#welcome to me crawling the walls because of this shirt
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HELP ME OUT — SANO SHINICHIRO
you’d grown used to your boyfriend getting himself caught up in stuff, good thing you’re there to help.
♱ warnings — f!reader, stuckage, exhibitionism, shinichiro gets himself stuck while he’s working at the shop, creampies. ꒰ word count : 3k ! ꒱
♱ note — hewo ! welcome 2 my first post of kinktober yay . i hope you guys enjoy this & the rest of the stuff i have planned <3
RETURN TO KINKTOBER MLIST ♱ REGULAR MLIST
shin : you comin’ down to the shop t’day, baby? need y’re help <3
you always were, you don’t know if it was how hot you thought your boyfriend shinichiro looked working on bikes that had you accepting his invitation everytime, or if it was just your desire to see your boyfriend at any opportunity you could.
but you could never say no.
you’d told him about how sexy you thought he was as he worked, his hair mused and hands slick with oil, gaze heavy and drowsy despite the way it softened when it met yours.
you can still remember the way the confession had made shinichiro swell with pride at the time, grinning all bright and proud and the sight of him like that made your own heart warm because he was really was cute, and all yours.
the bike shop is quiet when you arrive, wearing one of the pretty little skirts that always make your boyfriend’s cheeks dust a little pink — the kind that distracted him from his work and turned his attention to you instead, but maybe that’s what you wanted today.
you let your gaze drift from the parts that lay across the walls, tv in the corner playing some bike commercial that garners your attention for a few moments as you let yourself sway on your heels. there was a certain comfort that came with the store itself, it was clean but rugged and had a certain air to it that was very much like shinichiro that made you feel at home.
you’re only snapped from your daydream by a clash of something metal through the back followed by a spit curse, one that you’ve heard too many times from your boyfriends lips and the sound makes a giggle sound from your own before you follow the source.
but he’s not in his usual spot beside the bike he’s been tinkering with for the last few days, and you frown with a huff before you call for him. “shin? where are you?” you call, pausing at the silence that seems to linger before his voice sounds from deeper into the garage and you turn on your heel.
“shit. ‘m in here, baby.”
you want to laugh when you finally find shinichiro, his body is shuffled under the tiny entryway underneath a suspended truck — his overalls tied around his waist as he lays on his back, oversized shirt pooling on the ground beneath him before you’re leaning down to peek underneath.
“shin?” you grin as you let yourself drop to your knees, and you watch the way your boyfriend features seem to soften at the sight of you when he turns. “hey.. y’look real pretty, angel.” he drawls, his compliment drawn out and slow, sounding unbothered despite the way he’s sweating and covered in oil.
ofcourse he still looks absolutely perfect and attractive.
you watch his eyes flick down to the way you’re bent over to look at him, tiny little skirt bunching around your waist before he quickly turns his head away, clearing his throat with a lazy grin and trying not to think about the view he could have from behind you.
“what’re you doing? you work on trucks now?” you trail off as you watch shinichiro’s gloved fingers work with his tools, propping your chin up against your palm and the bewildered look in your eyes makes him laugh when he glances back at you again.
“nah, he’s a friend of gramps so said i’d take a look. dunno, figured it can’t be too different from a bike.” you pout at him, and it only makes his grin grow. “it’s a real pain t’ crawl outta here when i need my stuff though, baby. can y’hand me my tools when i need ‘em?”
once again, shinichiro does a bad job of glancing over the swell of your thighs in your skirt and you try hard to ignore the simmer of something warm you feel twist in your stomach — knowing you always have his undivided attention everytime you walk into a room.
“is that what you needed help with? you’re so lazy, unless.. sano shinichiro are you stuck right now?” you tease, eyes narrowing at the way your boyfriend suddenly seems to avoid your gaze. “pfff, nah.” he is, you can tell by the way he’s not looking you in the eye but you decide to save him the embarrassment. “just needed an excuse t’ see my baby, ‘s all.”
you did always like when he let you help out, and he knows that. rolling your eyes, you make your body move to stand up straight before you’re skipping over to sit on the floor where his legs rest. “well, what do you need shin?” you sigh with a hum as you watch his pretty abdomen twitch and twist with every movement he makes underneath the truck.
“gimme a sec, baby. jus’ gotta—fuck, don’t think that’s meant’a look like that.” his words are followed by a very alarming grinding sound and a long, drawn out sigh from your boyfriend that makes you giggle. “quit laughin’ at me, can still hear from under here y’know.” the way his words are spoken through a pout only making you laugh even louder.
but by the time shinichiro eventually calls for you to hand him a tool you’re already bored and needy, it feels weird to spend this much time with your boyfriend without his hands on you — or atleast being able to feel his touch given how touchy he was.
“shin~ im bored, when will you be done?” you groan— you hate how childish you sound but you’re still tossing and turning as you try to get comfortable — fiddling around with the metal tools that you’ve organised neatly infront of you too many times to count.
“nearly there, baby. can y’hand me my wrench.” shinichiro asks with good nature, but he’s been telling you he’s nearly there for almost an hour and you’re feeling too touchstarved to hide your frustration now. his voice is rougher with drowsiness, he’s probably tired too but you can’t deny the way it makes your thighs rub together with need.
you feel his hand smooth along your skin when you let the silence linger with a pout on your lips, but then you get an idea when you take another slow glance over the lower half of his figure that’s not concealed under the truck.
this is a desperate situation, you’re absolutely bored and you don’t think you can stand another second of it.
“can feel y’ poutin’ at me, come on don’t be like that — promise, ‘m almost done.” he hums with another affectionate squeeze to your thighs, and your eyes almost roll back in delight at the smooth touch before you decide to put your new plan into action.
with a deep breath, you let the pinpricks of arousal burst along your thighs when you pick up his tool — deliberately leaning onto shinichiro when you reach underneath the truck to hand it to him despite his outstretched hand that’s waiting.
you let your palm rest and curl along his thigh, a little too high up for it to be just coincidence and you feel his muscles twitch under your touch when you press harder, grazing it higher when you hear him exhale shakily from his place underneath the truck.
you know you’ve already gotten to him when you still feel the weight of the tool in your other hand, the image of shinichiro’s eyes fluttering closed as he bites back a moan making you squeeze your fingertips into his skin before you watch the first throb of his cock bounce behind his sweats.
“shit, watch y’re hands, baby. y’re gonna make me fuckin’ hard.” he sighs, taking the wrench from your fingertips a little too quickly as he lets the touch linger a little longer when you exhale.
“sorry shin..” you feign innocence, releasing your grip on his thigh to let your hand trace featherlight touches higher along his bulge, making his abdomen tense when it jolts. “just thought you must be sore under there.”
“fuck—what’s gotten’ i-into ya.” shinichiro grits, you can hear that he’s biting hard on his lower lip to stifle a groan when you let your fingertips dance just short of his cock, he’s half hard and basically begging for you to help him out. “what do you mean, shin? i’m helping.”
your fingers graze teasingly along the base of his bulge and you hear him groan softly at the soft pressure of the touch, hips jolting to chase more of the intoxicating friction before he’s hissing behind clenched teeth.
“this ain’t fair, baby. fuck, can’t fuckin’ feel ya from here.” shinichiro’s muffled whimper makes you feel too warm under your clothes suddenly, and the next sinful, lingering squeeze of your fingers around him makes desire twist thick in your stomach when you feel him thicken and throb against your palm.
you can basically already imagine the look on his face, the flush on his cheeks and the pinch of his brows, the way his forearm is probably resting over his blown, heavy eyes. you can tell that he’s panting softly with the rise and fall of his abdomen, lower lip most likely sucked between his teeth.
you’ve barely touched him, but you know shinichiro’s already a mess.
“y’re a real tease. y’know that, angel?” his words catch at the end when you deliberately tighten your fingers around his bulge, giving it a rough stroke against your palm before you pull your hand away entirely, earning a long whine from your boyfriend who’s still stuck underneath the truck.
“h-hey.. what’re ya—“ he grunts when he feels your fingertips graze against his abdomen, tucking under where he’s tied his overalls around his waist before you’re pulling the knot undone and pulling down his sweats after, just enough to have his cock springing out to slap against his stomach.
finally seeing shinichiro’s cock makes your mouth water before you’re hooking your thigh over both of his — letting yourself straddle his lap while you let the fabric of your skirt bunch around your waist.
“i want you, shin.” you gasp, and you watch his abdomen twist with a shock of pleasure when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, giving it a few languid pumps before he’s groaning and meeting every twist of your wrist with an eager hump.
“yeah? shit—you know i can never say no t’ my baby.” his words are low, wound so tight with anticipation despite the way he still wishes he could see you right now.
shinichiro can imagine how pretty you’d look lifting your hips to pull your panties to the side, his lips parting to grind out a groan when he feels your thighs shuffle up to straddle his waist followed by the first swipe of his cock through your folds.
he really should be embarrassed, he’s stuck underneath a truck in the back of his bike shop, while his pretty little girlfriend humps and rubs her slick cunt all over his cock. if waka or benkei were to see him like this they’d bully him about it for the rest of his life.
but then you’re catching your clit against the head of shinichiro’s cock and the pretty little whisper that drips from your lips makes his mind blank, and suddenly he couldn’t care less if the fucking world were to walk in right now because all he can think about is the way your cunt feels when you finally sink yourself down on his cock.
“holy shit, bet y’look r-real fuckin’ pretty right now.” god—he knows you are.
he can hear the way you moan and twitch at the thick spread of him, his body twisting to look between your bodies — the peek of your cunt just visible above his cock, and shinichiro swears he’s in heaven.
he can see just above his own hips, but that’s enough for him to see the peek of your puffy folds spread for him, that’s all he needs to be hypnotised by you. he lets his head fall back against the concrete just as he watches your hips finally press flush against his, taking your time to adjust to the stretch as his cock throbs inside of you.
“you’d be able to see if you didn’t get yourself stuck, dummy.” you tease followed by the first real bounce of your body against his, raising your hips until only the top of shinichiro’s cock is resting inside of your cunt before you’re sinking back down onto him.
“y-yeah, yeah.. lecture me later, baby. mmmm, fuck—y’re pussy f-feels too good right now.” your mind feels cloudy with the low rumble of his voice, and shinichiro’s feels hazy with how good you’re fucking him. your boredom completely melting out of your body now that you’ve gotten what you wanted most, your boyfriends body rocking seamlessly along your own.
the muscles in shinichiro’s toned body shake beneath you when he grinds his hips up to meet yours, deliberately rolling his pelvis upwards to graze along your puffy clit. the head of his cock slides along every one of the swollen spots inside of you, and he’s really wishing he could swallow those pretty sounds you’re making for him right now.
but his cock feels like it sparks something along the nerves in your body, letting your fingers graze between your thighs to roll your clit in sticky circles as the other takes a slow, handful of your breast through your shirt. you try to imagine your fingers as his, letting yourself indulge in the warmth that he always seemed to make burst along your thighs.
“can feel y’ squeezin’ around me, princess. hnnn, y’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.” shinichiro grunts, and you’re surprised at the way he still seems to keep a pace given his current position. everytime he grinds his cock into your slick cunt it feels like it reaches even deeper.
your pace stutters as he pushes against something sensitive inside of you, your body grinding closer—needier into his and he feels like he can barely breathe with how consumed by you he feels.
“well you were taking too long, shin.” another languid roll of your hips and another needy squeeze of your cunt across his cock makes him moan loudly, choking on your name as his own fingertips twist in his hair and fuck—he wishes it were your hands instead.
but shinichiro only fucks into you more even more eagerly, one of his palms reaching to squeeze around the flesh of your thigh as he listens to the way you cry for him. another sweet groan kicks it’s way from his chest followed by another needy coax of your walls and he swears you must be trying to milk him.
his body almost curls in on itself in bliss with the way you’re bouncing on his lap, every push of your cunt feels like it makes his vision white and he wishes he could pull you closer to bury his sounds in the crook of your neck instead of the back of his forearm.
“aint complainin’ bout it now, baby. got what y’ wanted di’nt ya?” you hear him grumble, words buried into the back of his elbow as he almost bites down on the skin. he can feel tears prick at his lashes, can imagine the way you’re rubbing so desperately at your puffy clit — probably in time with the way you’re squeezing around him and it’s driving him insane.
maybe it’s the lack of some of his senses that only makes his pleasure burn more intense along his nerves, his carnal need to look at you—touch you as you fuck yourself dumb on his cock.. but knowing he can’t makes his cock throb with another silky squeeze of your cunt around him.
“fuck, angel. ‘m gonna cum.. mmmm, feels too fuckin’ good—shiiit.” shinichiro’s breathing hitches as he curses, eyes screwed shut as his hips twitch and stutter beneath you before he’s cumming thick and warm inside of you.
every bounce of your hips makes his lungs quake and it only takes a few more flicks of your clit underneath your fingers before you’re following him off the edge, the warmth he fills you with helping dig your orgasm out of you.
the back shop is filled with both of your mixed moans, small whimpers of eachothers names that break off into something weaker as your pleasure rocks through you, every connection of your hips growing wetter, louder than the last.
your movements finally come to a halt when your thighs burn and a mixture of both your orgasms is smeared along your thighs and shinichiro’s pelvis, watching your boyfriend twitch when you finally release him from the milking compressions of your cunt with a long sigh.
“holy shit.” he huffs, breathing heavy as he tries to catch his breath and hisses when he reaches down to try and tuck his cock back into his sweats. you let yourself roll off of his lap to relax, hearing a few spat curses to your side as your boyfriend struggles to duck out from underneath the truck, but you still find it in yourself to laugh when you finally see the first peek of his face a few minutes later.
he’s flushed to his chest, dark mop of messy hair stuck around the sweat that gathers across his hairline and his eyes are a little wet, probably from desire as his hooded, drowsy gaze sends you a fond look and he’s finally pulling you against him.
“the hell was that all about, baby? would’ve finished sooner if y’just told me you were horny.” shinichiro hums, pressing wet kisses along your cheeks and lips that makes you grin when they tickle your skin. but when his arms hook around your waist, it’s almost too easy to melt against his chest despite the mess he’s covered in.
“you were taking too long.. but you fixed it, right?” you hum, turning to blink up at him from where he’s got you pressed against his chest.
“nah, might’a made it worse.. i dunno. ain’t my fault i got a bit distracted.” shinichiro laughs before he’s leaning down to press his lips against yours with a fond hum.
“not that i’m complainin’ bout it, angel.”
© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
#𖥶 ₊˚. — ktober !#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo rev x you#tokyo revengers x you#tokyorev x you#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers smut#tokyorev smut#tokyo rev smut#tokyorev x reader#shinichiro x reader#sano shinichiro smut#shinichiro smut#sano shinichiro x reader#shinichiro x you
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TAGS AND WARNINGS - Hurt/comfort, panic attack, family issues, abusive family, racism (against Joel and Sarah), mentions of stalking (if you squint), Joel is definitely Latino, potentially triggering if you have suffered from an abusive household, self-degradation, “Mexican” as a slur, Christmas celebration and religion. Reader is 28. Because of the plot both reader and family are implied to be white/not black or latino.
PAIRINGS - Joel Miller x fem!reader (Pre-outbreak! Joel)
WORD COUNT - 3.2k
SUMMARY - Coming back “home” to your family for Christmas is always a dangerous move. The goal was simple: survive through the night. Joel comes to the rescue when the mission becomes unbearable.
Home
There is a warmth in your chest as you close the door to your childhood room. Out of the bubble you have now created for yourself beyond those four walls, there's a dad sitting in front of the tv and a mom putting the finishing touches to Christmas dinner. Your brother is somewhere out there, too. And all you can think of is how the warmth in your chest becomes white lightning, a fire going up and down through your sternum; and your closed-up throat unwilling to welcome any more air into your lungs.
'What's wrong?' you ask yourself in your mind; as if you didn't already have the answer for that. All is fine, all is well. And yet the fire doesn't stop despite the lack of oxygen in your lungs, and the trembling in your hands becomes somehow more erratic.
'What's wrong?' The voice in your head is unforgiving. Sarcastic. Insulting, even. 'Nothing's wrong. You know damn well that's the problem.'
Your breathing comes out laboured. Somehow the autopilot has failed, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing; it seems that your body is no longer interested in keeping you alive. Let alone sane.
As if sent by God themselves, the flip phone in your handbag rings. The melody fills the room from where you left your things an hour ago and your knees crawl there, unable to hold your own weight. Back hits the mattress, and your form becomes a boneless bundle of anxiety against it, on the floor. Your shaky hands look for the phone inside your bag; and you pick it up on its last ring.
You hear a relieved breath on the other side, and yours immediately follows. His voice comes out low, a drop of worry staining it inevitably like blood on a white shirt.
"It's me," he says. And you want to respond 'Of course it's you, who else would call me at this hour on Christmas eve?' "Just wanted to check how everything is going."
Words don't come out of your mouth. You just bend into yourself a little more, feeling extremely cold all of a sudden. The trembling is gone. Although it has left remnants behind, a trail of weakness in your very soul, your breathing still in manual mode. Slow. Lungs aching.
"Darlin'..." Joel whispers.
You can almost picture him bent over his yellow kitchen counter. One hand is pressing the phone against his ear, his elbow supporting his weight. The other is against his chest as if trying to comfort himself with half a hug. The crease between his dropped eyebrows is deep. Concern flows from his voice like a river after it's rained. You want to massage the fine lines on his forehead, press your own hand against his patchy beard; and kiss the worry away.
The words you prepare yourself to say are comforting, dismissive of your current situation; but they never leave your lips.
"I shouldn't be here," it's what flows from your mouth instead.
He takes a deep breath followed by a sigh, and you can perfectly picture him shutting his eyes tightly.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
He insists, but you don't have a different answer to offer. Truth is, nothing has happened; and that is something Joel Miller, your boyfriend, whose parents were always there for him both physically and emotionally when he and Tommy were growing up, will never understand.
He will never understand the silence in the room below, and how unsettling it is to patiently wait for the inevitable fight. He will never understand that the smell and sight of the house you grew up in bring memories deeply buried but burnt into your brain. He will never understand the unnerving rage that floods your nervous system whenever your family behaves like family; when they treat you nicely and kindly and it feels like they are mocking you somehow. Because you know how they are, and you know they are seconds away from dropping the masks and beginning the third world war as soon as you bring up the wrong topic; which seems to be any topic these days. But especially the fact that you're dating a divorced dad. And as if that wasn't enough, it bothers them, even more, knowing that said dad is of Latin descent, and his child, a black girl.
You don't understand why you're even there. Well, you know why you're there; because they drove three hours to pick you up even though you repeatedly told them that you could drive back home for Christmas. Because you had felt guilty —and sick— at the thought of one: saying no after that; and two: the anxiety a fight in front of Sarah's teacher would cause you.
How had they found out you were taking Sarah to school, or what school she attended? You had no idea.
"I'm sorry..." you whisper, suddenly guilty for being there; even though you know it's not your fault that they are manipulative and abusive and a complete fucking nightmare. It feels like you need to apologize to both of them, for still wanting and expecting your parents to change despite the awful things they think of Joel and Sarah.
"Hey... hey..." Joel speaks in a whisper, his heart pounding so hard it hurts. And you hear him walking somewhere; probably outside. He doesn't like Sarah listening to things she's not supposed to know about. "We both know it's not your fault they have their head so far up their asses."
There's no reason for you to break the way you do, but that doesn't stop your tears or your own shallow breath from making it to the other side of the line. A low grunt escapes your lips. The pain is raw, and feels new rather than just an uncomfortable scar. Your eyes scan the room and they find your purple walls, old notebooks, clothes in the open wardrobe and, suddenly, it feels like you're fifteen and so fucking helpless and exhausted and done.
"Darlin', come on..." he's begging. "Take deep breaths with me. C'mon..."
You close your eyes, so tightly that your very brain hurts, so tightly that you see bursts of fireworks behind your eyelids. That doesn't stop the tears from coming, but at least now there is a dark invisible barrier between you and that house that should be your home but isn't. And you take a deep breath with him, and let it out.
"Good. You're doing so good," he says, and it fills you with guilt that his voice sounds so scared. "One more... Yeah, there you go. One more baby girl... That's it," he keeps you from falling into the abyss of your mind, and you don't think you could ever repay the debt.
A comfortable silence settles between the both of you before he asks.
"Want me to go and pick you up?" he asks, with such a gentle voice you couldn't help but picture him as he talked to baby Sarah. He doesn't want to scare you or upset you in any way.
But you shake your head quickly and wipe your tears with the back of your hand.
"No," you respond. "It's so far away, and Christmas... and Sarah needs you."
"Sarah is perfectly fine here, and Christmas will last 'til morning. It's not even that late," he says. "...and you need me too," he insists. "It's not that far, anyway."
"It's a three-hour-long drive."
"For those old motherfuckers maybe. I can go back and forth in that same amount of time."
You sigh, loudly. The strength is leaving your body with any passing second, and you fear you will pass out on him while still on the call.
Almost as a threat, you hear your mother speaking in the living room.
"She's in her room?" she asks, and your heartbeat increases. It pounds heavily against your ribcage. The voice is muffled by the walls and stairs, but loud and clear as if she wanted you to hear. "Some things never change, do they? What a shame. A twenty-eight-year-old woman, hiding in her room from the parents that raised her... and put a roof over her head..."
Then, your brother laughs.
"Joel..." you say. With the tone that comes out of your shutting throat and your knees on the floor, his name in your mouth feels like a prayer. He winces on the other side of the line as if he could feel the stabbing pain in your heart. But that, you don't know. "Please hurry..."
"I will, baby," he says.
As soon as your words leave your mouth, you regret them. Almost screaming his name, he gets startled; asks what's wrong as if he feared the ceiling of your childhood bedroom collapsing on top of you. It certainly feels like it.
"Don't be so quick, though," you whisper, and immediately cringe at your own words. "I mean... Don't get yourself killed on the road. Please."
He blows a long sigh, directly into his phone.
"Je-sus... Christ," he could almost laugh at the relief. "I won't. Keep your phone at hand."
"Thank you, baby."
Before either of you has even hung up the phone, the door to your room bursts open. Your brother is standing there, with that sly grin that you wish you could beat out of him without him killing you first; but which, at the same time, terrifies you to the point of absurdity.
He leans his head, covered by a baseball cap, towards the hallway.
"She's talking to the Mexican!"
A different kind of rage fills your veins, but even before you have the chance to say or do anything; you're defeated by your own dread. You wait for him to say something else, to reveal your new plan for Christmas; but he just stands there squinting in your direction. He seems confused by your puffy red eyes and your sitting position on the floor; rather than concerned for your teary face as an actual brother should be.
Your mother speaks, then. A loud cry comes from the first floor. Exaggerated. Malicious.
"Oh dear lord," she sobs. "What did we do to deserve this? And on Christmas Eve. Can we not have one peaceful Christmas?"
"Dinner's ready," your brother says. And slams the door.
[***]
For almost two hours you eat up your father's complaints about hypothetical broken hinges and your mother's cries about being the worst possible mother ever. Your brother seems the only person eating dinner in peace, and you're almost jealous of how unbothered he appears to be.
At some point the conversation redirects towards Joel, you don't know exactly when or why, but your father says his name as if Joel had anything to do with whatever he was talking about. You try to defend him, but end up with both of them somehow offended because you called them racists and they-are-not-racist and Mexicans-take-our-jobs and no matter how many times you tell them he's not Mexican, they don't seem to care.
How you manage not to have another panic attack, that you don't know.
The doorbell rings throughout the house, as if announcing the apocalypse. Your brother stands with his fork halfway out of his mouth, and your heart races as you look toward both of your parents. You see their mind going a mile a second, wondering if their complaints have been loud enough for the neighbors to call the police. Until shaking like a leaf, you get up from the table without having eaten a single bite, get your handbag and head to the front door.
Everything else is a blur, even if nothing special happened, even if they just let you go without a single word. Somehow, silence is even worse than what you were expecting. Next thing you know, you're in Joel's truck heading back to Austin and he's holding your hand.
Just the sight of him calms your nerves enough to wake up from the trance. He's rubbing small circles on the back of your limp hand. He manages to drive with one single hand on the steering wheel, but he clenches his fist so much around it that you can see his knuckles turning white.
He turns for a split second to look at you, and his gaze softens. His fingers intertwined with yours, and he squeezes gently.
"There you are, gorgeous," he says, his voice being the only thing you can hear. He takes a deep breath, and you know he's trying very hard not to pull over and squeeze you against his chest until your atoms and his merge together. "We're going home now, baby. It's okay."
The sentence feels like a kick in the gut, but he's right; you're going home now. The force of the blow is so hard that you physically flinch, and fat round tears come back to your cheeks.
You wished it was different. You wished they were different. You wished you could call their house your home and those people your family, but they hardly have earned the title of acquaintances. It doesn't matter that you're their flesh and blood; they haven't treated you as such. Through the four of you flows the same blood, but what does that matter when they seem to break your own heart with every word they pronounce?
You don't even realize how or when, but the truck is standing on the side of the road. Joel gets out and walks to where you are, and your arms fling themselves over his broad shoulders as soon as he swings the door open. He buries his nose in your hair, breathing in your own presence and squeezing his fingers on your waist as if he could get your body any closer to his. When your touch falters, he takes his chance to grab your cheeks and kiss you.
The kiss tastes like salt from your own tears, but that doesn't stop him in the slightest. He wants to kiss you harder than his own body is capable of. He daydreams of becoming the prince in those Disney movies Sarah loved as a child. All so he can erase all your pain with a single kiss, wake you up from the terrible nightmare with just his presence, his love and care. He knows that's not possible, but that doesn't stop him from trying.
His tongue gently licks yours. He revels in the kiss, his knees almost buckling up as if he was a teenager all over again. Before he lets go, he nibbles at your lower lip. And it's not until then, when his hips accidentally brush your inner thigh, that he notices how hard he actually is.
You gasp, and your lips form a perfect 'oh" against his mouth. Your eyes are closed, and he holds his breath at how drugged up he feels. He breathes your exhale and now it is pooling at the bottom of his lungs, making a home there. Unmoving. Strange to his system but somehow still welcomed. He presses his lips against the pulse point on your neck, feels the swollen vein there and flattens his tongue against the warm skin. Just the soft moan coming from your lips makes his boring existence worth it.
And then he bites. Softly. So soft that he barely feels his own teeth against your flesh. It still makes you jump.
"Joel!" you whisper, and the following second he's smiling as he draws a path of kisses back to your cheek. "Ugh... stop"
The air he's been holding finally comes out of his system with a long sigh. Both his hands are hugging your cheeks as his lips approach your forehead and gift you a kiss there.
"I won't let anyone mistreat you this way again," he says. He's all eyes closed and heart on his sleeve. Even if he was usually affectionate, he had never once before been so open before. The ghost of his ex-wife still haunts his nightmares and threatens him to end the same way with you if he let himself go. "I wish I met you before... maybe I could've been there and..."
"Joel," you stop his ramblings. Those words he's saying are not even directed at you anymore. He's lost in his own thoughts, in his own pain. "Joel you couldn't have done anything. This had to happen sooner or later."
Finally, he lets go, but still keeps you close enough to bury your head in his chest if you need it.
"Look at you..." he says. "Comforting me when it is you who needs comfort now. I can't even begin to imagine what it was like to be there all those years. I would've lost my fucking mind."
With teary eyes, you look into those gentle brown eyes he carries. They look at you with so much pain already, such a heavy backpack full of sorrow for you on his back, that you feel bad to answer.
"I did. I did lose my fucking mind. Not having a home does that to a person."
Maybe it is because he doesn't want to cry in front of you, not now that you're so tender around the edges, at least; but he brings you back into his arms and a few tears well his eyes.
"Let me be your home," he finally whispers against your hair. "I will always be your home, somewhere you can always go to and depend on. Sarah and I will be your home. You don't have to keep looking anywhere else..."
The wound in your chest cannot be mended, that you already know. Yet Joel's words feel like a balm on the open wound. The promise sounds heaven-sent, too good to be true. It also feels threatening somehow. The breaking of that promise, if you agreed to it, would mean completely losing any hope remaining in your body, any strength to keep fighting. Trusting is so difficult and love so complicated when fate seems so random. Yet this is what living is like, isn't it? What is life if not a continuous gamble we play in the hope of achieving a little happiness?
His eyes are fixed on yours, trying to read the thoughts coming non-stop to your mind. But in the end, there's nothing left to consider. Before you could even make the conscious decision, your mind, even if broken and dazed, had already performed the biggest proof of care you were capable of. You had stood against your parents for Joel and Sarah, something you had never been able to do before. Not in all seriousness, at least; not as far as showing them that you were capable of walking out of their house without their permission.
You loved them, and they loved you the way a true family should love. Joel loved you in a way you had never thought possible, and Sarah considered you, in all aspects, her true mother. Their home was always open for you. Always welcome. The only scream anyone would hear could only come from the tv or the radio. The arms were always open, the coffee always boiling hot, and the favors didn't need to be asked for. Love wasn't traded, but simply given.
"You two have always been my true home," you finally conceded, right into his incredulous and love-struck eyes. "Will you forgive me for forgetting?"
"Oh, babygirl..." he whispers, a smile dancing on his lips as he presses his forehead against yours, and his hands slowly warm your cheeks. His nose gently brushes yours. "There's no need to apologize. I will never get tired of reminding you."
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x oc#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x fem!reader#tlou fanfic#the last of us x reader#joel miller x you
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Father figure
Pairing : Best Friend’s Dad Bucky x Reader
Warnings : Angst, Bad friends, Older man younger woman Dynamic, (age references removed and reader is recounting it as an adult)
Word count : 2167
AO3 page Link
Chapter 1 link
Chapter 2
Things stayed quiet, but at least they kind of got better. It had been a week or two since you’d welcomed Becky and her family back into your life.
A pounding at your window around 12pm woke you from an already uncomfortable sleep. You looked over at the drawn curtains, waiting for the sound again.
A *Knock knock knock* at the window of your ground-floor bedroom.
You pushed out of bed, readjusting your messy t-shirt and shorts as you groggily walked to the curtains. You weren’t surprised to see Becky on the other side of the glass, her dark hair nearly blending in with the night.
She didn’t look very happy, and her frustration was even more evident when she tried to jerk open the locked window. It wasn’t a new sight to see an angry Becky trying to force her way into your room, a popular choice of hers for when she had been out doing something she shouldn’t have and needed a place to hide before absconding by midnight.
"Open up!" You could hear her through the glass before you finally unlocked the window and pulled it up, and she immediately crawled past you.
"You can’t be yelling this late at night; you're gonna to wake my mom up."
"Whatever!" She stomped towards your bed before throwing herself onto it and grappling at one of your teddy bears.
You have a huff before shutting the window and locking it again.
"What’s wrong?" You slumped back onto the other side of the bed as you tried to find what made her mad this time.
"It doesn’t fuckin matter." A classic Becky move, but you’d played this game before, and with enough prying, you’d get her to talk instead of sulking into one of your old teddy bears.
"Clearly it mattered to you because you were here at almost 1 in the morning instead of asleep."
"Shut up!" She turned and tossed the bear at you, clearly choosing to act more like a child than her actual age.
"Keep your voice down. You wake my mom up, and she’s gonna kick you out again." You seethed before throwing the stuffed animal back at her, only to miss and hit the wall beside the bed.
Becky dropped her arms from above her head to her sides, hitting the bed with a thump. "Everything’s just so stupid; it fucking sucks." She grumbled, but at least she made an effort to keep her voice down.
"What happened?" You ask tiredly, rubbing your eyes as you wait for an answer.
"I called my mom today." She answered meekly. Conversations with her mom often brought out the worst in her, making it unsurprising that she’d snuck out to blow off steam.
"What’d she say?" You asked worriedly, not waking to try to break the already weak foundation that Becky stood on.
"She said I couldn’t visit her this summer. She said that she and STUPID Mason and their STUPID kids already planned their vacation, and that she can’t just change her plans at the drop of a hat because I want her to."
You just laid beside her, silent in the dark, as a sob cut through the air, and you turned to see streaks of tears training down her face. Becky had such a complicated relationship with her mom, especially when she often thought she had to compete with a new family.
"Why do you want to visit her anyway? You hate the twins, and you hate your stepdad." You say this quietly as you sit up to look at your friend. "Every time you visit, you call me to tell me how snotty they are and how crappy they treat you."
He huffed a small laugh before answering, "I know, but…it’s just that she doesn’t call anymore. She doesn’t visit. She doesn't care." She hugged the pillow as her voice grew weaker.
"That can’t be true; all moms have to care at least a little. I mean, you're her kid; she can’t just forget about you." You always tried to reassure her, but her face just continued to fall.
"It feels like she’s trying to."
"You still have your dad." Your words rang in your ears just as you said them. The memory of that night is still heavy in your mind. Just the way his psyche must have shattered to propel him to do what he did made you shudder a little.
"There’s something wrong with him." Every word added a little more weight to your heavy heart as she spoke. You feared how much she really knew and who she would be mad at the most.
"What do you mean?" You didn’t turn to look at her as you spoke, not wanting her to catch a glimpse of guilt in your eyes, even in the dark.
"He’s just been acting really off lately, like…he won’t talk to me, and it just feels like he’s trying to avoid me now. Ever since that party, he’s just shut off."
You could feel your stomach knowing together as she spoke. You have a very good idea why he’s acting so uncomfortably, but it’s not something you could tell her.
"He just doesn’t want to see you get like that. I mean, he is your dad; stuff like that is going to upset him."
"It’s not the same. He’s never been this upset before. It’s like he’s shut down or something." Her eyes start to tear up as she continues, "Maybe this time I finally made him snap."
"No way. It just has to be a lot of stress on him."
"I don’t know. Something’s just wrong."
The crack in your nerves deepened painfully as she spoke. You knew very well what was wrong and why. Something was wrong, very wrong, and there was nothing you could do to fix it now. You just stared out at the ceiling, waiting for her to talk again.
Instead, she seemed to nod off before you found the ability to even find sleep. No, you were still so shaken by the new knowledge you had found that you lay there motionless instead.
A small light lit up beside you. A notification beaming out into your room from where Becky’s phone sat on your charger.
You leaned out of bed as your eyes adjusted to the new source of light to see Mr. Barnes’ picture blink across the screen as the silent call fell to Becky’s voicemail.
You look back at her and then back at the phone, just tapping the screen to see the number of messages her father left her.
She sneaks out a lot, but she more than often ends up sleeping off her night on your bedroom floor. This gave Mr. Barnes at least some peace of mind not to go running out into the night for his daughter, but he was still her father and had desperately tried reaching out to Becky.
The first few times Becky had snuck out, it had caused a lot of trouble, and he’d come speeding through the neighborhood trying to find her.
Now, he could easily drive by and spot her bike propped up against your mailbox, giving him some peace of mind to at least know she was somewhere safe.
You let her phone screen fade before letting your eyes readjust to the dark to find your phone next to hers. You unlock it and tap on your contacts icon to dig up her father’s number.
His contact photo lights up the screen. A happy photo from when he’d taken you and Becky out to see Jurassic Park. An undone blue button-up, a white tank top, and a pair of shades making him seem so much more striking than he was before. Even the loose bun that held together his once shoulder-length hair brought new definition to his smiling face; it made it seem like more and more of a shame that he’d since cut it short.
Shaking the thought away, you tuck your phone to your side before looking back at the still-sleeping Becky and slipping out of bed and snuck towards the door. Becky still snored on the other side of the room as you ducked into the hall and towards the bathroom.
The hallway is just as dark and more eerily quiet as you looked over at your mother’s room, which sat only a few feet in the other direction. You let your eyes fall on to the lightly colored wood, turned to a gray hue under the heavy blanket at night.
You quietly and carefully cross through to the bathroom before letting yourself lean onto the sink to take a quick and nervous breath. You pulled your phone from where you kept it clasped to your chest and tapped in your password to open it again. His picture lights up the screen once again before your thumb slides over the call button.
You held it to your ear as it rang for a spell. Each extra ring made your heart beat just a little slower as you waited for him to pick up the phone.
When the voicemail popped up, a heavy breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto escaped past your lips, and your heart sank into your stomach.
You ended the call without leaving a message, and you just leaned there before sitting back heavily onto the shaggy cloth toilet seat cover.
You took a few seconds before opening the phone back up and clicking the call button again.
The phone rang once, then twice…then it stopped abruptly, replaced by the sound of the other line being handled before a familiar voice filled the phone.
"Hey. Sorry, I uh…missed your call." You heard him take a deep breath before continuing with, "Is everything okay?"
"Uh, yeah. I just wanted to let you know Becky’s here. She’s still asleep right now." You spoke in a whisper, making sure not to wake up anyone in the house.
"Oh, thank God. How long has she been there?"
"I think she came straight over. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner."
"No, it's fine. Thank you for letting me know." His voice didn’t seem fully relieved before he continued with, "D-did she tell you why she left?"
It was a question he hadn’t asked you before. He’d long since lost hope in understanding his daughter's misbehavior, but something in his voice seemed more fearful than before.
"I…um…just some drama with her mom, and…she." You almost couldn’t get the last few words out, as they choked up in your throat.
You stared at the tiled floor beneath your feet before finally finishing your sentence. "And she said that something seemed off. That you didn’t seem like yourself, I guess."
You could hear him swallow over the phone, taking a deep breath afterward before leaving an air of silence over the call.
"I am so sorry." He spoke so quietly that it almost couldn’t be heard over the phone. His voice was broken; it was so painful to hear it.
You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Your throat seemed to just close up as your fingers tightened around the phone until it shook a little in your hand.
"I…I can try to get her home after school tomorrow, Mr. Barnes." It’s all you could think to say. Anything to avoid discussing what had happened, how it had made you feel, and what the consequences would be.
"That would be a great help, but I can take care of it. Thank you." There was still something off with his voice, like a deep crack forming on what was once unbreakable glass. "Just make sure she gets to school, alright?"
"Yes sir."
"Thank you; now just get some sleep, ok sweetheart?"
The term of endearment made your heavy heart flutter for a single second before you answered, "Okay, goodnight, sir." And the call ended with a quick click.
You hold your phone back to your chest as you take a shallow breath, remembering all that had transpired between you and Mr. Barnes. The memory still made you feel an odd but warm sensation along your body, as well as a deep ache at the thought of the same memory causing him misfortune.
A knock at the bathroom door startled you. Making you jump back and hit the tiled wall with the back of your head.
You panic and flush the empty toilet beside you, trying to create an alibi and not wanting either person in the house to know about your phone call.
You quickly tuck your phone into your shorts pocket, switch on the sink, and start washing your hands.
"Hurry up." Becky’s voice through the door made the terrible feeling in your stomach curdle even further.
Finally, you open the door to Becky’s tired face before she pushes past you with a grunted "gotta pee."
You speedily walk back to the bedroom as the bathroom door clicks shut behind her.
#fanfiction#fanfic#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#james bucky buchanan barnes#sebastian stan#bucky x you#older man younger woman#best friends dad bucky#best friends dad#bucky fanfic#Bucky#bucky fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes au#alternate universe#troubled teens#angst#angst to the max#teen angst
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Jacket - Billy Butcher
Part of the fall writing prompts: “Did you bring a jacket?” “no” “here, take mine”
Pairing: Billy Butcher x Reader
Word Count: 1,876
Synopsis: When the heat goes out in their apartment, Billy is forced to part with his favorite jacket in order to keep you warm.
Please send in more fall prompts!!
When Billy woke up, it wasn’t to a soft snore next to him, or the warmth of a body on top of his, or his favorite, a pair of lips on him. Instead, when he awoke in the tiny, shitty apartment The Boys had been renting, it was to the freezing cold air that ripped away every sense of comfort he had found in sleep.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, rolling over. You were sound asleep next to him, so wrapped up in the covers you had stolen from him, that only your nose was visible. It was pink from the cold.
Begrudgingly, Billy climbed out of bed and made his way into the hall. There had to be a thermostat he could punch to make this shithole at least inhabitable.
When he walked into the living room, in just his boxers and a t-shirt, he found MM and Frenchie both standing by the thermostat.
“I think I know this one,” he said, grinning at them, “How many cunts does it take to fix a bloody thermostat?” he asked.
“Fuck off, man,” MM said, only sparing him a glance, “We’re all freezing, and I doubt you want to call the super in here.” Billy took a look at the mess they had created. On the kitchen table were the early trappings of a bomb, Frenchie’s doing. Scattered around the living room were cut outs from newspapers about various Supes. And littered on nearly every surface was an empty bottle of alcohol.
“Just fucking fix it, alright? Frenchie?”
“I don’t know how,” he said simply.
“So you’re telling me that you can create a bomb with nothing but shit you pull out of your ass, but you can’t fix a goddamn thermostat?”
“You are more than welcome to try, Monsieur Charcutier,” Frenchie said, walking away from the thermostat.
“Just wait for the kid,” MM said, following Frenchie back down the hallway.
“Who knows when the hell he’ll be back from his little love nest with Starlight.”
“Better bundle up then,” MM said, slapping his shoulder as he past Billy. “Suppose to get to freezing temps today.”
“Lot of help you are,” he muttered, going to the thermostat. He was kidding himself if he actually thought there was anything he could do, but seeing as he could no longer feel his fingers, he might as well give it a go.
When he crawled in bed next to you five minutes later, you were still hogging the blankets, and the thermostat lay in two pieces, one clung to the wall, and one shattered on the floor.
Gently, he started to roll you out of the burrito of blankets you had built, hoping to find some room for himself.
“Why is it so fucking cold?” you asked, untangling yourself from the blankets.
“Thermostat’s out,” Billy said. “C’mere.” With the blankets now over the both of you, Billy wrapped you in his arms.
“You’re freezing,” you said, your eyes shut tight as you started to rub your hands up and down his back.
“I know, someone was hogging all the goddamn blankets.”
“Shut up,” you said sleepily. Billy let out a tut of laughter and tried to get comfortable. It was still early in the day, not even six in the morning. “Hold me tighter,” you complained. “When will Hughie be here to fix the thermostat?”
“Why does Hughie have to fix it?” he asked.
“Because if Frenchie could, it would have been fixed already. If you tried, you would end up ripping it off the wall.”
“I take offense to that.”
“Okay,” you said, yawning, “Go fix it then.”
“Just go to sleep,” he said, squeezing your shoulders as he kissed your forehead. You mumbled something incoherently.
You slept for the next two hours, and Billy didn’t mind that the entire time you never moved from his arms. Even with your body heat and the blankets wrapped around him, he was still freezing. When you woke up and braved going to the bathroom, Billy decided that he was done trying to keep warm in bed. He got dressed in his usual attire of jeans and a Hawaiian shirt, and topped it off with his black trench coat.
He moved out into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He stood by the maker, trying to steal some of its warmth.
“When is Hughie getting here?” you asked, stepping into the kitchen yourself, also dressed for the day. You were wearing jeans and what looked like three pairs of socks, but on top you just wore a t-shirt.
“Did you bring a jacket?” he asked.
“No. I didn’t really think about my wardrobe when I quickly packed a bag and ran here with you. When is Hughie getting here?”
“Don’t know.”
“Well, did you call him?”
“No.”
“Billy, it’s cold as shit in here!” you said, removing your hand from under your arms to slap him gently. “Call him!”
“He’s off with Starlight, he’s not going to come down here for just a thermostat,” he said. You rolled your eyes and stomped over to the couch. Billy brought you one of the cups of coffee. You looked so small and pathetic sitting there, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, practically sinking into the couch cushions.
“Here,” he said, shrugging off his coat, “Take mine.”
“What?” you asked, looking up at him in disbelief.
“You’re shivering,” he said, sitting down next to you. “Put it on.”
“Won’t you be cold?”
“Just put the damn thing on before I change my mind,” he said with a smile. You smiled back at him and slipped into the coat. The sleeves were too long, so you scrunched it up a bit to slide your hands through. You took the coffee cup from him.
“Thank you,” you said, leaning in to kiss him.
“Can’t have my best girl getting frost bite now, can I?” he asked. You gave him a gentle smile like you knew he was trying to deflect and laid your head on his shoulder.
When MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko finally got up, they all stopped in their tracks the first time they walked into the living room. Billy told them all to fuck off, but neither of you missed the looks they exchanged or the smiles they had when they looked at you.
You cleaned up the coffee cups and when you stood up, the coat hung to the floor and drug behind you when you walked. Billy again glared at the Boys when they laughed at this sight. You were laughing, too, but it still bothered him.
Sometime before noon, after you had been sitting in an armchair with Kimiko, trying to steal each other’s warmth, you came up with the brilliant idea to have a dance party to warm up.
Billy watched from across the room, where he was trying to track down the whereabouts of a Supe, as you and Kimiko danced to a stupid Billy Joel record Hughie had left at the apartment. The sleeves of the jacket flapped up and down as you threw your hands in the air, and when you spun the jacket whipped around you like a cape. He would have smiled if MM hadn’t been staring at him.
In the afternoon, he was going to go out with MM to chase a lead they were following. You asked to tag along, but just the thought of you in his coat, with it’s too large shoulders that you were swimming in and tail that you seemed to keep tripping over, scared him half to death. He told you that it was best if just he and MM went, and that they would bring back more blankets and jackets.
The lead ended up going cold, and when Billy came home that night, freezing, he and MM each had a pile of blankets and a few sweatshirts under their arms. The apartment was quiet, Kimiko was watching an old VHS Frenchie had dug up, Frenchie was working silently next to her, and you were nowhere to be found.
Billy threw a few of the blankets and sweatshirts down on the couch and made his way to the small room the two of you shared. When he opened the door you were wrapped in an igloo of blankets, still wearing his jacket, your nose in a book.
“Hey,” you said, looking up at him with a smile.
“Hey,” he grumbled, kicking off his boots. He immediately climbed on the bed. He took the book from your hands and dropped it on the side table. You let out a strangled little laugh when he wrapped his arms around you and laid down on top of you.
“What are you doing?” you asked.
“You’re hogging all the blankets and my coat.”
“You’re the one who made me wear it,” you said. He shifted the two of you so you could look into his eyes.
“And as cute as you looked in it, it was a bloody mistake,” he grumbled. You leaned in to kiss his freezing cold nose.
“You thought I looked cute?” you asked. “From the look on your face I figured you were annoyed that I was dragging it across the floor or something.”
“I was not annoyed with you.”
“Oh?” you asked. He let out a sigh and you smiled at him.
“I didn’t like the looks the Boys were giving you.”
“I did look rather scandalous in this giant coat,” you said. He rolled his eyes at you.
“I don’t like the Boys thinking I have a soft spot.”
“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” you said, trying to pull out of his arms. He held you in place, a frown on his place.
“Let me finish, will you? It’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone get close, and I’m not used to showing that in front of others.”
“They know we’re together, though,” you said.
“They know what I want them to know,” he said. “They don’t need to know that I could barely stand the sight of you shaking, so much so, that I gave up my favorite jacket that you did mercilessly drag across the floor, and nearly froze my balls off, because I prefer that than having you cold for even a second.
“And you looked damn cute in my coat, and even downright tantalizing,” he said, leaning in close. You smiled at him and kissed him, your hand cupping his face. When you broke apart you snuggled into his chest.
“That was really sweet,” you said, “But also really stupid. You could have just called Hughie and he would have fixed it. You could have kept your coat and your dignity in front of the Boys.”
“Be that as it may,” he said, “It was worth it to see you in my jacket.”
“If it weren’t so damn cold in here maybe I’d wear it for you. Just the jacket.”
“Once I start to feel things down there I’ll gladly lend you the coat again.”
“Oh, you’re not ever getting this back.”
“Shut up,” he said, kissing your forehead as he tucked you in closer.
“I like being your soft spot,” you said dreamily.
“So do I.”
#billy butcher#billy butcher x reader#billy butcher imagine#billy butcher x you#billy butcher fanfic#billy butcher fanfiction#the boys#the boys imagine#the boys fanfic#the boys fanfiction#fall writing prompts
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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑
DAY 6: DOM/SUB
Hongo 𝘹 𝘍! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
Requested by: @akagami-no-laney ➡ Ciao 😊😊 I really like your idea for Kinktober event, and I would like to send my request! Could I please ask for Kink 06, Hongo x fem reader?
tw: mdni. dom hongo. sub nakama. J.O.I. usage of leash. oral. rough sex. cream pie
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Your nakama started asking themselves why you were always sick.
Why you were visiting the doctor’s room so frequently… But were you really ill? Or was it the orders of Doctor Hongo?
“Shanks asked me if I was really ok today” you murmur, fidgeting your leg.
“And what did you tell him?” Hongo asks, while taking his shirt off. His muscular frame, hit by the sun rays of open sea, shines its perfection before your eyes.
As he turns around, and sees you already kneeling on the floor, completely naked and submitted, he smirks.
“That I was indeed ok, just a little tired…” you whisper, waiting for the orders of your -now- dom.
“just a little tired, what?” Hongo inquires, passing his fingers under your chin and lifting your face up.
“I’m sorry… just a little tired, sir”
“Good girl. Now, please, open up that little mouth of yours for me”
Your lips open as he introduces his index in between them. Hongo pushes your tongue down, getting his fingers wet with your warm saliva. He loves to play with your mouth before using it for his enjoyment.
“You know… I bought you something in that island today, if you show me how you touch yourself I will give it to you” he commands, slapping your cheek softly.
You smile. You don’t really need nothing to do what he asks you to do, but still it fills you with excitement to know there will be a lot more as a reward besides pure pleasure.
Immediately after the order, you fall back on your butt and spread your legs to show him your already dripping core. Soft fingers go down towards your heat, in a sexy alluring dance of lust.
The moment you touch your pleasure point, you squirm under the watchful eye of the Redhaired pirates’ doctor.
“Mh… keep going, come on” he nods, acknowledging he is pleased with your performance.
“Yes… sir” you continue, this time dragging your juices down your entrance and into it. Watching as you do, how his hardness grows stronger and faster, tenting his tight black pants.
Hongo might be a calm dom, but he is indeed absolutely needy for you. So, it doesn’t take much for him to finally sit back on the old couch of his “office” and reach for his aching shaft.
Pumping, he urges you to go faster but this time in silence. It’s either because he doesn’t want his nakama to hear or because he wants you to suffer the need of moaning.
You obey, covering your mouth with your hand and using the free one to masturbate yourself with beckoning motions against your clenching walls. The image of him doing the same while he looks down at you turns to be the perfect last kick for your climax to arrive. And as just he likes it, you give him the wet explosive release performance with muffled whimpers and red cheeks.
“Such a good girl you are, look at the mess you made!” he chimes, standing up, this time walking towards you as he sets free completely from any clothing piece covering his body.
Hongo then, proceeds to open one of his desk’s drawers and pulls a little leash out of it. “This is your gift, little bitch”
You quiver, excited. You are dying for him to tie it around your neck and treat you like his sweet little pet.
“Master, thank you so much~” you purr, still panting from your last orgasm.
“You are welcome, sweetheart. Now come here, crawling. Let’s put this to good use, shall we?”
And as the doctor orders, you quickly begin crawling towards him. You allow him to tie the collar around and as soon as he does, he pulls from the leash. Your chest presses against his right leg, with your head lifted and your lips dangerously close to his throbbing sex.
“You know exactly what good girls do, right?” he mumbles, waiting for your lips to surround his drippy length.
You do, but first take a few licks at his blueish needy tip. Tasting salty delight that could easily get you fully pregnant if he wanted to.
Hongo squirms and pulls violently from the leash, contributing with the gag as you slide his dick down your throat. He discovers how well he can control your head motions with the little chain tied around your neck, so he continues to do so as much as he pleases.
When you are lacking oxygen, it is just when he stops pushing his own hips against your face. But it’s only for a few seconds, as his greedy cock can’t go for long enough than that without the wet surroundings of your mouth.
But he is not willing to finish, just yet. And with your core as dampened as your eyes blurred by tears of pleasure, he pulls you up.
“That mouth of yours will be the death of me, but a very good sub should have all of his wholes filled as it is proper. Right?” he says, cleaning your lips from the shiny rests of his precum.
You nod, trying to take as much air as possible and walk towards the desk before you.
“Bend over for your master, yes?” he whispers, still holding the leash on his hand and using his free hand to push you softly against the surface of his desk.
Your belly and breasts get pressed on the cold wood, and he gets ready to penetrate you as he lifts your hips up.
His hands lie on your sides, fixing your position for him to slide comfortably and quickly inside you. His tip grazes your labia, getting coated with your neediness. His lower belly spasms, anticipating how well your walls will squeeze him.
You can’t wait no more, your body moves on his own back so that he is finally deep in. It makes him scoff, and with a spank on your ass cheek he makes you flinch with pleasure.
Pleased with your reaction, and with no previous notice, he violently rams into you. Your legs shake, losing strength. And your nails carving marks on the desk. You bite your lips to prevent a loud moan to scape your mouth but it’s almost impossible.
Hongo grunts, as he begins fucking you roughly and the more he do, the more you curl your back. It’s either because of pleasure or because he keeps pulling your head back from your leash. In any case climax will hit both in no time if you keep the same rythim.
But he doesn’t want to keep it, he wants it harder. And you, frankly, will take anything he desires… you can’t even think straight now, you just leave him to take you to the max.
“I am feeling like giving you my cum today. Take it ok?” he growls, asking if you had a choice to say something.
“Ma- sir, please… give- me- ngh- your cum…”
“Take it all, then… such a good little bitch you are ~”
taglist: @stephisokay @henrioo @shuzuiikoii @bullbonez @fengxinwifutobecalled @i-started-reading-fanfics-at12 @crimsonlikeshellsing @weebare808 @thestarwasborn @bookandyarndragon @cyberdazetragedy @uzxotic & @the-witch-of-one-piece because I know you love Hongo💖
#kinktober#kinktober 23#kinktober 2023#one piece#one piece x reader#hongo one piece#hongo one piece x reader#hongo x reader#shanks#shanks one piece#sashi ya
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Superman Pt. 2
Pairing: Spencer Reid × Fem!Reader
Fluff/Smut
EXPLICIT CONTENT
For: Anonymous Request
Content Warnings: SMUT, fluffy, no use of Y/N, p in v sex, male condom, oral sex (f recieving) mentions of death
Summary: After you get off the jet, Spencer shows you how much you mean to him.
Author's Note: I'm absolutely so sorry about the wait on this. Smut takes me forever because I don't want it to be cringy.
Feedback is always welcome!
Requests are OPEN
The plane ride home was long and tedious, but you were glad to finally be getting home. However, you were less than pleased when Spencer decided to sit away from you and leave you alone.
Of course, you couldn't tell anyone the reason, but you were a bit pissed. He had just kissed you without coming up for air, and now he was just going to ignore you like nothing happened?
When you finally returned to the BAU, the two of you headed through the parking garage with an unspoken tension. Shockingly, he was the one who broke the silence.
"I'm sorry about earlier. It was a poor decision."
If this were a cartoon, steam would probably be spewing out of your ears.
"I don't think it was. I liked it. Was it that bad of a kiss or something?"
He shook his head quickly, trying to rectify his mistake. "Of course not. It was great. I just... I don't want you to think it was just about the kiss."
You took his hand and turned to face him, watching the shadows of the parking garage for any snooping eyes.
"Let's go to your apartment. Okay?"
He stared for a few seconds before nodding eagerly, nearly sprinting to his car to let you in. The drive was silent, but not necessarily awkward. His commute was worse than yours, but the time of night made traffic bearable.
You two reached his apartment, the tension rising as you got out and headed over to the front door. One passcode and a rickety staircase later, and you were standing at his front door.
You had never been in his apartment before, but you always pictured it. Something a genius could call home. The walls were a deep shade of green, and various blueprints and diagrams adorned the walls.
The silence was deafening as you slipped off your shoes and looking back up at him.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He shook his head, his hands gently cupping your cheeks as he leaned in to give you another kiss. This one was more loving and gentle than the one he gave you in the hotel room, warming you up from the contact.
After a few more seconds, you decided you weren't quite satisfied with his change in behavior, deepening the kiss to your liking. He welcomed your advances, his grip on your face tightening slightly.
The two of you pulled apart for air, soaking in the sight of each other alive and healthy. You started undoing your blouse, popping the buttons one by one as he stared in awe. After catching on, he discarded his sweater and got to work on his shirt. He let the fabric fall to the floor in an uncharacteristic mess before pulling you into another kiss.
This one wasn't tender or sweet or anything you'd previously associated with Spencer. Now he was kissing you like a humingbird at a flower, drinking in everything you had to give in hopes that he would find more.
You silently gestured down the hallway towards the door you assumed led to his bedroom and watched as his eyes widened. He wasted no time throwing the door open and leading you inside.
The rest of your clothes were shed quickly in hopes that any barriers between you two would be gone. His jaw practically dropped as he saw you, saving images of you to admire later.
The two of you stared at each other awkwardly for a bit, unsure what you were hoping for before you made the first move. You pushed him back onto the bed, crawling on top of him.
He leaned forward to kiss you and you returned it eagerly, feeling him twitch against your thigh as you ran your fingers through his hair.
After a few minutes, he flipped the two of you over, setting you on the pillow and peppering kisses to the swell of your breasts and down your stomach.
"Let me taste you."
You felt a surge of heat at his words, spreading your legs apart and giving him access to what he craved.
He took in the sight of you before him before diving in like a man starved, gripping your legs as he swirled his tongue everywhere he could reach.
Your hips bucked up at the sensation, squeezing your thighs around his head and pulling him closer. His fingers dug into your skin firmly as he dragged his tongue up towards your clit.
Before he could reach, you pushed his face away. He looked up at you, his face red and messy from the time he had spent savoring every inch of you.
"I need you inside me, now."
His eyes widened at that, his blush becoming more pronounced as he scrambled over to his dresser to grab a condom.
You watched him roll it on before returning to you, making sure you were ready. He positioned himself between your legs, watching your expression as he slowly pushed inside.
Your face contorted in pleasure as he began to rock his hips slowly. His arms wrapped around you, not to cage you in, but to protect you.
You gripped his shoulders, raising a leg to wrap it around his waists as his thrusts became more insistent. It was mainly silent, just your whispered nothings and sweet kisses.
He brushed your hair out of your face, speaking between each thrust.
"Don't put yourself in danger again."
Your eyes snapped open as you heard him, your legs tightening around his waist.
"Promise me."
You nodded, closing your eyes again as your head tilted back.
"I promise."
He smiled gratefully, moving faster now after the reassurance, however slim, that you would be safer. That you wouldn't leave him.
Your orgasm took you by surprise, and his followed shortly after. The two of you relaxed in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow until he broke the silence in a way that was perfectly him.
"Urination after sex decreases your chances of getting a UTI."
You rolled your eyes as he pulled out, grabbing you a towel and helping you up.
"Do you need anything?"
You shook your head, giving him a small grin before closing the door.
"You saved the day again, Superman."
#criminal minds#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#writers on tumblr#spencer reid#fanfic#reqs open#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#tooth rotting fluff
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The Hypno Bachelor
Welcome to the bachelor! This is new dating show for a Hypnotist not traditionally what is demanded for but he is for this guys who are competing to be his Hypnotic subject for a year long battle.
I walk in to a spare room to find this hottie Luke Macfarlane laying on the bed with thus sexy smile on his face as I enter taking him in l while shutting the door behind me and flicking a switch. Suddenly! The ceiling wall slides open allowing a silver disco ball that is blowing up in a multitudes of color is hot burning up in to the area shooting laser left right and center. Two aim straight for both of his eyes hitting him dead on as he goes totally slack and his body falling in to a lack of function as he stares at me mindlessly ready to be reprogrammed for more then just fun.
“Oh! There you are Lawrence! I love nerdy types please don’t keep me waiting like this anymore and can we just get to the action please you are driving me craziness with all of this nerdiness.” He says to me when I am approaching him but ignore him instead as I bend over and pick up a remote control on the night table then point it at him as I click it and he freezes. “Sorry Henry boi! I do not need any of your lip at this momentous level of occasion because I am your new Master now, but simply to state I am about to truly rock your world and I crawl over the bed till I am on top of him and undoing his clothes also his lips with my lips.
“I am too tough for this Hypno shit.”
“You think so? Why are your buttons undone”
“Fuck! How did…”
“Sleep! “
“You ba-st-at-d”
“Mwahahahahaha “
“Release the strings”
“I transformed you earlier “
“You are a puppet”
“Push your shirt to the side “
“Feel yourself up”
“Take a dive “
“Don’t be afraid “
“Real good”
“Get in to the crevice “
“Why don’t shift your jeans “
“Feel your lower level “
“Your horny “
“Oh Lawrence!”
“Get off the couch
“Did you like the lollipop ?”
“It’s addictive “
“It’s my original flavor “
“How did you make it ?”
“Laced it with blood and pee?”
“What the fuck?”
“It’s mine”
“Why on earth?”
“You drank that up “
“Obsessed over it”
“Oh my God”
“My new favorite flavor “
“I know “
“Suck another “
“You are fucked up”
“Nah! I am going to the dark side”
“ Oh Master Lawrence! I’v been wearing this in hope you show off, my best shorts are so hot me. Don’t you think so! I do think you are cute in everything, please don’t be shy or bashful because no one can or would ever doubt you.” Andrew is all a glow smirks so brightly as he blows me a string of very powerful kisses, a warm embrace hugging me tightly in every way and I can feel my hand on every crevice. He digs his hands ma under my shirt lifting it over my head as he presses his lips on to my skin raging hot under my skin and he revels in the lust and the unburdening of his soul as he fell in to deep submission.
“I spotted you the moment you rocked up in to the villa Jamie since you have for some odd reason caught my attention off the foreseeable future and I want to ravish you right now. Stand up to attention look right ahead at the wall, remove your shirt, pants, and underwear let it drop to the floor and sit on the bed awaiting me for the longterm.” I tell Jamie he is a good lay while walking closer to his knees pat them and he wraps his arms on me and mine on his waist he smells my scent and it drives him wild so much he could jolt up the walls.
Golden boi! “
“Yes Sir!”
“Rise up “
“SNAP”
“POP”
“Mwahahahahaha “
“Strip”
“Leave your pants”
“Shake your booty”
“Do a dance?”
“Who is your God?”
“You are sir”
“Kneel”
“Crawl over here”
“Kiss my boots”
“What are you ?”
“A pussy “
“Who are you?”
“Your golden boy”
“GOOD BOY “
“YOU!”
“The show “
“Are you ready?”
“Lights”
“Camera “
“Action”
“Woooohhhh”
“Oooohhhh yyyeeeaaahhh!”
“Check this pussy out”
“Your fast”
“I know what I want “
“‘My fist in your ass”
“Mmmmm”
“That would be heaven”
“I am yours”
“Kneel”
“Suck me off “
“Good boi “
“The most marvelous taste in the world “
“It is fabulous “
The end
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Run Rabbit, Run (Dark! Eddie Munson 🍒🪽)
tags: roommates to lovers, modern!metalhead!eddie munson(maybe not a complete face match to ST!Eddie, but his look is up to your imagination), slight predator/prey dynamic (more tags in the next part when it gets more NSFW), but expect a lil degradation, impact, knives, kind of fucked up intense dirty talk, morallygrey!eddie, they may or may not be completely human (also up to interpretation), and as usual always!black always!non-binary POV 🌟🍒
roommate!eddie munson who puts you on edge from the moment you come across him — responding to a post on a queer housing page on facebook because you get a new job that pays enough to move out your ex’s place but you still need a roommate and something about his post is just…appealing. this self-proclaimed “bisexual metalhead chef” whose love language is homemade omelettes, who waxes poetic about maintaining a harmonious home, who bakes when he’s stressed and has a black cat named cerberus (“he’s not really mine, he just likes to curl up at the foot of my bed on the weekends like i’m his little side-piece, so you know…basically mine”), and just desperately wants to live with someone who is clean and sweet and will play taste-test with him when he experiments with new recipes.
and that sounds fucking nice, ok? especially after your previous situation where you did all the cleaning and cooking and emotional labour and got cheated on for all your trouble.
and yeah, ok, maybe eddie is kind of cute in every single picture he puts up with his post — with his dark hair and dark eyes shining bright and mischievous tucked into the fur of a serious looking black cat, and his ringed hands (big, and strong-looking, and tatted up) with a guitar clutched expertly between them and his chains and his fucking tongue between his teeth when he smiles this big, dumb, razor-sharp smile even while covered in flour and wielding a tray full of mini peach galette’s. maybe he’s kind of exactly your type on paper — good in the kitchen, queer as fuck and proud of it, sharp teeth, dark eyes….
it’s not until the day you meet him in person that you start to get a little bit antsy, a little too-small in your skin. because he looks better than his pictures, which is wild. he’s got just a hint of stubble, pretty eyelashes, so much silver glinting in his ears and all through his face and a blackout tattoo that crawls up his back and some ink crawling up the side of his face a little too and god damn it, it suits him — all his ink and silver and his long curly hair half tied up in a sloppy bun. he’s so much taller in person too, so much bigger than you, and it’s kind of funny cuz he doesn’t seem like he should be so big and broad in the shoulders because he’s a fucking metalhead kitchen nerd, but — his white t-shirt stretches so nice across his chest that it’s a little bit obscene and a little bit see through so you clock just a hint of the tattoos that he must just be covered in tip to toe and he smells like tobacco and jasmine, smells so good he kind of makes your mouth water — which is just like, so fucking rude.
and maybe you’d be able to deal with all of that if he was as much as an asshole as he kind of looked — but he’s not, he opens the door to you and his eyes light up, and he’s all bright and chatty and welcoming, asking if he can hug you or shake your hand or whatever you want, i’m just super tactile, here let me take your coat, woah your hair is so fucking cool, your braids are just gorgeous, kind of like zoë kravitz in high fidelity — oh shit, yeah, totally see the vision, and you did that yourself, that’s insane, you’re so talented.
and he keeps a clean apartment , a big beautiful apartment that smells of jasmine incense and bakery — kitchen nice and organized, cast iron skillets displayed proudly on the wall, a well-stocked fridge lovingly adorned with Polaroids and magnets, and he’s all like you can use anything you want, and if you need me to pick anything just put in on the list, i got a good plug for grocery stuff, yeah, totally it’s all cool, just picked up like, so many beets for like nothing, we’re gonna be swimming in beet juice for a week.
and the living room is so comfy, big soft leather couch smothered in blankets and an electric fireplace, and a glass coffee table covered in cookbooks and a bookshelf bursting with life, and you can just see yourself lounging here, laying on your front in the plush carpet in the flow of the fireplace while he tinkers in the kitchen. and your bedroom is huge too — wood floors, high ceilings, enough space for a king bed and your clothing rack and mannequins and maybe even some room to do yoga and to tuck your sewing set-up into the corner while you watch the skyline stretch green and gorgeous ahead of you.
and the bathroom is so clean you could eat off the floors, which is crazy — there is eucalyptus hanging in the shower. the bath mat is shaped like a cherry. you almost go light-headed.
it’s all so perfect, and it sets you on edge because you know there’s trouble brewing. you know you’re going to move into this big beautiful apartment and settle right in, that you’re going to wake up every morning relieved and grateful and comfortable. that you’re going to be well-fed and so, so much happier than what you came from.
it’s all so perfect — except for eddie. eddie, who is whip-smart and a pleasure to be around, who is accommodating and a great listener, who is so sweet and sensitive when you tell him the real reason you left your old place, who is all oh, man, i’m so sorry, what a fucking prick, can’t believe he did that to you — didn’t deserve you at all, so glad you chose yourself, if you need any space just let me know, if you need anything at all, just let me know, ok?
eddie, who is so perfect that he almost has you fooled. almost — because he’s good at playing sweet and sensitive, and he’s good at playing with the expectations that people may have about what he’s going to act like based on what he looks like. he’s good at subverting — but you’re good at reading between the lines, and noticing things about people that they don’t think anyone else can see — call it a trauma response, or some kind of innate intuition, or both. it’s how you knew that your ex had been cheating on you months before you got your shit together and decided to do something about it — it’s how you could see through every single lie, even when he was lying for so long that he started to believe it himself. it’s your little superpower.
and eddie is not immune to that, no matter how good he is at wearing the skin that he shows to other people — you see the shift, the split second where he can’t hide that look in his eyes, that tick in his jaw. it’s just a split second, but you catch it, feeling his eyes on you when you look through all the pictures pinned to the fridge (eddie playing with his band, bathed in pink neon lights, eddie in his work-whites, eddie making silly faces with bowls of spaghetti smothered in grated cheese, eddie dressed down in just his sweatpants and sleep mussed hair, flipping a lazy bird at the camera, ink all down his chest and across both arms, inked all the way down to his hips in his low-slung sweats…). his gaze makes the back of your neck warm up, and you feel, syrupy slow, the way his eyes travel all the way down your body and back up, as heavy as a physical touch brushing across your skin. you let him look for a second, and when you turn your head to look back at him, and his eyes snap up to yours, he can’t tuck that glint in his eyes back fast enough.
you see it, then — the way he looks at you, like he wants to pick the meat from your bones, like he wants to crawl inside you and feel every inch of you within, like he wants to bleed you, suck you dry, make you scream. it is the look of a starving man, of a wolf licking its teeth, of a creature that just spotted something supremely tasty right as it’s ears prick up because it senses danger. it is a look that makes you want to run, just to see how long it will take for him to find you, to know what he’ll do when he does.
and right before he tucks that look back into its hiding place, he catches you catch him, and that split second is what haunts you for days, the moment you realize that you are well and truly fucked — he holds your eyes, tilts his head and does not look even a little bit ashamed to be caught, because whatever he sees on your face, in your eyes, whatever you reveal to him — it makes his pupils dilate, makes his tongue run across his (sharp, sharp, sharp) teeth inside of his mouth, makes him go hm.
and then, just like that, it’s gone. he lights up again, tucks the wolf to bed, leans against the doorway (doesn’t come closer, like he’s trying not to spook you, like you’re a wild rabbit on alert, rabbit heart beating hard in your chest), and tells you the story behind every picture, funny and bright and inviting. like nothing ever happened.
and you know there’s trouble brewing.
#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie x reader#dom eddie munson#mean dom Eddie Munson#dark!eddie munson#sadist!eddie Munson#eddie x y/n#eddie x black!reader#black oc#black!oc#black!y/n
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reputation
pairing: John B Routledge x Maybank!reader
summary: in which john b has a reputation of being good in bed, and Y/N wants proof.
warnings: car sex, vaginal sex, kissing, john b is a whore, underage drinking/somewhat drunk sex, squirting
A/N: reader is JJ’s sister,,, yes I know this is not an ideal family situation but it works best for the scenario
WC: 903
John B is good in bed; at least that’s the word in figure eight. Y/N has heard the rumors about her and her brother’s best friend when it came to his area of expertise. John B and the guys found it hilarious, the reputation he had built for himself; whereas Y/N found herself clammy at the mention.
Not because John B was her friend, but because she was jealous of the girls who had a chance with him. She was sure he saw her as a sister, the same way he saw JJ as a brother. Even after Big John disappeared, it wasn’t uncommon for Y/N and her brother to find girls entering and leaving the chateau on the weekend. She couldn’t help but be envious; those girls should’ve been her.
However, she finds herself just somewhat tipsy at a party, as well as particularly hostile. John B is tipping his ear towards a girl’s mouth and grinning away. Her face heated up familiarly as she stared and downed the last of her drink; barely swallowing before making her way across the beach to him. Swallowing her pride aligns with it. Miraculously, his eyes meet hers and proceed to look her up and down, a grin forming into a smirk.
“Hey, JB?” she asked, putting on her most innocent doe eyes and high pitch, “I hate to interrupt this little thing, but I need to talk to you.” Y/N grabbed his hand, pulling him away, but he didn’t protest.
“What’s up, Y/N?” he said, laughing as they walked between two houses, Y/N putting her hands on his shoulders and leaning him against the side of the house. “Wow, were you jealous?”
“Shh- I really hope the rumors are true, or this will be worth nothing,” she said, attaching her mouth to his, waiting for him to let go.
“JJ is going to kill me for this,” he said, mouth barely off of hers before deepening it. His hands wrapped around her waist, cupping her ass. She welcomed him, pushing her body closer to his and putting her hands in his long hair. Her thigh, touching his just right could feel his cock getting hard beneath her.
They continued kissing for a few moments; hearts thumping heavily and in sync until John B pushed himself off the wall and brought her legs around his waist, not quite breaking the kiss.
“Where are you taking me?” Y/N laughed, putting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Twinkie. Much better than the side of a random person’s house.” He set Y/N back on her feet to unlock and open the back of the van and got her in it gently, crawling in after her. He brought his hands under her shirt, making her gasp at the warm sensation. She lay down in the van, his mouth coming back to hers, this time with more hunger and his grip on her to tighten.
As his hand slid down to her hip, her back arched just a little, “Please, John B.”
“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he asked, propping himself on his elbow, licking his lips, and gazing at her with dark eyes.
“It’s all I want.” Maybe it was her intoxication fading, but she was only now realizing how out of character she was being. Too late now.
John B rushed to take off his jeans and boxers, his hard cock springing against his abdomen before he put on a condom and pull off her clothes. Left in her bra and panties, he admired her, smiling before hooking his fore and middle finger in the hem of her underwear and dragging his ring finger through her folds. “You’re so wet, Y/N. Because of me?” he teased.
“Stop teasing,” she said, bucking her hips at him. He discarded her panties elsewhere, aligning his head with her entrance and slowly sinking in. His hands fell to her sides on the floor of the car, hers on his chest and legs wrapping around him so he’d be closer. “Oh, my god.”
He bottomed out in her, waiting for a sign to move. “Ready?”
“Please, move,” she said, interrupted by a gasp as he pulled almost the whole way out and snapped his hips back to hers. It didn’t take long before he found a rhythm that made her gasp and whine with every hit.
“You sound so pretty,” he said, not stopping his snaps, “Am I making you feel good, sweetheart?”
“God, yes,” she whined, back arching up to him as the coil in her stomach started to snap, “Keep doing that.” His thrusts were perfect, hitting her spongy spot every time.
“Does this feel good?” he said, his finger running circles over her sensitive nerves. Before she could say anything, her body answered for her as the band snapped and her release split over on him. He chuckled, only a few more thrusts and he came too, sighing as he finished.
“Did I just-” she stared at her slick on his legs.
“Oh my god,” he said, looking down as well, “you did. Let’s go home and get you to do that again, wow.”
Y/N threw on Her shirt and panties, getting into the front seat of the van, while John B hurriedly put on his boxers and started the car, speeding home. “JJ really is going to kill me. First, his sister; now I’m leaving him at the party. Lucky, lucky Y/N.”
The rumors about John B are definitely true.
#obx smut#obx fic#obx netflix#obx cast#john b obx#obx#outer banks#outer banks smut#outerbanks#outer banks imagine#smut#one shot#john b x reader#john b x y/n#john b x you#john b routledge#john b routledge smut#blurbsandbrainrot#chase strokes#chase strokes obx#jj maybank#obx fanfiction#john b routledge fanfiction#i hate tags#pogues x reader#pogues for life#the pogues#obx pogues#outer banks pogues#poguelandia
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through the hourglass 242. brb x oc
a/n: ah...I really can't let them HAVE MOMENTS OF FLUFFNESS (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)
pairing: plus size!oc x rooster
warnings: none uwu
goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)
chapter
1/
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/225/226/227/228/229/230/231/232/233/234/235/236/237/238
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(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )
taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls
@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2
@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12
@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca
-
Beatrice and Rooster both got home after a while, the photoshoot wasn’t that day but it was more of a fitting room. Once they were safe inside their house, more specifically inside their bedroom, Rooster fell back on their bed and heaved out a sigh, “Who knew trying on clothes was so tiring?”
“Well,” Beatrice replies,voice just as tired, “It involves us moving a lot and measuring and such,Roos.” she placed her phone face down on their dresser, sighing through her nose while rubbing her eyes, “And we are both really,really tired. We did plan to stay home today.”
He chuckles quietly, “True.” and he runs his fingers through his hair, “It was still fun.”
Beatrice chuckled softly, her exhaustion giving way to a contented smile. She crawled onto the bed and joined Rooster, lying down beside him. "It was," she agreed, her eyes locked onto his. "And you did look incredibly handsome in those outfits."
Rooster hummed, running his hand up and down her back when he hugged her waist. "You think so?" he asked, "Marcus sure has a talent for picking out clothes."
Beatrice reached out to gently stroke his cheek. "You'd look handsome in anything," she whispered, her tone filled with love. "I’ve yet to find something you’d look bad in,I mean, you make Hawaiian shirts look good.”
“Oh,ha ha.” he answers dryly, poking her nose and making her squeak into his chest, “...you are lucky you are cute,ma’am.”
“I know.” she giggles, leaning up to kiss his lips, “I’m going to shower, I am…so tired I might not even be able to stay in a bath.” she slowly slides off the bed towards the bathroom, pulling her hair out of her ponytail while Rooster remained in bed, arms behind his head and eyes following the sway of her hips.
“You need any help?” she just gave him a knowing look over her shoulder, “Just askin’.”
“I’m fine,Roos, thanks.” and she disappeared behind the bathroom’s wall.
Once Rooster was alone, he sighed through his nose, closing his eyes for a brief second and thinking he could nap a little bit. It was late, Nikki was asleep, the dogs are asleep…he could nap for a few seconds as he waits for Bea to come out. He had a good day, he had to admit…just close his eyes for a second–
Then his phone vibrates.
“Ugghhh!!” he pulls his pillow and covers his face, groaning into it, “Whhyyy???”
“Roos?What’s happening?”
He wasn’t going to worry her because of his own dramatics,he just picked his phone and checked the caller, “It’s just Mav.” he mutters, “I’m okay. I’ll…see what he wants.”
“Okay!Take your time!”
With that, Rooster answered the call and began his conversation with Maverick out of the room, rubbing his eyes and going down the stairs to the kitchen, ‘Hey Mav.”
“Hey,Brad. Busy?”
“Honestly,” he pauses, “Kind of,tired mostly. Why? What’s up?”
“I just wanted to check on you guys, seem there’s a little investigation of yours going on,huh?”
An investigation— what- he looks unimpressed then closes his eyes in annoyance, “They can’t fucking keep their mouths shut,I fucking swear.” he mutters, walking over to the fridge - stepping over Jolene’s sleeping form on the floor - and grabbing a glass from the cabinet, “Alright,I’ll bite, what do you know so far?”
“Only that the Halton guy bothered you.” his uncle chuckles, “And that his wife is annoying too.”
Rooster filled the glass with water, taking a sip as he listened to Maverick's words. He couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and amusement at how quickly word had spread about the encounter with Mark and Miranda Halton. "Yeah, they were definitely... something," he replied with a dry chuckle. "But we're handling it, no big deal."
"I know you can handle it, Brad," he said. "But just remember, if you ever need anything, if things get too complicated, you can always reach out to me. You're family, and family looks out for each other."
Rooster appreciated his uncle's support, and he nodded, even though Maverick couldn't see the gesture over the phone. "Thanks, Mav," he said sincerely. "I'll keep that in mind. But for now, we're just trying to get past it and avoid them at all costs.”
“Even at the base?”
“Especially there.”
"You know you won’t be able to avoid him that much." Maverick replied. "Believe me, I tried it with Cyclone, never worked.”
A warm smile spread across Rooster's face and he was so glad he wasn’t drinking when he heard those words come out of his uncle’s mouth, because he’d definitely choke on the liquid and it’d be a whole mess in their kitchen, “I mean, you have any tips then?”
Maverick chuckled on the other end of the line, his voice filled with a hint of mischief. "Well, the best advice I can give you is to stay professional," he said. "Be polite, but don't engage in any unnecessary conversations. Focus on your duties and your team, and keep interactions with the Haltons to a minimum."
“...right.”
“But that’s my opinion as a Captain.” he says, “As your uncle,I’d say to teach them a lesson, But we also know that can be…complicated.But seriously,if he ever crosses the line or become a real problem, you know what to do…legally.”
“Uh-huh. I am scared about leaving Nikki with you when she’s older. What will you teach her??”
“Pretty much what I taught you,kiddo.” his uncle’s smirk doesn’t even need to be seen for Rooster to know it’s there, “And look at how you turned out.”
Rooster couldn't help but laugh at his uncle's response. "Fair point," he replied, his smile lingering. "I turned out all right, didn't I?"
"You turned out better than all right, Brad," he said. "You've become an outstanding Navy pilot, a loving husband, and a fantastic father. I'm proud of the man you've become."
Well.
He wasn’t expecting that.
Even if he and Mav made up years ago, it still made his heart swell with gratitude and actual wonder when he hears that. He takes a few seconds to reply, for a second he was little Brad again, looking up at Maverick "Thanks, Mav," he said sincerely. "That means a lot coming from you."
"You earned it, kiddo," Maverick replied.
"And that was also the last time you were taller than me.” he couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t.
Maverick hummed, then scoffed a chuckle, one he tried so hard to hold back, “Aren’t you full of jokes.”
Rooster grinned on the other end of the line, his playful spirit shining through. "I couldn't resist," he admitted. "But seriously, thanks for the support and advice, Mav. It means a lot to me."
"Anytime, Brad," Maverick replied warmly. "Remember, family looks out for each other. And speaking of family, how are Beatrice and Nikki doing?"
A fond smile touched Rooster's lips as he thought of his wife and daughter. "They're doing great," he said, his voice filled with affection. "Beatrice is as amazing as ever, and Nikki... well, she's growing like a weed and keeping us on our toes."
Maverick chuckled. "I can imagine. She's got the Bradshaw blood in her, after all.She’ll reach your chest in no time, just you wait.” he pauses “And the twins?”
Rooster laughter diminished for a second, he spun the glass on it’s axis on the counter, the grating sound hitting his ears, “Still at the NICU. But…they are growing stronger. There’s…just their absence makes it a bit hard, you know? But they are okay, only progressing.”
Maverick's tone softened with understanding as he listened to Rooster's words. "I know it's tough, Brad," he said sympathetically. "But they have the best parents looking out for them, and I'm sure they'll be home with you soon."
Rooster nodded, his heart aching for the day when he could hold his twins in his arms without the confines of the NICU. "We're counting down the days," he admitted. "Beatrice and I try visiting them every day. It's hard being apart, but we know it's for their best."
"That's the spirit," he said. "They'll get through this."
Rooster smiled, grateful for his uncle's words of encouragement. "Thanks, Mav," he replied. "Really.
"Anytime, Brad," Maverick said. "And don't hesitate to call me if you ever need anything, whether it's advice or just someone to talk to."
"I know." Rooster promised. "Take care Mav.”
"Take care, Brad. Give my best to Beatrice and Nikki, and of course, to the twins."
"I will, Mav," Rooster replied. "You take care too. Talk to you soon."
After saying their goodbyes, Rooster ended the call and set his phone aside. He took a moment to breathe. While the conversation started light, it got heavier and heavier inside his heart. He knew his babies were okay, if there was something all of their kids had in common was how good they were and how strong they were.
But that didn’t mean it made the absence any easier. Walking past the empty nursery every day was the most gut wrenching feeling in the whole world. He didn’t know how Bea is managing it, but she’s been getting so much better.
Rooster sat at the kitchen table, his mind still filled with thoughts of his twins. He absentmindedly traced his finger along the rim of his glass as he allowed the silence to take over. Until he hears her footsteps approaching him.
“Good talk with Mav?”
He smiled even without turning around, “He always has something to add.” he mutters, inhaling her lavender scent when she comes from behind, hugging his neck and propping her chin on his shoulder, “He just wanted to know how things were.”
Beatrice's arms wrapped around Rooster's shoulders as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I'm sure it was good to catch up with him," she replied, her voice soft and comforting. She could sense the weight of Rooster's thoughts, and she wanted to be there for him.
Rooster tilted his head slightly, allowing her kiss to linger on his cheek. Her presence was a soothing balm to his worries, and he appreciated it more than words could express. "Yeah, it was," he admitted. "Not like I don’t see him every day at work..."
She smiles,kissing his cheek noisily, “Come on,” she taps his shoulder, ‘To bed,handsome, we are both tired.”
-
And yet she woke up in the middle of the night,well, not in the middle. It was close to five, she’d wake up anyway. Beatrice yawned quietly, gently removing Rooster’s arm from her waist and sitting up on the bed, looking back at him when he grumbled in annoyance before hugging her pillow.
Beatrice sighed, stretching her arms above her head as she walked to the windows to check the weather. It’s something she grew accustomed to ever since she had Nicole. Cloudy, but not too much, good.
“Bea.” his deep voice calls from the bed, “Babe…why are you up?”
Beatrice turned her attention back to Rooster, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "I didn't mean to wake you," she replied, her voice hushed so as not to disturb the still-sleeping Nicole in the adjacent room. "I just woke up and couldn't go back to sleep."
Rooster yawned again, stretching his arms above his head before sitting up in bed, his tousled hair making him look even more adorable. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear away the last remnants of sleep. "Is something on your mind, babe?" he asked, concern etched in his expression.
Beatrice considered her answer for a moment. She turned back to the window, gazing out at the predawn light as she spoke. "Not really, for the first time in a while I just,” she shrugs with a little smile, “Woke up without reason.”
“Hmmmm…”
“Babe, you are almost going back to sleep.”
“No,” he mutters, eyes closed,kicking the covers, “I gotta-” he yawns “Get ready for work. I need to mentally prepare,I got a meeting with Cyclone.”
She blinked at him, turning her whole body in his direction this time, ‘...you didn’t tell me you did?”
Rooster nodded, running his hands through his hair. "I didn't want to worry you," he explained. "It's just a routine meeting, nothing to be concerned about. But I wanted to be prepared."
Beatrice's concern for her husband's well-being was evident in her eyes, even in the dim light of the early morning. She crossed her arms over her chest, following him into the bathroom, “Any…idea what it might be? This meeting I mean.”
Rooster stepped into the bathroom, flicking on the light as he prepared to start his morning routine. He glanced at Beatrice's reflection in the mirror, her worried expression mirrored in his own eyes. "Honestly, babe," he began, reaching for his toothbrush, "I don't have all the details yet. Cyclone just said it's an important meeting, and I should be ready to discuss some changes."
Beatrice nodded, rubbing her neck with her hand. She watched as he squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush, her thoughts racing as she considered the possibilities. "Do you think it's related to your promotion?"
Rooster shrugged as he started brushing his teeth. "It's hard to say," he replied between brush strokes, "but it's possible. Cyclone wouldn't call a meeting like this unless there was something significant to discuss."
Beatrice sighed, leaning against the bathroom door frame. She hated the uncertainty that often came with Rooster's job, but she knew it was part of the package when you married a Navy pilot. "Right…”
Rooster rinsed his mouth and splashed some water on his face, then turned to face Beatrice with a reassuring smile. "Hey," he said, walking over to her and taking her hands in his, "it's going to be okay. I've faced these kinds of meetings before, and I always come out of them just fine."
Beatrice nodded, her fingers lacing with his as she looked up into his eyes. "I know you can handle it," she said, her voice filled with confidence. "You're one of the best pilots they have."
Rooster's smile widened, and he leaned down to press a sweet kiss to Beatrice's lips. "That's because I have the best support at home," he murmured against her mouth, making her blush.
"Smooth talker," she teased, her cheeks flushed.
Rooster chuckled, pulling back slightly. "I mean every word, babe," he said sincerely. "You know that.”
Beatrice's heart swelled with love for her husband, and she couldn't help but smile. "I love you, Roos," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him once more.
Rooster returned the kiss, his arms wrapping around Beatrice as he held her close. "I love you too, Bea," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. “Now, breakfast? I can make us something nice.”
“...okay.” she smiles, “I’ll take that.”
#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x oc#top gun maverick#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw x named reader#tgm oc#tgm fic#tgm fanfiction
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Juicy Lover (Sub!Juyeon x Femdom Reader) Chapter Two
Story Warning: Femdom
Chapter Warning: Cum eating, anal (m receiving), degradation (slut and whore), eating Juyeon's ass like a Golden Corral Buffett, oral (f receiving), pegging, you referring to your strap as a dick, Juyeon calls you daddy
Word count: 1472
Part 1 Here
Your phone buzzes on the nightstand and snaps you out of your sleep.
You look over at your phone and peel Chani's arm from around your waist. You grab your phone to swipe it to life, and the name Princess pops up on your phone.
"Hello?" you answer. Your voice is deeper from drinking tequila on a Tuesday night.
"Mistress. Can you open the door? Please?" Juyeon whispers into the phone. You spring out of your bed and slide your feet across the hardwood floor.
Your feet sprint against the cold floor underneath you, and you race to the door.
The last thing you need is a scandal happening, and he has to go on a hiatus because he got caught at your place.
You swing the door open and pull him into your place. You close the door behind him and slam your body against his.
A slow grin appears on his face due to your immediate dominance.
"Touch me, please," Juyeon whimpers underneath you and is still pressed against your wooden door.
You open his trench coat and see he has on a black supreme sports bra and joggers. You can see the matching underwear underneath it.
"So, needy," You whisper against his warm ear, and your hand trails down the middle of his chest. You nibble on his ear, and you tell him. "We have to be quiet."
Juyeon nods in agreeance, and your lips move down to kiss on the center of his neck.
You kiss along, and then you get to the right side of it. You lick across him to tease Juyeon because you know that alone will get him off.
"If you follow directions, then I will give you everything you want," you instruct him.
"Yes, mistress," he whispers against your lips. There's something about Juyeon that drives you crazy.
You never imagined your relationship would turn into something like this, but you have grown to embrace this side of yourself.
A side of yourself that you would have never thought in a million years existed inside of you. But, you embrace your dark feminine energy with a warm welcome.
Your hand interlocks with his, bringing it to your lips to kiss it. You hold onto it and lead him into your playroom. It's already prepared for your intimate sessions because you never know when he will come over.
You grab the key from your pocket and unlock it. You slide your hand along the wall and turn on the light. You grab your control and switch it to the purple setting.
You close the door behind you. It feels so good to have him in your space without any interruptions.
You aren't worried about waking up your bestie because your playroom is soundproof. You lock the door to ensure you can enjoy your night.
You walk over to the couch in the middle of the floor, and Juyeon stands by the door. Your core is throbbing, and you can't wait to experience him.
Tonight, you are in a giving mood. He did show up, and your time was cut off earlier because of your friend date with Chani. So, you feel like Juyeon deserves some much-needed attention.
You remove your baggy t-shirt and toss it behind you. You slip out of your sweatpants. You see Juyeon's eyes widen when he sees your black lace body suit.
"Did you miss me?"
"Always. Mistress. I need to stop being so jealous. Can you blame me?" He asks.
"You do. But, you don't have anything to worry about. Now come here," you instruct.
"Use me then. Fuck me like I'm your whore," Juyeon gets down on his knees and crawls over to you.
His words make your heart flutter, and this is what you love hearing from him.
"I want you to ride me," you say. Juyeon is between your legs.
"May I taste you first?"
You spread your legs in front of him. You don't even care about the back and forth arguing from earlier.
None of it means shit because you get to get off. You love these intimate moments between you two.
Juyeon pushes the back the crotch part of your body suit.
Juyeon gives your pussy little kitten licks each time, making you moan out his nickname.
"Fuck, Juicy. I've missed your tongue," You spread your legs wider and push his head so you can feel it even more.
"You taste so good, Mistress," Juyeon kisses your pussy and causes your body to shudder. You work your pussy against his face.
You feel your juice leak down, and Juyeon doesn't miss a beat. He licks up your essence and licks your slit. He plunges his tongue deep inside of you.
Your hips start to buck, and you grab onto the couch. You look into his eyes. Why does sex with him have to be amazing after arguing?
Are you the drama?
"Fuck, I'm going cum!" You cry out. Your body feels like mush when he latches onto your clit.
"Daddy's little whore," you moan out, and he sticks a finger inside your pussy and sucks off the juice. You explode, and your orgasm ripples through your body. You ride it out and let go.
Juyeon kisses your inner thigh, and you still feel the aftershocks of your climax.
"Fuck," you lean back against the couch. You take a moment to gather yourself and collect yourself.
You close your eyes for a bit, and you open your eyes to see Juyeon standing with lube and your strap. He's now just in his sports bra and underwear.
"Fuck me good, please," Juyeon says.
You grab your tools and put on your strap.
"Lean over the couch," you tell him. He does exactly what you requested. You admire how beautiful his ass looks for you.
"What's our safe word?"
"Levitating," he repeats.
"Good boy," you say.
You pull down his underwear and remove them off him. You spread his cheeks to see that he's waxed for you. You love when he takes the time to take care of himself to please you.
"You waxed for me?" A smile curls on your lips.
"Always... I lo-" Before he could finish, you shove your tongue inside of him. His moan is damn near instant, and you tongue fuck him.
You hold onto his waist and work your tongue into him. You missed giving this type of intimate pleasure.
"Mistress.. please.. feels too... too good," Juyeon whines and grips the arm of the couch while you are behind him. You stroke his dick while you eat him.
"I know it does," you moan into him and your work hand along his length.
He's so hard from feeling your tongue exploring him just the way he likes it.
"I can't wait to watch you come undone on my strap," you moan against his ass. Your tongue comes out of him, and you put lube on your fingers.
You replace your tongue with your fingers, and he grinds himself against your fingers. "Mistress.. you know how to make me feel good. I love you so much."
"You're just saying that."
"I mean it."
You stick another finger inside of him, and now he's ready to take the strap. You lie back on the couch, and you wait for him.
"Get on this dick, hoe," you say. He loves when you degrade him and tease him. It turns him on even more. You add lube on your strap so you can bounce him on it.
Juyeon straddles your lap, and he slowly slides down on your lubricated strap-on.
"Yes, mistress. Fuck," Juyeon works himself slow. You hold onto his hips, and he rides you back and forth.
"Look at you being a whore on my strap. Do your fans know how dirty you are? How much a slut you are for me?" You taunt him.
He strokes his dick while he's taking you inside.
"Fuck.. you make me this way," Juyeon moans out.
"You know I love you too, Juicy," you slip a bit out of your dom role, but you are a gentle dom, so you are going to make sure you affirm him.
You push him back against the couch and stretch his legs back. You take control and start pounding his asshole.
"Mmm.. your ass is so good. You like taking my dick, Slut?"
"Yes, yes.. I do," Juyeon's whining with his legs on your shoulders. You got him folded up like a pretzel in such an intimate way.
He comes hard against his stomach, and you pull out. You go down and lick it off his chest.
"Thank you, mistress. I needed that," Juyeon says.
You rub some against his lip. "Taste yourself, Princess."
Juyeon licks himself off your lips and slips his tongue into your mouth. You two get lost in a kiss.
Part 3 Final
#lee juyeon#tbz juyeon#juyeon x reader#the boyz juyeon#juyeon x y/n#juyeon x you#the boyz smut#the boyz x y/n#the boyz x reader#the boyz#tbz#tbz smut#tbz x reader#tbz scenarios#sub! idol#sub!kpop#dom!y/n#dom!reader#fem!dom#kpop fanfic#ambw smut
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dining hall and cookies
a tlou fic :)
1547 words
warnings: flashback to david, food, i think that’s it but please let me know if i missed anything!
characters: joel, ellie
a/n: this is just something short that was supposed to be fluffy but ended up not being fluffy :/
summary: ellie and joel go to dinner with the rest of Jackson and ellie has a tough go of it
---
Jackson is…weird. It’s like nowhere Ellie’s even read about. Everyone’s so content. They all live together and share everything, a year ago it would’ve been the weirdest thing she’d seen but now? It was probably number three on the list.
Tonight, there’s a dance at the dining hall and her teacher told her in no uncertain terms that if she wasn’t there, she’d lose points. Which, sure. Ellie’s not one for rules, or being told what to do, but she’d rather die than come home with a failing grade. So when she gets home, she rummages through her closet and finds one of her nicer shirts.
Joel knocks on her door and leans against the frame, “Goin’ somewhere?”
She falls back onto her bed and groans, “My stupid teacher told me I’d fail if I didn’t go to this stupid dance tonight and I’m going but only because I don’t want an F in her fucking class.”
“Oh,” he says, walking into her room and looking through her closet.
“Oh?” she repeats, sitting up. “That’s all you have to say? ‘Oh’?”
He tosses a different shirt at her and nods, “It’s good to get out once in a while.” he leans against her wall and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “To spend time with kids your own age.”
She scowls at that. Kids her own age look at her like she’s got a third eye. Kids her own age come up with stories about her behind her back. Kids her own age judge her and make her skin crawl with their staring eyes always locked on her.
“Kids my own age suck.”
“Yeah, well. Tough.” he kicks off the wall and ruffles her hair, “You’re going.”
He leaves the room and she changes into the shirt he gave to her, not particularly caring what she wore, because as soon as her teacher saw her, she was going to climb out of the fucking bathroom window.
She runs down the stairs with her pack and freezes when she sees Joel sitting on the couch, dressed to impress. He eyes her bag hanging from her shoulder and sighs. He stands up, puts his hands on his hips and does that look he does when she’s done the thing they both knew she’d do but he was hoping she wouldn’t.
“Leave your pack.”
She grumbles, but lets it slide off her arm and onto the ground next to the stairs. “You’re going with me? Really?”
He shrugs and drapes an arm over her shoulder to guide her out of the house, “It’s a community event, I’m part of the community.”
The dining hall is buzzing with life and Ellie wants nothing more than to run home and hide under her covers. Joel’s arm weighing over her shoulders is a welcome comfort though. Even if he’s using it to keep her there against her will.
One of her classmates waves for her to join their group and Ellie ignores them. Joel doesn’t. He pulls his arm back and pats her shoulder, “Go on, you’ll be fine. I’m gonna find Tommy, alright?”
She makes a face, but he’s already been lost to her in the crowd. She takes a deep breath and smiles at the group, slowly making her way over to them.
“Hey! You made it!” one of them cheers. She reaches out to Ellie, arms open for a hug and Ellie takes a step back. The girl stops and purses her lips, pulling back. “Right, no touchie.” She nods to herself and stands upright again, gently pushing two of the people in the group apart so Ellie could stand in the circle with them.
Ellie reluctantly stands between them, trying her best to pull her shoulders into herself so she doesn't touch either of them, but that’s impossible, so she bumps shoulders with them both.
The group chatters warmly, Ellie doesn’t bother to listen. She looks over her shoulder, searching for Joel’s familiar mop of greying hair or his worn down jacket, but the crowd is too big and too noisy and too-
“-Ellie?”
She snaps her attention back to the group, eyes wide, “What?”
They all laugh, though not at her. The girl who welcomed her into the circle smiles warmly, “Do you want to go to get food with us?”.
She forces herself to smile and she nods, “Sure.”
They all push through the dining hall to where tables of food sat, more than enough for the next day and probably even the day after that.
Ellie fills her plate with fruits and vegetables, skimping on the meat. The dessert is nothing less than breathtaking and she thinks she might need a whole other plate just for them, but settles on piling cookies in stacks high enough to wobble when she follows the group to a somehow empty table.
She sets her plate down and her cookie tower topples over, spilling onto the table, again, everybody laughs. She forces a smile and collects them in her hand, splitting them into two stacks so they’d stay upright.
She stuffs her mouth with a collection of fruits she’d never even heard of before coming to Jackson; Joel called one of them watermelon and that one was her favorite.
The group chatters on, talking about who’s dating who and who’s upset about it. Drama between teachers and parents and how one of their teachers apparently hit on one of the students. Ellie’s head shoots up.
“-I’m not lying! I’m serious, I heard him! It was weird because I was like. Not at all expecting him to say it but then he did and-”
So what, you went from preacher to teacher because it fucking rhymes?
She shakes her head to chase his voice away, her leg bouncing hard enough for it to make the table quake. Her cookie stacks almost fall again, her fork falls off the edge of her plate and she stares at it, knowing she should pick it up but her body is stuck. She should go. She needs to go.
-
Joel laughs loudly, throwing his head back as Tommy recounts a story about the first time he went out drinking with Joel to the small group surrounding them.
He sets his cup on his knee and scans the crowd, eyes hopping from table to table searching for the bright blue shirt he picked out for her. Why’d he choose blue? Everyone wore fucking blue. He should’ve picked green or even fucking yellow-as much as she would hate him for it.
Tommy hits his shoulder playfully and he laughs even though he zoned out the moment it took longer than usual to find her. He sets the drink on the bar and stands up, ignoring the sounds of protest from the group.
“I’m gonna go find Ellie,” he mutters.
Tommy nods and tries to keep the group together, jumping back into a story about his first week in Jackson. They were reluctant to let Joel go, but it was hard to keep Joel somewhere he didn’t want to be. So, they all silently agreed to sit through this one last story before leaving.
When Joel found a gaggle of kids all laughing at a table near the back of the room, he finally let himself breathe. Ellie was with them, half her plate cookies and the other half fruit. She was safe.
Except she wasn’t. Her face was almost white and her eyes were glazed over. Fuck.
He takes a step toward the table and catches her attention. She pushes away from the table and runs up to him, throwing her arms around his neck. The group stares at her, shocked at how fast she went from sitting not unlike a statue to running full speed at Joel.
She buries her face into the crook of Joel’s neck and shakes her head, “Can we go?”
He takes a deep breath and puts one arm around her, the other grabbing a handful of the cookies from her plate. He nods at the kids and walks out of the hall, Ellie still clinging to him.
They get home and Ellie lets herself drop from his neck onto the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. She takes the cookies from Joel’s hand and breaks one in half, offering them both to him.
He sits next to her on the couch, twisting so he’s looking straight at her. He plucks the smaller half from her hand and munches on it, setting the rest of them on the coffee table.
Ellie stares at her half of the cookie and then at Joel. She sets the cookie on her knee and stares at a rip in the couch.
“Wanna…talk about it?” he asks.
She bites the inside of her lip and shakes her head slowly. He nods and leans into the couch across from her, sinking into the worn-down cushion and holding his hand out to her. She takes it and pulls it into her lap, intertwining her fingers with his.
They sit there all night, Ellie slowly coming back to herself and Joel there so she doesn't have to do it alone. If Joel “forgets” it’s a school day when the sun comes up, neither of them mention it.
#tlou#the last of us#tlou fic#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us joel#the last of us ellie#the last of us fic#ellie williams#joel miller#ellie and joel#joel and ellie#do you guys want me to add a readmore if its this long? i never know if something's too long or not#em writes#em writes stuff#my writing
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Never Wanted To Lose You
context: @ssj2hindudude's incorrect quote hit me with inspiration and i just blacked out and this happened . so yeah . it's definitely not my best, but i tried my hardest. still in the midst of schoolwork and panicking and crying. that's basically it. hope u like it.
—
Ten years was far too long to hold on. To hold on to the barest memory of a person, the faintest way his hand fitted in hers, the way his lips tasted, the way his laugh sounded in the breeze of a spring day.
She knew it was too long to hold on, but she couldn’t help but think of these memories. Especially when these memories were much more welcome than the last ones she had of him.
She’d much prefer the ghost of his touch, the way he held her hand; than the way he weakly gripped at the sleeve of her shirt, his hand slick with blood, that faint sparkle in his eyes fading.
She’d much prefer the taste of his lips on her own than the salt of her own tears making her mouth burn, as he croaked out: “I… love you.”
She’d much prefer hearing his laugh in her head, than his screams of pain in his last few moments of life.
Yes, ten years was far too long to hold on, and those ten years had shaped her into a different person: sharper, angrier, crueller. Sadder.
The old fears burned away, leaving behind a wrath— a wrath against war and the waste it left behind— the innocents left to die, the innocents whose only crime was to exist.
Because that was what he’d been. What they’d all been. Innocents, forced to fight a war, who miraculously survived, but one of them did not survive the aftermath.
She’d tried to blend in, but the voices made it hard: the voices at the back of her head, the voices in the graveyards, the voices at the pyres: Save me, save me, save me…
They all morphed into his voice: Save me, save me, save me…
I couldn’t.
When the voices had first manifested themselves, she’d cried all night.
But slowly, she’d tried to live with them. She’d passed med school. The voices (voice?) mocked her at the graduation ceremony: Save me.
She knew it wasn’t him. He wouldn’t use that tone with her. He wouldn’t. The voice was filled with a sneer.
So she’d learned to live with them. Him. Not-Him. She didn’t know what to call it anymore.
—
No movement, she thought, to herself, her gaze sweeping across the seemingly empty field. She twirled Dee Dee in her hands, watching as a wave of magic swept across the field, as if a wall of illusion was around it.
She squinted, wondering whether the illusion would reveal itself— but it didn’t. It shimmered mid-air, like static.
A bead of sweat ran down the back of her neck, as her arms started to ache, with keeping up the invisibility spell, and trying to peel back the illusion, layer-by-layer.
The latest Council missions were getting more and more taxing lately, but they weren’t without reason: there were rumours of an army on the rise— an army of the undead that could sense demigods. She was reminded of the Heartless they’d fought when they were thirteen, and that wasn’t a welcome memory.
She’d removed the invisibility shield around her, leaving her exposed to the night air, and gods knew what.
She felt jittery— not just nerves, but something else, something alive. An energy that thrummed in her veins, electricity jumping from nerve to nerve, in a way that she’d never felt before.
The voices grew in volume. They grew louder, screaming— not their usual pleas of saving them, but—
RUN!
UNHOLY!
DISGRACE!
Her head began to throb, as she fought off the faint wave of dizziness.
She returned her attention to the magic surrounding whatever the field was hiding.
Slowly, she pushed through— her senses heightened, her eyes burning, arms aching— her eyes catching hold of a horrific sight.
Rows and rows of swaying bodies— slashes and gashes on their pale skin, maggots crawling from their eyes and ears, flesh breaking away and revealing bone— people who’d died horrific deaths. In battle.
Their heads were tilted to one side, as if listening to a distant song, their eyes blank and glassy.
A chill ran down her spine. A person at the back— not just a person, a small girl, probably six years old— turned her head, a hundred and eighty degrees, her blank gaze meeting Mini’s own.
A smile broke out across the child’s face, as her eyes cleared, her pupils glowing red.
Mini’s stomach dropped. Dread settled in, deep into her bones.
The wall of magic melted away, as Mini desperately tried to put up the invisibility spell once more— the child reached out, and grabbed her wrist, the same ghastly smile on her face.
Slowly, the child’s face morphed into her own, identical to her, down to the crack in the lenses of her glasses.
Her mouth stretched wide, as a voice echoed throughout the field, low and menacing: “WELCOME, DAUGHTER OF DEATH.”
—
Her spells were slowing down.
There was only so much she could do against an army of already dead people, but she tried— invisibility, protection, illusions— but little affected them.
The only other two options were hand-to-hand combat, or shadows.
She thrust her hands outward, the shadows following her lead, sharpening and cutting down the soldiers.
With every soldier gone, she felt another stab of regret hit her heart.
Rest, now. She thought, desperately. Rest.
She hit one of them in the face with her staff, and trapped the other under a force-field, the screams of the dead and the undead in a painful cacophony, as her attacks slowed.
One of them nearly sliced her head off with his sword, while the other tried to deliver a blow to her stomach that she blocked, but she knew soon enough that she would run out of time, and they would kill her, her soul added to this legion of the undead.
In a fit of desperation, she tried the mind link again, but nobody answered— her pleas went unanswered; she was too far for her sisters to hear her.
A soldier swung at her, and she tried to sidestep, but her foot landed on an uneven part of the ground— pain shot through her ankle, as she landed on her back, her palms stinging, her ankle burning.
Dee Dee clattered out of her grip, morphing back into a compact mirror.
The soldier— who was tall, his skin grey, stood between her and her weapon. A hush fell through the battlefield, as the soldiers stood silent, waiting, watching for her demise.
Her heart beat a tattoo against her ribcage.
The soldier was about to cut through her, his sword coming down in a shining silver arc— stared down at her, as in a last cry, she screamed— out loud, in her head, she didn’t know— “HELP!”
Magic burst from her— a blast of purple light that made the soldiers freeze, stop in their tracks. A whistle cut through the silence, as she stared at the soldiers, still as statues.
The whistle grew louder. It made the wind rustle, and it made her heart race— but in a different way.
This tune… it was familiar. So familiar.
She watched, in shock, as the entire army took a step back, their eyes glassy again, as if… awaiting orders.
Shadows swirled in a tornado, before revealing a hooded figure. He held out a hand, a small chuckle escaping his lips.
The same laugh. The one she’d longed to hear. Her heart stuttered to a near-stop.
“Rudy,” she breathed, her eyes stinging with tears.
“Hey, Mini,” a small smile spread across his face.
She got up, her knees weak. “You’re… you’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered.
“I know, love,” he whispered. He took a step forward. Took her hand in his. It was cold, like a memory of the touch she remembered.
She stared at his face, so achingly familiar.
“This isn’t real,” she breathed. “You’re not real.”
“I’m not.” he agreed. A sad smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. “I just wanted to see you again.”
“Is this a trap?”
“No. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let it happen. Just… I missed you. Your dad’s a real charmer, though.”
A broken laugh left her. “Why are you here, Rudy? How are you here?”
“I… don’t know. I think it’s something to do with you— all I heard was you calling out for help, and I came.”
The army stirred.
“You don’t have much time. Neither do I. Run. Save yourself.”
He paused, but she caught his wrist, his body nearly fading. “Wait,” she begged.
“Don’t you want to say something?” she begged. She wanted to hear his voice once more. His real voice, not the phantom that tormented her.
“I said what I had to say. Before I…” he trailed off, tilting his head.
“I want to tell you something,” she whispered.
He paused. Waited.
Her voice choked up, as she said the words she was too afraid to say when he had been alive. “I love you.”
His eyes widened. His smile grew bigger. He said, softly, “I know, jaan. I knew back then, too.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, feeling their faintest brush against her knuckles.
I don’t want to lose you again.
He disappeared. Melted into the shadows. She stumbled backward, her eyes raking across the field, across the frozen statues.
I don’t know what you are. I don’t know how you got here. Just… be at peace. Rest.
Like puppets, they collapsed, and she heard wind blow past her, like a collective breath of relief.
She turned her back toward the field, her thoughts on Rudy.
I never wanted to lose you.
#my writing#oneshot#i dont even know ma n#im so tired#mindy#mini x rudy#yamini kapoor mercado lopez#prince rudy of naga loka
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39, 55, 64
39. Share a snippet from a WIP
Tony felt the pack pass over the boundary line to his property at three in the morning. He reached out over his bedside table, hand hovering over the runes that would start his low-level defenses. The pack would survive it—sometimes they even welcomed the challenge, if it had been a while since they’d come up against a rival pack. He ultimately drew his hand back, using a pillow to cover his head with a frustrated sigh. If they were coming onto his territory at three in the morning, it was probably for a reason. They couldn’t have known that he’d only gotten to bed a couple hours ago, anyway.
“Sir,” JARVIS hummed, blue light crawling up the wall. “The Avengers asked that I announce them.”
“Are they aware that I don’t actually operate during witching hours, in any definition of the term?” Tony asked, wondering if he should have taken Pepper up on the offer to take one of her sleep masks. Sure, JARVIS could use a burst of wind to blow it right off, but at least it would offer him protection from his blue light.
“Sir, you’ve asked that I inform you when Alpha Rogers and Beta Barnes are wearing the clothes that make them look ‘scrumptious,’” JARVIS deadpanned, ignoring his question.
Tony moaned and rolled onto his back so he could press his palms into his eyes. Damn it. That meant that Steve was wearing that stupid shirt that was two sizes too small for him and Bucky was wearing those stupid pants that stretched across his thighs like the denim was holding on for dear life. Of course they’d come at some horrendous hour when Tony was a disaster. He was pretty sure he was wearing mismatched socks along with his ratty shorts, but he was too frustrated to look.
“Alpha Rogers has also advised me to inform you that Beta Barnes no longer has control of his arm,” JARVIS added.
55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?
Tony Stark, hands down. I won't say I'm swayed by anything because Tony is always going to be my favorite, but I am getting pretty fond of writing Steve, too. The thing is, I can write Tony as completely feral and he's just In A Mood, whereas with Steve, he requires more of a serious touch. Where Tony is feral, Steve is carefully unhinged. It's a balance.
64.Something you love to see in smut.
Not to sound corny but I love to see the characters having fun. Yeah, kinky is good, but can they laugh when something doesn't turn out as good as they'd expected? Yeah, sexy lingerie or bespoke suits/evening gowns are good, but can they giggle about how something didn't fit right and it's ruining the mood? Things can go wrong so easily in the bedroom, it's such a vulnerable place, so it's nice when things don't work out and the characters can laugh it off.
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when you wake up from a nightmare - jjk
included characters: Yuji and Megumi
rating: sfw
warnings: none, gn reader
trying a little Prose Type hc moment, I am capable of writing every 12-14 business days for approximately 2 hours in the middle of the day after being adequately caffeinated. There’s also only two characters here because uh writing hawd I might try to do Gojo and or Nanami and or Choso later if I’m feeling it
Yuji:
A minute ago he was sleeping soundly, pressed against your back with his arms wrapped around you tightly enough that you had to really squirm to make your escape from them. Now, he was holding nothing and his chest felt uncomfortably cold in your absence. His attempt at a “come back to bed” plea came out in an unintelligible grumble and he couldn’t reach you as you sat perched on the edge of the bed.
“I just need a minute,” you understood Yuji’s sleepy speech very well, and his request was tempting despite the sticky layer of sweat that lingered on your arms and back. Already, the details of your nightmare were drifting out of focus, but your heart still thrummed in your chest.
He rubbed his eyes and reached for you, catching the back of your shirt with his fingers. “Bad dream?” His next attempt at speech was easier to understand.
You nodded, then croaked out a, “Yeah.”
Yuji sat up and moved over to you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist, “Wanna talk about it?”
“No,” you answered. The heat you felt when you woke up had dissipated and left you feeling clammy and cold. Yuji’s warmth was a welcome comfort and you felt yourself relaxing against him.
He hummed quietly as he thought, then kissed you on the cheek. “Twenty four hour convenience store ice cream?”
“At-” you looked at your phone for the time, “3am?” you turned your head enough to see him smiling tiredly at you.
“Yep!” He shimmied out of bed and pulled you up to your feet. “Ice cream, then back to bed.”
Your nightmare felt so distant, watching him bounce around, yawning and ruffling his hair into something he thought was less messy (he only made it worse). He rambled on the entire time about what flavor he’d get and you thought there could be nothing sweeter than him. Falling asleep later that night with a sugar high wasn’t any easier than falling asleep after a nightmare, though.
Megumi:
You sat up in bed, breathing hard and looking around the dark room for any sign of what you had been tormented by in your dreams. The only figures you saw were shadows with origins you could identify. A frog plushie cast a particularly ominous shadow next a dark swath across your wall caused by a stack of books.
You glanced over to Megumi’s side of the bed and found it empty, the sheets rumpled and cold. At least you hadn’t woken him up. You got up, stepped into your slippers, and shuffled out into the living room in search of your boyfriend. You found him sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone.
“Hey,” you mumbled as you trudged over to him..
He looked up, he looked tired, “Why are you awake?”
“Haunted by the ghosts of my past,” you joked dryly.
That earned you an eye roll, but still he opened his arms wide enough for you to crawl up onto his lap. With you cuddled up against him, he closed his arms around you and recommenced scrolling through his phone.
“What’chya reading?” You asked, biting back a yawn as you rested your head in the crook of his neck.
“Boring news articles,” He answered.
“Tell me about them?”
He cleared his throat, “Twelve dead in the burning of a family diner. They think it’s insurance fraud gone wrong.”
Morbid. “And you think-?”
“Probably a curse,” he answered, then sat in silence for a few minutes. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, but every time you let them close, you saw what had woken you up in the first place. Eventually, he spoke again, “This one is about a dog coming home after being missing for three years.”
“Is it happy?” You snuggled closer to him.
He skimmed the article. “Yeah, you want me to read this one to you?”
“Mhm.”
As he read to you about the homecoming of a dog to his loving family, your body relaxed. From there, all it took was a kiss on your forehead from your boyfriend to send you into much more pleasant dreams than before.
#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk headcanons#yuji#yuji jjk#yuji fluff#yuji x reader#megumi#megumi fluff#megumi x reader#megumi jjk
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Fruitflies
Tell me how to stop loving you
I need the caress of another to not feel like maggots crawling up my spine
I look for your warmth in the shelter of my heart
A fragile, old place beaten by the strengths of your wind
Our love died oh so long ago
I sit here eating a treat long gone sour
It's sweet to my lips
Rotten to everyone around me
The buzzing stench of fruitflies eats at the wood of my walls
I notice one fall into my ice cream and eat it readily
I am not yet a corpse
But I am alive by your memory
My back is slender wearing the glamour of your shirt
It sits on me loose and yet shows off and teases all too much
I could be a wife you come home to
If only I were not eating sweeter fruit and sweeter rot
In my hands I hold a heavy yellowed newspaper
I read the same stories of love until my fingers grow stiff and frail
I know I could read of war, of famine, of disease
But I would rather become all those unpretty things
By sitting in my pretty and polished memories
I am at war with myself
I am a host and you are the parasite eating my brain
I am rotting in famine
I am starving myself of anything new or kind
Because the mundane and the repeat of Mondays
Is better and easier than grieving you on Sunday
And the struggle is I did grieve you too long
I am diseased with a bone deep ache I can not cut free
I am certain spider webs will grow
And a tiny spider will find a home in my eye socket
And tinier little spiders will make me cry them all out
Because it was meant to be us that had children together
It was meant to be us building a little home
It was meant to be us eating ice cream together
And giving the newspapers to our dog
And you and me and you seeing me in your t shirt
And now years grow across me like a mold I welcome
And I eat fruit flies like I'd eat your pomegranate seeds
But you are not asking me to stay
And I am not capable of making spring
These days I little wonder if I am capable of life
Together we will not have life
No little baby in our kitchen
No childlike easy laughter
And of course there is none of your laughter
In these moments I grow self aware
Not enough to throw away my ice cream
But enough to sneeze
To dust away the cob webs
To drown your shirt in my tears and snot
And maybe I will be okay
But everyone else always is
And you certainly are
But I stay in our Mondays
I stay as the creep of night crawls over daylight
I stay as your face blurs and the sun fades
I stay as it all remains
Delightfully,
Oh rightfully
The same
And then I crunch a fruit fly in my palm
/ Time is not at all a balm, /
I apply my lip balm on chapped dry lips
/ Nothing cools the sharp and raw, /
I peel the fly from my hand and eat it
The juice in my mouth is a spice I miss
/ How does time take care of any and all, /
The wood making up my wall is wet and picked through
Little tiny black dots blink back at me
I struggle to know anymore what I house
/ I can not let our memory thaw, /
In my efforts to house our memory
I make a home for everything and all
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