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sintiva · 10 months

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cw: eren has bad anxiety and anger issues, a little angst, penetrative sex, nipple play, grinding, cowgirl, lmk if i missed anything !

notes: the first request i’ve done in ages, i hope it’s not too long (it is), and it’s definitely written differently compared to other things, but do enjoy, (the ending was rushed shoot me )🫰🏽 feedback appreciated!

connie threw thee biggest and best parties known to man. they were always a vibe, and if you weren’t in attendance, you were missing everything that went on, on campus. hookups, new faces, more drama, and the best weed to float around campus. connie made sure everything was in order, and most important to him besides his friends, good drinks and pretty girls, was weed.

“yo, where’s eren at?” connie asked as he smoked on a roach. he was nearly out of weed, and his party had only just begun, and per usual eren was late as fuck. the roach burnt his fingers and lips, but he was desperate and he held on to what little he had left.

“probably out with some other bitch.” you snapped. connie chuckled and fixed his hand around your waist. you sat on his lap, and he fondled every inch of you. your thighs, your tits, your ass. he wouldn’t admit it, but connie springer, was fucking sprung when it came to you, and the one time you let him tap, he came… too quick.

his eyes were extremely low, he was faded, slowly treading the line of being cross faded, and you looked too damn good. “why’d you say it like that, ma?”

“hmmm, no reason. it’s just what i’m thinkin’, and we both know it’s the truth. that’s your friend ain’t it? ” you tick your tongue, and lower your gaze to the fiend who just won’t quit stroking your skin; hand skimming freely under your dress, fingers grazing so closely to your panties! down to your slit, thumb poking at it.

n-not out here.

he smirks and lowers the tempo; it was all just to make you squirm on his lap. he’s trying to hint at you — let you know that their is something lingering. your nips perk up and and like thin air, the topic of eren evaporated. just like that.

just that quickly, he was forgotten. so there you were in the back of this party, so close to being fingered on a couch as you straddled connie’s lap. so far in the back, so drunk. not even aware of how quickly you straddled connie’s thighs. how quicky he tossed the roach aside, focused on your dress, pulling the neck of it down, so he could sit up and suck on your tits in the back of the party.

“c-connie, someone — he might see us.”

connie heard he, and instantly didn’t give a fuck. he, was eren, who was somehow appearing as a fuzzy hue in the back of your mind.

“and? when’s that ever stopped us, mamas?” his lips found purchase in your skin. the sweetness, the butteriness; his lips tracking your skin made his dick leak ad throb in his sweats, and you practically straddled the tip of it anyway.

what started as innocent playing and kisses turned into you full on grinding on him in the back — his hands were cupping your ass, and he was carrying you back and fourth on his dick; through the cloth it was more than enough. you both knew were things were going, but neither of you wanted to stop, nor had the intentions to.

until… connie felt you levitate off the couch, his lap still cold, and loud arguing, waking him up from whatever delusions were running through his head. he blinked a couple of times, smacked his cheeks, shook his head to clear any and all thoughts that he just had of you. the weed and drinks have long settled in his system. he was totally unaware of the mini altercation that was occurring between you and…

“eren, what the fuck.”

“what the fuck my ass, you don’t see how he’s staring at you right now? he’s practically eye fucking you and you like that stupid shit?”

“first off, i don’t know who you’re yelling at like you’re someone’s father. second of all, you be out all day and when i text you, you don’t respond to nothing and now you pop up like a fucking lunatic. i don’t owe you anything eren.”

“you’re joking right?” you scoff, completely baffled.

“i will tell you time and time again, i don’t care how big you think you are, you will calm the fuck down when it comes to me.”

and there he goes. blunt in between his fingers, faded, eyes red and low. all black fit, hair down those silver rings <3. “i leave you alone for one da—“

“and that’s the problem, we had plans today and you forget about them.”

“y/n, i texted you three hours ago telling you that something popped up and we’d have to push it to tonight or tomorrow evening.”

“when?”

“at around 4 o’clock.”

your nails tapped at your phone screen, and the moment your palms tightened around your sage green bubble case, you were met with the same text you were sure you sent three hours earlier with nothing after. no confirmations or anything.

“not a single text, reaction, or call, and to make it worse, it was for our anniversary.”

it was eren who looked dumb now, coming to the party causing a scene, forcing yet another stupid, pointless fight. another headache, another upset you and you walked away before he could get a word in, but your got yours in.

“you want me to be your partner, i do everything to make sure we’re good — always — but you can never be a decent human.”

wait y/n… baby—“ he throws his arm out to reach you.

i don’t care anymore. do what you want that’s what you always do anyways.

“it was an honest mistake.”

fuck!

you fixed your dress and simply walked away. with a couple twitches you were gone as quickly as he pulled you in. time and time again, he proves to fuck everything up.

it would seem as though he had countless things on his mind, but you were always at the back of it. and when i say always, you were always the one putting in more effort it seemed.

he flicked his blunt out his fingers and stepped on it. the flame died under the tip of his shoe, and beneath it a black circle of ash. “my floor??” connie’s mouth stretched; his arms flew up in the air, “i don’t give a fuck, stay away from y/n and we won’t have an issue.”

“like i’m the problem? when you figure your shit out you’ll realize i’m not the problem.” connie stood up rolled his eyes and held his hand out. “you’re not getting shit from me.”

the thing eren hated the most was a lecture; how big or small didn’t matter. getting told about himself was a total bust, and fucking things up with you was a consequence he’d always have to face.

the next few weeks were dreadful. eren felt like and looked like shit, but businesses was business. he had customers, deliveries and a shit ton of other things that filled his schedule. internally, he was collapsing, it was all too much. he couldn’t think clearly and he was just working and smoking himself to exhaustion.

but his delivery after the party, after watching you disappear in the crowd, fell through the floor.

nothing could stop him, not armin, not looking at pictures of you. standing outside of your door hoping you’d come downstairs to hop into his car to accompany him for his deliveries. eren’s anger was bubbling over, and the prime suspect was nobody but himself.

he had planned to deliver to connie the day after his party, because you wrote it into his calendar. you had his entire day written out in the calendar, to pick you up, go find somewhere to eat so y’all could have brunch, then you’d take your rightful position as his passenger princess; he’d drive a little ways out the city to go and deliver to connie.

for starters he was late, he didn’t have the usual brunch and he was strongly irritable. he didn’t get to sleep with you, or wake up to you, and all that anger was being channeled towards the wrong person.

305-245-6755

come outside to get your shit.

another thing that eren didn’t do was communicate with his clients, because he knew he’d lose his cool with them. for some reason they would all hit on you in awkward ways, so eren just lets you text them on his behalf. you would always draft a mass message to send out, it’d be all cute, typed with courtesy and delivered like a real business. today there was none of that.

eren sat in his car, wasteland on repeat, arm flung over his eyes to curb his headache. then came tapping against his window, courtesy of connie.

“about fucking time.”

eren rolled his window down and flung a plastic baggy filled with a scarce looking zip being the contents.

“what is this?”

“what you asked for?” eren shrugged his shoulders, and put his seatbelt on. “don’t play eren, this looks like a half at most.”

“i’m surprised you know that much.” eren reached for a blunt out of his pocket and lit it. he blew the smoke right in connie’s face. “since you know so much, use that brain of yours to not piss me off right now.”

there relationship has always been rocky. eren still hasn’t gotten over the fact that you two were once a thing, and whenever he sees y’all together it irks his nerves real bad. even after you tell him time and time again, your feelings for connie are long gone, but his still linger and tug at his heart.

“if this is about y/n, you can grow up. whatever shit y’all got going on, ain’t got nothing to do with me.”

“i know you still like them, and it’s not up for debate. you can either stay away from ‘em or find out.”

even put out his blunt because for some reason it wasn’t working to calm his nerves. it was getting him hotter than when he arrived the longer the conversation persisted.

the more connie countered, it triggered fight instead of resisting. he reached for his door handle, seething and as soon as be was about to pull it open connie’s friend came outside to see what all the commotion was.

“what’s going on?”

nothing eren snapped, vexed that he was really letting connie of all people get up under him like that. of course, it pleased him knowing that he got under eren’s skin, but that was all he had on him.

he rarely spoke to you anymore, and when you too would interact; the exchange’s would be short, inauthentic, almost scripted like you were never really interested.

“i’m out. don’t ask me for shit else.”

connie turned to his friend and shook that baggie in his face, “he’s delusional.”

eren sped home, tapping his fingers against the wheel, biting his lip, things were dreadful without you like experiencing a tropical storm with no shelter. he was thinking of stopping by your place, just to see it, just to make sure your car was there, and maybe your blinds would he open and he’d see you laid up in bed. so he swung by, but only for a short while, and it’s like he expected. peace.

he finally drove back to his place, car boxed, and his head banging. just a nagging feeling of ‘i fucked up and i need to talk to somebody’. the person he resorted to was none other than his best friend, armin. he gave him the whole run down, he told him everything from what happened last night at the party to what happened today. eren articulate ld his feelings perfectly, and at the end of it all armin gave him a simple answer, “you two just need space, it could be for a day, five, two weeks, a month.”

“if the love is there things will fix itself, if trust is reciprocated you both will come back to the other. y’all are both just hard headed and constantly clash.”

that’s all he could say and it seemed like it helped. there was a hint of worry. considering the fact that you two may give the other space, waiting for the moment the other would reach out first made him anxious. he didn’t like to wait, he was impatient.

which lead to him cracking first. he showed up to your door, severely high, psyched out and sweaty. it was afternoon time and you had just woken up. it’d been two weeks and the reality was you missed your boyfriend so much so that you just slept your days away to ease the thoughts, until he started visiting you in your dreams.

the next day was awkward for eren. he thought about what armin told him and figured it was time to visit you. when he pulled up to your place it still carried that same aura.

to say the least. you woke up with tissues around your bed, 16 text, 20 missed calls and the faint sound of someone calling your name and knocking on your door.

just like how it was a couple weeks ago. you saw eren in your notifications, in your dreams and on your ring doorbell app. ‘go away’ you mumble into your phones microphone.

his face lights up and he walks up straight into the camera’s frame, “don’t be like that, baby.” it were his first words he’s heard from you in weeks— he needed i. that evil man can pout once and place those pretty eyes right into the camera and it feels like you were ovulating.

i know you miss me, cause i’ve missed you.

and he wants you to know that, so he sings it like a sweet ballad, when you decide to let him in, like always. a sweet hug, wet kisses on your cheeks two big bouquets of your favorite flowers (apology notes written within each, your favorite m&ms, and some sweet talking secured himself into your place.

‘you know i wouldn’t do anything intentional to you. it was an honest mistake, trust me… let me make it up to you.”

“i planned a trip… just for the both of us — we can go anywhere you want.”

he holds your face in his hands, and gives you the softest look he could muster. he brings your face closer, tilts his head to the side and just licks your your lips with the tip of his tongue till you open up.

“let me kiss you, princess, pleaseeee.” he whines.

you kiss him back gently as if he did no wrong. hands thrown over his shoulders, fingers running through his air. through the kiss you could feel the smirk teasing at his lips, cause the both of you knew arguments fail each time. they never hold weight, and eren was already paying back his debt.

he pulled away nearly out of breath and lips glossed from saliva. “i sent you money already did you get it? for some clothes to get your hair done, nails and a little extra for whatever you need to get.”

“i didn’t see it — cause i blocked you and i know you had armin call my phone on your behalf.”

while you spoke he held onto you so tight. his lips were soft and smooth from the chapstick that transferred from his lips to yours.

“i know,” he chuckled and settled his hands behind your back. “you’ve always been like that.”

“ i have, but you can send me a little more to get unblocked though, and for almost fighting connie; min told me.”

his cheeks grew red out of sheer embarrassment, he knew armin would talk, but he didn’t think it’d be to that extent.

“of course he did. he can never keep his mouth shut.”

“it’s your fault, you can’t blame anybody else and you know better.”

he sighed and took out his phone, went to your name in his messages (the first and only pinned :)) , clicked the apple pay button and sent you an extra 900 on top of the 1,500 he sent you.

he showed you, his phone screen illuminated against your face and you immediately brightened up some more, that smile, those lips, everything he loved to see.

“see — happy now?”

“yes, but you seem happier than me.” he is, his stomach is bubbling with anticipation. he’s been a nervous wreck for the past two weeks.

you feel him straining against your thigh, “and you smoked before you came here, you don’t do that a lot, were you nervous to see me?” he squeezes tighter.

“i-it calmed me down.” he cleared his throat and squished your thighs. it would have to work since he didn’t have anything else to squeeze.

you switch your seating, over to his left thigh, you stroke his head, his pants. familiarizing yourself with his outline, applying enough pressure to his tip to make his thigh jump. “why are you so nervous ‘ren?”

“cause you’ve been the only thing on my mind for the past two weeks, and now my body just feels like super stimulated or whatever shit it is that you talk about…” an innocent blush creeps up his cheeks.

“i’ve been seeing you in my dreams and shit, i thought i would die if didn’t see you sooner.”

it would take you forever to admit that he too was in your dreams, cause they weren’t the most innocent one’s.

“you can be a real sweetheart when you let things out, you know, and when you’re being honest.”

he rolled his eyes, and fondled your skin. “it’s only cause of you, i don’t want to lose someone that makes me so happy.”

here he was making it up to you, with gifts and pleasure: a cocktail that never failed.

his words only made him dreamier, “you’re forgiven, just don’t leave me wondering again.” you place a soft peck on his forehead and flash a smile.

those dreams and longing lights guided your lips together again. they made you strip down to to nothing. he needed to see every inch of you cause two weeks was torture. he craved to feel how warm you got when you were on top. the two of you were so pent up, all that bundled up energy was spewing everywhere.

leading to his fingers circling your clit. slow circles that made you grind against them for more. your legs were spread over his thighs. he looked in your eyes to let you know he meant every word that he breathed, and he meant every action acted upon.

the longer you two twiddled your thumbs, the more he teased, the harder it got to resist. “i know you want to.” he whispered.

you did. you really did. this whole time you could feel him poking at your ass. and you just needed to. you raised up off his lap and he made everything easier. you could feel all the stress leaving his body once you sunk down on him. every single inch throbbing the deeper he got.

“you want all of it?” he grabs your hips and gives you all of it. he bites his lip and winces.

“yesss,” you whisper in defeat, his plan worked he has you nipping at his lips. fingers stretching along your ass to get a nice, full grab, to hold onto you, to spread your cheeks so he can help you take every inch. “wait wait, let me do it.” you sigh into his mouth, twitching from feeling him in your guts. “too much?” he smiles and takes a nice hand-full of your ass and jiggles it.

“it’s enough for me.”

“cause you’re greedy.” you suck your teeth and giggle, “can you blame me?” he tilts his head; eyes roaming your face and body.

but he adjust his hands and lets you take control. your arms feel light around his neck, you take charge with slow bounces; it’s more of a grinding motion cause you just wanna cum, and feeling his hands roam all over your body encourages you on.

“ ‘rennn.” he’s infatuated. hands gliding all over you. playing with your tits, rolling your nipples in between his fingertips the hastier your pace becomes. “make yourself feel good.” he groans over and over then wraps his lips around your nipples and sucks. with every slurp around your chest he groans and tightens his grips on your hips. everything melts onto his tongue, your taste forever lasting. “oooh, erennn, ‘m gonna cum.” his head falls back as you squeeze him tight; your nipples and clit thumping from stimulation. the stimulation you get from your clit grazing against his stomach makes you desperately chase after your orgasm.

“me too.” he strains, his thighs dance around; head bobbing from side to side. being so pent up and high depleted his stamina.

you feel him throbbing harder in you as your grinding becomes more desperate and sloppy. he thrusts his hips up, your eyebrows knit and thighs tremble as you cum over and over on his dick, bringing him to his own, “good fucking pussy, baby.”

the steady rhythm of your ass clapping against his thighs felt like heaven. the constant squeezes to your ass boost your ego. his fingers sink into your ass cheeks to gain leverage to pound his self into you as your legs tremble from cumming.

after sex you two showered together, which led to more sex, and decided to watch a movie and order takeout. eren ended up falling asleep, so you decided to do his makeup and post it on twitter for your followers to see. the caption being, “ p***** his ass to sleep, now he calling my nyquil”, corny but it got the job done. that was a whole nother story when he woke up, but you decided you two were even, and the glam made him look even prettier.

#eren x black reader smut #eren x black reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader smut

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rishiguro · 1 year

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JJK ADULTS WHEN YOU‘RE SICK

a/n: totally not just because i‘m sick rn, i‘d never

warnings: pet names (idiot, baby, darling, love); ooc toji but idc i love him; one f-bomb

haikyuu version

FUSHIGURO TOJI: he’s kind of helpless but he swears he tries his best

toji‘s head rapidly turned towards you as he heard your slow steps. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he exclaimed, immediately dropping everything in his hand and rushing towards you. “ain’t no way, go back to bed, idiot” you were just about to say something, however he shushed you again. “i don’t wanna hear it, back under the covers” as the black haired man tucked you in, you couldn’t help but protest. “i’m sick, not incapacitated, toji” “same thing,” he shot back immediately, “now stay there and don’t do dumb shit, you need to get better.”

GETO SUGURU: can’t help but berate you in the process of taking care of you

“i just don’t understand why it’s so hard to wear a jacket,” geto muttered under his breath, mentally rolling his eyes, as he poured you a cup of tea. “seriously, what do you even have it for” “i can hear your thoughts from the bedroom!” you yelled, a small smile on your lips. he was always like this. shortly after geto entered the room, the corners of his mouth still upturned. “you can, can‘t you?” “mhhm,” you affirmed, gratefully accepting the hot cup that immediately warmed your cold hands. “well, maybe wear that jacket next time, don’t you think?”

GOJO SATORU: doesn’t leave you alone. at all. you barely have room to breathe

“get off me,” you huffed, weak arms pushing against his form. “nu-uh,” he sang, closing his arms around you and pressing your form against his body, “i gotta take care of my sick baby after all” you knew satoru well enough so you were aware that any further protests would be pointless. so you only sighed, shutting your eyes. “i don’t want you to get sick too,” you muttered in defeat. “me? i never get sick!”

NANAMI KENTO: how to take care of sick people 101

as your door opened, nanami poked his blonde head inside, quickly glancing over you before entering. in his hands he held a bowl, soft steam rising from it. “i brought you some soup,” he commented, carefully placing it on your nightstand. before you could even thank him, he already placed his hand on your forehead. “you still have a fever” you could only stare up at him with big eyes, body too exhausted to even answer to him. slowly he helped you to sit up, back leaning against the headboard. “come, you have to eat something. then you can go back to sleep, okay, darling?”

SHOKO IERI: would definitely fight your doctor over every diagnosis and prescribed medicine

“can’t we just get the prescription and be done with it?” you whined, shifting in the seat of the car while glancing at shoko. “your doctor is an idiot,” she only commented, rolling her eyes, “ain’t no way we’re getting that” “come on!” you protested weakly, “let’s just get it please, i really don’t have the energy to argue with you about this” after a couple of silent seconds, she sighed, hand reaching over to grad yours. “fine,” she said, pressing a soft kiss on your hand, eyes shifting to you. “whatever you need, love”

#₊❏❜ ⋮jujutsukaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons #jjk scenarios #toji x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #shoko x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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prentissluvr · 10 months

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feverish — joel miller

gn!reader, platonic!reader, fatherfigure!joel , sickfic , cw : mentions of fever & coughing, sickness in general, mostly unedited , wc : 1K , anon i hope you enjoy it !! <333

joel notices immediately when you begin lagging behind him and ellie. but you don’t say anything, so neither does he, just pausing occasionally to let you catch up.

in the end, it’s ellie who says something.

“hey, are you okay?” she asks you once you’re all settled by the fire. joel, whose attention seems to be solely on the meat he’s cooking, is peering at you subtly, listening intently for your reaction.

“i’m fine,” you wave off her concern, “just a little tired today, is all.” your answer’s not a complete lie, it’s true that you’re tired, but what you don’t tell them is the way you can feel the sickness starting to settle in your bones. really, it was yesterday you first started feeling it, but it hadn’t begun to slow you down until a few hours into hiking today.

“well then, we’d better get to sleep right after eating,” joel advises. “best get as much sleep as you can for tomorrow.”

you heed his advice, curling into your sleeping bag the moment you can in hopes that good enough rest will prevent you from truly falling ill. ellie talks for a few minutes the way she normally does before sleeping, but joel cuts her off earlier than normal tonight for your sake. with that reasoning, she actually listens to him and settles down to sleep herself.

—

your hopes of escaping sickness are unfairly stolen from you in the morning when you wake up with the sun, groggy and completely out of it. your nose is stuffy, throat sore, and limbs heavy when you rustle about in your covers. you just turn to your side and do your best to drift back into what turns out to be a quite restless sleep.

the next time you wake, it’s to ellie gently nudging your shoulder for you to get up as joel finishes cleaning up camp. you groan in protest, halfheartedly pushing her away.

“it’s almost time to go,” she says, “joel let you sleep in.”

you let out a huff of breath, wishing you could lay in bed all day before struggling to sit up. rubbing at your eyes, you take in the state of your tired, compromised body and decide it’s certainly best if you say nothing about it. no reason to make anyone worry or slow down your journey.

so you push past your discomfort, standing up and quickly packing up your bag. but your plans to cover up your sickness do not go as well as planned when you begin coughing and sniffling uncontrollably.

about the fourth time you lean against a tree to support yourself during a coughing bout, joel stops completely, handing you water and waiting until you’re done to speak.

“you’re gettin’ sick, kid,” he states, very aware that you’ve been quiet in order to prevent causing an inconvenience to him and ellie. you shake your head, so he continues. “you can let us know if you’re not feeling well, you know? that’s not something you can control. what d’ you say we make camp early and rest for the day?”

“no!” you exclaim, “no, that’s alright, i’m fine. i swear. i don’t even feel that sick, it just sounds like it,” you try to explain away the actual extent of your sickness.

he says your name, gentle and firm like the hand he places on your shoulder. “you look like you could fall over any second. i ain’t buying any of that, alright? you need to rest so that you don’t get more sick, you understand me?

you want to keep trying, to convince him and a watching ellie that you’re fine, but it seems you can never argue with that tone of voice he uses when he’s truly serious about something.

“fine,” you relent with a sigh, feeling half grateful, half guilty, and one hundred percent sick as you trek along until you find an appropriate campground.

joel orders you to lay down when you try and help set up, only asking you to move once a fire is going so that you can soak up it’s warmth. as you lay there, it seems as if all of your stubbornness is catching up to you, and you can’t resist it when your eyes drift closed despite the sun still being clear in the sky.

with a mind too groggy with sickness and sleep, you don’t process much even when you’re awake. ellie stays close by to your laying form, silently worried by the sickness that’s visible in your face and the coughs that wrack your body. she jumps up each time joel asks her to do anything, eager to help you rather than just sit by and do nothing. joel too is dedicated to caring for you, his soft palm feeling your forehead for signs of fever as you slip in and out of sleep. he does his best to create a broth from bones and freshly hunted meat throughout the hours that you sleep for you to eat when you wake.

when you squirm uncomfortably in your sleep with your brows furrowed, he does his best to calm your distress with gentle touches. past memories of caring for a sick child are clear in his head, both hurting his heart but helping him to help you the best he can.

you try to resist his help again once you wake, but the weakness in your limbs doesn’t let you get far, so your resolve crumbles far faster this time. he helps you drink and eat all while ellie does her best to cheer you up with corny jokes and over exaggerated retellings of things that have happened throughout your journey all together. it works well, her words resulting in your laughing so hard that you begin to cough and a non-threatening glare from joel in her direction.

but soon, you tire again, so joel insists you go back to sleep, just as twilight fades into total darkness. you don’t argue this time, nor at all the next day as he and ellie patiently nurse you back to health until you’re spry and well again.

#joel miller #joel miller x platonic!reader #platonic joel miller #father figure joel #joel miller tlou #tlou show #joel miller x gender neutral reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller comfort #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fluff #tlou joel #joel miller father figure #the last of us

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berberriescorner · 1 year

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Nobody's Gonna Know

(Part Two)

Characters: Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as himself x Black!reader (woc!reader), Michael B. Jordan as himself (appearance), and Kiana Ledé as “Jerrika” (appearance).

Summary: What happens when you realize what you’ve always wanted was right in front of your face the entire time?

Warnings: Profanity, daddy kink (you’re not surprised), smut, mentions of violence, drinking, and did I mention smut already😈?

Word Count: (Part Two) 4800+.

Inspired By:

The sound of his phone snapped Yahya out of the flashback. A smile crept across his face as he swiped to answer.

“Ain’t been gone but a minute. You missing daddy already, love?”

“You’re so annoying. I was calling to let you know I made it home safely.”

“Thank you, love. I wished you could’ve stayed one more night,” his tone was affectionate and sensual.

Yahya always made his words sound both rugged and soft with you. It was both erotic and sinfully sweet, causing butterflies to flutter inside you.

“You still there, mama?”

You cleared your throat, trying to hide that his voice was affecting you. Changing the subject, you continued, “There’s a kickback Friday. It’s at my sis’ house. You're coming, right?”

He smiled to himself, knowing he made you feel some type of way. In a raspy voice, he asked, “That depends. Are you staying the night afterward?”

“I’ll meet you at your house later in the night.”

“Why not just arrive and leave with me? Nobody’s going to suspect anything.”

“I would, but she invited Michael. He’s asked me to ride with him.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Are you mad? I can call back and make up an excuse.”

“That’s okay, love,” he answered in a curt tone.

“Doesn’t sound like it-.”

“I’m good. Listen, I got a few things to handle. I’ll hit you back later.”

Yahya ended the call, not giving you a chance to respond.

This shit ends Friday. I know just how to make him go ghost. I’m done playing games with this woman.

He scrolled through his contacts, tapping the name he was searching for. The phone trilled twice before he heard the familiar voice. Making small talk, Yahya waited for the perfect moment to put his plan in motion.

“Hey, Jerrika. How’s it going?

“Oh, yeah? That’s wassup. Listen, I was wondering. Do you have plans for Friday night?”

“Perfect. Be ready by eight. I want you to ride to this kickback with me.”

Yahya made more small talk, and she told him what she had been up to lately. As he listened, a twinge of guilt pulsed through his chest. His mind was riddled with second thoughts. Using her this way made him feel a bit guilty. He wanted to be truthful with Jerrika. Interrupting her mid-sentence, he explained his intentions for Friday night's kickback. To his surprise, she appreciated his honesty. Jerrika wasn’t shocked-they had known each other awhile. She had an inkling Yahya was attracted to his best friend. Not only was she aware of his feelings. Jerrika offered to help out in any way she could. Yahya spent a few more moments on the phone discussing the plan.

Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling, hands folded behind his head. Thoughts racing through his head, he contemplated whether his plan would help or hurt things. He cleared his mind and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep. Yahya’s phone dinged right as he started to nod off. Groaning, he snatched it from the nightstand. You had texted, “Not you hanging up on me mid-sentence. Goodnight to you too, mean ass.” Truthfully, he felt like a dick for abruptly ending the call. Also, for what he was about to pull Friday night. It felt like his only option that would give you the push needed. He quickly texted you back, “I’m sorry, mama. I promise to hit you first thing in the morning. Goodnight, love.”

Friday had come around much quicker than you anticipated. Your sis had hit you up early that morning. She begged for you to arrive several hours early to help set up. Being a helpful and dependable best friend, the request was granted. However, twenty minutes after your arrival, you started to regret it.

The two of you hadn’t seen each other for a while. You were greeted with a lecture about not making time for girl's night lately. According to the crew, you had been neglecting your homegirls and spending too much time with your sneaky link. Defending yourself, you brought up the numerous times they brushed you aside for their new flavor of the month. To which they did not argue and immediately forgave you.

Believing you were off the hook, your best friend put you on the spot again. She grinned at you mischievously, “We cracked the case, sis.”

With a confused expression, you responded, “What the hell are you going on about?”

“Bitch, don’t play stupid.”

“I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about, sis.”

“We figured out who sneaky link is,” she smirked at you. “It’s about time you two dumbasses got together.”

You started to deny it, “What are you talking about-.”

“We know you and Yahya have been fucking around. Which one of your horny asses gave in first?”

You busied yourself with setting up the bar as you ignored her question. Snatching the liquor bottles and setting them down, your best friend crossed her arms, waiting for you to confess. Her foot tapped against the floor as the rest of your friends cocked their heads to the side. Rolling your eyes at the group of nosey ass women, you asked, “What makes you all think it’s Yahya?”

Each woman smirked at you until your best friend piped up, “If you're going to keep it low-key, don’t make a sound in your sexcapades while recording. Also, make sure your friends don’t know or follow him on social media.”

Fucking Yahya and his pornographic IG story.

“Oh, it wasn’t just his mini-sex vid. I kick it with his homie. That little pic you posted? Yahya canceled plans with them that night. Naturally, he came to dick me down when plans fell through. I mentioned the pic, and we put two and two together.”

“Whatever, nosey ass Heffa. It’s not even that deep. We fuck around occasionally,” you snarked, rolling your neck.

“On occasion, my ass. You’ve been getting dicked down on the regular. None of us make it a habit to sleep with multiple people. Therefore that is a consistent dick down, and you know it.”

“Who else knows about us?”

“Pretty much anyone who knows what you sound like when you moan. Given that we were all roommates at one time, we, unfortunately, know what that shit sounds like. Your ass never could keep it down. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with us,” she smirked.

“You bitches get on my nerves. I’m going home to finish getting ready.”

“Don’t leave mad, best friend! We’re honestly happy you two came to your senses. Finally locked his fine ass down.”

“One, I’m not mad. Two, he’s not my man. We fuck. That’s it.”

Your friends gave each other a knowing look, irritating you further. You snatched your keys from the Louis Vuitton handbag. “I gotta go for real. I need to be ready by the time Michael picks me up.” A multitude of gasps sounded in the room. Rolling your eyes, you braced yourself for more unwanted opinions.

“Does Yah’ know you’re rolling with Mike tonight?”

“Yes,” you answered exhaustedly.

“And he’s okay with that?”

“What part of that’s not my man do you all not understand? Besides, Michael and I are just friends. Yahya knows that. He doesn’t believe it, but that’s not my problem.”

Is that a little petty? Maybe, but I don’t want Michael, honestly. We’re just friends. If he expects more, he’s in for a rude awakening. It’s not like Yah’s not out here, entertaining bitches. I’m not falling for the bullshit with any more men. Best friend or not, men lie all the time…okay maybe that’s not fair. I need to work on trusting men again. On second thought, no, fuck that shit. Single is the best way to be. No games. No lies. No cheating. No heartbreak. I just need that superb dick and toe-curling head.

The sound of fingers snapping in your face pulled you from your thoughts.

“You not even listening to us. Girl, stop lying to yourself and give that man a chance. Yahya’s not like your past relationships. He cares for you.”

“It always starts that way. I’m good with being what we are.”

Before she could continue to chastise you for being scared, you dipped out.

The evening was already turning sour. Sitting on your best friend's couch, you watched as Michael made small talk with a mutual friend. His eyes scanned the room, landing on you as he bit his lip, giving you a seductive smile. One of your girls nudged you, “ I saw that face you made when he looked away. Are you two into it? Or are you still mad that we got all in your business earlier?

“I’m fine,” you lied.

She looked at you, not believing a word you said. It wasn’t just the man that had accompanied you to the party. Though that was where most of your frustration came from, you were also irritated that Yahya hadn’t shown up yet. His text throughout the week had been short and sweet. You were starting to feel like he was avoiding you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you? Or am I going to have to force it out of you?”

Sighing loudly, you started, “While I didn’t appreciate being interrogated earlier, that isn’t my issue.”

“Bitch! Just tell me why you have a stank-ass attitude,” she teased.

“I would if your rude ass would stop interrupting me,” you shot back. “I think I pissed Yah’ off. We had a conversation Sunday night. I mentioned the kickback, and he offered to come and leave together. He started acting weird when I told him Michael had already asked me to ride with him. I don’t understand why he’s angry. I told Yahya we’re just friends. That I’d slide through afterward.”

“Your green ass. It doesn’t matter what you say. Though you’re not interested, I’m sure Yah’ knows Mike wants to knock you down…real bad.”

“Trust me, that’s abundantly clear now. Michael’s not getting one ounce of this pussy. He’s about to find that shit out real quick. This ninja kept trying to rub my thighs on the ride over here. I had to cross my damn legs just to get him off me.”

Just as your friend was about to respond, she gasped. You nearly caught whiplash, turning to stare in the same direction.

“What’s wrong with your dramatic ass-.”

Glancing toward the entrance, you saw the person you’d been searching for all evening. The fact that he wasn’t alone sent a tiny sliver of jealousy through your body. Shaking it off, you rationalize internally, “Chill, sis. That’s not your man. That could be just a friend.” It did very little to tamp down the mild bout of jealousy.

You will not be petty and use Mike to make him angry. That thought was stomped out as his guest turned, and you got a look at who she was. This is why I’m single. Friend my ass. You chuckled bitterly as Yahya and his company made their way over to you. Are they holding hands? Oh, okay. Bet it the fuck up! Don’t give him a reaction. They’re all the same. Fine ass. Lyin’ ass ninja. Yahya greeted you and your friend as you gave him an expressionless stare. Introductions were short and sweet, excusing yourself after. Though he had irritated you, Michael called you over at the right time. You could feel Yahya’s eyes boring into your back as you crossed the room.

Being bold and not taking the hint from earlier, he slipped his arm around your waist, tugging you closer. As he attempted to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, you made eye contact with Yahya. You watched as his jaw ticked, and he draped his arm around Jerrika, pulling her closer to his side. Her hand slid down from his chest and rested on the abs you had traced with your tongue just last weekend. Yahya watched as your eyes narrowed at the gesture and smirked at you. His face fell as he watched Michael kiss your cheek. The look of disappointment was enough for you to step away from Michael. “I have to go check on the bar, be right back.” It was enough to keep him from questioning why you removed yourself from him.

Quickly glancing over the bar, you made a beeline for the kitchen. All you wanted was time to pull it together and gather your thoughts. Yahya, however, had other plans. He stood at the kitchen entrance, fixing you with an angry stare. Crossing your arms, you returned his glare.

“What,” you spat, rolling your eyes.

Yahya’s head leaned back, “You and your boyfriend looking real cozy out there.”

You laughed bitterly, “Says the one that’s here with the woman that he claims he’s no longer fucking. Is that not what you told me last weekend, friend? The audacity to have the very bitch you say you don’t want all in my face.”

“I didn’t lie. I’m no longer sleeping with her. You came with a friend. I figured I could bring one as well.”

“Difference is I haven’t had sexual relations with my friend. Can you say the same,” you questioned.

“Whatever, man. You’re tripping.”

“Be honest with me, Yah’. Are you still sleeping with Jerrika?”

“I just watched that thirsty ass dude damn near suck on your neck, and you’re seriously sitting here questioning my loyalty? You keep accusing me of shit. It’s making me wonder if that’s due to a guilty conscience. Why trip? We’re not together, remember?”

“That’s what this about? A fucking title? How many times do I have to say it, Yahya? I don’t fucking want-.”

Your sentence came to a halt as Jerrika stepped into the kitchen.

“Pardon me for interrupting, but could you show me where the bathroom is?”

Feeling slightly guilty for stealing Yahya’s attention, you offered, “This my sis’ house. I’ll show you.”

Jerrika winked at Yahya and turned to follow you out of the kitchen. That looks like a disaster waiting to happen. He wondered if it was wise to leave you and his date unattended. Just as he was about to go and check on the two of you, Michael entered the room.

“Ay, bro. Where’s your sis at,” he asked, referring to you.

Through clenched teeth, Yahya answered, “More like a best friend. I know things about her that siblings wouldn’t share,” he smirked at the expression on Michael’s face. “She’s showing Jerrika where the bathroom is. They’ll be back shortly.”

“You make a good point. Maybe you could give me some advice on her. Maybe put in a good word for me?”

The look that crossed Michael’s face made Yahya feel uneasy. Stepping closer, he lowered his voice, not wanting anyone to hear.

“You saw that picture she posted of whoever it was between her thighs?”

Yahya chuckled knowingly, “Oh yeah. I saw that post. She seemed to enjoy herself that night,” he smiled at Michael’s cluelessness.

“That’s what I’m saying. You’re her best friend. Put me on, bro. I’m trying to take her thick ass down.”

“She posted up with another dude, and you’re still trying to slide? I don’t think she gets down like that.”

“If I manage to steal his shortie, that’s his problem,” Michael boasted.

“So you think my friend bounces from dude to dude? Watch your mouth, little nigga. You don’t know her like that to be making assumptions,” Yahya barked, approaching Michael aggressively.

“Chill, bro. No disrespect-.”

You and Jerrika had entered the kitchen as things had started to get heated between Michael and Yahya. Trading a knowing glance with your best friend's date, the both of you got in between the two of them.

“What’s going on? Calm down,” you soothed Yahya as you unknowingly rubbed his arm. Jerrika tugged Michael backward as well. Not wanting to ruin your evening, Yahya lied, “We’re just having a debate about sports. You know how passionate I can get, love.”

He didn’t want to spend another minute in Michael’s presence. Turning to Jerrika, Yahya placed a hand on her back.

“Let’s go get you that drink you asked for earlier.”

As they walked past Michael, he leaned in, mumbling something.

“Good luck trying to fill her man’s shoes. Bro pretty much got her locked down. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

You watched as he guided her to the bar, hand placed above her ass. There goes that damn jealousy. Get it together, bitch. It’s just a sneaky link. Michael interrupted your thoughts yet again. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s rejoin the party.” His hand cupped your side as he guided you toward the music. The song changed, and Michael wrapped his arms around your waist.

“This my shit,” he groaned in your ear.

He pulled you closer, singing the words against your neck. The irritation for this man grew stronger with every unwanted advance he gave.

His thirsty ass is getting on my damn nerves. I’m deleting this man from everything as soon as I get to Yah’s. If I’m even still invited. That’s right. I still want the dick. Thirsty hoes be damned.

Michael's hand groped your thighs as he pressed up against you. You started to push his hands away and check him but felt fingers wrap around your wrist. With one strong tug, your steps fumbled behind a very pissed-off Yahya. Your mind hadn’t fully finished processing what was happening. It wasn’t until after he yanked you into a guest bathroom, closing and locking the door, that you started to catch on. Yahya pressed you against the door as his hand circled your throat. Wild eyes bore into yours as his chest heaved. He took a few moments to inhale and exhale.

“I don’t give a fuck what we are. He’s done touching you from this point on,” he said in a low and gravelly voice.

“Yah-.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. Whatever the fuck you two got going on. It’s done.”

“Last I checked, you’re not my father, and I barely listen to him anyway. Worry about what the hell you got going on with Jamaica.”

“You know that’s not her name,” he smirked.

“Whatever that hoe’s name is. Worry about what she got going on. Not me.”

“Your stubborn ass. You know damn well I brought that girl just to piss you off. It’s clear that it worked.”

“I’m not the one that got jealous and snatched you up like a rag doll.”

“Fine. I have no issue admitting I’m jealous. I want you, mama. All to myself.”

“You have me, Yah’. I told you I don’t want him, and I’m not sleeping with anyone else.”

“Let me be clear. I want you, all of you. Give me a chance, mama. I’m not all those other men that fumbled your pretty ass. Tell me that’s not what you want. Look me in my eyes and say it.”

“What’s wrong with the way things are?”

“What the fuck are you scared of? You can’t honestly sit there and tell me you don’t want the same. If that’s the case, you wouldn’t be salty over Jerrika.”

Yahya was right, but you kept letting your fear of another heartbreak cloud your judgment. You attempted to deflect.

“We’re being rude to our guests. Let’s go back to the party and finish this discussion later.”

“No, that shit’s out the window. You’re not going back out there so he can feel all on you. I told him you were dealing with someone. I even wished him good luck at trying to steal you for himself. It looks like I have to let him know what the fuck is up.”

“What does that even mean-.”

His hand circled your neck again. Pushing you back against the door, Yahya’s mouth clashed with yours hungrily. There was no sense in fighting it. Your body had been yearning for his attention all night. You felt him bend forward into the kiss, his hands reaching to hoist you up. Thick thighs locked around his waist as he ground against you. The back of your head fell against the door whimpering as Yahya’s lips trailed from your neck to the top of your breast. His tongue made contact with your skin, teeth nipping at the exposed flesh.

He groaned against your soft skin, “You wear this sexy little dress for me? Or your boyfriend?”

“Fuck you, Yah’,” you moaned.

“Oh, I plan to, baby.”

Yahya continued to lick and suck at the tops of your breast as his free hand snaked underneath the hem of your dress. A guttural groan vibrated against the bathroom walls as he felt your bare, wet, silky flesh.

“You’ve been hanging around with that dumbass with no fucking panties on,” he growled.

“Yes, but I didn’t do this for him. At the last minute, I made up my mind that I wanted to leave with you. I did this for you, baby.”

“That’s what the fuck I thought.”

The most erotic moan fell from your lips as two fingers dove into your slick heat. You started to ride his fingers, crying out, “Yes! Baby.”

Yahya sucked, nibbled, and groaned against your throat. “That’s it, mama. Let them hear you. I know you can be louder than that.”

His fingers sped up, scissoring in and out of your dripping folds. The feeling became too much as your core started to tighten. He could feel your muscles squeezing around his digits.

“That’s it, love. Let go. Come all over Daddy’s fingers.” He pushed deep enough, tapping your spot.

“Oh, f-fuck. Yahya!”

Still pumping his long digits slowly, he watched you ride out your high. He whispered sweet praise into your ear, “That’s a good girl. You did good, baby.”

Slowly sliding his fingers from inside you, he licked his fingers clean. You watched in awe as your tongue slid across your bottom lip. He smirked, knowing your freaky ass wanted a taste. Cupping your chin, Yahya pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. Your tongues wrestled for control as your hands undid his belt. Yahya pulled back, smiling, “Here?”

“I can’t wait until we get home. I want you now.”

He watched you unbutton and unzip his jeans, using both hands to push his pants and underwear down. Yahya scrunched your dress around your waist as he lined up with your entrance. He slid the tip in, pausing afterward. Your eyes narrowed, “stop fucking teasing me.”

“I’ll give you this dick now, but you better not hold back. Your better scream my fucking name like you do when we’re alone. Let that little bitch out there know who owns this pussy.”

You gave him a frantic nod thrusting your hips, trying to slide lower onto his throbbing member. A whine echoed as he slapped your thigh, “I’m running this shit, brat.” Your mouth opened to respond sarcastically, but Yahya slammed inside you, leaving you breathless.

“Thought that would shut your ass up,” he growled.

Yahya thrust deeper and deeper, causing your eyes to roll back. He angled you to where his pulsing rod tapped against that special little sponge. Your heels dug against him, and your nails scratched at his back. You skyrocketed toward a release, crying out his name repetitively.

“Yahya, yes! Yahya, please! Daddy,” you screamed, shaking violently.

He slowed his strokes long enough to bring you back down again. Pushing at his shoulder, you signaled that you wanted down. Yahya assumed you couldn’t take anymore and placed you on your feet. He held onto your waist to help you regain composure. Once you were stable, he reached for his zipper, but you stopped him.

“Wait, baby.”

Yahya looked puzzled. That was until your hands pressed into his chest, shoving him against the door. Dropping to your knees, he started to understand what you meant. Your glossy lips brushed against the tip of his thick member. His breath hitched as you licked around it. Your hands rested on his thighs as you took every inch down your throat.

Yahya’s groan reverberated throughout the room, “Got damn. Fuck, just like that, mama.” You hummed around his dick, forcing another growl from him. No longer able to control himself, Yahya gave in to his animalistic needs. His hands dug into your hair as Yahya pistoned against the back of your throat. The more you gagged around him, the closer he came to a release. One hand trailed from his thigh down to cup his balls. Massaging them, Yahya fucked your throat faster.

“Fuck, mama. I’m about to bust.”

Knowing how to send him over the edge, you hummed around his length. His hips stuttered a few times as he called out your name, sending his release down your throat. He plucked you from the floor, shoving his tongue into your mouth.

“Get dressed. I’m taking your fine ass home,” he demanded, smacking your behind.

Thankful for your richly melanated skin, you could hide a blush as the two of you rejoined the group. It was evident that everyone had heard the two of you. Your friends looked at you with knowing looks. Even Jerrika was smirking at the pair of you. The only person who seemed to be bothered was, of course, Michael. Not knowing what to say, Yahya stepped in, announcing your goodbyes. He dragged you toward a smiling Jerrika.

“I’m good, Yahya. I can catch a ride with someone or Uber. You wore that poor woman out in a packed party. Take your lady home.”

“Wait, you know about us,” you questioned his date.

“Sorry boo, I was in on this whole, make her jealous scheme,” she giggled.

“I should be mad at you two, but it did give me the push I needed. I guess he’s my man now, or whatever.”

“Took your ass long enough.”

“Not too much on me. I got trust issues. You know that.”

Yahya pulled you into his side as you made your exit. Unable to help himself, he made a stop on the way out.

“Alright now, be easy, bro. Don’t worry about driving her home tonight. Daddy got her,” he smiled cockily at the pissed look on Michael’s face.

“Don’t be upset, bro. I told you, baby girl had a man.”

“That’s cool. I’m not really into hoes anyway.”

The room went eerily silent. You tugged at Yahya’s hand, begging him to ignore him.

“He’s just trying to get a rise out of you, Yah’. Just come with me, please. He’s not worth it.”

You had almost convinced him to turn the other cheek, but Michael added fuel to the fire.

“That’s right. Listen to your loose ass bitch.”

Acting quickly, you stepped between the two men.

“I got this, Yahya.”

He was aware that you were a little spitfire. Curiosity got the best of him, so he obliged, stepping back to let you handle your shit like a grown-ass woman. Spinning on your heels, you tilted your head back to look Michael in the eyes.

“You thought you ate with that, huh?”

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders. Proud of calling a woman out her name not once but twice. Stepping closer, your voice filled with venom.

“Stop pretending in front of all these folks, Mike. I was never giving a weak-ass man such as yourself a chance. I don’t know why your pride is so hurt. I’ve told you several times that this wasn’t going beyond friendship. What? You send me dick pics, and you think I’m trying to take that shit for a ride? What good is all that penis if you don’t know how to work it? That’s right, boo. The ladies have been talking. The word around town is your stroke game’s weak as fuck. I wouldn’t even let you get a lick, let alone fuck you.”

He sat there embarrassed and stunned by what you revealed to the room. Trying to save face, he made one last attempt to bring you down.

“Nobody checking for that fat ass bitch anyway.”

His hand slipped from your grasp before you could stop him. Yahya stomped over to Michael, sending one hard blow to his face. With just one punch, he knocked him out cold. Making his way back to you, Yahya grabbed your hand, kissing it.

“It had to happen, mama. My mouth will make it up to you when we get home," he pecked your lips, tugging you out the door, to his vehicle.

Yahya leaned in, breath fanning against your neck. His hand reached across your lap, clasping you into the seatbelt. Yahya playfully bit your jaw, grazing your breast as he pulled away. As he started to close your door, he rasped, "You might want to take a nap on the way home. I'm about to have you wrapped around me all night. In more ways than one."

I honestly don't know where all this came from. My imagination just ran with it and made a movie😂. Hopefully, you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it💕. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. Enjoy the rest of your day, lovelies!

Gif Credit: @abdulmateens, thanks again for allowing me to use it for my mood board💗.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics.

Tagging a few lovelies:

@sheabuttahwrites , @moebuttta , @darqchilddaydreamz

@alertyoulikeitsamber , @astoldbychae , @miyuhpapayuh

@sunshine-flower , @nightlywords7 , @4everbrookemarie

@delta7of96 , @novaniskye , @1andonlytashae

@shaolyninferno , @mcdesij , @willadean

@partygetsmewetter-x , @blackerthings , @peachbuttetfly

@theraieinfluence , @honestpreference , @queeniekiy

@tashawar , @skyesthebomb , @captainwithoutmakingitlove

#berberriescorner #nobody's gonna know #part two #daddy yahya #yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction #yahya abdul mateen ii x black!reader #yahya abdul mateen ii x reader #black writer #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #yahya fanfiction #yahya fic #yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfic #yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfiction #spotify

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mordaciousmurderer · 7 months

Text

I Hate Everything About You

John ‘Soap’ Mactavish x Valeria Garza

18+ MINORS DNI NSFW

A/n: I’ve always had a little bug in my brain that needed Soap and Valeria to hate fuck… So they do. This takes place before the Dark water mission, when she’s in the random container. As always, asks are open.

Cw/ smut, hate fucking, p in v sex, hair pulling, lowkey rough, lowkey exhibitionism??(graves checks up on comms), valeria speaks spanish (no translation bc it’s rlly basic), swearing, arguing, not proofread, lmk if i miss anything

“Deal. Until then, you’re stayin’ right here.” Graves gives Valeria an intense look, one that would chill any normal individual to their core. Valeria had a certain disposition that was damn near impossible to rattle. Graves got that hint as he watched Alejandro blow up on her just moments prior.

“Soap,” Graves begins, causing Johnny to quickly turn his head to look at the blond soldier. “Watch her. We’re gonna make sure she’s not pullin’ our dicks.”

Soap nods. “Copy. I’ll make my way over as soon as you give me the ok.” He replies and fist bumps Graves who leads Ghost, Rudy, and Alejandro out. Soap can’t help but notice as Ghost gives him a fleeting glance, one that made him unsettled. It was a warning; don’t fall for Valeria’s subterfuge. Before he could further debate the meaning behind Ghost’s novella-like eyes, the door to the container slammed shut.

“Aye cariño looks like it’s just the two of us.” Valeria smirks, both her arms and legs crossed from where she sat in the chair.

“Shut your mouth.” He barks out while pivoting to face her, watching her like a hawk. There was not an ounce of trust, an ounce of care, just nothing but pure hatred. Valeria chuckles and shakes her head.

“Cool it pendejo! You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you at the penthouse. Should be thankful.” She responds hastily before dropping her tone to a low growl “Te perdoné la vida.” Part of her wanted to strangle Soap right on the spot, but another part of her felt the need to keep poking at him. She wanted to watch the way the blood rushed to his ears when he lost the upper hand. She wanted him to fluster up and lose an argument. She didn’t know why.

Soap didn’t even bother to reply despite the anger welling up in him. It was unusual to say the least, as he’s encountered his fair share of frustrating people. Whatever unique characteristic she exclusively possessed irked him in an unfamiliar way. “Ya know ya ain’t gonna get out of this. You’re gonna pay for what you’ve done.” He couldn’t help but snap at her, taking a few steps closer.

“I have all of Las Almas on my side. How do you think people will react when El Sin Nombre vanishes out of thin air?” She scoffs and uncrosses her arms which came to lay on her lower thighs to support her weight as she leaned closer.

“They’re gonna have to learn to live without you.” Soap grips the straps of his tactical vest so tight that his knuckles fade white.

“You don’t have any proof.”

“We’ll find proof.”

“Sure. Soy imposible de rastrear. Not a damn sliver of usable evidence on this continent.”

“I’m not arguing with a drug lord. You have NO interest in the greater good.” Soap took yet another step closer to her. He was falling for the bait; she had no interest in arguing with him. She just wanted him vulnerable.

“Don’t tell me about greater good your kills are no less evil than mine.” She retorts, raising an eyebrow.

She yelps when callused hands come to cup either side of her jaw, forcing her up to her feet to stand mere inches apart from Soap. Piercing blue eyes stare daggers into her own. “You best shut your pretty little mouth…” He growls, his grip never faltering. Her arms extended behind her, the sudden contact frazzled her but she made sure to camouflage any shock.

“Or what?” She responds cooly, suddenly vividly aware of the tension that thickened the air like cornstarch in water. Not the hatred, but something different. Something animalistic that she pieced together after a few moments of thought. Raw attraction. And it was strong. “You gonna shut me up yourself?” her words were lined with lust.

Her eyes flickered to Soap’s furrowed brows then his lips as he wet them. “I have half a mind to do just that.” His tone shifted ever so slightly as he felt the urge to take her right then and there well up in his stomach. He looked at her eyes which screamed the same idea that he had. “Fuck it.” He utters before pulling her in aggressively.

It only took half a second for Valeria to begin kissing him back with the same desperation, hands trailing around and up his neck to latch onto a fistful of his mohawk. Their tongues wrestled, leaving no room for passion in their kiss. Just messy hatred fueling any and all attraction. Their shoes scuffled beneath them as he pushed her back towards the wall of the container they occupied. “You run your mouth too much-“ He mumbles against her lips which prompts her to yank his hair, his head tilting back with a guttural groan.

“Just shut up and fuck me.” She exhales shakily, squeezing her thighs together to alleviate the pulsing heat she felt emanating from her core. She reached down to undo the buckle on his belt before she was interrupted by him grabbing either side of her waist and turning her around to face the wall. Her eyes widened slightly as she realized what he wanted. The two of them wasted no time. Soap pulled himself out from his pants and underwear, stroking his half hard cock. His sex driven brain watched as she pulled her pants along with her panties down to her mid thighs, revealing her glistening cunt.

“Fuck.” He sighs, the sight of the enemy he’s grown to despise exposed like this worked him up like nothing else. The blood rushed to his cock at a furious rate when she pressed her hands up against the wall, leaving her bent over and ready for him. He takes ahold of himself and slides the tip up and down her warm folds, smirking when he passes over her clit and she whines out. He repeated the motion a few more times before her hips jerked back.

“Stop teasing me already!” She hisses at him, her pupils blown and face flushed. He didn’t dare to disobey her especially when she looked so pathetic like this.

“Somebody’s impatient. Can’t wait to get fucked by the man who busted ya huh?” He mocks her before pushing himself inside her, both of them moaning out simultaneously. She bit her lip at the satisfying stretch. He didn’t even bother to bottom out before setting a brutal and rage-fueled pace. Valeria wailed out, her hand meeting his as he wrapped one around the back of her neck. Each thrust left her knees feeling increasingly weak. Her mind could only melt to focus on his cock pressing against her walls and his hand gripping the back of her neck.

“I’m not a soldier. I don’t, fuck-“ Her head drops between her shoulders, his thrusts creating such an unbearably good feeling that begged for her juices to spill down his length. She wanted so desperately to be in control but his dick kept hitting her in all the right spots. It was damn near imposible to focus when her cunt was spasming around him.

Soap’s hand slides down her back to grasp at her hips and the pads of his fingers pressed so tight to her flush and warm skin that it would definitely leave bruises. “Little slut can’t even finish her sentence.” He grunts, hips rolling even deeper into her. Valeria can only mewl as the head of his cock creeps at her cervix, sending a foreign yet pleasurable ache throughout her core.

John looked down to watch his length disappear inside her fluttering pussy. He wet his lips after seeing the white ring of her essence circling the base of his cock. He adjusted his pace, speeding up slightly to be met with frantic moans and whimpers from Valeria. “Oh god- oh my god.” She breathes heavily, the familiar feeling of an orgasm building rapidly. “Just like that don’t you dare stop-“ She growls out, pushing some hair out of her face.

Soap’s brows unintentionally furrow and his pace halts for a quick moment as he grabs a fistful of her hair. She looked back at him momentarily. He fucked her like he had done it hundreds of times before, holding her the way she wanted and ramming into her in a way that had her thighs trembling. “I’m gonna-“ She begins and he bends over her to get slightly closer to her. “Go ahead. Come on my cock bonnie.” He grumbles, continuing his ruthless pace.

“Shadow-1 to Bravo 7-1 do you copy?” Grave’s slight southern drawl blares into Johnny’s ears. His eyes widen and he pauses, prompting Valeria to look back at him with confused eyes.

“Not a sound. Graves is on comms. Any noise and you don’t get to finish.” He grumbles before reaching up to press the button on his comms system. “Yes sir. Intel good?” He asks and then continues rutting into Valeria. She bit down on her tongue, trying not to let any sound escape her mouth. It felt too good.

“She didn’t lie. Coordinates obtained through interrogation confirm an oil rig 300 nautical miles offshore in the Gulf of Mexico.” The leader of the Shadows reported, unaware of what Soap was currently up to. “Vargas, Shadow company, and the rest of you guys will infill three boat teams.”

Valeria whined ever so slightly right as Soap raised his hand to respond, leading him to wrap his hand over her mouth to shut her up. Her breathing climaxed as she came to her peak, her walls clenching down on him as she came undone. Knowing Graves could hear everything at any moment amplified the feeling, letting her brain go blank. “Copy that. I will meet you back at base.” Soap forced out, the pressure of her around him making it hard to not moan right into the microphone.

“Copy. Shadow-1 out.” Graves concludes and Soap lets go of the button and allows Valeria to ride out her high, his orgasm approaching not long after. He holds her up as he watches her knees buckle slightly. The warmth of his cum shoots deep into Valeria with a loud groan and her face screws up with pleasure as she feels him fill her up to the brim.

The two of them stayed there panting for maybe a minute or two before he pulled out and watched as the white liquid pooled out of her. He situated himself back into his pants, cleaning up and wiping the sweat from his forehead. “It’s a shame you’re a drug lord.. would have loved to do this again.” Soap says cockily. He had the upper hand now, that’s for sure.

“Cállate la boca pendejo.” She responds, pulling up her pants as she shuffles to sit down in the chair that sat in the center of the container. “Go save your fucking misiles.” She waves him off, crossing her arms again. She put on her best ‘fuck you face’ and was royally pissed when he just smiled at her. His dumb grin was the last thing she was before he exited the container, off to who knows where.

When the door shut behind him she sighed, staring down at the ground. That was good. Too good.

Masterlist

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod #mw2 #modern warfare ii #john soap mactavish #john ‘soap’ mactavish #john mactavish #modern warfare 2 #soap x valeria #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria mw2 #valeria x soap #cod smut #mw2 smut

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leechjuice · 2 months

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i was passed an open tag from @cruelflesh cause she knows i love these little games, and in honour of finishing up the first draft of my religious literary thriller, THE MAGNOLIA CLUB, i thought it a perfect time to share some with all of you.

⇢ my words are rust, ember, damp, breath & teeth

♰ " RUST " ♰ — THE MAGNOLIA CLUB, CHAPTER 21

Waylon idled below, framed inside the porthole window like an octopus swept through a current, dressed in his best whites, held together solely by a string of other people’s graciousness. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows but nothing saved them from the reddening soil—his fingertips were stained with it, his cuffs a keen shade of tetanus rust. He’d been in the garden since Mrs. Gaskill and her two middle-aged daughters finished setting out refreshments, long enough for the frankincense to burn clean out, well past when the hinge cover on the casket had been gently, quietly shut. She was out there now, a reflective floral entity on the beige lawn, pressing him to come inside. He did—only after driving the rest of a bruised belladonna tangle into a plastic garbage back and smoothing back the wilting hair from his lightless eyes.

♰ " EMBER " ♰ — THE MAGNOLIA CLUB, CHAPTER 9

“Easy,” warned Arthur, a cooling ember. “We’re not callin’ anyone.” Edith straightened from Midge’s side, taking a lengthy assessment of each of them where they stood; mismatched chess pieces on a muddy board. She tossed a sweeping hand towards the road, a dense wall of smoggy breath rising from her tense lips. “We’re goin’ on a ride. So’s she.” “Now?” Jeri intercut, her fear reeling her closer, trembling in the cold dark. “All the way out to that ol' highway? At this hour?" “Please,” Edith begged, “spell it out for all us morons.” The blonde took towards the parking lot and left Midge at Arthur's mercy, and he came quickly to her aid in a terribly familiar, jacket-donning way that made her fear for the imminent end, certain that the Lord would strip them each away from her before she was ever ready. “If you’re right, an' some fella's layin' out there on the road, havin' done this to her—then I wanna make sure the cunt’s good an’ dead.”

♰ " DAMP " ♰ — THE MAGNOLIA CLUB, CHAPTER 17

The incomparable black of Ruby's backwoods midnight made a joke of her; the tangles of bony, low-hanging willow and marshy soil didn’t help. She'd never have the time or awareness to duck if a branch swung at her; staggering the suffocating blindness, tramping like panicked hunting dogs through damp carpets of kudzu, all that came to Midge were spatters of static colour, dressed by her anxieties—Audrey, sallow and freckled, her corpse torn sloppily in two. Two dusky blue eyes pointed lazily at the sky, her painted nails locked into clawing fists at her throat, purple around the corners of her slack lips. Now beneath the hum of crickets, Gage was a wild thing in among the weeds, his eyes just two light-bouncing plates in the dark, black holes of electric lunacy. Now, he had a knife the size of a small pie server in his oily hands. Now he was grinning, skulking behind a nearby tree, stinking with adrenaline. Now, something was eating her. Now, something was tearing her apart. They’d let her go—that always kickstarted problems. The moment someone stepped out of Midge's sight, they were good as—

♰ " BREATH " ♰ — THE MAGNOLIA CLUB, CHAPTER 4

“Well, it ain’t about that damn veteran and you know that, ‘cause you’re smarter than me, and you’re smarter than them,” said Jonas, casting a finger in the same direction Midge’s gaze only just shrank from, “which means you know I love you whether I’m away or not. An' you know I care about what y'think, and how y'feel, and how folks around here see you. ‘Cause I get it—Midge,” pled Jonas, in the terrible, doting way she'd only ever suffered from others, “I try to get it, and if I don’t, I let you be. But they won’t even try.” It hurt more than usual to love her brother that night. To see even under hallway shadow the deepening bruises around his hazy eyes, sure to be yellow-rimmed by morning, his eggs and bacon set in doubles with duplicated plates and silverware. “That's why you didn’t come home?” fell Midge’s words like a dead bug on a sill, cut right from her breath. “You’re embarrassed of me?”

♰ " TEETH " ♰ — THE MAGNOLIA CLUB, CHAPTER 16

The darkness caught Midge's wrists and slid her through the split in the door, drawing her into a well of warped shadow which sluggishly took shape and meaning; a half-shredded bookshelf and pool of books, a molehill of plastic bags stuffed with sewing supplies and skeins kissed by velvet mold, tongues of outstretched Halloween decorations, a desaturated spectrum of sweaters and tarps, old milk crates, swaths of spider silk, dead termites—decay. Midge staggered through a sole walkable path, fenced by canyons of old worth, and the house devoured the whisper of her sneakers on its warped barnwood floor. What had narrowed the entry was the great, many-fingered hand of a tree, jammed against the backside of the door, its paint scraped into an illegible language by years of eager winter wind gushing through the swollen gash in the building's left side. Its roots burrowed deeply between the separating planks, coiling around the blackened teeth of an unused fireplace, smothered by sheddings of bark and a surmounting pile of rot-sweet crabapples.

i love you @cruelflesh so u have to do it now, and i'll leave an open tag for anybody who sees this and wants to join!

♰ your words are soil, shy, bleed, needle & spirit ♰

#writing #txt #victor ivan #the magnolia club #original writing #writeblr #horror authors #indie author #southern gothic literature #religious horror #queer author #find the word tag

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showtoonzfan · 1 year

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I wanna know your thoughts! do you think the pilot for lackadaisy is better paced or better in general than the Hazbin or Helluva Boss pilot?

I don’t even think it’s worth it to compare the Lackadaisy pilot’s pacing to the Hazbin pilot’s pacing, because obviously the Lackadaisy pilot wins on that LOL. Don’t get me wrong, during the chase scene I did think it was moving by a little too quickly, but Hazbin’s pacing in comparison was GOD AWFUL. It moved by incredibly fast, especially in the first half, it never felt like you could take a breath. Meanwhile Helluva’s pacing was fine, i think that’s the one you can compare to Lackadaisy, aside from the jumping back and forth between flashbacks.

When it comes to in general, I obviously would say Lackadaisy is better but that’s honestly because of personal bias. Plus, I will admit that it’s difficult to compare Lackadaisy to Helluva or Hazbin because they’re all completely different things. Like…when you ask the person which is better, it depends on what they like honestly. If you like deep yet wacky and juvenile inappropriate and over the top humor, you’ll like Hazbin and Helluva. If you like more simple stories with a cast of colorful characters and shenanigans (as well as gangster, smuggler stuff) you’ll like Lackadaisy.

When it comes to which product executed the character dynamics and conflict better, it was the Helluva pilot. Not that the Lackadaisy pilot did a bad job, but I’m starting to realize that the people who aren’t aware of the comic or haven’t been following the creator around aren’t necessarily going to grasp the characters or concept immediately, (and yes, this is the same issue the Hazbin pilot had, though I do think they introduced the characters 10x worse, and like I said, I personally was able to get down some of the character concepts and dynamics while watching the Lackadaisy pilot) of course it’ll take time, which is why I’m glad the creators want this to be a series because it opens a door to explore the world and everything better. We do need to keep in mind that pilots are a proof of concept, to get people to know what the show would be like. A lot of animated pilots recently don’t necessarily introduce the characters themselves (at least not that much) they focus more on the vibe of the show and feel, and save the introductions for the actual show, so it’s kinda a two sided thing.

But I do genuinely feel like the Lackadaisy pilot did a decent job with introducing what the characters are like and what they do. Like….if you read the fact that this takes place in the twenties and see that prohibition has started, (the text in the beginning) you could easily put together that these characters are smugglers and are looking for alcohol, and the group that immediately shows up to shoot them is after it. I will say the comic did do a better job at explaining the prohibition and how hard times were for many members, but a comic and an animated short are two different things. As for the worlds, the pilot could have done a better job at introducing the world, but so could have Hazbin and Helluva’s pilots ya know? In Hazbin’s case I give the lack of worldbuilding a pass because the show ain’t out yet, so since Lackadaisy is reaching towards a show, I’ll have the same reaction. I’m starting to trail, I’m not the best at describing these things but on a case of which pilot is better, it goes off of the person watching. HOWEVER, If you asked me character wise, it be the Helluva pilot. If you asked me pacing wise, it be the Lacksdaisy pilot. If you asked me conflict and story wise, it would also be the Helluva pilot to SOME degree, but keep in mind when I’m saying this, I’m just saying the HB pilot ended up doing a slightly better job compared to Lackadaisy in the departments I just mentioned. Lackadaisy still did a good job on that, especially the characters since they’re more engaging and likable like…that’s a DEFINITE LOL.

At the end of the day the Lackadaisy pilot (in my personal opinion) lacked in the “trying to appeal to an out of fandom audience” and introducing the world department, but at the same time it IS a pilot. I’ll acknowledge when I think criticism is needed, but I also think it’s too early to say things like these since we have yet to have a PROPER introduction to the story, conflicts and characters. However if you disagree or feel a different way, that’s okay!

#so yeah the pacing for both the Lackadaisy pilot and Helluva pilot were fine #Hazbin on the other hand….don’t get me started LOL #reply #ask #unrelated #criticism

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honestlywtfisgoingon · 2 years

Text

When You Weren’t Looking — pt. 6/?

PROFESSOR!OBI-WAN KENOBI x READER

PART 5

an au where you and you literature professor realize you both have things to learn about love, and yourselves, outside of class. (as we all know, this can only be done through a big scoop of angst and a smutty cherry on top)

description: your friendship with ferus is now…unclear, while u and obi wan indulge yourselves

warnings: language probably, alcohol, smut, a not fully consensual move? minimal editing

a/n: once again, i can map out an entire story and yet this still went in a diff direction than i had planned—and i ain’t even mad. also this is the first bit of smut in the story, it’s diff, but it’s kinda like a teaser teehee i’m gonna make the obi sluts wait. couldn’t find a gif that fit but i went w this one bc obi also isn’t exactly proud of what he did with his hands…

reblogs + feedback welcome :)

words: 2,101

You had gotten too ambitious, asking Ferus to toss two pieces of popcorn at you rather than one, trying to catch them in your mouth. Instead of making it in, the popcorn pieces bounced off your nose, flying off in different directions while you both giggled like kids.

You were on your knees trying to feel out for the popcorn amongst the papers spread over his floor so that you could throw them away. The papers had been abandoned long ago when you two started this game. The reason for you being in his dorm in the first place was to do work, but you didn’t think it would do any harm to take a little break, justifying it to yourselves by promising to get back to work after a couple of minutes. You both knew that to be a lie, but it was too tempting to relax on the floor and munch on the snacks Ferus had made for you two.

One of the popcorn pieces had already been found and tossed, but you were looking for the other one when Ferus suddenly leaned forward and reached out for you, your eyes widening as you feared the worst. To your relief, he was only reaching behind you and pulled back just as quickly, this time holding the piece of popcorn up.

“Found it,” he smirked. Your face turned a bit red, feeling a little guilty and embarrassed for making the assumption that he would do anything like that.

“Oh,” you said quietly while giving him a sheepish smile.

oh? that’s the best you could do?

You mentally rolled your eyes at yourself and let yourself flop on the floor with a tired sigh. Staring at the ceiling above, you didn’t need to see Ferus to be aware of what he was doing around the room. you heard your friend shuffling the papers together and putting them out of the way. He got up, but to your surprise, he went to the other side of the room where you heard rustling. You were still trying to figure out what he was doing over there when, without warning, a large pillow flew at your face. It muffled your shriek of surprise, but Ferus’ laugh was loud and clear. You tossed it back at him roughly but he just caught it and threw it again. You flinched but instead of making contact with your face again, it landed right next to your head.

“Here,” he handed you another pillow rather than chucking it at you, which you were grateful for. You put it underneath your head and smiled, understanding what he was actually doing. He crawled over to you and laid beside you on his own pillow. He hummed as he settled in, your shoulders touching as you both filled the narrow space of the walkway in his dorm. Wheb you realized how close you were forced to be, that uncomfortable feeling you got when he leaned towards you earlier was back. “This is nice,” he whispered as turned to look at you, his nose inches away from brushing against your cheek.

You no move to face him, breath caught in your throat as you said, “yeah, it’s really nice. I'm glad we’re friends Ferus,” you made sure to add the word friend in there, just in case your instincts were correct. Somehow you just knew his smile weakened considerably. He turned back to stare at the ceiling with you once more. A comfortable silence fell over you, and you enjoyed it while it lasted, until Ferus decided he had a lot more to say.

“I’m really glad we’re friends too, y/n. I’ve been thinking a lot about it recently,”

“About what?”

“Our friendship. We have a connection. the thing is, I feel like our connection is on a different level.”

no no no no no

“Ferus,” your tone hinted at him not to continue.

“and one of us had to acknowledge it sooner or later, so I figured I'd bite the bullet,” your heart began to race. Before you could think, Ferus had rolled over, his elbow on one side of your head, holding him up so that his face was above yours.

“Ferus—“ you tried to warn him once again, but your words barely made it out as a whisper before his lips were on yours.

It took a second for you to process, your eyes still open. As soon as you did though, the upper half of your body snapped up immediately, effectively head-butting Ferus in the process.

“Shit!” you groaned as both of you rubbed your foreheads. You made eye contact, his face one of shock and you didn’t doubt that yours looked the same. Before anything else could happen, you shot up and out the door.

“y/n!” you heard Ferus call from the room but you kept jogging down the stairs.

It was a relatively short drive from the university to your apartment, followed by an even shorter one to your bed. Even though it was more expensive, you still considered renting a studio off-campus one of the best decisions you ever made. sure it was small, but nothing compared to a dorm, and the best part of it all was you—and your cat I guess, had it all to yourselves. This paid off, especially in moments like these, where you just wanted to make a drink, tuck yourself into bed, and fall asleep to a movie. you needed to wind down. Obi-Wan, applying for art school, homework, working late, and now Ferus, all had you mentally burnt out.

You did what you set out to do and were now under the covers, halfway through a movie you’d watched a million times, and your glass empty of your very strong drink. Initially, you wanted your cat to cuddle with you, but Artoo was adamant about staying in the bathtub (you didn’t understand why but it was his favorite place to be). That meant you were alone alone, not even an animal by your side.

You came home with the very intention of being by yourself, remaining distracted, but now that you were, you debated whether you really truly wanted it. Normally it would be ok, the alone part, but it only seemed to make things harder. Even if you kept your senses busy, hands and eyes working on a drawing you started and ears catching the sounds from the tv, two thoughts were still free to torment your mind. They wouldn’t have been able to as easily if you were engaged in the company of another person. Funnily enough, you’re were supposed to be in the company of Ferus right now…well at least you thought it was funny, although being able to laugh at painful irony was a skill you picked up long ago.

As for your tormentors, the first thought on your mind was guilt.

was it my fault? no. I told him we were just friends…but I put myself in that situation— no! what I hate the most though, is that he’s not a bad person, but still…I trusted him. he was one of my only friends and now he’s gone.

You knew that at least one of your thoughts was valid though: you were right to have found it a little disconcerting, the way he just…made the move. No buildup, no warning, no asking. If you continued to be friends, that would probably be the hardest thing to process, a little wary that he was gonna pull some shit out of nowhere.

The second thought on your mind was something—no, someone— else completely. It was almost amazing how your professor’s grip on you was strong enough to push Ferus out of your mind, no matter how recent.

You felt pathetic. You weren’t bound to him, and yet you felt sad that it was someone else who had kissed you, and not Obi-Wan. Emotionally, you were still caught up in his web, and until you untangled yourself, there was no one else you wanted to touch you because there was no one else like him that you had ever met; handsome, intelligent, funny, kind, but more than that, he listened to you. He cared about what you were saying and was always attentive, no matter how long your tangent went on. He responded either sarcastically or profoundly to every single point you had brought up. Obi-Wan was your perfect match, and it kept getting harder to forget. Every little thing, including the second where your eyes met after class, meant something.

It was then that the color of his eyes, a freshwater blue, filled your mind. It would’ve absolutely shocked you to know that he was imagining yours at this every moment.

Obi-Wan lay in his own bed, running his hand over his beard, a habit of his whenever he was thinking. He wondered if the color of your eyes would appear different with your pupils blown and filtered by your lowered lashes, looking up at him as he thrusted up into for the third time of the night. Yes, he imagined multiple rounds, because he was going to ravish you and pleasure you without end. He had been hard for who knows how long, unable to get you off his mind, no matter how much he tried; another thing you would be shocked to know he was also experiencing.

Your body was already warmed by your buzz, but you felt it growing hotter, especially between your legs, imagining Professor Kenobi positioned there instead, filling you up completely.

Wait. I shouldn’t be thinking of Obi-Wan like this. you know that.

Too tired (and mildy inebriated) to fight your urge, you found your nipples and played with them gently, sighing. You stopped to skim your stomach with your fingertips, making your way lower until you slipped two fingers in between your folds, dragging them up and down slowly.

Miles away, Obi-Wan's resolve was cracking under the thought of you encouraging him to continue, wanting him, and he couldn’t help himself from slipping his hand under the covers. He hesitated.

This is wrong. I don’t want to disrespect her.

But with how much he appreciated you, how much he would worship you if you were truly here, it seemed far from disrespectful; so he continued, wrapping his hand around his length at the very same time you slipped two fingers inside yourself. The slightest of movements brought each of you sweet relief.

“y/n,”

“Obi,”

Your names rolled off each other’s tongues, filling the open air. His large hands moved up and down his shaft rapidly, loud grunts escaping him. He hadn’t done this in forever, and he didn’t know if it was because of that, or because he was imagining you whimpering in his ear, that it felt so much better than he remembered.

You slid your fingers in and out with ease as the thought of him had you soaking. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, but it got harder to do so when you began to use your other hand to touch your clit, as you imagined he would.

The two of you were both close, feeling your muscles tighten as you touched yourselves separately. He felt a thin layer of sweat begin to form all over his body as he bucked up into his hand reflexively. He searched for something to hold on to, finding his blanket and bunching it up into his fist as he got closer. Your own bedding had been discarded on the floor, kicked off when you began to overheat. The cool air was relieving as well as stimulating, the temperature change adding a sharp sensation to your already approaching orgasm.

It was you who came first, ecstasy washing over you with a loud cry of his name, your legs shaking and chills spreading over your body.

When it was his turn to experience the peak of pleasure, he threw his head back into his pillow and gasped, continuing to milk as much out of his orgasm as he could.

“Blast!” he mumbled moments after his mind had cleared and he became acutely aware of the mess he just made. He forgot about this part, which was one of the reasons he stopped jacking off in the first place (also the fact that he didn’t have you as inspiration)

When he had finished cleaning himself up, he rolled back into his bed and you it was also then that you had realized what time it was. Both of you got comfortable in your separate beds and fell asleep, hoping to see the other in their dreams.

PART 7

tags:

@bakerstreethound @heyhawtdawgs @mcbenson25-blog @heyitsaloy @stanny-uwu @venus-armote @ohworm-writes

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi wan and anakin #star wars #obi wan kenobi x y/n #anakin skywalker #obi wan smut #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan au #professor!obi wan #professor au #star wars au #ferus olin #obi wan x padawan!reader

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catscratching · 2 years

Text

Biggest Fears / Sickness

Wondrous Tails of FFXIV

2022.05.22

[Content Warning - Character Death, Suicide]

Not canon - a 'What if' scenario. Mood music here.

They were supposed to have more time.

It had come on quickly; he’d been under the weather, suffering from fever and flu-like body pains. It was a wet Spring, and so many people in Radz-at-Han had seasonal sniffles that neither of them were overly concerned. When the headaches began, Fakhri tried to reassure her that they were not uncommon, and that he’d be fine with a bit more rest.

She believed him… until the first seizure. Arak began to grow agitated, spending a great deal of time prowling up and down his Companion’s body with anxious chitters… and Seda ran to find Hikmat – only to discover he was out of the area on business and could not be reached.

The headaches got worse. The flat was in a constant state of twilight; even incidental sunshine from an opened door was enough to make the Viera cry out in pain, and he grew increasingly disinterested in food. She spent her days trying to coax him to eat, ignoring her own aches and pains, holding his hand as it grew more and more thin.

The walls between them had come down long ago; to the point where it was difficult at times for Fakhri to tell which emotions were his, and which were hers. He could feel her fear now, her worry, her love beating against his senses like the wings of a frightened bird– but it was all at a distance. Remote, as if he floated out of his body and watched from above, detached. As he lay in the bed they’d shared, a snippet of a conversation floated up from memory.

“…I’d know I’d outlive ya and…. Not sure I’d be able to… live without ya. But that ain’t the case, and I’m actually friggin’ grateful to have met you now and not earlier in my life. That’s selfish of me I guess.”

His poor girl. Neither of them had expected their time together to be this short, and he became increasingly convinced that now… now she’d have to carry on without him.

He slept.

Hours were spent on Linkpearls, consulting with everyone she’d ever done a favor, trying to get the best healers money could hire. But the storm season had begun, making traditional avenues of travel difficult, and the city was still restricting the use of the aetheryte.

“…Not sure what can be done, if the fever does not subside,” Voices murmured on the edge of Seda’s consciousness. Her days had become a blur; she had lost track of time, of commitments. One of the voices was familiar – Deivra? She couldn’t summon the effort to care.

“Twelve, she’s burning up,” A hand pressed against her forehead and she hissed weakly. It felt like ice against her skin, and she turned her head to press her lips into the bony protrusions of Fakhri’s knuckles. She could hear his breathing, rasps of air moving in and out of his lungs, feel the faint pressure of his fingers as he tried to squeeze her hand.

“Seda?” Bocquet’s voice in her ear. “My girl, we need to bring your fever down, we’re doing all we can for Fakhri, but we need to take care of you as well.” She felt him try to pick her up and fought, kicking and struggling and clutching at the bedsheets where Fakhri lie, so still, so quiet.

It couldn’t happen like this. He couldn’t leave her behind. Please, please don’t leave me. I need you still.

Bocquet’s hands left her, letting her scramble back onto the edge of the bed, her head resting on Fakhri’s chest, her arms around him. She didn’t notice when Bocquet withdrew. She was only vaguely aware of the scissors in her hair, of voices – distant and indistinct, talking getting someone’s temperature lowered. Fakhri always ran warm, did they not realize that?

She didn’t know how long it had been – days, nights – they all passed in a haze without her conscious awareness. She just knew it was quiet, the wee hours of the night, when she felt Fakhri’s hand against her shorn head. He didn’t have the strength to do more than touch her ear and sink his fingers into the loose strands. She snuggled in closer, trying to ignore how thin he’d become, the way she could feel every rib beneath her cheek.

“Love ya…girl,” His voice was raspy, weak. “Always… love ya.”

This time, she felt the tears begin, her arms trying to tighten around him. “Don’t go,” She whispered. “Don’t leave me - I can’t make it without you.”

He didn’t answer. There was a single, long exhalation… and then he was gone. Arak lifted his head from where he was curled against Fakhri’s neck and climbed up to sniff his Companion’s nose and lips, then gave Fakhri’s cheek a couple of gentle licks before padding down to press against Seda, where she lay across the body, his little nose against her cheek.

She cried herself out, passing into an uneasy sleep… unconscious when they returned and found the body. She didn’t feel Bocquet lift her out of the bed, and nor Pelhi’s hand sliding into hers for comfort and reassurance as Bocquet and Hikmat lifted Fakhri’s body, gently carrying him out to be prepared for burial.

Her own illness, ignored her need to tend to him, had progressed to the point where she couldn’t tell what was real, and what was fever-driven hallucination. Each time she woke, Arak was there waiting, a tiny light in the storm of her grief.

She kept hoping that she’d wake and find it all a nightmare; that Fakhri would take her in his arms and stroke her hair and whisper that he had her, that all would be well. And when he didn’t, her emotions crashed around her like a wave breaking against the coast; she’d never hear his laugh, low and raspy, again. Never feel the scratch of his stubble against her face, never feel the way his arms slid around her, like she was something precious he couldn’t risk losing.

When her fever finally broke, she lay alone in the bed she and Fakhri had shared. She felt like an eggshell, empty and fragile – all the life drained away with his death, leaving a husk behind.

“…lifebonded,” Bocquet’s voice was quiet, muffled beyond the bed’s drawn curtains. “Will have to watch carefully.” She didn’t recognize the murmurs of agreement, and honestly didn’t care. It was irrelevant. Lifebonds were the stuff of stories – stories about finding the missing part of your soul. This was real. All too real – and Fakhri was gone. To have a lifebond, one had to have a life; hers was shattered.

As if aware of the turn of her thoughts, Arak chittered quietly and crawled up to tuck himself against her throat beneath her chin. Weakly, she lifted a hand to rest over his little body. She had thought she was empty of tears, but could feel them trickling down her temples, the salt burning her skin.

Time continued to pass without meaning. She slept a great deal; ate when food was presented, washed – went through all the motions that were expected of her. She was never left alone for long; one of the women was always present to help her wash, Bocquet sat at her bedside at night. Sometimes she slept. Sometimes she planned.

Soon, love. I will be with you soon.

At times, she had the sense of Fakhri’s presence; she’d smell cigarettes or feel a ghostly touch in her hair. It only made her more determined to carry out the vague plan that began to form in that initial morass of grief. They were relieved, when she asked for a few things from their closet; a specific shirt (his), and a tiny box she kept to store bottles of scent and other personal items.

Finally, they carried her out to his gravesite, marked by a freshly turned pile of loam. Bocquet had murmured in low tones to the others that she needed the closure, needed to see, to make it real. They had buried him next to the mentor that had taught him music, encouraged his love for performing. It was appropriate. It was a good place – she knew it didn’t matter that it had a beautiful view of the hills rolling toward the ocean, but… it was still a good place.

“I need to be alone, please,” Her voice cracked from disuse and the long illness, but she had no energy to spare for attempting to sound normal. Bocquet had carried her out; they remembered the early days after Silana had died, and had anticipated the need to say a private goodbye.

“I’ll be just over there if you need me,” Bocquet set her down at the graveside, Arak scampering down their shoulder to rest in her lap. A hand stroked over the roughly cut strands of her hair, caressing her ears in a gentle, loving gesture before they stepped away. A fresh surge of emotional pain welled up in her; she knew what her plan would do to her guardian and regretted hurting them like this. But her mind was set.

Arak’s ears flattened, chittering again at her, worry in the lines of his little body as she watched the tall elezen leave.

“I’m sorry,” She reached to stroke his soft fur, tears blurring her vision. She was tired. Tired of crying, tired of the aching hole in her heart. “Bocquet will care for you. I don’t want to do this to any of you, but… I… I cannot live without him.”

She took the vial she had hidden in a pocket. No one had questioned that she kept bottles of scent – after all, that’s what women did, even though Seda herself seldom wore any. They had no way of knowing she also kept poisons; and was intimately acquainted with their manufacture and use. The liquid burned as she swallowed, searing the mucus membranes in her throat.

Selected for its efficacy and difficulty to counter rather than convenience and ease of passing, pain clenched her stomach as soon as the toxin hit. She hadn’t eaten, so there was nothing to cushion it from being absorbed into her blood stream as quickly as possible.

She was only vaguely aware of Arak leaping off her lap and streaking, chittering wildly for Bocquet. The physical pain of her internal organs - already weakened by the long illness - beginning to shut down was secondary to the quiet relief she felt. It would be over soon. The scent of loamy earth filled her nostrils as she collapsed across the grave, her body spasming as everything faded into blackness.

As Bocquet raced to the body sprawled in the dirt, a woman’s laughter drifted across the air, faint and happy – accompanied by the notes of a guitar and a man’s voice, low and loving.

They were supposed to have more time. Now, they had an eternity.

@wondroustailsofffxiv @gray-morality

(For the curious, Eastern Equine Encephilitis is rare in humans - only about 10 cases each year. About half of infected cases die from the disease. It is transmitted by mosquitos/ticks.)

#wondroustailsofffixv #Seda Ballard #Fakhri Man'tik #This was incredibly difficult to write #Even knowing it wasn't 'real'#It amazes me sometimes how right they feel as characters #And how natural it is to write them together

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 years

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would sam ever meet matt and how would that go down?? maybe she’s the one that has to bail out sam and bucky during that one scene in tfatws and she’s forced to bring matt along w her since you mentioned in the peter blurb that he’s the one that helped bucky out with a pardon & she’s still listed as a contact for sam 👀

So Bucky and Sam get picked up in Baltimore because that’s where Isaiah Bradley lives. That’s about 3 hours of a drive from New York City. Realistically, Sam probably calls her and she hits the road because that’s what you do for people you care about. Matt insists he comes, only because the last time she went somewhere without him, she was gone for five years.

He just won’t let her go anywhere alone.

They get to the station, and Sam’s already out because he didn’t commit any crimes. Bucky is the one that missed his therapy session. So Matt is trying to see if he can lawyer his way into anything while she’s posting bail for the idiot.

“I can’t believe you took him back,” Sam says.

“He can hear you,” she responds simply, signing the paperwork for Bucky. “It’s been long enough that I’ve forgiven him. It’s just a bit complicated sometimes, Sam.”

“It’s always complicated.”

“What is?” Matt asks as he returns to her side.

Matt’s not jealous of Sam by any means. After everything Matt has put her through, the only thing he can do is trust her to be better than him. And besides, she talks highly of Sam. They’re friends. So Matt doesn’t have any negative feelings towards Sam at all.

But Sam does. They’re not super strong; he’s not pining for her or anything. But he cares about her; he saw what this guy did to her back when Elektra was around and they broke up. After all, she left and started coming back with him and Steve for a bit. Also, Bucky doesn’t particularly like Matt either but they’re more secondhand because he’s just heard the stories of the guy; after all, he was almost willing to face jail time than have Matt Murdock represent him in court.

“Dating you,” Sam comments.

“And that’s my cue to go collect Barnes,” she quickly excuses herself and walks away, definitely not interested in that interaction.

The two men would sort of stare each other down.

“She’s one of the good ones.” Sam says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m very aware, Mr. Wilson. I have been with her since 2016.”

“Check that math again, Murdock. I’m pretty sure you spent a good chunk of time begging for her forgiveness.”

Matt would fidget some, less than thrilled about being called out.

“I get you have whatever you have going on. We all do. But until otherwise noted, I don’t trust you to not hurt her again,” Sam would explain, looking down the hall as she returns with Bucky. “And I ain’t afraid to hit a blind man.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Matt challenges. “She told you herself. We worked it out.”

“Nah, she said it was complicated. You’re going to do your best to make it less complicated though. Understand?”

“If you’re threatening him, I want in,” Bucky chimes in as they approach. “Asshole.”

“Good to see you too, Sergeant Barnes.”

“If we’re done drowning in testosterone, I’d like to go home and pretend you’re not working with Zemo,” she says, taking Matt’s hand. He’s tense. She can feel it. But she’s a little too okay with Matt being picked on by her ex and her friend.

They’re about to leave when Sam grabs Matt by the arm. “I mean it. Don’t let her get away; you’ll regret it.”

Matt blankly watches Sam, his statement not registering as a threat anymore. No, now it was a simple warning from someone who seems to regret his own choices.

“I’ve lost her twice; I won’t ever again.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson

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starlessea · 3 years

Text

"Don’t Cry”

A/N This started off as a drabble, but I got carried away and it turned into a one-shot. I’m really happy with how this one turned out! Based on number #39 from this prompt list for @phoenixblack89

Summary: Daryl hates seeing your tears. He’d much rather see you smiling, instead.

Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee

Atlanta High School.

You’d graduated a long while back — so long ago now that you’d forgotten the feeling of walking its halls, and having your shoes squeak against the cheap wooden planks.

You could see the rows of lockers you’d chatted by daily, and the one in particular where you’d shared your first kiss with a boy whose name you couldn’t remember. The doors of the classrooms seemed familiar, as did the posters on the walls which were the same as they’d been when you attended — something about washing your hands and remembering to vote for class president.

It was as though time stood still.

And, in this very moment, there was nothing you wished for more.

Daryl’s hand was warm on your cheek, and his thumb gentle as he drew faint circles over your skin. You leaned into his touch, the same way you’d done with that boy against your locker — not even a few feet away.

But this was different.

This was Daryl.

Your lips quivered, trembling like a leaf stuck in the wind. Your hands felt numb as they pressed against him, so hard that you thought they would bruise. But all you could hear were those damn lockers — their doors slamming open and closed as they caught in the draft.

Like a sarcastic fucking applause.

Daryl tilted your head up, gently guiding your gaze from his collar to his face, where your eyes caught his. And your breath died in your throat, before bubbling into a sob that rang out in the air like the Atlanta High School bell.

He was smiling.

“Don’t cry,” he said — in the most calm, accepting tone you’d ever heard a person speak. It lacked all of his usual bite, the gruffness you’d come to know and associate with the man.

It sounded foreign.

Maybe that was why, despite his words, the tears poured over anyway, and settled on your cheeks where he swiped them away with a flick of his thumb.

“I wan’-” he started, but paused for a second to grimace from the pain. “I wanna remember ya smilin’.”

You choked on another watery cry, shaking your head away from his gentle hold, as you returned your focus to his wound.

The bite on his collarbone was deep, gushing blood quicker than you could soak it up with the tattered remnants of your jacket. His skin was a stark, vermillion red, as were your hands, as was the floor, as were those fucking lockers where you’d smeared his blood as you tried to carry him to safety.

Everything was red, red, red.

You pressed more firmly, soaking it up with fluttering hands that burnt from the sheer heat of his skin. He felt like a match having been set alight — burning brilliantly beneath your palms as you tried your best to quell the flames.

Daryl rested his hand over yours, engulfing it. “Listen to me, ” he rasped — and you panicked at how much more weak his voice was sounding — “there’s flares in my rucksack.”

He glanced over your shoulder, at the abandoned bag sitting near your feet. It was stuffed with supplies from the school — all of which were now completely useless, and nowhere near worth his goddamn life.

Sweat beaded on his skin, and collected in the dips of his collar — like little pools of salt water.

He squeezed your hand. “Ya gotta get to the roof an’ flag down Rick,” he told you, his smile dropping from his face as he became much more serious. “He’ll come for ya.”

Your hands stilled over the wound for a second, easing their pressure as you took in the man’s words. Then he flashed those eyes at you, which begged for you not to argue.

But you did.

You kicked out your leg behind you, sending that backpack sliding across those cheap wooden planks, and making it thud against a locker. You didn’t need the flares.

You just needed Daryl.

“I can’t-” you yelled, but your voice split, and the man quickly hushed you before it got too loud. After all, the dead had you surrounded. “I’m not leaving you behind,” you spluttered.

Your tone was frantic, panicked, desperate.

You could feel his heartbeat pounding underneath your palms, where you pressed down against it. It was as though you held his heart in your hands — and he’d probably argue that you always had.

Daryl shook his head smally, careful not to disturb the bite further. “An’ ya can’t take me with ya,” he replied.

No, you thought, you would carry him out if it killed you, you would fight your way through, and get him to the infirmary, and you could-

“I ain’t gonna make it, baby girl,” he whispered, “‘m sorry.”

And you broke.

Suddenly, you were aware of the flickering overhead lights that made his skin look so clammy, so sickly. You were conscious of the blood smear trail he’d left behind — that vibrant scarlet which reminded you of a burning sunset — and the pounding at the doors, and the feet squeaking on those floorboards like the lunchtime rush between classes.

“You will!” you yelled, not at all caring about how loud you’d gotten. “You have to, Daryl,” you cried, pleadingly.

His hand felt so warm that it made yours seem cold. It felt like you were the one dying — your heart shattering each time he took a wheezed breath, or flinched in pain.

“How am I-” you asked, but by now your voice had tapered off to a mere whisper. You shook your head. There was no question about it. “I can’t go on without you,” you told him.

You could hear the blood rushing to your ears as your breaths got away from you — too shallow and too sparse. Daryl looked worse each passing minute, his olive skin now a translucent grey.

He took both of your hands in his, making you drop your jacket, as blood seeped through the material of his shirt. You tried to fight against him, eyeing the trail of red as it ran along his collar like a stream, but he kept a hold of your wrists firmly — with the little strength he had left.

“Ya can,” he growled — the grit to his voice causing you to instantly still — “an’ ya will.”

And he flashed those eyes at you again, but this time they had his usual spark behind them.

“Yer the damn strongest woman I e’er met,” he went on, letting his grip loosen on your wrists ever so slightly, “‘m jus’ happy a dumb ol’ redneck like me got to spend a couple good years with ya.”

Then, he smiled.

“It was fun.”

He let your hands drop out of his, no longer having any fight left. But instead, you used them to clamber onto his lap, wrapping them around his torso as you buried your head deep into his chest — his warm, red chest.

“Please don’t talk like that!” you cried, your words muffled by his clothes and lost to his skin.“I’m not going anywhere! I want to stay with you-”

“Nah, that ain’t happenin’,” he snapped — but his hand remained light on your head, gently stroking your hair in his attempts to calm you. “I swear to god, I’ll haunt yer ass if ya dare pull somethin’ tha’ stupid.”

But you grabbed onto his shirt until your knuckles flashed white, bunching up the material in your fists like you couldn’t bear to part with it. It smelt like him — underneath the coppery scent of fresh blood.

Slowly, he tried to coax you out, but you could feel the way his hands shook, and it only made everything worse. Those hands had always been strong — had always been the ones to pick you up and set you back on your feet every time you fell.

“Look a’ me,” he pleaded, his voice croaky. He tilted your chin up again, in the same way he did every time he went to kiss you — and it made your heart hurt, because no kiss followed. “C’mon now, don’ cry,” he whispered, his breath much too hot against your skin, “‘m here.”

“But you won’t be,” you wailed, the words startling you as they crept out from your mouth.

You hadn’t wanted to admit them.

“But I am now,” Daryl replied, just as quick. “So please jus’ smile for me, would ya?”

His hand fell down to your waist, before rubbing small circles in the small of your back — just how he did every morning to wake you up.

You couldn’t do it, but you needed to do it.

For Daryl.

You uncurled yourself from his chest, and wiped away the fresh tears with your shirt, blinking away the rest. You moved in his lap until you were face to face, trying not to catch a glimpse of his wound which continued to pour red.

Then, you finally smiled back at him.

It was wobbly, and forced, but it was wide — and full of love.

“Atta girl,” he choked back, his voice breaking for the first time.

You couldn’t tell whether his glassy eyes were from the fever, or the pain, or from you, but you bit your lip either way.

Don’t cry, you told yourself, and watched as he did.

“Yer so goddamn beautiful,” he mumbled, raising his thumb to the corner of your lips. It was as callous as always, but at this moment it only felt soft. “I was one lucky son o’ a bitch,” he declared, with a warm smile.

You raised your hands in return, cupping his face and feeling his beard tickle over your palms — thinking back to the times you complained at how unkempt it was. His forehead dropped down onto yours, and the heat from his skin radiated outwards, setting you ablaze as you touched.

“I love you, Dixon,” you confessed, as though it were the first time and not the last. “Now and always.”

The overhead lights hummed as they flickered like camera flashes, and the pounding at the door became more incessant.

So, you drowned everything out with a press of your lips to his — as Daryl tilted your head up in the way he always did, and gave you one final kiss which tasted like seasalt and copper. It was underneath the locker where you’d had your first kiss, but now it marked your last one with the man you loved most in this world.

“Me too,” Daryl whispered, as you broke apart. He glanced over your shoulder once again, at the discarded backpack across the hall. “Now get outta here before they break through.”

You stumbled to your feet violently, needing a strong, stark shock to actually be enough to pull you away from the man for good.

And you didn’t look back.

You couldn’t. If you so much as caught a glimpse of those angel wings or heard as little as a breath escape his mouth, you wouldn’t have left.

And that would’ve killed Daryl in more ways than one.

So, you retrieved the backpack, and opened the fire escape door a few feet away, before slipping behind it, and sliding down to your knees.

The concrete cut your skin open, and once again you were confronted with red.

A cry escaped you, which morphed into a wail as you clutched your chest and tried to fix the bleeding happening inside it — the red that you couldn’t see.

But a shout startled you, and ceased your sobs as soon as they sounded.

“Don’ cry!” Daryl’s voice yelled, muffled by the metal door but still strong, and guttural, and fierce. “I can hear ya!”

So, you picked yourself back up, and set yourself on your feet in the same way he’d taught you how — and you ran for the roof, flare in hand.

Atlanta High School always had the best rooftop view.

The sunset stretched out in the distance, one of brilliant vermillion, and warm, copper orange. The balcony was the same as you remembered, with high metal railings to keep students from jumping, or getting too close to that view.

This roof had been the place where you’d yelled about hating this place, this town, this state — and had cried out to the sky about wishing to anywhere but here.

But now you didn’t want to leave.

Because your everything was right here.

You held the flare in your hand, wondering what colours it would burst and illuminate the sky — whilst praying it would be anything other than red.

You let off the flare, and a single gunshot followed.

End.

Feedback is always welcomed; I love hearing what you all think - so feel free to comment, send in an ask, or just message me if you want to chat!

Also, if you enjoy my writing, you might want to buy me a coffee or commission me - tips are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!

A/N Blame Jess and Shannon for the increase in angst.

But I’m glad to be getting more comfortable with writing it!

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pastafossa · 3 years

Text

Kinktober 2021, Day 10 - Thigh Riding 🔥

You can track my progress here on my Kinktober list! First try at Frank Castle smut, which I’m kinda nervous about, thus the delay, so let’s just DO THIS.

Ship: Frank Castle x F!Reader Rating: 18+, Minors do not read Wordcount: 1,212 Warnings: Thigh riding, naked F/clothed M, Frank’s dirty mouth.

Heed the Gif of Sin, please!

“God, Frank,” you moaned into the pillow, your legs shaking. You’d been at this way too long, endlessly long, trapped here on the bed alone, with nothing between your legs but your own hand. Despite your best attempts to tempt him, nothing you’d said or done had lured him away from his chair where he sat watching, his dark eyes burning, wholly focused. The only assistance he’d given you was his voice—but even that came with strings, since he’d only used to it tell you when you could and couldn’t touch yourself. He’d let you get so very close before you’d be given the order to stop. You were halfway to biting a hole in the sheets, and you would if this kept up. “Please, Frank. Please. Need you, or to—”

“You think you earned it, girl?” he rumbled, his face unreadable. You knew he was hard. There was no hiding the shape of his cock in his jeans. You’d clearly affected him, but it was like he hadn’t even noticed.

“I don’t… I—” You had earned it, hadn’t you? You’d done what he asked, over and over. You’d stopped when he said stop, started when he’d said to start. You’d been good, and you whimpered quietly into the sheets, shivering.

There was the softest chuckle from his corner of the room, the sound of it dark and rough as a road of gravel. “Shit, look at you. Half-fucked and I ain’t even touched you yet. Come over here.”

Your legs were unsteady, but that didn’t slow you down as you eagerly clambered off the bed, your hand soaked. It may have been a clumsy, vulnerable approach, but you were too shaky to be all that aware of just how naked you were compared to him, still fully clothed. You stopped in front of him with another shudder, waiting. He hadn’t said to touch him yet, so you knew to wait.

He considered you for a long moment, eyes raking up and down your body. Then he tapped his thigh with one finger. You stepped close, preparing to climb into his lap, but he growled. “Did I say you get my cock yet?”

But he’d… tapped his lap—

Oh. Oh.

“Sorry,” you whispered, moving to shakily straddle his thigh instead. “Brain was… was a little slow on that one.”

For just a second, his facade cracked and the hint of an amused smile crossed his face. “You were too busy thinkin’ about my cock. You gotta learn to focus.”

“In my defense, you’re terrible for my concentration,” you huffed with a laugh, but that laugh quickly turned into a moan as you lowered yourself down, settling your cunt against his thigh. Fuck, the denim was all too rough, his thigh broad and thick and hard with muscle, and it took everything in you not to move yet, to just sit there, your clit aching for friction and your cunt throbbing.

He forced you to wait again, to wait as you panted and closed your eyes in your struggle to stay still. His rough voice broke you out of it, your eyes fluttering open. “You said you needed me. Well, you got me. And I expect you to soak my fuckin’ thigh if you want more.”

“Jesus,” you whispered, your hands shooting out to curl against the arms of the chair. Your nails dug into the fabric, something to ground you with as you tried to listen for any other instructions before starting.

“Go on, then,” he rumbled, tapping two fingers against your leg. “Ride my thigh. I wanna see my skin shine when I get these jeans off, you hear me? You do that, I’ll think about fuckin’ you like you want.”

Your first slow grind along his thigh sent a shudder rolling down your spine like a flood of honey, the rough drag of denim and thick muscle absolute heaven against your clit. “Fuck,” you forced out, your breath hitching at the pleasurable wave that rolled through you, warm and thick. You set one knee down on the seat between his legs for more balance—which he, thankfully, allowed, even nudging his other leg wider to give you space—before you began to rock steadily against him. You didn’t touch him otherwise, somehow sensing that the rest of his body was off-limits, but that almost made it better. The heat of him burned just out of reach, save for the warmth of his thigh between your legs. The thought made you even wetter, and he chuckled as you whined, rutting harder against him.

If he was moved by your plight, he kept it from you, doing nothing to help save occasionally tensing his thigh. But that was enough, more than enough as you chased the high, pleasure surging through you with every molten slide along his thigh. You could-you could come like this, you could, if he let you, if your earned it. You bit your lip, swallowing down a moan, but that was apparently also against the rules.

He caught your chin, tugging it down so that your mouth hung open and wet. “Didn’t say I wanted you quiet, either,” he said roughly, though the tone was far from unkind as he swiped his thumb across your lower lip. Your soft moan, gifted to the open air, made him grin, his eyes fierce and burning, hunger and wild heat threatening to scorch your skin. “Yeah, there it is. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna come, Frank,” you whispered, shutting your eyes and clawing at the chair’s arms as you ground yourself harder against his thigh, your body clenching around nothing, your back arching. “God, wanna come, want you to fuck me, Frank, please—”

He dropped one rough, scarred hand to your hip, helping drag you against his hip, faster motions than you could manage yourself. The satisfied growl that rolled out of him would have dropped you if you’d been standing. “I can feel my thigh, how you soaked right through. So tell you what: you come for me now, ‘n then I’ll throw you down and fuck that poor empty cunt of yours. You want that?”

“Yes, yes, fuck—”

“Then come. I ain’t askin’ again.”

Your body locked up, your hips snapping down to grind yourself against him as you gasped and came hard around nothing. You barely managed to keep yourself upright, eyes snapping shut as pleasure and molten heat speared through you in steady waves, your hands braced against the chair. Frank watched every second, every tiny reaction, that hard focused stare of his locked onto your face before he rumbled a pleased noise, leaned forward and shoved his mouth to yours before you came down. You moaned into his mouth as he tensed up his thigh, rocking his leg up into you as you came down. His kiss practically burned, all teeth and hunger. This was a kiss that didn’t ask so much as take, and you gasped into it, weak-kneed and trembling. You may have come but you still felt too empty. “Frank—”

“I may not be much but I’m a man of my word,” he said gruffly, his kiss turning dangerously fond. “On the bed. And don’t you worry. I’ll give you what you need.”

-x-

Tagging Team 🌊Every Fic Wave🌊 (to be added to the tag list, click here): @sictrnstgloria @ancientbeing10 @viviaceae-blog @moonyinthestars @caswinchester2000 @lov3vivian @ownerofthehighground @claire-of-asgard @tripletstephaniescp @catsnow14 @hopplessdreamer @theheartshaker @somanyyumypeoplejustletmehave1 @pastamomma @glxwingrxse @lykaiosmedia @scorpiowidow @theoneonly-huntress @notamorningnerd

#kinktober2021 #Frank Castle x Reader #Punisher x Reader #Frank Castle #The Punisher #18+#smut #thigh riding #naked female clothed male #fic #reader insert #fanfic #first try at Frank smut and like second ever try at Frank so let's see how this goes

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luimagines · 3 years

Note

Do time or the other links smoke? Or drink? Or do some kind of drugs? I mean when your out heroing you're going to get alot of traum

Something they all at least somewhat have to try and take the edg off or do they have other ways of coping? I am sorry if this sounds like an ask,i was more along the lines trying to get your speculation on the matter

Masterlist

I see what you're saying and I do think that some of them would have had bad habits in the past but yeah-

They do need some time to take the edge off and refocus themselves in the present, but how do they do that in a healthy and safe way?

Let's talk about that.

I don't think I have all the necessary tags so go forth at your own discretion.

Time

Time would have definitely had a drinking problem that would have started in his Termina days.

He's never really felt the need to drink though- he only found that it would have kept him from going crazy.

But as he got out of there and talked more to Malon (and have his supply cut off- (just because he knew where to get it in Termina doesn't mean he knows where to get it in Hyrule, (nor would they give it to him, even if he did))), I like to think that he would have had to find other ways to calm himself down and think rationally through his thoughts and desires.

It happens by accident.

He was working at Lon Lon Ranch when he needed to go chop some wood and he found the repetitive and strenuous work, soothing.

He felt good. Accomplished even.

And a little disappointed when he was finished.

But he started doing that whenever he could and it became his main way to not only blow off some steam but to also calm himself down.

It helps with his anxiety and his need to help feel useful even when nothing is really happening that would require his assistance.

Twilight

Twilight finds that manual labor actually makes his anxiety worse.

He can't really find it within himself to get lost in it because he's already programmed for that to be a part of his day to day life anyway. So his brain can still go on and on even as he gets his chores done.

Twilight finds that a secluded spot with little distraction works best.

He's never really dabbled in other ways to deal with it nor has it come to his mind.

All he knew one say was that everything was too much and that he needed to be in a different area entirely.

No people, no noise.

He likes to hang out by small creeks or by the lake and fish if he really needs an excuse to do something.

Bonus points if he can rest with one of his favorite goats nearby, but that's few and far in between.

It's less meditation and more taking in the moment and letting time slip by for a change.

No to do lists, no action, no survival, no need to be on the run.

Just breath.

Warrior

Warrior would have smoked during the war but I don’t think he’d actually tolerate it all that well. I feel like he’d be more inclined to drink away his problems but with shortages left and right, and all efforts going into the war, there just wouldn’t be enough to go around.

So he’d smoke and hate it.

But it worked in a pinch.

Afterwards, whether through Mask’s and Wind’s influence or the end of the war, he’d want to find a way to quit.

It wasn’t easy but I feel like Warrior would attempt to quit cold turkey. Just drop the habit completely and what does he do when he feels the need arise again?

It’s actually little said than done, but he paints.

It’s less with ink and paint and more so, just moving his hands and a brush around.

If he happens to have a canvas it’s better but again, not easy to come around.

So what Warrior ends up doing most of the time, is taking a brush and some homemade ink from berries and brushing it over his scars. His favorite spot is the massive burn covering his left arm left behind as a gift from the Dragon Knight.

It feels tingly and electric, static follows the brush and the muscles clench with energy from the contact but while it’s uncomfortable for a while, it’s also not entirely unpleasant and it’s soothing to watch and feel. And it grounds Warrior in the moment until he no longer feels the urge.

When the urge is gone, he still does it when he feel anxious and concerned. Late at night is typical time for him to do this, where no one would see him or his scars and judge him for it.

Sky

Sky in the beginning would have slept more than he did before.

He was already inclined to fall asleep easily before all of his trauma, but afterwards he seemed to lose motivation to continue with the idea that things would go back to normal. There was still a lot of expectation placed on his shoulders and it was frankly not something he wanted to deal with.

So he sleeps.

Now this turns into more of a problem with being able to stay awake and to stay concentrated. It’s hard for him to pay attention to anything beyond him and that won’t do, considering me still has to finish his schooling.

What Sky does more often than not to keep him tethered to the present moment is work with his hands. He’s already had the tools for wood whittling but he was never allowed to use them in class and it ends being a bigger mess sometimes than he’s willing to deal with in general.

Sky also has some small pockets of clay that he fidgets with to keep his hands moving and he can keep it under his desk so that it’s not that distracting in class.

It helps him focus and when he thinks about what he’s been through and what he plans to do next, it keeps him from getting overwhelmed.

Wild

I think Wild would have just gone silent and unmoving when he’s having a bad day.

Kind of similar to how he gets when’s trapped in a memory but for longer and he doesn’t eat or sleep. It could last days at a time. He doesn’t even move unless he’s prompted or dragged to the spot.

The lights are on but no one’s home you know.

There’s not a lot he can do when it happens. Everyone just has to wait for it to pass and hope that it passes quickly.

But Wild gets better with time to know the signs when of one of those days is coming.

It’s not much, but Wild like to hop on the back of his horse and just take off.

Feel the rushing wind on his face and through his hair. He’s a full gallop for a while until the poor horse gets tired. At that point he just goes to the nearest stable and exchanges horses to do the whole thing over again.

Sometimes, when that’s not enough, he’ll go base jumping from as high as he can get even using Revali’s Gale to get higher and free fall. Wild is pretty good at catching himself with his paraglider at the last moment and he likes to see all of Hyrule when as he reaches the ground again.

It reminds him that he’s done a lot of good, that he’s capable of doing more good and that life isn’t over just one ended.

Four

Unsurprisingly, sometimes Four gets too lost in his own for his own good.

He’s got a lot to think about and very little way to get it out.

Four would actually throw himself into his work to try and distract himself from the memories, the anxiety, and the guilt of not being enough time and time again even if he saved the day in the end.

This doesn’t help.

He gets so lost into it, in his attempt to stop thinking all together that he completely goes into autopilot and over works himself. Not in the sense that he pulls a muscle and has to take it easy or end up sore and tired and regrets it. No, no. What I mean is that he’ll keep working for days on end.

No sleep.

No food.

Little water.

No fresh air.

It ends up being a hard habit for him to break. Especially since he finds himself continuously trying to fall into a blank mindset even while he actually works to get commissions done.

So what Four has to do is find something else to do. Four more or less always has to have his hands moving, so it’s hard for him to put something down and not working on it.

He likes jigsaw puzzles, he likes to read, but he also likes to make stuff.

So in the end, when Four feel a little overwhelmed and feels himself slip into a self deprivational state, he’ll stop and goes inside his house to do a smaller project.

So he bakes, he knits, he does his puzzels. It’s enough for him to feel productive still but quick enough for him to stay present and make sure he’s still taking care of himself until the restlessness passes.

Wind

Wind doesn’t really have bad habits. He’s still young and processing his adventures.

I’m sure there’s alcohol on the pirate ship because pirates. But I don’t think he’d like it as much as some people want to write him.

Like, sure, a cup or two ain’t bad but I just can’t see Wind having a drinking problem. At least not now as everything stands.

In a few years it’s might be something he would need to be on the look out for if he’s aware enough but he was quite grasped the full implications of his position and trauma yet.

Because he’s just a kid.

He won’t know how twisted what happened to him was until he gets older and can he the age outside of his own mindset.

Wind has nightmares though and they’re ties when he gets memories that he doesn’t want to deal with at the moment- or ever again.

In the moment he thinks of his home, his grandma and his sister instead.

He thinks of his friends, both old and new.

The chain help with distracting him and he’s not above using them for the distraction when he feels that he needs one.

Wind also stretches a lot.

When he was with Warrior, he got into some of the drills they were teaching the soldiers and for some of the nimble ones, they had to start with stretches and he likes it.

So when it gets particularly bad, he throws himself through the motions and holds the poses for a bit longer than necessary.

So yoga. He does yoga.

And it centers him, it clears his head and he feels better after.

Legend

Legend screams.

Legend cries.

Legend will go on a rampage and destroy a whole forest if he’s having a particularly hard day.

Sometimes he’ll go find something big and scary just to fight it.

Blacksmithing is more a hobby for him at this point because it’s not something he can actually see himself doing in the future. It’s just to pass the time and help the day’s go by a little faster.

Legend likes to draw and when he’s tired after throwing whatever tantrum has taken over him, he’d go to a quiet spot and draw whatever he sees.

Sometimes, when he’s paying more attention to himself and he can feel himself getting frustrated and anxious, he takes a few days off.

He leaves his house and his items and goes up a mountain to think with some food, a notebook and some pencils.

He takes up map making.

Legend doesn’t think he’s any good at it, but with al the places he’s been, he tries to make a map for them by memory incase anyone he knows or will meet decides to visit.

His most carefully crafted map is of Koholint for... reasons.

It’s takes him an age and a half and he’s still not done with it, trying to get as much of it onto the paper as he can remember before he grows old and loses them entirely within his memory.

It’s a calming project he finds. He doesn’t feel sad when he does this for Marin for the people and their memory. It keeps them alive in his heart and sometimes he draws something on the map that doesn’t quite fit into his memory about the island but something tells him to keep it because it was there. Because he was only a visitor to their home.

The locals would know.

He feels good keeping them alive in some way.

It’s what she they would have wanted.

It’s what she they deserve.

She They always wanted to travel and it’s better to have a map to do so.

He takes up map making.

Hyrule

I don’t think Hyrule’s... Hyrule has a lot of these methods to go around. He wouldn’t have been exposed to drugs or alcohol simply because there’s too little people for him to interact with.

And if he was, I don’t think he’s use them as a coping mechanism simply because they would be too difficult obtain and gather to be sufficient.

I think that Hyrule would actually hang out with a Great Fairies by her pool when times got particularly rough.

There’s something about the place that resonates with him and feels calming, safe and relaxing to him.

As a bonus he’s always welcomed so he can pop in and stay for days at a time if he ever needed to.

He does not stay there for days.

But he appreciates the offer.

Hyrule doesn’t stay for more than few hours at a time because he doesn’t want to attract any monsters to his safe spots but even if the fairies don’t use any magic on him, he’s always rejuvenated afterwards and he feel like he can take on anything.

And given the world he comes from- it’s needed.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #I know this wasn't really a request either #and I did say they were clsoed #but this was already going to get long #and it's more headcanons again #so into the queue it goes #bad habits #tw alchoholism #tw anxiety #tw smoking #tw addiction #pinky replies #pinky answers

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slasherhaven · 4 years

Note

How would slashers react to their fem s/o talking down to herself and making jokes about herself and saying “I’m worthless” while laughing, ly man hope I’m not a pain in the ass💛🧡🤍

You’re not a pain in the ass!! Here you go!

The Slashers’ S/O Having a Self-Deprecating Sense of Humour:

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas does not stand for this nonsense at all!

Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that, Y/n! You’re perfect!

You get a stern look from the man every time you make a mean joke about yourself.

He doesn’t understand! You make such mean jokes about yourself but as soon as he shows insecurity, you are so dedicated to making him feel better about himself and telling him not to think of himself that way.

Luda May will also chastise you for making those jokes about yourself.

Thomas and Luda May are very dedicated to building your confidence and self esteem, neither of them liking to hear you talk so poorly about yourself even if you are joking.

If you’re alone and you make a joke like that, he will wrap his arms around you and hold you against his chest. His silent way of telling you to stop talking like that and to tell you that he loves you.

Even if you try to assure him that you don’t mean it, that it’s all just jokes, Thomas thinks they are far too frequent to just be jokes.

He just never wants you feeling bad about yourself in anyway! He wants you to see yourself the way he loves you, absolutely perfect.

Michael Myers

He doesn’t think much of it at first. He just assumes it’s your sense of humour and he can laugh at people messing up or doing something dumb.

So if you do something dumb and laugh as you chastise yourself, he’ll (silently) laugh along, not thinking it’s anything serious.

When the comments and jokes about yourself continue though, he starts to grow more concerned. With each joke, they seem less funny, less like jokes.

Michael is a little more aggressive when it comes to getting you to stop talking bad about yourself but what do you expect?

Will just place a hand over your mouth and you can feel his glare even through the mask. You get the idea pretty quick.

It’s pretty sweet that he even cares about that sort of stuff when he acts so stoic most of the time.

Jason Voorhees

Lots of disappointed but concerned glances.

Like Thomas, he doesn’t stand for this sort of thing. He doesn’t let the comments and jokes pass. He can’t just ignore them.

How can you be so concerned about how he think about himself but then talk about yourself in such a way?

Since he can’t speak, he tends to stroke your hair or invite you into a hug. You’re talking bad about yourself so you need comforting right??? Well, he’s going to do that anyway!

You quickly understand that Jason doesn’t like hearing you talk like this about yourself.

Jason is just going to supply you with some extra love and affection in the hopes that it will help build your self esteem, in the hopes that you will start to see yourself the way he sees you.

Brahms Heelshire

The comment had made Brahms frown at first but then you laughed so he tried to brush it off. After all it was just a joke...right?

But the more ‘jokes’ you make, the more concern he feels.

He’s just trying to understand where the joke ends and your real thought begin.

He just doesn’t want you feeling that way about yourself...

He will probably question you about it, asking why you make so many jokes about yourself but you brush it off, telling him that you’re just joking and that he shouldn’t worry. But he will.

Eventually, when you’ve made one too many jokes, he’ll wrap his arms around you from behind and mumble for you to stop it.

You have to do what he says right? So please stop making such mean jokes about yourself.

Bo Sinclair

Bo isn’t going to be bothered by a self deprecating joke here and there. They’re just jokes, he understands that, so it’s not that serious.

But once he realises how frequent they are, he starts to genuinely worry, thinking it could be coming from a more serious place.

He knows what it’s like to brush off comments, acting like they are meaningless when they are more honest that you would care to admit. And he doesn’t want you to feel that way.

Tells you to ‘quit it’ when you make another joke about yourself.

At first your confused before realising that it bothers him, that he doesn’t like hearing you talk down to yourself.

Just remember that Bo is not a very patient man, nor is he very charitable. If you truly were worthless, you wouldn’t be here still. And he will probably tell you that bluntly, he means it in a caring way though.

And if you need more sincere comfort, he is able to provide that as well. Getting you to promise to be more kind to yourself.

Vincent Sinclair

Won’t even humour the first joke you make. He knows better than to just let comments like that slide without questioning them, he’s done it to himself enough.

As soon as you talk bad about yourself, even jokingly, Vincent is frowning and tilting his head at you.

It’s moments like these that he wishes he could talk, to tell you that you’re wrong and properly express to you how much he cares for you and how he sees you.

You’re so persistent about him being kinder to himself and having more self esteem but than you talk about yourself like that.

How can he make you see that to him it’s the same thing? The way you joke about yourself makes him feel the same way you do when he hides his face from you.

Whenever you’re alone and you make the joke, Vincent will pull you into a hug and stroke your hair. You get the idea pretty quick.

Glares at Bo if he laughs at the joke or in some way agrees or encourages it.

Lester Sinclair

Lester probably also has a bit of a self deprecating sense of humour. He is aware of how other people see him and how he presents himself.

And while he is generally pretty unfazed and confident despite that, he can make a joke or two about himself.

That’s why he doesn’t react too much when you start making the jokes.

“God, I’m so stupid”

“You’re still smarter than me but that ain’t much of a challenge”

He sees it as harmless at first.

Then realises that it probably isn’t.

He playfully insulted himself and you had frowned, telling him to stop that.

And the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he didn’t really find that stuff funny...it was more about him saying it before somebody else did.

Then he had the thought of what if you felt the same way.

From then on whenever you make a mean joke about yourself, he tells you that you’re wrong and that you’re wonderful and he loves you.

God, he doesn’t want you to actually feel bad about yourself! So he plans on making you feel good about yourself no matter what it takes!

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba frowns as soon as you say the slightest unkind thing about yourself.

He simply doesn’t understand why you would say something like that when it was just so untrue, he thought you were perfect and was amazed you couldn’t see it as well.

He also didn’t understand why you were laughing, it wasn’t funny that you were insulting yourself!

He’s genuinely worried about you and how you see yourself.

When you tell a joke or laugh as you making a belittling comment about yourself, Bubba is going to try to fix it.

Wrapping his arms around you, holding you against his chest, as you receive some concerned babbling from the worried man.

No matter how much you reassure him that it’s all just jokes, he still doesn’t like it.

If you’re not going to be kind to yourself for your own sake, do it for his.

Billy Lenz

Billy might not even pick up on the jokes and comments at first but he quickly will.

Always puzzled by the way you talk about yourself. It’s something that should make you feel sad or disheartened but you just laugh.

You’re so kind, patient and accepting with him so how can you be so mean to yourself?

When you make a joke about you being worthless, Billy will frown before approaching you.

Pulling you into an embrace and burying his face in your hair, mumbling about how mean you are to yourself and how he doesn’t like it at all.

You might brush off his concern at first but it eventually becomes impossible to ignore because the meaner you are to yourself, the more he tries to show you the opposite.

Trying to get you to see yourself through his eyes. Why couldn’t you treat yourself as well as you treat him?

Otis Driftwood

Otis doesn’t worry at first when you start making some self deprecating jokes because they’re just jokes. He obviously has a dark sense of humour and even though he doesn’t make jokes at the expense of himself, he can understand not to take it too seriously.

But eventually it starts to bother him.

He would be able to overlook a few jokes, maybe even laughing along with them, but after so long he starts to realise that this might be more serious than he originally thought.

Making you weren’t really joking...

You’ll make another joke about how worthless you are and Otis will tell you to knock it off, a little harshly if other people are around, still surprising you all.

When you’re alone, and he’s in a good mood, and you tell another joke, he’s a little softer about it. Pulling you into him or on to his lap, telling you to stop joking about yourself like that because it ain’t true.

You know he means it when he’s looking at you like that.

Baby Firefly

Like Otis, she understands that people have different senses of humour and if you like to make jokes about yourself that is fine.

She’ll even laugh along with the more light hearted jokes.

But as soon as you laugh and call yourself worthless, she cupping your face in your hand and covering your face in kisses, telling you to stop lying to her.

Will compliment and praise you more as you make more jokes about yourself, trying to compensate for them.

Might joke about you saying “What? Do you think I have bad taste?” and if you say yes? Oh boy, she’s not happy. Time to show you why you’re so amazing!

She found that the best way to get you to stop making those jokes is for her to do the same to herself, so that you understand how she feels when she hears you belittling yourself.

Even when you know that she has an unshakable confidence, it hurts to hear her say mean things about herself.

She agrees to stop if you will, so you agree. You can’t help but laugh at her triumphant grin.

Yautja (Predator)

When you tell a joke about yourself, you’re alien mate is probably just going to tilt his head at you with a small squint.

He doesn’t always understand human humour. What you said was self deprecating, something that should upset you but you’re laughing? So it’s a joke and that’s alright...right?

He won’t say anything but he’ll keep an eye on it.

At first he even feels a little responsible. Has he made you feel this way, does he not express how much you mean to him properly? Has he failed you?

Little jokes he can try to overlook since it doesn’t seem to be upsetting you but as soon as you start calling yourself names, calling yourself stupid or worthless, he has to step in.

Little mate, do you think he would have courted so fiercely you if you were worthless. Do you believe than you bring him shame? Because you don’t, you bring him honour. Please do not make these false claims about yourself.

And, well, how can you argue with that? After all, he would never lie to you.

#thomas hewitt x reader #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #billy lenz x reader #otis driftwood x reader #baby firefly x reader #yautja x reader #predator x reader #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

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jusvibbbin · 3 years

Text

One Locker Down

Kenickie Murdoch x Reader

//Grease popped up in my playlist yesterday and my childhood crush reignited itself

Senior year was going okay. Your grades were stellar, your standing in debate club was unchallenged and your personal best was improving every time you swam. But you were missing one pivotal thing to be considered the ‘complete senior.’ A relationship. You became embarrassed simply at the thought. You were cute and nice, just a bit awkward. Your social skills couldn’t hold a candle to those of Patty Simcox or the Pink Ladies. You usually preferred to keep to yourself but as senior year drew closer, you longed for more than what you had. On the first day of school you considered your options as you walked.

Are there even any options? Can you think of one person outside of your activities that even knows your name?

You were a bit discouraged walking into school as you found your way towards your locker. With your mind lost in thought, you had no time to react before bumping into none other than Kenickie Murdoch. He turned towards you directly, mouth open to begin sending a barrage of insults your way before he saw you. His mouth hung open a moment and then shut quickly. You stood there like a deer in the headlights, still waiting for the attack that was never to come. Kenickie bent down and picked up your books as you brought yourself out of your state of shock.

“I am so sorry!” You said bending down to help him, only to bonk heads with him instead. Kenickie rubbed his head and pulled off his sunglasses.

“Jesus, babe! Are you trying to send me to the hospital?”

You felt yourself blushing at what he called you and you quickly shook your head ‘no.’ Kenickie handed you your books and you went around to the locker right next to his.

“What’s your name?” Kenickie asked suddenly.

You stuttered out your name and he grinned at you.

“I like it,” he said smoothly. He looked like he had more to say until someone down the hall shouted for him. He gave you a wink and strolled down the hallway. You felt your heart beat wildly in your chest until you realized what had happened.

Ohhhh no. Not him. Not Kenickie. He’s a playboy, a greaser, not to mention he’s trouble incarnate.

But it was too late. You had it bad.

You didn’t see Kenickie until a week later. You were at your locker packing up for the day and when you closed the door, he was leaning against his locker. You stifled a scream and put a hand to your chest. Kenickie smirked at you.

“What’s the matter? Did I scare you?” he asked, pushing himself off the wall to face you.

“Just surprised me is all,” you tried to answer confidently, but it came out very unsure. Kenickie backed you into your locker and put his left hand next to your head, blocking you in on one side. You bit your bottom lip and stared up at him.

“How is it that I never noticed you before?” Kenickie eyed you up and down. “You’re hot stuff.” You thought you might die right then and there.

Kenickie thinks I’m hot? Is he feeling alright?

“Thank you,” you said shyly, keenly aware of how close he was to you and only wanting him to get closer.

Suddenly Kenickie moved away from the lockers and started walking away, calling back to you, “See you around gorgeous!”

You resisted the urge to dance your soul right out of your body and you headed the opposite way.

Kenickie’s POV:

“Kenickie who is that?” Sonny gestured to (Y/N) standing at their locker.

“Yeah, we’ve seen you talkin’ to em a whole bunch lately,” Putzie added.

Kenickie rolled his eyes and looked at the other T-Birds.

“What are you knuckleheads doing spying on me, huh?” He started to comb his hair, slick with grease, back.

“We just wanted to know what the plan was, boss,” Doody piped up. Kenickie looked at him confused.

“Plan?”

“With the nerd! We were thinking you could leave em a note inviting them on a date, tell em to wear something real flashy, and then they show up and you ain’t there!” Doody exclaimed. At this, the T-Birds erupted into laughter, hooting and howling like animals. Kenickie shut them up with a quick smack to the back of their heads.

“Enough clownin’,” he said, putting an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“Come on Nickie, it’ll be funny!” Sonny begged.

Kenickie thought about it for a moment or two before saying, “Gimme some paper.”

Your POV:

You stood at your locker, feeling flustered. You had found a note from Kenickie. You read it over again just to be sure. It said:

“Dollface, you’re lookin’ extra good today. I was thinking maybe you and me could meet up tonight. Wear something to show off your assets. See you at Frosty Palace, seven o’clock. -KM”

You didn’t know what to think. Sure Kenickie had been nice to you lately, but the T-Birds were known for pulling stunts to hurt people’s feelings. You thought about what you wanted to do the rest of the school day, through swim practice and on your walk home from school.

Kenickie is probably just doing it to be mean. But he did say all those nice things to me… Then again it might’ve been a trick to ensure I’d come. But why go through all the effort just to stand me up? To make me look silly?

You walked into your house, waving to your mother as you went upstairs. You laid on your bed and yelled frustrated, into your pillow. You stayed there for a few moments before you heard your door creak open. You sat up as you mother walked in and sat on your bed.

“What’s going on?” Your mother asked, running her hand through your hair.

“I like this boy, and he asked me out tonight but I don’t know if he’s just going to ditch me,” you sighed. Your mother looked thoughtfully for a moment as you waited patiently for her sage wisdom.

“I think you should go. What does it matter if he stands you up? Go because you want to. If he’s there, great and if not, you can find someone else to spend time with. You are a beautiful, smart and kind person. You can get anyone you want so show that boy that you don’t need him, but you’re willing to give him a chance.”

You smiled and nodded at your mother and she helped you pick out a cute, but fairly modest, outfit for tonight. Then she helped you do your hair and by the time you were done, you looked great.

Kenickie, I hope you’re gonna be there. Cause I am gonna knock your socks off.

At six fifty your mother dropped you off just down the street from the Frosty Palace. You thanked her for everything and started walking. You hoped against hope that this wasn’t a trick. Your mother’s words had touched you, but you knew what you wanted, and you wanted him.

As you approached Frosty’s you scanned the parking lot, but saw no sign of him and your heart dropped into your stomach. You crossed the street and looked inside, but you still didn’t see him. You rounded the corner, intent on sitting on the bench so no one could see your tears, and there he was. Kenickie freaking Murdoch. He was leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette and as you walked up, he looked over at you.

“Whoa, look at you,” Kenickie smiled at you. “You look… amazing.”

You grinned at him and grabbed his hand, pulling him inside before he could even finish his cigarette. After a night of drinking milkshakes, eating burgers and playing songs on the jukebox, Kenickie drove you home. Once you got to your house, Kenickie parked and turned off the car.

“I had a lot of fun Nickie,” you said sweetly.

“Yeah, me too,” he said scooting closer towards you.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. As you started to lean away, Kenickie caught your chin with his hand and kissed you hard on the lips. You kissed him back with intensity and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands grabbed your waist, sliding them under your shirt and rubbing small circles into your skin. You squeaked in surprise and Kenickie took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You were enjoying the moment so much you could barely tear yourself away from him when he tried to lay you down.

“Kenickie,” you mumbled as he kissed your neck.

“Mhm?”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” you said gently as you pushed yourself back a bit. Kenickie begrudgingly pulled away, giving you one last kiss.

“Whenever you’re ready babe, I’ll be here,” he said, winking at you. You giggled and hugged him. He held you close, his hand running through a section of your hair.

“See you next Friday?” You asked.

“You know it,” Kenickie smirked as you got out of the car. You waved goodbye to him and watched him speed down the road.

Oh yeah. I got it bad.

Part Two

#grease #kenickie murdoch #kenickie #kenickie murdoch x reader #kenickie x reader #oneshot

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