, were forced into an awkward stillness watching the interaction unfold, waiting for the underlying hostility to bubble over.
Paul decides someone has to try and mediate before this gets any uglier and, more importantly, his turn for a date is possibly soured by the oldest and newest member of their pack coming to blows. In his opinion the best way to deal with this would be to let them fight it out, but he knows the night can’t end with them covered in blood, scratches, and bite marks - unless they’re fucking.
All eyes are suddenly shifted to Paul as he clears his throat obnoxiously. “Uhhh…my favorite band is Mötley Crüe.” He says with a bright smile, proud that it actually worked since the boys' body languages were all seeming to relax.
Marko, good naturedly, pats Paul on the back as an ‘attaboy’ for the attempt.
As Dwayne and I continue walking through the boardwalk I feel one of his hands graze my lower back and rest there. I quickly snatch his wrist and pull it in front of me.
“I said no touching.” I admonish. Before I can drop it, he seizes the opportunity to grab my hand instead.
“I was only trying to guide you, but you’re right this way is better so we don’t get separated.”
“Right…” I probably should have put up more of a fight, but the crowd is double the size of last night's and we could easily lose each other. Not that I really believe his reason for wanting to hold my hand is so noble. I let it slide anyways.
We make small talk about movies and music as we venture through different stalls. Anytime he asks me a question I have to mentally prepare myself before answering. His intense gaze makes me apprehensive, it's like he’s enraptured by every word and I’m nervous if what I'm saying is even adequate. He hasn’t been judgemental yet, so I let his deep baritone put me at ease when he responds to something I’ve said.
He pulls us to a stop in front of an ice cream shop claiming it's the best in town and we should get some. After ordering and him paying for both of ours, we head towards the other side to lean against the railing while we eat. He watches as I dig out a spoonful of the sweet treat to taste. My eyes go wide from the first bite. He wasn’t kidding about how good it is and he seemed proud of himself once I told him exactly that.
After a few mouthfuls of his own, he silently gestures towards his cup asking if I’d like to try the flavor he had and I nod in agreement. He dips his spoon in and holds it to my mouth for me to try. I squint at it before making eye contact with him and before I can even get a word out he’s anticipated why I won't try it.
“You’re not cheating on Michael by tasting my ice cream.”
“No, but I’m not trying to swap spit by sharing a spoon.” I decline, while gently pushing his arm towards his own face to eat it and he does so with a chuckle.
He relents and allows me to try it with my own spoon. I, in turn, make him the same offer with my cup of ice cream.
Instead, he takes his thumb and swipes it across the corner of my mouth before bringing it back to his own and sucking on the digit.
“Pretty good.” He says casually.
I’m in shock as my whole body is set aflame from the intimate moment. He grants me a small mercy by not acknowledging how much it affected me. I proceed to eat the rest in silence knowing if I look him in the eye or, god forbid, try and have a conversation after that I’d be a stuttering mess.
He takes the lead once more by throwing out our trash and grabbing my hand to help me off the railing.
“Let’s check out a few pop up booths, there might be something there you like.” He says as he walks us in that direction.
“Like clothes and stuff?” I ask. I haven’t really explored the boardwalk before so I don’t know much about what they have or the best places to shop.
“Yeah, that’s usually where we pick something up if we need new clothes, that’s where Marko gets all his patches because they’re…cheap.”
“Do you even own a shirt?” I jest. “Because I’ve only ever seen you in just that jacket.”
He looks back at me with amusement in his eyes.
“I do, but the clean up from a night out is much easier without one.”
I give him a weary look and he tenses slightly like he said something he probably shouldn’t have.
“Do I want to know what that means?”
He shakes his head at me, “no, probably not.”
“Let’s just keep the conversation light for now.” I suggest, hoping not to dive into anything too heavy. I’ve enjoyed the mostly chill atmosphere so far and hope it can stay that way.
“Deal”, he says as he gives me a genuine smile as we continue on our way.
🖤 Taglist 🖤
@britany1997 @faefairi3 @princessmads1820 @1nternetvampire @itsyoboysparkel @nataliewalker93 @thelostone91 @misslavenderlady @ursatanicbunny @warrior-616 @charlizekkelly @ghoulgeousimmaculate @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @the-faceless-bride @wickedsandwich08 @palomam18 @walt25 @phantomenby @dwaynesbiboyfriend @crustyraccoon @vampirefilmlover @certified-ghostbuster @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @solobagginses @asdorlia @besas-stuff @kathylee2003 @notfoundfootage @milfsrcool @queen-bunny @imacollasaltitan @midnight-shadow-va
#bloodywickedvamp#the lost boys#the lost boys x reader#michael emerson#michael emerson x reader#poly lost boys x reader#poly!lost boys x reader#tlb 1987#lost boys x gn reader#david tlb#paul tlb#dwayne tlb#marko tlb#michael tlb#michael emerson x gn reader#x gn reader#the lost boys x gn reader
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curses, its so bitter.
- geto suguru x reader
The burden of consuming curses takes an emotional toll on Suguru, elevated by the recent loss of Amanai Riko. As Suguru retreats into his own silent struggles, the caring intervention of their partner becomes a source of warmth and healing.
genres/warnings: angsty, fluffy, hurt/comfort, minor character death, spoilers for JJK season 2(?)
notes: got an exam tomorrow but i'm writing this instead 😭 anyways, enjoy!! i'm going to sleep now, gn (nah i'm going to study fr wml!) as always, english isn't my first language, so ignore the grammatical errors, sorry!
home | masterlist
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Exorcise. Absorb. No one else understands what cursed spirits taste like. It's like swallowing a dirty rag that’s been used to clean up shit and vomit. Geto Suguru believed that no one in this world understood what he was going through; maybe he’s right. After all, it's rare for a curse user to actually like the taste of it.
You knocked on his bedroom door, “Suguru?” your voice laced with a hint of worry.
Suguru remained silent, his form unmoving on the bed as he replayed the details of the earlier mission in his mind. The echoes of the mission played relentlessly in his mind, each moment etched with the bitter taste of failure. The weight of regret pressed upon him as he struggled with accepting the harsh truth – he couldn't save her. Amanai Riko; the girl had dreams, and Suguru couldn't forgive himself for failing to shield her from her doom.
You quietly entered the room out of concern for your boyfriend, “babe.”
You approached his lying figure, “you haven’t eaten all day…” you worriedly muttered, your hands reached out to touch his shoulder but he quickly turned around, his back was now facing you.
“Not hungry.” he replied briefly, you noticed the slight crack in his voice.
While you may have not been a curse user but you were well aware of his habits. Whenever Suguru ate a curse, the lingering taste of the curse would hinder him from eating actual food. Combining that and the death of Amanai Riko, he wallowed in grief and sadness with an empty stomach.
Of course, as the loving significant other you are, you refused to let your boyfriend starve or struggle for another minute.
“Don’t be like that…” You sighed, touching his back. This time, he didn’t flinch or move away. That’s good.
You gave yourself some time to think, “how about tea? I can make some tea for you right now.”
Suguru hummed, not having the energy to respond to you. Honestly, he felt bad for ignoring you like this. All he wants to do right now is pull you close to him and mutter apologies for being so…so emotional right now, but he doesn’t have the energy to do so.
You left the room and once again, Suguru was left alone in the room with his thoughts.
Was he being too harsh on you? Will you leave him because he’s treating you like shit right now? Is it wrong of him to be pushing you away like this?
So many questions yet none of them had a concrete answer.
You returned with a cup of tea in one hand, some leftover cookies you baked from trying out a new recipe. You set the cookies by the night stand, “I got your tea.”
He ignores you.
“It’s your favorite. Chamomile with a teaspoon of honey.”
Suguru shifted, facing you before mustering the energy and courage to sit up. His voice, hoarse and weary, as if he hadn't had a sip of water in days. "You... really didn't have to trouble yourself, really," he replied, acknowledging the concern you showed. The fatigue in his tone hinted at the toll recent events had taken on him.
“Nonsense.” she smiled, handing him the cup, “I enjoy taking care of you.”
Suguru managed to smile slightly, you noticed his eyes didn’t wrinkle like it used to, it no longer had that spark and his eyebags were more prominent. Of course you weren’t blaming him but you can’t help but feel sad realizing just how much his technique has been impacting him, especially after his most recent mission.
“Thanks.”
“Now,” she said as her hand slowly made its way to his free hand, “do you want to talk?”
He sighs, “Okay.”
"I just–" he starts, "eating curses, it tastes like shit. I hate it, yet I have to do it," he says, his voice carrying a mixture of frustration and resignation.
“Worst part is,” he adds as he squeezed your hand, “the worst part is, when you eat real food, you think of the curse you most recently ate…making it taste like it.” he explains as he took a sip of his tea.
You stroke his hand with your thumb, reassuring him in your own way, “I’m sorry you have to go through that.”
Suguru’s tone changed into more of a hateful tone, “it's because of those…those monkeys. I have to eat their curses.” he muttered, “I hate them. Useless monkeys.”
“Monkeys?”
"Humans. Non-sorcerers," he explained, taking another sip of his tea. "Curses spawn through non-sorcerers' negative energy," he continued, his tone carrying a distinct bitterness, as if the very thought angered him.
Why the hell should Jujutsu sorcerers lose their life over something non-jujutsu sorcerers do? Why should they protect the weak, why should the strong protect the weak?
It angered him, the bitterness evident in every word as he expressed his frustration. "Not only are humans – monkeys, useless, but they're also the reason why Jujutsu sorcerers die on a daily basis. At the very least, if you’re useless, don’t make shit harder for us," he muttered with a tone that carried a mix of irritation and exhaustion.
You continued to hum, your thumb stroking his hand gently. Suguru rarely opened up about his true feelings. If anything, he played the role of everyone's therapist, ‘everyone’ being you and his best friend, Satoru.
Satoru looks for him after an earful from Yaga or calls him whenever he has no one else to try out the newest mochi shop that opened just around the corner. Suguru was also your rock; you'd go to him when you felt down or depressed, and even if you didn't, he always found out and looked after you.
Slowly, everything– being the therapist friend, Amanai Riko’s death, curse eating, school, it was all too much for him; instead of seeking you out and finding comfort, he chose to keep quiet, letting his negative emotions swallow him, making him feel like an empty seed.
“You know what else hurts?” He dryly laughed, “the fact that no one– well, almost no one noticed I’ve been quieter, I’ve been going out less and less.” He looked at you with hurt in his eyes, an expression you’ve never seen before.
“Shoko is busy studying to be a med student, Satoru probably could care less about how I feel, and you…” he looked away, “you’re probably only here out of pity.”
You widen your eyes, “Suguru, no, of course not.”
“Why?” he looks at you once again, “why did you come find me today?” Suguru asks, his eyes were looking for something in yours, an answer, perhaps?
You played with his fingers, tugging on them gently one by one, “you’ve been severely sad these past few days, Satoru, Shoko, me– hell, even Nanami and Haibara noticed as well.” You laughed dryly, “I couldn’t just sit here and leave you alone.”
Suguru pulled you into a hug, “thank you, love.”
You hummed, hugging him back before he suddenly laid back down onto the bed, turning the hug into a cuddle, “now, will you please try and eat something?” you giggled.
Suguru, who seemed to be feeling better smiled, “okay, maybe a bite of that cookie won’t hurt.”
#jjk x reader#geto x reader#geto angst#hurt/comfort#geto hurt/comfort#jujutsu kaisen angst#geto suguru#suguru geto#jjk fic#geto x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader angst#jujutsu kaisen#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto x you#suguru geto drabble#-xia’s works#jujutsu kaisen headcanon#geto suguru headcanon#geto headcanons#jjk headcanons#jjk headcanon#jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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Strawberry Cream Cheese
Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, lil cameo of Claire Novak x reader (platonic)
synopsis: A day in the bunker with the boys
a/n: Girly reader, younger but like teenager age, takes place in no specific season, but like they all have up to date phones and stuff like that. Also this is a WIP and not proof read at all lolz <3
warnings: None
Hope you enjoy! :D
You were laying in bed listening to music, like classic lady gaga, Government Hooker, Americano, and Judas, while scrolling on your phone when you hear a knock on your door.
"Yeah?" You ask which is an invitation for the person on the other side of the door, presumably your brother, to open it. To no one's shock or surprise it's Dean.
"Hey kid, Sam's making breakfast do you want any?" He asks, his voice still laced with sleep, he probably just woke up.
You fell into the habit of getting up when Sam did so you could get ready for school, Sam was your personal alarm clock on school days and Dean was your personal chauffeur because Dean never trusted those school buses. But that's beside the point, you were used to waking up at the crack of dawn so you've been up for a while.
"Yeah, uh, just a begal and strawberry cream cheese" You respond as you pull yourself out of bed and stretch a bit.
Dean nods, "Alright kid, also change that music put on some good shit not this-" you cut Dean off with "Whatever old man" and Dean lets out and airy laugh and closes the door probably heading back to the kitchen where Sam was.
...
Once you put on something for the day you pause your music. Slide your phone into one of your pockets and head out into the hallway and to the kitchen. Sam was over the stove probably cooking eggs for himself and Dean, the toaster on and Dean with his head in the fridge.
You walk over to the kitchen table and sit down, you leg your legs across the bench and pull out your phone and you get a text from Claire.
Claire : Morning, going on a hunt, just wanted to let you know
You : Good Morning, have fun on the hunt!
Claire : Will do nerd
You : Knuckle Head
A plate clatters onto the table and you put your phone away and its your toasted bagel that Sam places in front of you and Dean sits across from you putting two plates down, one in front of him and one next to him. You gran the strawberry cream cheese container and open to find no cream cheese and you frown.
"What's wrong Bami?" Sam says kinda jokingly, it's the nickname Crowley gave you when you first met him with the brothers, it wasn't your proudest moment because you tripped in front of him, hence the nickname.
"We're out of Strawberry cream cheese" You say with a small huff and take a bite of your dry but good bagel.
"Damn, I think that calls for a food restock" Sam says, Dean and I agree.
Sam gets up from the table and grabs a notepad and pen from the junk drawer and walks back over to the table and sits down. He tosses me the notepad and pen, I scribble down food we need and other stuff while I eat. Once I think it's good I click the pen closed and Dean grabs the notepad off of the table and I continue eating.
"Nope, not buying *snack food* for you again" Dean said looking at the list.
"That was one time Dean! Plus you put it in the back of the cabinets, me and object permanence don't mix!" You sam with a huff and cross your arms.
"Fine, we'll get it but actually eat it this time" Dean says handing the list to Sam, you smirk getting up from the table and put your dishes in the sink. You hear Sam write down some things.
"Alright we'll let Dean finish eating breakfast, I'll wash the dishes and then we can head out" Sam say with a smile, I nod and head to the 'Dean Cave' because it has a bigger tv then in my room.
...
After a while you get a text from Sam.
Sam : Come on kid, we're heading out
You get up from the small love seat you were relaxing on and head to the main area. Sam and Dean were at the 'mission' table.
Sam was on his laptop and Dean was scrolling on his phone. Sam notices you first and shuts his laptop which makes Dean look up from his phone. Sam gets up from the table, Dean puts his phone in his pocket and pulls his keys out of his other pocket and jingle's them.
"Are lets get goin you two" Dean says with a smirk. You and Sam nod and follow Dean out to the garage and all pile into the Impala. You in the backseat, Sam and Dean in the front.
#supernatural#fanfic#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester x you#sam x reader#dean winchester#sam winchester#sam and dean#cute#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester x sister!reader#sam winchester x female reader#dean winchester x female!reader#sam winchester x sister!reader#winchesters x reader#sam x y/n#dean x y/n#female!reader#little sister!reader#spn#spn fic#samwinterchester#deanwinchtser#supernatural dean#supernatural sam
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Pomegranates & Brunch
Elliot x reader (Stardew valley)
A/n: obsessed with the dew rn
Pomegranates.
A peculiar little fruit that you didn't much care for until you moved to Stardew valley. Cracking one open you could see it's ruby red seeds gleam under the sunlight. Maybe he'll come by today. He'll ask, how are you? With a smile. His voice carries with the wind and draws your attention each time. You try to say something different each day. Hoping one of the topics will keep him around longer than usual. But it's always ends the same.
You give him a pomegranate. Like you have everyday this fall.
Picking two more pomegranates from the tree, you gingerly place them in the woven basket you were using to harvest all of your produce today.
It's been two seasons since you moved to the valley and you never would have guessed that the tree growing on your property would bear such beautiful fruit. When you first got here you noticed this tree was one of the few well kept things on the property. You soon found out that one of the valleys locals had been making trips out to the farm since he'd moved here. He said it was the only place close that he could get pomegranates anymore, so he'd come out and make sure the tree was doing ok. He came by when you moved in to ask if he could buy the fruits from you since you'd be living there from now on. You'd told him not to worry about it, he was more than welcome to stop by in the fall and take as many as he wanted, it could be a way of thanking him for keeping it healthy for so long.
but it was only half the truth. You were mesmerized from the moment you met him. He can take whatever he wants.
Continuing on to the barns, you promptly gave you're cows some amaranth you had stored away and a pat on the head. Then you made your way over to the coops to gathered eggs. Maybe you'll make breakfast this morning? Fresh eggs didn't sound so bad with a side of toast and some bacon. Your stomach started growling just thinking about it. That's what happens when you skip breakfast in favor of brunch to get things done early. You tried to ignore the slightly queezy feeling in your gut and continued on. The plan was to make a trip to Pierre's for some more pumpkin seeds before you notice a ginger head at the entrance of your farm.
You started your slow trek towards him, basket heavier now that it contained more items and the heat was sweltering. He looked more casual today, in a beige knitted sweater and jeans. His demeanor seemed more lax too. Did something good happen?
The breeze felt amazing once you made it to the steps of your home. Elliot met you there and you both took a seat together. You placed the basket down next to you and couldn't stop the yawn that released now that you'd finally relaxed.
"You look absolutely exhausted. Are you alright?" He asked, concern laced in every word. You turned to face him, and smiled. He was right, you were in fact extremely tired. The only thing keeping you going was a coffee break you had an hour ago.
"I'll be ok. I skipped breakfast this morning, but I was actually about to go inside soon and cook up something." You said. You looked at the eggs and milk in your basket and briefly fantasized about what kind of omelette you could make. When you looked back at Elliot he was staring at the basket too seemingly deep in thought. You quirked a brow. What's he thinking about?
"If its ok.. will you allow me to cook for you today?" The offer floated around in the air for a minute while you triple checked if you heard that right. "Listen, I know I mostly use these hands for writing but I'd like to think I'm a pretty good cook too." He said confidently. "Plus you've been a pleasure to be around since you got here. Let me thank you." He added, voice borderlining a teaseing tone. You blushed at that but more at the fact that he would be coming into your house. You can't remember if it was clean. Did you wash the dishes? How could he cook if the dishes are dirty... Oh well if anything you can just clean as he cooks. Plus how could you pass up a home cooked meal from the man of your dreams?
"Ok! I think I would like that actually." You say finally convinced. Standing up from your spot on the steps, you make your way toward the door. You leave the watering can next to the porch and pick up the basket. "Sorry if my place is a mess." You half mumbled as you grabbed the door knob and opened it up.
"Algae literally grows on my floorboards y/n."
"Touche."
Upon entering your home you noticed that the dishes were in fact dirty but it wasn't a mountain by any means. There were still clean pans and other utensils to be able to cook effectively.
"You have a very welcoming home, it's definitely yours." He admired, observing the various pieces of art on the wall and potted plants scattered around every possible area. It was cute.
"Thank you. I've always loved these things and didn't know I would find so many gems in the Valley." You fondly think of the traveling merchant. She's introduced you to so many things since being here.
"I wish I would've known, there's so many things I've seen that would fit perfectly in here." He thought back to all the things hes seen that's reminded him of you since meeting. You're so nice and he's been wanting to return the favor for all the gift you've given him. "Sorry I got sidetracked, two fridges? Which one should I use?" He questioned.
"I keep most things in the big fridge but if you need something else check the mini fridge." You told him as you picked up the sponge near the sink and lathered it up with soap. Turning on the faucet you started washing the spoons and forks. Elliot came up to the right of you and after a few clicks from the gas stove, it lit up. He placed a pan on top of the burner and then started to gather his ingredients from the fridge. He already looked handsome without trying but seeing him in the coziness of your home, cooking for you, made him undeniably more attractive.
You looked back at the dishes in your hands and started washing the plates. Thoughts of what it'd be like to have him in your life doing this everyday danced through your head. A soft grin sat comfortably on your face. You could hear the soft clinks of a metal fork hitting the bottom of a glass bowl as he stired eggs, milk and other seasoning into the mix. You didn't notice that he had tied his hair back into a loose ponytail and rolled his sleeves up to his elbow.
You put away the last dish and dried your hands. The kitchen was starting to smell delicious as he chopped up some spinach to put in the omelette that he had cooking in one of the skillets. Bacon was now sizzling on a second pan and a loaf of bread sitting to the side to get toasted later. You put on some coffee and grabbed two red cups from your pantry. After waiting about a ten minutes, poured two cups and placed them at the kitchen table and took a seat. A book sat on the table that Elliot had given you a few weeks ago. When you had first gotten 'Camellia Station' you were non-stop reading but as summer ended and fall began you had gotten too busy to wrap it up. Taking a sip of the coffee, you grabbed it and opened it up to where you had left off. There were only a few more chapters until the end.
It wasn't long before a plate was gracefully placed in front of you. An omelette that took up half of the dish, a few pieces of bacon, and two pieces of toast with butter spread on top. Green leaves were mixed into a soft fluffy yellow, freshly shredded cheese oozed from the center. You closed the book and sat it back in its place.
"Wow Elliot... This looks amazing!" You cheered. Your stomach started growling on cue as Elliot sat down in the seat opposite of you. A soft pink coated his cheeks at the compliment making you gush on the inside.
"It's not a problem at all, I hope it tastes as good as it looks." He nervously chuckled. He'd never really cooked for others since moving here. With no kitchen in his cabin and no one to really cook for there was never a need to go out of his way to do something like that. But after all you've helped him with he hoped that it came out at least ok.
You cut into the omelette a took the first bite. His hopes came true. The omelette was perfectly cooked, seasoned, and the cheese melted perfectly. You would dare say this is the best damned omelette you've ever had.
Elliot was pleased with what he saw. The look of pure satisfaction on your face was all the thanks he needed to be able to dig into his own omelette. His wasn't as perfect as yours was, considering his was the practice trial before making the the other one. It was still just as good however.
Though Elliot wasn't lying when he said he was making this breakfast to thank you for hanging out with him, he was also here to thank you for something else. Within the time span of knowing you he'd never experienced such a rush of creativity. Before he knew it he'd written a whole book by the end of summer. That very same book was now being recognized worldwide and he thought he should come clean about how exactly he got the idea for this novel.
"That was so goooood." You sighed looking at the empty plate Infront of you. Your stomach that used to be churning was now full and you felt like you had enough energy to power you into tomorrow.
Elliot chuckled softly and took a sip of his coffee before sitting it back down on the table. "Thank you, I'm glad it was to your liking." He glanced at his also empty plate as you picked them both up and took them to the sink. He debated how he should even bring the topic up. So many ways he could say this but none of them sounded right for you.
"Elliot, you ok? You seem deep in thought." You prodded. He had an elbow on the table with his cheek resting on the back of his fingers. His brows were knitted together but relaxed once his gaze landed on you.
"Im fine but if I'm being honest I did come here with other intentions." He said his olive green eyes stared at you for a second before continuing. "I need to confess something to you." He admitted.
Taking your place back in your seat, you gave him a questioning look. A confession?
"Oh? What about?" You said trying to hide the nervousness in your throat.
"Well, you've been a great inspiration to me, and I did come over today to thank you but not just for hanging out with me." He said gesturing to the book sitting on the center of the table. "Camellia station. It's a book I always had a general idea about. I knew how I wanted it to go but I never knew how to take it there." He said picking it up from the center of the table. "it actually wasn't until the beginning of this year that I was able to find the motivation to write it..... It was when I met you." He stated, Absolutely loving the scarlet that coated your cheeks at that last bit.
"When you met me?" The only thing on your mind.
"Yes, I met you and your presence brought a wave of complex feelings that helped me write this novel." He confirmed. He flipped to a page in the book and read one of the paragraphs aloud.
"Gozman had never met someone quite like Clara before. She had a certain allure that had her on his mind night and day. She was a hard worker with a kind soul and took time out of her busy life to always chat with him when he travelled. He doubt she knew considering she was a busy woman. But whenever he'd book his flights he'd always try and book her's. She brightened up his life a little and he found himself wanting to be around her more and more each passing moment." He read to you. His voice was soothing and deep. You stared on in wonder. Confused on where this was going but liking it none the less. This is the longest he's stayed around before and you don't mind one bit.
He closed the book and held it in his hands, reminiscing all the other lines he wrote with you in the back of his mind. His muse, you were a drop of fresh water that allowed his creative soul to blossom again. In his mind he would never be able to really make up for just how much you've truly helped him.
"You were the one on my mind when I wrote that paragraph. When I think of you, I get unusually creative. You've really helped me open up more as a writer and describe things in a way I never have before." He said. "I'm sorry if this is coming on too strong but I think you know what I'm trying to say. Don't you y/n?" He said taking your hand in his, he gently rubbed the top of your knuckles. This definitely wasn't his plan when he came over but here was no backing out now.
"Do I know what you're trying to say?" You asked. Half a tease and also genuine. Now was not the time to make any wrong assumptions. But how wrong could the assumption be when he's rubbing comforting circles into your acheing hand? He smiled.
"It means I like you. I haven't known you for even a year, yet you've inspired one of my greatest works. You're charming and I can't help but feel invigorated when you're around." He gave you're hand a comforting squeeze as you stared at him in disbelief. "I didn't come here with a bouquet but I would be honored if you'd be mine." He finishes looking up at you.
You're a mess. You don't know what to say, not that you don't accept his confession but how do you react to that? You're heart was racing so fast that the adrenaline was making you shake a bit. This made Elliot look at you with a bit of worry. Maybe he did come on too strong?
"I-im sorry I didn't mean to-"
"I love you!!" You blurted out. Immediately you covered your mouth you can't believe you just did that but you saw how worried he looked and that was the quickest way you could think to dissolve those fears. He looked at you shocked, not even he expected such a bold proclamation from you. You quickly gathered yourself and continued. "I think I knew I liked you too when I started obsessively harvesting pomegranates to give to you. I didn't know how else to convey my feelings for you, but knew you loved these fruits so I took extra care of the tree and harvested it's fruit everyday." You said finally confessing your feelings to him as well. You both relaxed. You stood up and headed to the woven basket where the pomegranates you picked this morning still rested and picked out the biggest one of the two. You made your way back and stood in front on Elliot, offering him the fruit.
"I don't have a bouquet either. But you can take this pomegranate from me again today, as a sign of my affection for you. Like it always has been." You softly stated to him. He took it from your hand and softly set it on the table next to the book before standing up and holding your hands, his right hand trailed up your arm to cradle your face.
"I love you too, my skills with words are unmatched but I can't think of any ways to properly tell you thank you enough." His hand gently slid down your cheek slightly and his thumb traced over your lips. "Allow me to show you?" He whispered. You answered by closing the gap. Your lips melted together like they belonged to each other. Your hands made it up to his chest and his made their way to your hips. He gave them a firm squeeze and backed you up against the table. A soft sound escaped the back of your throat and he lifted you onto the table. your arms were wrapped around his neck and he had a hand still on your hip and the other on your thigh when you finally broke the kiss. You both sighed trying to catch your breathes. Red dusted both of your faces, he definitely wasn't going home anytime soon.
"You're gonna stay and cook dinner too right? I can make it worth your while." You said hand coming down to trail suggestive circles on his chest. He blushed but softly laughed.
"Anything for you my dear, anything you want."
#stardew valley#stardew fanfic#stardew elliott#x reader#elliot x reader#stardew farmer#stardew x reader#stardew valley x reader#elliot stardew valley
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Exhausted
Hey!! This is my first ever fanfic I’ve written,, I’m extremely sorry about any mistakes I made </3
I struggled to capture Soap’s accent in this; I hope you all won’t mind!! He’s an American for the time being 🥲
Minor Warning: Shitty spelling/grammar mistakes, most of it is fluff though 💕
This is also pretty short!! If this writing seems to be well received, I may add on to it or make more chapters :)
Please let me know if you have any suggestions for future fanfics, I love to write and I love my 141 and KorTak babies even more <3
The mission went swimmingly. No casualties (on their side, anyways), little to none injuries. A miracle, honestly—the task forces assigned were biting off way more than they could chew. As Simon Riley, or “Ghost”, heaved his weight onto the back of the truck, the yells of what he assumed to be of Price’s echoed around the area. Close behind followed John “Soap” Mactavish, who plopped himself right next to where Ghost had chosen to sit.
With a cocky smirk spread across his face, Soap leaned his body weight against Ghost. “Heard you roughed ‘em up pretty good, LT.” He slid his hand along Ghost’s shoulder, hugging him closer.
Ghost let out a grumble, shoving him off of his body. “Heard you got fucked yourself. How’s the arm?” He returned the smirk (which Soap could just barely make out with the balaclava Ghost was wearing covering it), poking Soap’s arm.
As Soap flinched away—and Ghost swears he heard a hiss as he did so—Price eyed them both from the opposite side of the truck. When had he gotten there? Ghost hadn’t realized. Weird.
“It’s just fine.” As Soap massaged where Ghost had touched him, Ghost took the chance to scoot farther away from him.
As the truck began its rocky pace back to HQ, Ghost (whom had previously snapped at Soap for falling asleep on him on the way back from a mission) couldn’t help but occasionally rest his eyes before he fully began to drift off onto the unsuspecting shoulder of Mactavish himself. He was spent, Price had put more weight than usual on him: assigning two god damn squads filled to the brim with militia. It was an easy win, obviously. That didn’t stop him from being exhausted by the end of it.
Soap, who had now began to realize Ghost’s proximity to him, cracked a smile, careful not to disturb the moment. He nudged his free arm in the direction of Gaz, who was sitting next to him, and the two shared a moment of pure excitement. It was shocking in itself that Ghost let his guard down enough to actually manage to drift off, but on someone else? Completely unheard of.
Ghost, full of surprises to say the least, nuzzled his head into the crook in Soap’s neck, mumbling incoherent bullshit. Gaz (whom has been waiting to witness a moment like this) smiled innocently at Soap, batting his eyelashes. “Looks like you two finally got together, eh?”
This caught the attention of Price, who had been trying to ignore his.. well, children at this point, and he pulled his head up slightly to get a better view.
Soon after Ghost was fully asleep, Soap carefully placed his hand on top of his, eyes distant and longing. As much as he was enjoying this, he didn’t want their first time properly holding hands to be when Ghost was asleep. So, he retracted his own, the corners of his mouth twitching downwards.
Seeing what Soap had did, Gaz leaned in closer and hissed in his ear. “It’s not every day you get to hold his hand, ya? Go for it.” He smiled at Soap, holding eye contact for a second with an encouraging look in his eyes before shifting his attention back to the chaos going on in the other side of the truck.
With a flinch of awkwardness, Soap reached out again and laced his fingers with Ghost’s own. He knew Ghost’s hand would be limp, and that it wouldn’t be like the real thing, but he still felt beyond euphoric to do something so intimate with Ghost.
“I swear to god, if either of you tell him this happened, it’ll be the last thing you do.” He spread his pointed glare to Gaz and Price, whom agreed via a nod of the head and a knowing smile.
Throughout the ride, Soap had forgotten he was holding Ghost’s hand; he had been holding it for too long to not see it as natural.
But Ghost? He had woken up halfway through the ride, not moving a muscle. He kept his place on Soap’s neck, hearing the hum of his vocal cords as he talked with Gaz. He would never admit it, but the sound relaxed him; his hand laced with Soap’s even more so. Slowly but surely, he inched his fingers to close over Soap’s with a soft smile under his balaclava.
As the truck lurched to a stop, Soap looked down to both his and Ghost’s hands. He smiled to himself before loosening his fingers. Ghost, who realized what Soap was doing, huffed into the warm skin on Mactavish’s neck and squeezed his hand.
With a wide-eyed Soap staring at him, Ghost took the chance to stroke his thumb across his palm. “Ya gonna just sit there lookin’ pretty, or ya gonna hold my hand again, sergeant?” His voice was gruff from not talking for hours, the hum pressing into Soap’s neck.
With an excited side glance to Gaz, he tightened his grip on Ghost’s hand. “Jus’ keepin it warm for ya, LT.”
“Likewise.”
Thank you so much for reading!!
Typed this all out on my phone lol, sorry if it sounds lazy 💕
#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#soap x ghost#ghost x soap#ghost mw2#ghost cod#soap mw2#soap cod#soapghost#ghostsoap#simon riley#john mactavish#cod mw2#call of duty mw2#mw2#gaz#kyle gaz garrick#captain price#captain john price
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Politely requesting The Riddler himself getting coaxed into Reader's lap and given some kisses on the face despite that he's supposed to be spooky and scary.
Just Like Heaven - Edward Nashton x GN!Reader
Contains: fluff and very mild references to violence.
Note: Eli? Writing something SFW? It's actually more likely than you'd think.
"Did you get it done?"
The apartment was dark, the hardwood floors of the living room only illuminated by the shimmering moonlight streaming through the windows. You can hear the door slam behind him, the soft rustling of his clothes, the heavy hit of his boots against the wood. It had plagued your mind like a hungry, sharp-fanged virus...the fear. The fear of what if he gets hurts. What if he gets caught. What if I never see him again. The fear.
The air is thick and heavy with silence before he speaks: "Yeah. I got it done." You can't help but squeal and rush towards him, wrapping your arms around his stocky, trembling frame. His very first kill.
"Oh, Eddie, isn't it a relief?"
He's nodding and rambling about something, but you have trouble hearing. The blood is whooshing against your tender eardrums. Your heart is quivering in the cage of your chest. You can't believe he really did it.
"Come sit," you urge, hopping over to the couch. The apartment feels charged with magic as you sit down in slice of pale moonlight.
"I'm so happy for you," you whisper as he lumbers over to you. You hold your arms out and grab against the air. "In my lap."
Eddie pauses. "Huh?" You pat your lap with a needy hand and smile. "Come on, in my lap." He sighs and sit down on your plush thighs.
"Take the mask off, scary." He turns towards you and looks deep into your shining eyes. "Are you actually scared of me?"
The question triggers something hot and sparkling inside of you. Pity? Sympathy? You can't tell. You had thought about it before...were you scared of him? He treated you like you had toaster-warm, carnation pink wings...a touch any less than delicately love-laced would cause them to crumble. You were his angel.
"No, I'm not scared of you." "Good." "Take it off, please."
He removes the mask with shaking hands. You can't imagine the rush that must be racing through his blood. Pure, red-hot euphoria. It must feel cleansing. Renewing. It must feel like heaven.
You planted a kiss on his flushed cheek as soon as his skin laid bare to you. How soft and sweet he was, like a fresh peach painted with water droplets. Ripe for the season, ready for picking.
"You're so brave, Eddie," your gentle voice swooned as you continued to kiss him. "So brave, so smart..."
"Th-thank you," he choked out. His palm found its way to the back of you head, and he pet your hair as you traveled towards his lips.
"I'm so proud of you, Riddler." Edward froze. "Say that again?" You grinned. "I'm proud of you, Riddler."
His eyes fluttered shut. He nodded solemnly. "I like how you sound, saying my name."
He was everything...the soft, cool breeze rustling the withering tree leaves. The warmth of coffee, whispering heat down your throat and into your grumbling stomach. The cracking of bones. The rotting of skin.
No, you were not afraid of him. You knew Edward Nashton too well to be afraid of The Riddler.
#Eli's writing#Danonation#Paul Dano#Edward Nashton#The Riddler#The Batman#Edward Nashton x reader#The Riddler x reader#Edward Nashton x you#The Riddler x you#Edward Nashton x Y/N#The Riddler x Y/N
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[!Smut]
Nothing crazy, pretty vanilla actually
A/N : i didn't wanna ruin that innocent cottage core ms. honey image but then it came to me, that woman is about in her mid or late twenties in the movie, she is a grown adult so I was like (to myself) yeah u right xp, then proceeded to write this short smut. Read at your own risk if you wanna protect that image :)) This is about the ms. honey in the Matilda musical btw
Also, I wouldn't put a taglist for these types of writings because its like an out of the blue thing, I'd only tag if it was an official story but yeah, xp (I'm done talking lmao)
You kiss the inside of her thighs, getting Jennifer riled up for what's about to come. Her fingertips are dancing at the bands of her panties just dieing to take them off so you can have her.
When you leave open mouthed kisses just beside her heat a sound of desperation finally comes from within her.
"Y/n please, I can't wait"
"Trust me darling, this isn't a delay. I want my touch to be savored so that when I finally get here," you right above it now, warm breathe fanning over her clothed cunt.
"Your limits will pleasingly exceed because of me." Just then you kiss her clit over the lace and lap at the damp spot on her folds.
Jennifer couldn't believe your mouth felt that good and it wasn't even directly on her, "slide these down for me" she obliged and spread herself open again like a blooming orchid.
You couldn't resist and licked at her glistening essence, burying your head further between her thighs.
She caught the sight of you pleasing her when she looked down, making her lips part in amazement.
Her eyes don't stay open for long when she lets out a low moan, judging from your toungue motions varying between technique and speed you must've liked it.
Jennifer holds her thighs for grounding and squeezes them when you make her arch. Your hand slide to her hips and pulls them down further on your mouth, "oh, f—" she refrains herself with a bite to her bottom lip.
You part from her and prod a finger at her entrance, "let it out" as you ease one in she squirms at the feeling but you calm her down with kisses to her naval.
"breathe darling, it'll feel so much better soon" she loosens up to your calming voice and gives you the green light when you can continue.
Jennifer wants more than your index so she gets the middle one aswell, the way her hips grind down on them is consistent because she loves the feeling of you inside of her.
You lean back down and gently suck at her puce nub with a clouded mind that's filled with every aspect of Jennifer's body.
Like the way she reacts to your touch, the taste her lush pussy delivers and that beautiful face twisting up from the pleasure.
Suddenly her walls began to squeeze and her hand holds your head steady. "I'm close– fuck don't stop" a moan of your own had escaped and created a tad more pleasure for Jennifer who couldn't stop the ecstasy slurred curses.
She was quivering under the palms of your hands and was about to finish soon.
Both of her hands were threaded in your hair as she whispered numerous chants of yes, then her movements stuttered and she arched from the bed with a long moan, sweet and satisfied.
You licked her clean as her thighs twitched from the overstimulation.
Jennifer could barely crack an eye open for you when you loomed over her, "Jenny, how're you feeling sweetheart?" She held the hand that cupped her face with a hazy smile.
"Good, so good"
"Good." you chuckled and gave her a slow and passionate kiss that made Jennifer feel aroused once again in her nether region.
You mistaked her mellow attitude for exhaustion and settled beside her, fingers reaching for the lamp light but her hand brought yours back.
"Hm?"
"We're not going to sleep until you come as well" her hands road up your shirt and took it off your head.
"You don't have to if you're tired"
"Don't be daft, y/n" a slight smirk splintering at her lips.
#lashana lynch#black women love black women#jennifer honey#smut#shortsy#jennifer honey fanfiction#miss honey fanfiction#Spotify
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So I'm (slowly) rewatching Transformers: Victory...
And Zod have mercy, I'm having to power through it.
See, when I did the pictures of the Dinoforce toys for @tfwiki, I saw how their fiction sections were massively empty, and I thought to myself "self, these guys are major characters in Japanese canon who are VERY VERY LIKELY going to get new toys soon (the Legacy Core Class Dinobots are blatantly Dinoking pretools), and they pretty much always appear as a big group, you can do a lot of copy-paste once you get team leader Goryu's section done, plugging another big hole that's been on the wiki for nearly two decades." So I dug up a subtitled run of Victory and...
It's incredibly, suffocatingly dry.
It's in this kind of awful middle ground where it's too simple and repetitive to be GOOD, but that lack of ambition means it never dips into the depths of ludicrously ridiculous/poor/careless writing that would make it BAD. It's just... there. A workmanlike product, inoffensive but also largely uninteresting.
The first six episodes are all basically the same story: Decepticons (mostly Dinoforce) attack a place, extended carnage and a few scenes of Kakuryu bungling, oh no some humans are in danger, Autobots show up, extruded fight sequences which typically lead up to a combiner sequence, Star Saber shows up to basically no-sell and win the day by just being super-powerful. It's only come episode seven that the formula changes. The stories don't necessarily get more complex, but they are at least different.
The Autobots are incredibly rigid and formal and it's hard to tell what most of them have got for personalities. It's not helping that, not being familiar with Japanese accents, they all sound incredibly similar and characters' faceplates don't move when they talk, meaning sometimes I literally can't tell who's talking. The Decepticons fare slightly better, thanks mainly to Leozack and Hellbat being super-duplicitous assholes and Goryu being a big proud lug, but the rest of Dinoforce are mostly childish idiots and the rest of Breastforce (yes, yes) are as flat as any Autobot, only evil.
Things do start changing up and getting slightly more character-driven after a while but really, it's all so rote. Also, six of the thirty-eight episodes are clip shows with no framing device whatsoever. The NINTH episode is a clip show, followed by another at episode 13. Yikes.
And stock footage. So, so, so much stock footage.
Supposedly, after the weirdness that was the Masterforce anime, Takara wanted to get "back to the roots" of Transformers, which had taken Japan by storm when it first released there in 1985. But by all accounts, a hefty part of what made TF so appealing o'er there to the point where re-releases of toys that had been on the market two years prior (in Diaclone and Microchange) suddenly sold like deep-fried crack was how it was so different from other "mecha" shows. It had a real goody-dumb to downright chaotic charm a lot of the time. But Victory is incredibly straight-laced, even to the point where the comedy relief bits are super predictable.
I was talking about it with @therobotmonster and he looked up what else was on "kids" TV in Japan (1989), and... whoof. Dragon Ball Z was ramping up to the first big fight with Vegeta. SD Gundam. Ranma 1/2 was hitting its stride. Never mind what was going on in the realm of Super Sentai and Masked Rider style action shows. And apparently, while Victory toys sold well, the show basically bombed.
Can't say that's surprising.
It's just kind of impressive the dull thud it's landing with, given I very distinctly remember the early days of online TF fandom in the 90s, when people swore up and down how amazing the anime were, especially Victory. Of course, by and large, nobody saying that actually understood Japanese and subtitles were out of the question, plus simply seeing the show was an endeavor all its own. You got a 9th-generation VHS copy from someone you didn't know on super-long-running speed (aka "worst fidelity") and just guessed at what was being said.
Ah well, I'm'a keep with it. I can't say I'm having fun with it, but well, it IS the wiki's purpose to catalog all this stuff, and Victory, dry as the cartoon is, DOES have nostalgia behind it and IS pretty much "The" Japanese Transformers Show.
And really, there are so many pieces of TF media that are so underwhelming compared to the toys they exist to advertise, and honestly, most of those are harder to watch than even the worst of Victory (looking at you, Prime Wars/War For Cybertron trilogies).
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Masks & Misunderstanding Chapter 6
Pairing: Pavel Chekov/Leonard McCoy
Warnings: Swearing
Word Count: 4743
Summary: Leonard thought that a nightclub where you had to wear a mask was idiotic, but he humored Jim and accompanied him to the club during shore leave anyway. After Jim fucked off into the crowd of dancing bodies without so much as a ‘never you mind’, Leonard went looking for him and found something unexpected. Meet unexpected: sexy, young, blonde...and if he reminded him a bit too much of a certain Russian navigator he wasn't going to linger on that thought.
Chapter Summary: Leonard settles into being Pavel's friend...or at least he's trying his best...he swears.
AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45899593/chapters/117117565
Author’s Note: Alright Ladies, Blokes, and Non-binary folks, are you ready for some fluffy crack? This was entirely too much fun to write. It is ridiculous and self indulgent, but isn't that what fanfic is for?
It turned out that it was a lot harder to be someone’s friend when you knew what your cock felt like pounding into their ass. Or, at least, it was for Leonard McCoy. The smallest gestures-that had seemed perfectly innocent before-were now laced with sex and tinted with desire. Had he really never noticed the way that Pavel bit his lip while playing chess? He had certainly watched enough matches between the lieutenant and their captain and first officer. He had even played Pavel himself a few times though lord knew that Len was no great shakes at the game. Pavel demolished him every time, little Russian chess genius. It seemed like that was how everything was going these days, Pavel just plowed through his life like a tractor reaping the season’s harvest and leaving a path of destruction and nothing but Pavel in its wake.
He could have pined in peace if he hadn’t known that Pavel was, at the very least, attracted to him…cared for him. Knowing that there had actually been a chance made him feel like a Denebian Slime Devil was slowly eating his heart. The more time he spent with Pavel as ‘friends’ the more Leonard realized just how stupid he had been. Pavel didn’t need his protection. Len was really just trying to protect himself from getting abandoned again. He was such a fucking idiot. He had lost his chance and he wasn’t going to fuck up one of the only friendships he had just because he had finally come to his senses.
So he steeled himself to be just friends with Pavel, to be the best friend Pavel had ever had. Pavel deserved that. But lately it was getting more and more difficult to stick to his guns. Leonard had agreed to help Pavel get his field medic certification for away teams which meant that they were spending more time together than ever. This was great on the being a good friend front, but it wasn’t doing wonders for Len’s sanity. Today he and Pavel had agreed to meet for lunch and then Jim had given Pavel the rest of the afternoon in sickbay.
When Leonard reached the mess hall, Pavel was already sitting at a table in a secluded corner. His arms were folded on the table with his forehead was pressed into them and he was muttering to himself, his adorable accent even thicker than usual.
“Meester Chekov do zees, Meester Chekov do zat. I cannot do zat! Nobody can do zat! It’s not possible.”
“You have to stop performing miracles Pahsa,” Leonard said as she slid into the seat next to him. He slapped Pavel on the back.
“Bones is on an away mission, but I need a chief medical officer.” Pavel said, doing an imitation of the captain. “You visited medbay once didn’t you Chekov? Good, you’re my new CMO.”
Leonard snorted at Pavel’s reference to his brief stint as Chief Engineer.
“You did great.” He said.
“Mister Chekov, did you break my ship?” Pavel continued with his imitation. Leonard laughed again.
“Well you hadn’t actually broken it, in the end. You kept Scotty’s jury rigged engine room from falling apart and no one died. I’d even go so far as to call that a success.”
Pavel laughed and rolled his head to the side, looking over at Len.
“You have a pretty low bar for success Leonard.” Pavel said. Len just shrugged.
“My best friend is Jim Kirk. No point in setting the bar too damn high.”
When they arrived in the medbay a half hour later, Christine had an equipment requisition file she needed Leonard to sign off on so he asked Pavel to wait in his office for a few minutes. When he returned, Pavel was seated in Leonard’s chair with his heels kicked up on the desk and was rummaging about the drawers.
“What are these?” Pavel asked, pointing to the contents of a drawer. Leonard peered over the desk and broke out in a conspiratorial grin.
“Oh those? Those are my stress balls.” Len explained.
“I have never seen you with a stress ball before,” Pavel observed.
“Oh no, I don’t squeeze them. I throw them at Mr. Spock and the Captain when they come to bother me. Great stress reliever.”
Pavel laughed. It was free, and full, and sent shivers down Leonard’s spine.
“Anyone else I would think is joking,” Pavel said, shaking his head. “But you would just actually do that.”
“Yeah, yeah, come on, let’s get to work.” Leonard plucked a stress ball from the drawer and chucked it at Pavel’s head. It bounced off and Pavel laughed again as he pushed himself up to stand and followed Len out into the medbay. Leonard walked them over to a biobed and leaned his hands onto it. Pavel rested his hip against the other side and crossed his arms, slightly cocking his head at Leonard.
“So what’s on the agenda today Professor McCoy?” Pavel asked slyly, dragging out the word professor.
“Have you gotten to the chapter on emergency medicine without a tricorder?” He asked Pavel, already knowing the answer.
“I’ve gotten through all of the chapters.” Pavel replied.
“Of course you have, Pasha” Leonard said despairingly. “Well, I was thinking that today we could cover some basics for dealing with breaks and sprains if your equipment craps out on you.” Leonard jerked his head at several bandage rolls. “Lord knows you tinker with medical tricorders and dermal regenerators enough to already know your way around them.” Leonard slapped a hand on the biobed. “Hop on up.”
Pavel turned and placed his hands on the bed behind him, pushing up to sit on it. He swung around so that he was facing Leonard and propped one foot on the biobed so that he could rest his chin on his knee.
“Playing doctor now, are we?” Pavel asked coyly. He gave his eyebrows a shrug and smirked at Len, adding, “Kinky.”
“Just take your damn shoe off,” Len grumbled. “Sock too. And pull up your pant leg a bit.”
Pavel did as he was told, but his eyes were still twinkling with mirth as Leonard grabbed a long bandage strip.
“The most common injury you’re liable to deal with is a sprained ankle.” Leonard explained, determinedly not looking at the smirk Pavel was still wearing. He grabbed Pavel’s foot and began demonstrating the proper technique to wrap it. “You want to keep the ankle at about a ninety degree angle. Start with two passes around the ball of the foot…” He explained. As his fingers slid up Pavel’s ankle Pavel jerked.
“Do I need to tie you to the table,” Leonard growled.
“Is that a threat or a promise…Doctor?” Pavel replied, putting heavy emphasis on Leonard’s title.
“Oh it’s a promise, all right. Apparently I have to gag you too.” Leonard said. It was something he frequently threatened to Jim, but to Pavel it was addressed in a much more teasing manner. With a lurch of his stomach he realized that he was-there was no other word for it- flirting with Chekov. He gave himself a mental head slap and continued explaining the procedure.
This pattern of flirting continued over the course of the next few weeks as they made their way to deep space three for routine maintenance of the exterior hull. Pavel would flirt with Leonard. Leonard would flirt back. Leonard would do complex mental gymnastics to convince himself that it was casual and harmless. The knowing looks from Jim weren’t helping this last bit.
Speaking of Jim, it seemed like he found every excuse to smash Len and Pavel together like they were tiny ceramic figurines he was telling to kiss. He sent Pavel down to sickbay with unnecessary reports, asked Leonard to join him and Pavel in the mess before quickly making an excuse to leave, and he had even instituted a mandatory senior staff game night for “team building”. Somehow Pavel and Leonard were always paired off or seated next to each other and Len knew that Jim was behind it.
When their game night coincided with their first evening docked at deep space three, it was no exception. Leonard and Pavel were sitting side by side on one of the couches in the rec room. The senior officers were playing charades tonight and somehow Pavel had drawn Leonard’s name. Scotty was teamed up with Spock which Leonard thought was sure to be amusing and Sulu and Uhura were also paired up which he found to be completely unfair considering they were two thirds of the three musketeers, Leonard having the remaining third for his partner. Jim, naturally, was presiding which meant that the prompts were getting progressively suggestive as the evening wore on.
Uhura had just somehow correctly guessed “bouncing on an exercise ball” from Sulu’s haphazard squat bouncing that looked very much like he was bouncing on a dick. This meant that Leonard and Pavel were miraculously were tied with Uhura and Sulu. While it had been positively hilarious to watch Scotty and Spock try to guess that the other was “swatting a fly on their ass” or “milking two cows at the same time”, they hadn’t been particularly successful.
“Tie breaker!” Jim announced. “Pick your fighters!” Leonard didn’t like the delighted look on Jim’s face.
“I’ll do it,” Pavel told Leonard. “He’ll have a much harder time embarrassing me.” To be fair, he was probably right.
Pavel and Nyota joined Jim and read their last clue. Nyota shot Jim a disparaging look and Pavel swallowed hard. Leonard was about ready to smack Jim upside the head.
“Alright,” Jim said turning to press a button on his digital hourglass. “Time starts….now!”
If someone had asked Leonard what he was supposed to be doing during the ensuing fifteen seconds he wouldn’t have been able to tell them. His brain seemed to have temporarily left his body. When it returned, his only thought was that surely Jim wouldn’t have actually used whatever obscene act it looked like Pavel was trying to perform.
The only reason the round was so short was that Sulu was swift with his answer of, “Eating a popsicle, Jim you fuckhead!”
Nyota ran back over to Hikaru and gave him a high five, while an exasperated Pavel returned to sit next to Leonard.
“Come on Leonard! That one was easy!” He cried.
“That?” Leonard spluttered. “That was obscene!”
“I was eating a popsicle!” Pavel exclaimed.
“You are not allowed to eat popsicles ever again.” Leonard said.
“Why Len, did that bother you?” Pavel said, drawing out ‘bother’.
“Oh, shut up.”
The morning of the last day of repairs Leonard was stuck in a corridor arguing with Spock over lab equipment. Spock wanted to borrow several liters of biofluid for an experiment and Leonard insisted that it couldn’t be spared at the moment. Len was just about to tell the hobgoblin that he could live long and get fucked when Pavel strode purposefully down the corridor. He walked right up to Leonard who had been momentarily speechless, tracking Pavel’s movement. Len parted his lips to greet him, but never got that far because Pavel fisted a hand in the front of Len’s uniform and dragged him into a searing kiss. For several moments Leonard’s brain short circuited as it tried to process the fact that Pavel was kissing him.
“My birthday was today. I’m twenty, not a teenager anymore.” He whispered against Len’s lips before quickly turning on his heel and walking away, seemingly unaffected. Leonard, on the other hand, was very affected. His lips felt hot and tingly. His skin felt too tight. His brain was a foggy mess.
“I…uhh…I…” Leonard spluttered.
“Your speech seems to be impaired doctor.” Spock supplied helpfully. “Might I suggest a visit to Nurse Chapel?”
“Y-yeah that sounds like a good idea,” Leonard mumbled. He turned in a daze and began making his way towards the med bay.
Leonard had been heading to the medbay anyway when he had run into Spock that morning. He did not, of course, actually take Spock’s advice and speak with Christine. He didn’t need help to parse out exactly what had him thrown. He had kissed Pavel Chekov. Or rather, Pavel Chekov had kissed him. Leonard had been too astounded to do much kissing back. Mostly he had had just stood there like a dumb lump, too shocked to so much as form a single word. Len had been thinking about kissing Pavel since the night at the club.
It had been his biggest regret, even before he knew who he had been with, not knowing what the other man’s lips felt like. Now he knew and it was driving him to distraction. He made his way through his shift in sick bay distracted and inefficient. Christine had certainly noticed-she kept elbowing him in the ribs when he spaced out.
Jim caught Leonard as he was leaving sickbay later that afternoon.
“Hey Bones,” Jim began and Leonard braced himself for it. Spock must have told the captain about the encounter in the corridor. “It’s Chekov’s twentieth birthday, you know.” Okay, not what he had been expecting.
“I’m aware…” Len started cautiously.
“So we’re going down to the station to celebrate,” said Jim, slapping him on the upper arm. “There’s a bar that does karaoke.”
“Karaoke,” Leonard said incredulously. He didn’t quite want to believe what he was hearing.
“Yep,” Jim said, popping the p. “Karaoke.”
“No,” Leonard said shortly. “Not happening. I’m a Doctor, not a lounge singer.”
“Aw come on Bones. Pavel wants you there.” Jim whined, giving Len his best puppy dog eyes.
“Damn you Jim Kirk,” Leonard griped. “You’re going to pay for this one. I don’t how and I don’t know when. But you are going to pay.” He said, emphasizing each word.
Jim just laughed and told him, “Meet me at the transporters, twenty hundred hours.”
At eight fifty, Len changed into a pair of black slacks and a dark-blue, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He met Jim at the transporter room and Jim gave him a quip about “forearm porn” before they beamed down to the station. The bar was only what would have been a couple of city blocks from the station transporter platform. When they arrived, a small group of people was already gathered by the entrance. Pavel was there, of course, along with Sulu, Uhura, Scotty, Christine, and surprisingly Spock. Jim plowed through the group and asked a waitress for a table.
The bar was dimly lit, with a depressed section of floor in the center scattered with round tables and their accompanying chairs. A small stage was located at one side of the depression. The surrounding elevated area housed the bar itself and standing tables. The waitress led them down three small stairs into the depressed area and sat them at a table near the stage. A female Andorian was singing, quite badly, as her friends laughed and clapped a few tables over. Jim ordered a round of drinks for the table as everyone situated themselves around it. Then he turned to face them all.
“Thank you everyone for coming.” Jim said, the king presiding over his court. “As you all know, our favorite navigator turned twenty today. So we’re here to get him properly drunk and sing very badly!” There were a few laughs and appreciative claps. “Now, as a little birthday present I’ve asked Pavel to choose everyone’s songs.” Now there was a chorus of groans.
“You better not screw me over Pasha!” Sulu exclaimed, using the nickname reserved for close friends. Pavel just laughed darkly. He wasn’t giving anything away.
The group talked and laughed as they drank, half listening to whatever wailing happened to be emanating from the nearby stage. Pavel has ended up sitting between Nyota and Leonard and Len was trying to figure out just how accidental the frequent brushes of Pavel’s knee against his own were. They were a couple of drinks in when the first person from their group was called up. Sulu took the stage tentatively, clearly uncertain about what song Pavel might have selected for him. The dulcet tones of Creep by Radiohead began and Sulu gave a happy laugh. Pavel smiled indulgently.
“I went easy on him,” He said. “This is his go-to karaoke song.”
“You mean you nutters subject yourself to this on a regular basis?” Len asked. Pavel laughed and waved him off as they returned their attention to Sulu. He really wasn’t half bad.
Scotty was up next with a hilarious rendition of Walking On The Moon by The Police. His accent made it positively ridiculous. By the end of the song, Nyota’s head was on Pavel’s shoulder and she was shaking with laughter, tears in her eyes. Pavel himself looked like he had received the best possible birthday gift and Leonard suspected that Scotty would be hearing renditions of the song ringing through engineering for weeks to come.
Scotty was followed by Christine, who had entirely too much fun singing Cindy Lauper’s Girls Just Want To Have Fun. She wasn’t good, exactly, but what she lacked in talent she made up for with enthusiasm.
Leonard’s own name was called next and he made his way up to stage cautiously. Jim gave him a wolf whistle and Len shot him a death glare. He took hold of the microphone gingerly, like it might be diseased, but laughed when the music started and he recognized the song. That little bastard!
“Really?” He yelled at Pavel in mock outrage. “Really? I told you that in confidence.”
“Come on Pav,” Len could hear Jim demand. “You didn’t go with country?”
“But why would I miss the opportunity to share Len’s affinity for The Beach Boys with you all.” Pavel replied, his smirk evident in his voice.
Leonard was glad for the two shots of tequila in his system as he started singing Kokomo. He made it through the song without incident, unless you counted Jim doing an exaggerated parody of sexy dancing incident which at this point in his life Leonard did not. Len did snort into the microphone when Christine smacked Jim on the ass, but otherwise he managed to keep a straight face. As he returned to the table, the next singer was announced. Or rather singers as it turned out.
“Nyota Uhura and uh…Mister Spock?” The MC announced. It looked like he was bemusedly trying to figure out if Mister was actually Spock’s first name or alternatively why the hell someone would be announced at a karaoke bar as mister anything.
“Hey! Why does Spock get a duet?” Leonard demanded, punching Pavel in the arm.
“Because I took pity on him.” Pavel replied with a shrug.
It turned out that the duet was Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler. Nyota, of course, sounded fabulous. Spock could sing too, but he looked immensely relieved that his requirement was minimal. When they returned to the table he gave Pavel a nod. “You are a good man Mister Chekov,” He said. Jim burst out laughing and almost missed his name being called.
When he did finally take the stage it was for a raucous display of Take on Me by Aha. Much like Christine, Jim compensated with showmanship and ludicrous dancing. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t hold a tune, by the end of the song the entire bar was clapping and cheering.
Jim gave a dramatic bow and returned to the table with a shit eating grin. “I had them save the best for last.” He informed them just before Pavel’s name was called.
Pavel walked up to the stage with a confidence that was likely in part to a generous amount of vodka, but also seemed to be a natural self-assuredness. When he was standing behind the microphone Leonard finally really registered what he was wearing. Pavel was wearing an impossibly tight black t-shirt with a low V-neck and tight black pants tucked into black boots. With his tousled curls falling every which way over his forehead he looked like one of the edgy rockstars Leonard had a thing for as a teenager.
When Pavel started singing Leonard didn’t immediately recognize the song. He did, however, notice that Pavel had the voice to match his look for the evening. It was low and soft, a little bit edgy, and sexy as hell. Leonard started to register the lyrics and shifted uncomfortably when he noticed their sexual nature. When the chorus started he was finally able to place the song, I Touch Myself by Dyvinyls. Sweet baby Jesus.
Jim flashed Pavel a mega-watt grin and double thumbs up before turning to Leonard.
“Don’t you just love this song Bones,” He said with a smirk. Leonard wondered momentarily if Joanna would forgive him for killing her Uncle Jim.
“You knew about this,” he hissed threateningly at Jim.
“Sure did!” Jim hooted happily. “Work it Pav!” He hollered towards the stage.
Pavel was certainly “working it” as Jim said. The majority of bar’s occupants were watching with rapt attention as Pavel sang and danced across the stage. He looked like sex on a stick. By the time he neared the end of the song, Leonard’s pants were uncomfortably tight and his nails were digging viciously into his palms. He felt like he may have forgotten to breath for the past several minutes.
“Ohhhh, I don’t care ‘bout anybody else when I think about you I touch myself.” Pavel leaned forward a bit, his knees bending, and shrugging his right shoulder forward as he ran his and down and back up his inner thigh. The whole time, he never broke eye contact with Leonard. That is, until he quickly spun around to face the back of the small stage, still singing into the microphone.
“Ohhhh I don’t care ‘bout anybody else,” he was shaking his ass in time the music and god if those pants weren’t sinful. Leonard almost groaned out loud, realizing they were the same tight leather pants that Pavel had been wearing that night at the club on Iliria 4. Pavel turned over his shoulder to smirk at him before continuing, “When I think about you I touch myself.”
“Ohhhh I don’t care ‘ bout anybody else,” He turned the rest of the way forward and finished with his arm not holding the mike extended, finger pointing right at Leonard. “when I think about you I touch myself.” He gave a dramatic finish, dropping his head back and bringing his hand to his chest, clawing his fingers into his shirt.
“Ow Ow!” Sulu cheered.
Jim and Christine wolf whistled and Spock gave them a withering look.
Uhura shouted, “All right Pasha, shake that ass!”
Pavel went pink and ducked his head as he returned to their table.
Leonard shifted uncomfortably in his seat trying to surreptitiously adjust himself. Jim was shooting him knowing looks so he kicked him under the table.
“Ow!” Scotty hollered. “What was that for?” Apparently he had misjudged the kick.
“Muscle spasm,” Leonard said with a shrug and an attempt to sound innocent. Jim snorted. Bastard.
They stayed at the bar for a few hours, ordering snacks and more alcohol. Jim flirted incessantly with the waitress. Several of their group decided to sing more songs of their own choice including Scotty’s rendition of Friend’s in Low Places, Jim and Christine’s Don’t Go breaking my heart, and Sulu and Uhura’s energetic version of Wannabe. When things were finally wrapping up and Jim had paid, Leonard excused himself to the restroom.
When he returned to the table he found it empty with the exception of Pavel. Len gestured around at the empty chairs in question.
“Jim insisted on leaving,” Pavel explained. Of course he did. Leonard had his suspicions about Jim’s motives.
“I offered to stay behind and make sure you got back ok,” Pavel continued.
“Yeah right,” Leonard said, shaking his head. “Like I’m the one from this group that needs minding. Can you even see straight kid?” The familiar moniker slipped out accidentally, but Pavel made no sign of unhappiness and didn’t try to correct him.
“Leonard, I’m Russian.” Pavel said as he stood up and slung on his jacket. He said it simply, as though it explained everything.
They left the bar and were walking almost shoulder to shoulder down the station promenade when Leonard decided to challenge the statement.
“That doesn’t mean you have a higher alcohol tolerance than the general population,” he insisted. Regardless of the fact that you seem to be walking straighter than I am, he added in his head.
“Oh, but it does Len.” Pavel replied, bumping Leonard’s shoulder with his own.
Leonard stopped and turned to Pavel.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” He demanded. Pavel turned to face him and Leonard was abruptly made hyper-aware of their proximity.
“Yes I am,” Pavel laughed. “But you know you love it.” He had leaned closer to almost whisper the words in Leonard’s ear. Len shuddered and tried to take a step back, but realized that there was a wall behind him.
Suddenly Pavel was kissing him again, his hands threading through Len’s hair. And this time Leonard wasn’t going to be a passive statue. He grabbed the lapels of Pavel’s jacket and hauled him closer as he pressed desperately against Pavel’s lips. He slipped his tongue between Pavel’s parted lips and rolled it against Pavel’s own. If the whimper that escaped from Pavel was anything to go on, he deeply enjoyed the sensation. The sound sent a pulse of heat straight through Leonard making his stomach tense and his cock twitch. Growling into Pavel’s mouth in response, he flipped them around to push Pavel’s back against the wall. Len’s hands came to press against the wall at either side of the other man’s head and he returned to his thorough and fierce exploration of Pavel’s mouth. He pressed his body against Pavel’s and could feel the erection straining against the leather pants that hugged his body like a sin. Len ground down into him and Pavel’s hands dropped to Len’s shoulders, nails digging in through the fabric of his shirt.
Pavel broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and Leonard locked his mouth onto the pulse throbbing in Pavel’s neck instead. “Pasha,” Leonard breathed against his neck. He could feel a shiver run through the younger man’s body. Pavel let out another whimper, and this time it formed the shape of a name. His name. “Leo.”
The endearment pulled Leonard back to his senses and he drew back slowly, taking in Pavel’s swollen lips and disheveled jacket.
“We should get back,” He said finally. Pavel nodded reluctantly and accompanied him back to the transporter pad, both of them trying to steady their breathing as they went.
When they were safely back aboard the enterprise, Len walked Pavel to his room. He lingered, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. Pavel placed a hand on Leonard’s forearm and Len trapped it under his own.
“I should be going,” He said, returning Pavel’s hand to its owner.
“It is my birthday you know.” Pavel said suggestively.
“Trust me, I’m aware,” Leonard huffed with a laugh. “And right now I’d really like to give you a present to remember, but we’re both drunk.” He sighed.
“You just have to be the responsible old man, don’t you?” Pavel said despairingly.
“Hey, I am an old man.” Len responded.
“Obviously not that old,” Pavel said in reply gesturing towards Len’s obvious erection, unaffected by the copious amounts of alcohol. Leonard laughed at his brazenness.
“I guess not.” He said. “But yes, I do have to be responsible.”
“I know,” Pavel sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s part of why I love you.”
Leonard froze, not entirely sure what to make of that. Pavel didn’t even seem to notice what he had said and Len decided it was just the alcohol talking. Surely he just meant that it was a thing that he liked about him (the way Leonard loved how direct Christine was). He watched as Pavel fumbled with the entrance code for his quarters and turned to leave when Pavel was halfway through the door. Len turned back for a second and gave Pavel a small, hopeful smile.
“Goodnight, Pasha.”
“Goodnight Leo.”
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Down River: The Trickle of Honey
Baby’s first actual writing post 🤒 (unfortunately, I am baby)
The Trickle of Honey
TW: alcoholism/over drinking, vomit!, brief implication of violent non-con, mention of knife threat, symptoms of PTSD, just a very sad fellow
Background: Luke tries to drink away the pain but his memory does a lil sneak attack :p a creep at the bar makes him paranoid and he over drank so that is not a good combo. Annie plays the caretaker role. I hope it isn’t too vague / is understandable. Also, I am completely horrid at grammar and proper sentence structure so I apologize to all the writers out there.
~~~
Annie heard him by the front door, fumbling with the keys. He was drunk again, she already knew, except this time was different. The clumsiness wasn’t from the alcohol, his hands were trembling.
“Luke? What happened?” She asked gently as she widened the door. At least he had made it home. He was home. Her hand extended to help lead him in, but at that moment the keys slipped from his fingers and landed on the staircase with a clang that made them both flinch.
“Fuck.” He slurred as he retrieved them, and then quieter: “Fuck.”
Carefully avoiding Annie’s guiding arm and worried eyes, he pulled himself through the door using its frame to steady himself. He clumsily slumped onto the ground and fiddled with the laces of his shoes unsuccessfully.
“Let me help you.” Annie said, carefully reaching toward him. The movement, slow as it was, sent him pulling away so violently that the couch shifted against the force of his body. His face distorted into a silent protest of pain. He had run the corner of the couch into his back – into the cuts – but still he sat there unmoving, the pained expression disappearing as quickly as it arrived… leaving something else behind.
He wouldn’t have flinched like this. Not even after what happened.
“What happened?” She asked again, worry seeping into her tone. He sloppily shook his head in a plea for her to leave it be.
“I’m gon-na go t- bed.” He said quietly, parking himself right there at the foot of the couch, letting himself wilt to the floor. He didn't close his eyes though, he stared past her at the sideways carpet. Silently, tears pooled against his eyelashes. They didn’t fall.
Annie waited a moment before lowering herself on the carpet to face him, watching his eyes focus on her and blink away the tears. He looked so fucking tired.
“Do you want to sleep in your bed?” She asked.
“Yes.” He said, so softly he barely moved his lips.
“Can I help with your shoes?”
“Yes.” This time, he didn’t move as she pulled at the laces and gently tugged the shoes off.
“Can you stand?”
“Mmh.” He muttered as he attempted to push himself up, faltering and slow. Swaying, he used the couch, and then the table, and then the wall to steady himself. Annie followed behind, ready to catch him if he faltered. He hesitantly dragged himself up the stairs. The top was a few steps away, he held onto both the wall and the railing to steady him from the nauseating spinning that only existed in his head. He was so close until his foot got caught on the step and sent him – impossibly – tripping upward, bracing himself against his knee that knocked into the stair with an alarming crack. Annie’s hands were on him. It was just Annie. It was just Annie, but the grip was tight and assertive and somehow that hurt more than the welt growing on his knee or the cuts along his shoulder blades. Suddenly, he felt so unbelievably sick. He gagged once, and barely had time to lift his shirt over his mouth before the vomit came.
The next thing he knew, he was shirtless, leaning his cheek against the rim of the toilet seat. In an instant, he was so aware of everything, even of the air against his skin. Behind him, he heard water running and voices whispering. Female voices. He allowed himself to look over.
Annie and her mother stood over the sink, wetting a washcloth. He didn’t remember getting up the stairs or when Nora got there. He did remember throwing up, which sent ripples of fear through his body like electricity.
“Luke. It’s okay sweetheart, we’re going to clean you up, okay?” Nora said sweetly as she reached over with the damp cloth. “Here, drink some water.”
Annie came over with a paper cup and Lukas didn’t have the energy to shoo them away, he just pulled back weakly, which didn’t stop Nora as she dabbed at his mouth and held out the water cup. He hugged his knees to his chest, lips refusing to part, limbs visibly shaking. His eyes darted back and forth.
“Mom? Mom, I think he needs some space.” Annie softly pulled her back.
Luke’s mind was reeling. The event from the bar that day; the break-in earlier that year; his vomiting and the punishments that come with it; the video clips from the police station; it all whirled around in his brain. He wanted to go to sleep. He wanted to die. He wanted to forget it all but instead it just came rushing back.
“I’ll give you some space, okay? I’ll give you a few minutes, but you’re not sleeping in the bathroom, alright? I’m going to help you to bed when you’re ready.”
She turned to leave, but Luke’s arm moved before he could tell it to and he caught her wrist. When she looked, his eyes said something that he’d never let slip past his lips.Despite everything, he didn’t want to be alone. So Annie stayed, despite him stubbornly insisting that he could do it on his own. But his shaking limbs and intoxicated body offered little support as he found his way back to the guest room.
Annie slept there too, on the soft carpet along with her blanket and pillow. He was knocked out almost as soon as he hit the bed, but still, she worried. She tried not to watch him, tried not to notice how even sleeping his brows furrowed and his lips turned down ever so slightly.
***
It was almost 4am when Annie heard it. The thrashing, the weak whining seeping into the air. In an instant she was on her feet, shaking him and shaking him until he opened his eyes with the shallow gasp.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just a nightmare.” She tried to sound calming but instead she sounded just as panicked as him. He stopped struggling and stared at her through the dark. He stared as the moonlight out the window created shadows across her face.
“It’s not.” He whispered, “It wasn’t a nightmare.”
He felt it come over him, like the trickle of honey. Everything coming together to tell him he’s stuck, that he’s only ever been stuck.
The video played behind his eyes: Cal telling him to loosen up or he’d use the knife; sticking his fingers down his throat until he tensed and gagged; making him beg not to cut him – not there, at least; the relentless pounding reaching every part of him, and then deeper.
He thought it had all blurred into nothingness. That each time could count as a repeat and the effects would be only of one time, not of 5 years of time. That he could keep going as if those years didn’t exist, as if it was merely a blip in time. But it wasn’t, and finally he was ready to accept it as it was. Accept who he was.
He won’t slip up again.
~~~
There, I did it.
#Down River#Lukas Redding#whump#whump writing#tw noncon#tw threats#tw alchoholism#tw vomit#tw ptsd#caretaker#okay this is quite frightening to publish#i know no one will see it though :3#this is kind of comforting#my mind story just floating around with no destination#weeeeee#help
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Harry's house rating on first listen
music for a sushi restaurant 8/10
what a vibe I would play this in the background while studying fs
late night talking 10/10
SO GOOD. PERIOD. I STOPPED BREATHING WHILE LISTENING, SERIOUSLY LACED WITH CRACK.
grape juice 10/10
just me and youuuu
shaking and crying fr what a bop
THE GRAPE JUICE BLUES
the instrumental at the end>>>>
as it was 9/10
already knew the words obviously but in context with the album its so awesome
daylight 8/10
simple song but its a vibe, danced subconsciously ngl
little freak 9/10
not expecting to tear up-
the lyrics are questionable but the vocals and melody?????? like I know Harry was on drugs writing fine line but this one- I don't believe he was on earth during this. /lh
and the ending????? what a simple sound for that song, I love it
matilda 20/10
more acoustic which I can totally appreciate
another sad one both lyrically and musically so yay
"you feel a piece of you's dead inside" that part reminded me of "there's a piece of you in how i dress" totally different but similar wording. goodbye.
"cuz they never showed you love, don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own"
the bridge>>>>>
THIS SONG IS A FULL STORY AND I LIVE FOR IT
cinema 4/10
the beat is cool but not my taste
lyrics seem more simple but maybe with a kinda deep meaning if you look into it
honestly might skip this one more often than not
daydreaming 5/10
meh. didn't feel much for this one but it isn't bad, might grow on me but in the moment it felt like actual music for a sushi restaurant— music to tune out but feels nice.
keep driving 8/10
sounds familiar and it's so comforting somehow
it's the shortest song on the album and it's just so relaxing and makes me smile
satellite 7/10
I absolutely love the music.
another head bopper, would love this in the background of an indie movie scene of the main character (me) walking/skateboarding down the street and enjoying the small things
boyfriends 10/10
the multiple voice layering thing(idk what it's called) just fits this song so well I'm screaming
I heard this one on the today show but it's so good I can't get over it
love of my life 9/10
what a great ending
feels like the most personal one but what do I know
I absolutely love the piano sounds near the end
gosh what a masterpiece of an album
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Hi! Could I request a EJ x Reader scenario where the reader is a proxy and got injured on a mission? So after she gets back she has to go to Jack to get patched up, but the injuries are both around her thighs and torso, so she has to be mostly naked. Its already quite awkward, but the Reader has a huge crush on Jack so it’s even more so, and it’s really obvious as he works on her. This could end with just playful teasing or something NSFW, whatever you’re inspired to do :D Thank you for your time!
Good Girls Deserve Treats
[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]
[Warnings: creampie, knotted dick, language, marking, it’s actually not that rough and pretty ooc for how I normally write EJ. If you are a minor, DNI]
[AN: Hi love bug, so I ended up writing something immensely similar to this exact prompt a little while ago. I'll link it down below. I just decided to barrel straight into the NSFW bc for some ungodly reason, I’m horny and this is what I choose to write. ALSO it's 2.4K words.]
Part 1
“You handled that pretty well,” Jack begins, his clawed thumb rubbing small circles on your thigh ever so slightly. “All things considered,” he finishes with a chuckle. His face draws a little nearer to yours, and heat ignites on your face.
You bashfully look away, almost all too aware of how his touch runs electricity on your skin and how… undressed you actually are in the moment.
“Did you want me to check your abdomen?” He hums, his hand tracing up your thigh and to the hem of your torn shirt. In the back of his mind, he thinks you could use a new one.
Your eyes fly up to his sockets, blinking a few times. “Is that necessary?”
He nods. “Just wanna make sure I’m not missing anything,” he hums, clawed fingers lacing under what could barely be considered a shirt. He glances at your face, reading you for any strong discomfort. He finds you’re just flustered.
“I-”
“Do you want me to turn around again?”
Feeling small waves of confidence, you shake your head. “Nah, it’s okay,” you say as you move your stone-like arms, fingers shakily grabbing at the bottom of your shirt.
“Mind your stitches,” he observes as you hook your fingers under, slowly pulling the shirt up and over your head.
Cold, the room is cold. A part of you is thankful you have a bra on. A slight huff leaves your lips as Jack’s hand begins to explore the soft flesh of your abdomen. Small bruises, minor cuts.
Jack tsks his tongue. “And you were gonna keep this from me?” He says with a small chuckle.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” you say, fighting the urge to cross your arms over your chest defensively.
The eyeless man begins to disinfect the minor cuts, amazed that you’re not more physically hurt on the upper half after what he saw with your thigh. He works quietly and diligently, every now and then stealing glances with you and flirting through his touch alone. He hums softly as he does so, deep voice like a purr as you relax further into his touch.
And then it stops. His touch has retracted from your body and you can’t help but pout in response.
“We’re done here, sweetheart,” he jokes, once again putting his things away. “You can return to your group whenever.” He’s dangling himself in front of you like a bone in front of a hungry dog.
You take the bait. “And what if I don’t want to?” You retort, brows furrowing for a moment.
“If you don’t want to?” He grins, uncrossing his arms over his chest.
You watch as his chest rises and falls, the strings of his hoodie being coyly played with in his clawed fingers.
Jack’s lips crack upwards into a devilish smile. “Well,” he begins, sliding forward on his chair, large hands taking you by surprise as he rests them on your hips, applying just enough pressure to tell you he’s in charge. “I suppose good girls o deserve a treat.”
You practically melt at the words, the butterflies in your stomach going absolutely feral as Jack leans forward, his lips capturing yours in an instant. Your eyes flutter shut, kissing him back almost shyly as his mouth overtakes yours. He tastes like mint and citrus.
Jack’s hands begin to roam your body, careful of your various contusions and the biggest wound on your thigh as he does so. He’s committing your form to memory should he never touch you like this again. He easily overpowers you as he kisses you, his form already domineering and overpowering enough. Jack’s ears pick up your heartbeat - you sound like a little rabbit.
He chuckles deeply into the kiss, effectively breaking it before tracing his lips to your jaw and then slowly down your neck.
Your hands fly to the back of his head. Your fingers rake through his hair, brushing against his scalp. You let out a small giggle when you hear him purr deeply against the smooth flesh of your neck, his teeth and lips nipping you ever so slightly to leave ghost-like marks. “Jack,” you mewl out as he licks your neck before latching on, sure to leave a mark.
He hums against your skin, his hand reaching up to your shoulder, gently pushing you back.
You follow his nonverbal command, form feeling like jello as you lean back on the table, eventually resting on your forearms. You watch with hazy eyes as Jack kisses your collar before moving in between your breasts. He takes in deep, dreamy breaths of your scent before nuzzling you ever so slightly - and then much stronger than you were anticipating. A squeak leaves your lips before your brow quirks up.
Sensing your confusion, Jack spares you a moment to answer. “Scenting you,” he mumbles against your chest before trailing kisses down your stomach to your pelvis. One of his hands reaches to the waistband before he remembers your stitches. “You won’t be needing these,” he thinks aloud before he snips his claw upwards, effectively ripping through the fabric.
“Jack!” You giggle. “I need those.”
“I’ll get you more,” he brushes off. He repeats the motion and your underwear falls down, the pieces now useless. He tosses them out of the way, finally able to take in the scent of your sex in full. He has to stop himself from fully burying in right then and there. His fingers trace down your non-injured thigh, gently tracing small shapes before his lips join in the equation. Jack’s breath is warm against your thigh as he presses delicate kisses, his slightly chapped lips making you mewl at the contact.
Your fingers go back to lovingly raking through his hair as he finally opens his mouth, three tongues curling out. You’ve seen his tongues before - mostly when he’s actually eating - but seeing them in context like this makes you unbearably hot. You arch your back when one of them finds their way to your clit, immediately assaulting the pearl with stimulation as the other begins to trace your puffy, aroused lips. You grip his hair and Jack laughs.
He half lids his eyes as the third tongue traces your slit before slowly diving in, deliciously curling and twisting inside of your heated pussy, his lips adding the extra push.
Your thighs tense on instinct as he does so, eyes slowly closing in the budding pleasure. You rake your fingers through his hair even harder as he begins to pick up the pace, breathy moans and sighs exiting your lips like hymns as he does so. “Oh my gods,” you whisper as he curls around your clit in the way that has you seeing stars.
Jack grins and slowly adds his fingers into the equation. They curl upwards, claws so delicate and careful to not cut you as he rubs and traces your walls as his tongue fucks you.
The thigh that isn’t injured tenses, leg curling around his back and heel digging into him. You want him even closer to you. You can feel your pussy throb as his tongue thrusts deeper into you, wiggling and twisting as it does so. He feels so warm! How is that possible? You bite your lip, lust clouding your vision as the hand that’s not buried in your pussy snakes under your thigh and to your abdomen, ensuring you won’t buck at him.
Still, you lightly buck anyways, unable to resist the pleasure. You’re getting close, oh so close. A part of you wishes you’d last longer, but hey, being a proxy isn’t easy and it’s not like you have the time to get fucked - at least, not in the way you’d like to be.
Sensing that you’re close, Jack begins to slowly retreat himself from your soaking pussy. The best part? You’re so drunk off his touch that you don’t even realize it until it’s too late. You narrow your eyes, pouting at him with a fury burning in those beautiful irises when you realize he’s not doing anything to you. “You’re such a jerk,” you hiss.
He feigns being offended. It’s his smile that gives it away. “Awh, I thought you deserved something better,” he begins, slowly standing up, “something bigger,” he continues, undoing the belt on his pants, “something more fulfilling.” He drops his pants and you see it. Granted, his hand is wrapped around it, but your jaw falls open regardless. Jack’s cock is, for lack of better words, huge. Thick, strangely beautiful with the gradient he’s got going on and the specks that look like stars to match it, and topped - bottomed? Off with a knot. A huge knot that you’re not even sure you can take.
Jack laughs in a condescending tone as he rubs it a few times, breathy sighs pouring from his lips as he does so. He steps closer to you, and with the close proximity, you’re able to see he’s got piercings.
“You still want my mouth?”
You shake your head, legs spreading for him on instinct.
Jack laughs. He genuinely laughs. He whistles lowly when he sees he’s where he wants to be - still not fully erect - and places his hands on your hips, still mindful of your thigh. He moves his hips back and forth, the tip of his cock getting coated with your slick as he does so.
You hiss slightly when you feel the cold bite of metal, melting when it warms up with your body. “Please,” you murmur as his grip tightens on you ever so slightly. “Just stuff it in me.”
Jack hums thoughtfully. “Are you sure, baby?” He asks in that same sickly sweet condescending tone. “Because if you are…”
The breath gets stolen from your lungs as he pulls your body forward, suddenly pushing his thick cock into your pulsing pussy. You feel every inch of him as it drags against your walls, filling you to your brim. The ladder piercings, cold as they are, add to the bite of pleasure and electricity that vibes throughout your system. Your head falls back on instinct, toes curling and muscles tensing as he hilts inside of you up to his knot.
“Holy shit,” you breathe out, heart thumping in your chest like a jackhammer.
“I know,” he coos, leaning down to drape over your form.One of his hands leaves the grip on your hip to caress your cheek. “Good girl,” he compliments, slowly beginning to thrust into you. His cock, which had only been somewhat erect, began to grow harder inside of you.
The feeling of him swelling and hardening inside of you makes you mewl, back arching ever so slightly as he begins to pick up the pace. You almost whine as his hand leaves your face, but when it traces down your side to your clit, all complaints exit your head.
Jack’s lips fly back to your shoulder and neck as he begins to rut into you, his hand rubbing circles on your clit as he does so. He’s trying so hard to not destroy you - doesn’t want you popping anything. He growls deeply against you, teeth biting at your shoulder as he ruts in harder, the slick sounds of your pussy squeezing around his cock making him feel lighter than air.
You pull both at his hair and dig your nails into the back of his hoodie as he fucks you harder, your good leg once again hooking into his waist, heel digging in and pushing along with him. You can feel his thick knot come dangerously close to being buried inside of you, and you wonder if you can handle it in the moment. “Fuck,” you breathe out, pussy gradually becoming raw under his rough touch. “Knot,” you manage to choke out as it catches closer and closer.
“What was that?” Jack gruffly rasps against your skin before attacking your neck in kisses, attempting to mark you as his and smothering you in his scent. The sound of meaty thrusts and skin slapping on skin filling his clinical room, the sound bouncing and echoing sharply.
“I want-” you gasp when he pinches your clit between his fingers, “I want your knot!” You wisp out, hand gripping the back of his hoodie so strongly it might cramp.
Jack giggles against your skin, rolling his hips powerfully against you. “Can you even handle that?” He muses, pounding into you. He groans deeply when you constrict around him.
You grin up at him, legs spreading even wider as an invitation for him to claim you. “Why don’t you find out?”
Jack’s eyes widen for a moment before he severely picks up the pace, essentially fucking your brains out. You barely have the time to breathe as he works your clit raw, the fluids between your legs gushing like a waterfall as he roughly pounds into you, his knot coming closer and closer to getting swallowed whole by you. He’s cursing now, whispering under his breath in a language you can’t understand, eyes half lidded in the pleasure as he suddenly backs up to just his tip.
A loud cry rips free from your throat as Jack slams back in, his knot briefly catching as your abused entrance before he pushes in, rolling his hips forwards.
Tears well in your eyes from the sheer size and overstimulation of it all, and you can’t help but seek physical comfort in him by curling against his chest. Your body, pushed to its limit, finally lets go. The coil in your stomach, the heat that’s been burning inside of you - it all spills over and boils, burning, spewing its warmth across your body like white hot electricity, dripping over your exhausted limbs like rushing lava. You grit your teeth as your pussy throbs around him, and cling to him like your life depends on it.
Jack posessively bites into your shoulder, his hand pressing down on your clit as receives you, still rolling and rutting into you. He bites down just a little harder, teeth dangerously close to drawing blood as he pushes into you as deep as he can, thick, warm ropes of cum rushing into your body. He growls as he does so, fighting the urge to snarl as he thrusts a a few more harsh times before finally stilling against you.
You pant heavily as Jack’s cock weeps cum into you, your body feeling fuller and fuller by the moment.
Jack is panting as well, slowly unlatching from your shoulder. “You okay?” He asks, finally coming down to his senses, kitten like licks coming from his mouth to wipe away your tears of overstimulation.
You wrap your arms around him, lovingly threading through his hair. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you giggle before pulling him down for another kiss.
Jack smiles, his form warmly draping over you like a blanket.
"Was I a good girl?" You ask in a small hum as Jack slowly begins to leave your stuffed pussy.
Jack breathes out deeply, lips still curled up into a smile. "Absolutely."
#eyeless jack#eyeless jack x reader#eyeless jack smut#creepypasta smut#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta#creepypasta headcanon#eyeless jack headcanon#creepypasta scenario#ej#nsft#minors dni
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Hello @gluttonousfruit you are in fact my first request. (I did not forget about you in moving my blog.) I am super excited to have anyone ask me to write something! Also I would love to be friends! Feel free to message me through asks or in private DMs! I hope you enjoy the imagine!
Warnings: Fluff with a small amount of angst because Levi doubts himself 😞
Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist
Levi with an Animator S/O
"Okay MC, I know we just finished 'Swimming Only Leads to Hot Mermaids,' but I was thinking since we are already watching otomes, we should watch another series that everyone is recommending online!" Levi says this as he begins to pull out one DVD and place in another while bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited puppy.
"I guess I could watch one more series, but it better be a good one. Sure the mermaids were attractive, but there wasn't much of a plot." MC says with a yawn. A quick look over to the clock, and it reads 11:48 PM in a blinding blue light. Not too late for one of Levi's normal bingefests, but a little too late for MC when they have classes tomorrow.
"No, I promise this one is good. Everyone is talking about the art style. They say it is so original that it's captivating." Levi walks to the small futon briskly and plops himself down next to MC as he continues to ramble about the art. His voice slowly trails off as the opening begins to play.
As the music fills MC's ears, they perk up and a small smile appears on their face. "Levi, could this perhaps be, 'I Went to Hell For a Weekend and Got Stuck in a Love Heptagon with Seven Incubi'?"
Levi faces MC in shock. The look on their face is quite smug. (In all seriousness, it reminds Levi of Mammon when he wins poker, but he doesn't want to be think about his brother while looking at MC. So he pushes that thought away.) This anime came out only the day before their bingefest. And even then, Levi had this copy pre-ordered for this very occasion and it arrived before any stores were selling physical copies. There is no way a normie like MC could have heard about its release. Does this mean MC isn't such a normie after all?
"You heard of this show already?" The surprise in his voice was impossible to hide.
"Yeah, I have heard of it." MC smiles and chuckles quietly, "I have never actually seen it, but I have heard the opening quite a few times."
"Oh..." Levi sighs. He was so stupid. Of course MC had heard the opening. It is all over his Devilgram and they were on their phone for part of the last show, so they obviously just heard it on there. Levi deflates looking solemn. It was just a pipe dream that MC would ever be interested in his yucky otaku interests.
"Hey! There is no reason to be all sad just because I know the name of the show. I still haven't seen the whole thing. My first time watching will still be with you Levi, isn't that special enough?" The smile on MC's face seemed sincere enough, but the words that came out of their mouth made blood rush up to Levi's cheeks. Their first... did they really mean to say it like that?...
As thoughts begin to flood Leviathan's head the show began. It was true the art style was captivating. So captivating in fact, that he forgot about his embarrassment. But MC's words still lingered in his mind as he watched the show.
---------------------------------------------------------
"Well, I am dead tired." MC stands cracking their aching joints as they look at the clock. 2:37 AM. It was that late already? "I think I need to head to bed Levi. I have classes in the morning and I need at least a few hours of sleep."
"Are you sure?" Levi was just starting to enjoy MC's presence. At the beginning of the night, he was on edge trying to make everything perfect. Levi did want to mess up by being a yucky Otaku and give them a reason to leave him all alone. But as the night progressed, (and more snacks were consumed) he felt increasingly more comfortable with sharing his favorite shows with MC. "I have other shows we could watch to pass the time, or we could play this new game I got-"
MC walks over to Levi and gently sets their hands on his shoulders, "Games and anime are great, but what I need right now is sleep." MC watched as Levi's face filled with a blush and his eyes flashed with hurt. "I am not leaving because I am mad... or sad... or anything really. I just need to sleep, Leviathan." Their voice was barely above a whisper as they said his name. How could he disagree with them when they said his name like that; all the while, looking deep into his eyes. He felt like he could explode.
As MC turns away, the demon in question then sighs mutters a quiet "okay" under his breath. "Don't worry, Levi. This isn't the last time I will watch anime with you. I promise we can do another one of these when another new anime comes out." MC begins to pick up their things. A blanket they brought with them to keep warm in Levi's cold room and the rest of their human snacks. "Besides, I really liked that one, and I have heard they are already making season two." As they speak, MC makes their way across the room to the gigantic tank.
"Wait. How do you-"
"Good night Henry. Good night Levi." And with that, MC leaves. Closing the door behind them.
How did MC know about a second season? Even he, the Great Otaku Levi, has not heard about a season two on any forums or on any other website... After thinking about it, Levi suspects it's probably on Devilgram like the opening was. To prove his theory, he pulls out his D.D.D. and opens up Devilgram to the 'I Went to Hell For a Weekend and Got Stuck in a Love Heptagon with Seven Incubi' page. He scrolls through their posts and finds the opening, like he predicted, but what he didn't predict was their most recent post.
"This show would not have been possible without MC. Thank you for making such a great story and great art to go along with it!"
Levi reads the caption once, twice, thrice and is speechless. The photo for this post is none other than his MC standing with a hand drawn piece of the protagonist. He can even see their signature in the corner when he zooms in! He knew that they liked to draw, but he never thought they would make an anime.
Without thinking, Levi gets up and begins to run to MC's room. He needs to know that this isn't some sort of elaborate prank that MC and Satan brewed up to make him like a normie more.
The door to MC's room busts open, "MC!" The room is completely dark except for the light shining in through the doorway.
"Levi...? Is that you? Is something wrong?" MC's voice is soft and laced with sleep. If this were any other time, Levi would have screamed over their cuteness, but today he had a mission. He immediately marches up to the half asleep MC and promptly shoves his phone in their face.
"Did you make 'I Went to Hell For a Weekend and Got Stuck in a Love Heptagon with Seven Incubi'?" MC sits up and squints as their eyes adjust to the blinding screen and look at the post.
"Um... yeah. That's me isn't it?" Silence takes over the room, before Levi begins to scream.
"WAHHHHH! MC, why didn't you tell me!" Thankfully with the phone only being pointed at MC, they can't see the blush spreading across his face.
"Well, I didn't want you to treat me differently because I make anime." Laying back down as they speak, MC tucks a pillow under their head and looks up to where they guess Leviathan's face is. "Besides, I thought it was really cute how you were fanboying, and I didn't want you to stop because you knew you were in the presence of the creator." A small smile makes it's way on to MC's face as Levi feels his own get hotter.
Now covering his face, Levi quickly makes his way to the door while muttering, "You can't just say things like that..." As he begins to close the door, he pauses and opens it up again while looking back, "Can you tell me more about your show tomorrow, MC?" His voice sounds small compared to his previous scream.
"Of course Levi. We can talk for as long as you like."
#obey me requests#obeyme#obey me#levi#leviathan x mc#leviathan imagine#obey me leviathan#obey me levi x mc#obey me levi#fluff#obey me imagines#imagine#angst
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James McAvoy, Son Of Dune, Has Advice For His Father, Dune Star Timothée Chalamet
"I was in an adaptation of the second and third books. He is in the first book. And he's playing a character who ultimately becomes my father, in terms of the character dialogue. So, no. I've got no advice for him. And he doesn't need any advice from me, he's a cracking actor.
But I'll tell you what's one really good piece of advice that was given to me once, was by the cast of ... what was the show called again? Farscape. And it was at the L.A. premiere of Children of Dune, and they said to me, that the thing with this sh*t, i.e. science fiction, is that you have to believe it more than you believe good writing. Good writing, you can just do. It's easier. But this stuff is hard, because it's so bonkers, you know what I mean? And I've really, I've always remembered that advice and taken it to heart. It's so kept me going really, through a lot of science fiction and fantasy work that I've done. Because it was Claudia Black that said it. And I think that's just good advice for any actor doing any kind of science fiction and/or fantasy, you know?"
full article from slash film (october 2021) is under the cut
Frank Herbert's "Dune" is a dense, monumental sci-fi tome with several feature film disasters to its name. David Lynch's 1984 "Dune" was such a critical and commercial bomb that the filmmaker disowned it. Alejandro Jodorowsky's failed attempt to adapt the sci-fi classic was so infamous that the entire thing was chronicled in an acclaimed 2013 documentary by Frank Pavich. For a while there, it seemed like "Dune" was destined to be given the label "unfilmable" and left to rot on the shelves of Hollywood's never-made productions. That is, of course, until Denis Villeneuve's upcoming "Dune," which has already racked up heaps of praise and hype through the film festival circuit.
However, unbeknownst to many of the American public, Syfy (back then known as the Sci Fi Channel) had already done it — they had made a successful adaptation of "Dune." Actually, they made two successful adaptations: the 2000 miniseries "Frank Herbert's Dune" and the 2003 sequel, "Frank Herbert's Children of Dune." Both three-part miniseries won several Emmy Awards and were some of the highest-rated programs to ever be broadcast on the network.
Notably, the latter miniseries, "Children of Dune," which adapted Herbert's two sequels "Dune Messiah" and "Children of Dune," starred a young, baby-faced James McAvoy before his Hollywood breakout in films like "The Chronicles of Narnia" or "Atonement." And he remembers it all, though "that was a long time ago," he told me in an interview to promote the audio drama "The Sandman Act II." And though he's far removed from the days of playing one of the titular "Children of Dune," McAvoy could not be more excited about Villeneuve's take on the film, or for Timothée Chalamet's performance as his character's father.
From Son of Dune to Fan of Dune
James McAvoy knows a thing or two about donning those piercing blue melange-laced eyes and doing some crazy fight choreography in the desert. He starred as Leto II Atreides in the three-part miniseries "Children of Dune," which aired on what was then called the Sci Fi Channel. The miniseries has some of the limitations of a sci-fi cable show (it doesn't look nearly as epic in scope as Villeneuve's film does), but the TV adaptation was mostly praised for turning what a dense, complex story into something a bit more palatable. Even so, as with any sci-fi or genre project that the actor has tackled, McAvoy said that, "this stuff is hard, because it's so bonkers, you know what I mean?"
But even while he doesn't have any specific advice for Chalamet as a former "Dune" star ("He's a cracking actor," McAvoy gushed) he does have advice for starring in a heady sci-fi project like "Dune." McAvoy explained:
"I was in an adaptation of the second and third books. He is in the first book. And he's playing a character who ultimately becomes my father, in terms of the character dialogue. So, no. I've got no advice for him. And he doesn't need any advice from me, he's a cracking actor.
But I'll tell you what's one really good piece of advice that was given to me once, was by the cast of ... what was the show called again? Farscape. And it was at the L.A. premiere of Children of Dune, and they said to me, that the thing with this sh*t, i.e. science fiction, is that you have to believe it more than you believe good writing. Good writing, you can just do. It's easier. But this stuff is hard, because it's so bonkers, you know what I mean? And I've really, I've always remembered that advice and taken it to heart. It's so kept me going really, through a lot of science fiction and fantasy work that I've done. Because it was Claudia Black that said it. And I think that's just good advice for any actor doing any kind of science fiction and/or fantasy, you know?"
"It's dead exciting."
For the time being, McAvoy is content to move past his days as a son of "Dune" and become a fan of "Dune," particularly of Villeneuve's upcoming adaptation of Herbert's 1965 classic novel and, hopefully, their "bonkers" sequels.
"It's dead exciting," McAvoy said. "Those were a bunch of books, I mean, I've read them all cover to cover, and I love those books. They're crazy. As they get into their final two or three books, I mean, the level of bonkers is unparalleled. But I love them. And so I'm dead excited to see what he does. He's a brilliant filmmaker. A brilliant maker of science fiction. And I do love my science fiction, as well as fantasy. So yeah, I'm whetting my lips."
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#james mcavoy#timotheechalamet#timothee chalamet#timothée chalamet#dune#dune 2#2021#leto II#leto 2#paul atredies#chani#house atreides
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Father's Day has been...hard.
Claire can remember being younger, being, like, ten and her mom taking her to the corner drugstore to buy a Hallmark card for her dad. For Jimmy. She would dutifully write a personal note into the blank space -- something about how she loved him and would forever, how she was thankful for how he raised her.
And then an angel walked into her father and walked away.
After that, things were so fucked up, Claire hardly even noticed Father's Days passing. One time, she was slipping a candy bar into her pocket at a gas station and happened to see, through the fuzz of a bad reception, what was clearly a commercial for Father's Day. At that time, though, she was still something sharp and acidic so she just snorted out a laugh and walked off.
Now --
Well.
It's not any easier, really. Because her father is still gone. There's still that hole there. Having new and different and good doesn't heal the fact that she lost her Dad. Jimmy wasn't perfect, sure, but he was good. He tried. He brushed her hair when she was little and he sang her Beach Boys in the car on the way to soccer practice. He took her to soccer practice.
She misses him, so much sometimes that it feels like her chest might crack open. She's not usually enough of a sap for things like commercials to get to her but this one has a dark-haired dad and a little blonde daughter and they're dancing how she and Jimmy used to dance: her up on Jimmy's feet, arms flung out wide with hands laced together.
She almost doesn't pick up when the phone rings but then she does. "What?"
"I -- " His voice is still gravel and razor-wire and that's one saving grace. He might be wearing her dad's face, still, but at least he doesn't sound like him. "I'm sorry. I could feel -- You were praying."
"No, I wasn't." Her words are harsh but she can't regret it because it's to hide the fact that she's crying.
"Right. I'm sorry. I felt -- Anyway. I'm sorry to bother you, then. I was just worried."
There's a pause of dead air, the two of them just breathing. And then Claire says, "Wait." Which was unnecessary, because he was clearly gonna wait for her to hang-up first but. "Wait. Maybe-- Whatever. What are you doing?"
Another stretch of silence. Then: "Dean was in the middle of showing me...a movie. I left to call you."
Something that's almost a smile finds its way onto Claire's face. "Oh yeah? I guess you weren't too impressed with his taste in movies, huh?"
A sigh rustles static across the connection and then Castiel says, sounding the most put-out she's ever heard him, "There are always cowboys."
Claire laughs at that, honest to god laughs, and it's a little watery but it's good. It almost fucking hurts, but it's good. "When we hang-up, I'm gonna send you a song to play for Dean, okay?" The chorus for Cowboys Are Frequently Secretly Fond of Each Other is already rolling through her head and she would give anything to see the shades of red Dean'll turn at that.
"All right, Claire."
His tone is a little lilting, dragging, like he's expecting a goodbye.
"But. But not yet. Okay. Tell me-- I dunno. You're good? I mean, I guess you're good, if you're watching movies with Dean."
"Yes," Castiel says. "Yes, I'm good. How are you, Claire?"
She looks around her. She had been watching some dumb teen drama on Hulu when the commercial popped up. Alex is across the room, on her bed, headphones on and eyes trained on whatever game she's dungeon-crawling her way through. Downstairs, Claire can hear Jody and Donna laughing together, if she listens hard enough. Across the hall, Patience and Kaia's room is quiet, which means those two nerds are probably reading some geek novel or lore book Sam sent them, or something. And Claire --
"Yeah, I'm okay," she says, softly, like she means it. "I was thinking of you, actually." It's a confession, an admission.
"Were you?"
"Well. About Jimmy. I--" Her breathing hitches and she thinks Castiel is holding his. "Could I tell you about him?" She doesn't know why she says it, hadn't meant to. But it's out there and she can't take it back. And it's stupid, because Castiel was possessing the bastard for, what, a year? More? He probably knows her dad better and in more ways than she ever could
But: "I'd like that, Claire. Very much."
So she settles down further into her bed and starts talking.
#blacked out and wrote this because i love my dad so much it hurts my head#chayya writes#spnclownpals#claire novak#dadstiel#castiel#spn fanfic
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