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joonipertree · 2 months

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Sano Manjiro, the most frustrating man to have a crush on

You learnt that Mikey punched a guy who asked you out. Mikey refuses to explain why. Both of you are dumbasses.

Tags: fluff, stupid shit, getting together, friends to lovers, fem bodied reader, smut at the end, it's him just eating you out sjsns, slight Dom/sub undertones because I can't help myself

Mikey was a dumbass.

In every sense of the word, he was a short fucking dumbass with a deep melodic voice and great hair. The biggest dumbass in the world. You wanted to punch him in the face and kiss him at the same time. Genuinely, you couldn’t stand that man. In no way could you imagine him ever being a good boyfriend. He’d suck at it-----

“Oi, Sano Manjiro.”

The man in question turned, face dead and eyebrow twitching.

“What?”

“Did you beat up the guy?

“I beat up a lot of guys.”

“The guy who asked me out.”

Mikey sat back with his palms on the ground and Toman jacket secured on his back. His hair had gotten long, a bit too long for his liking and he still hadn’t decided how to cut it. You’d already taken the liberty over the last few weeks to tie them in pigtails and braid them to your heart’s content. He’d just walk around like that without batting an eye.

“Yeah, he went out with one hit. You could do better.”

“Do you know who you are? The fuck. That could have killed him.”

“He isn’t in the hospital or anything.”

You turned around, not being able to take a look at your friend anymore than you needed to. Everyone around you stared with either pity or annoyance. Sanzu, Emma and Ken-chin were utterly done with Mikey’s dumbassery and Chifuyu was done with yours. Baji and Kazutora were done with both of you. They just always choose the stupid people as friends.

“You weren’t gonna say ‘yes’ were you?”

And you weren’t. The boy had very bravely confessed his feelings for you (unlike some people) and before you could even tell him your answer, he’d told you to think about it at least. You’d appreciated it and left at that, already planning on saying no.

“Maybe I was, what’s it to you?”

“Oh my god,” Emma muttered out in agony.

"Maybe you should nurse him back to health then."

"Yeah I was already planning on it."

No you were not.

You left with an emphasis on your steps, back straight and eyes hard because you were stubborn. You didn't care if Mikey won at being the most stubborn person in the block, you would beat him at his own game.

♡

"You know he likes you. He has for years. He knows you like him. Just fuck already." Chifuyu moaned out, having gotten over the shoujo vibes very quickly after seeing the slow burn drag out.

"I dunno what you're talking about."

You wanted to deny it. Not deny that you were in love with Mikey but deny he was in love with you. Because admitting it meant hoping for something to happen and false hope got you hurt. People got close, they saw you in your humanity and ran away. The only people you trusted not to leave were your friends, Mikey included.

"Oh come on. I have given you a powerpoint presentation and a whole binder worth of evidence that Mikey likes you. I nearly got wiped out by Draken for taking one too many pictures."

You snorted. Chifuyu being a romantic buffoon with an overeager imagination made it harder for you to accept it. But you did acknowledge, not with the binder full of pictures and 'receipts', that Mikey had a soft spot for you.

You got close at 17, Mikey being an extroverted loud mouth and you being a shy but curious introvert. He took you on bike rides, talked to you while making eye contact, held your hand and pulled you next to him and you fed him bites of your food and let him sleep on your lap.

But you wanted to argue that….Mikey was just friendly like that.

It had been a few years before you noticed that Mikey rarely made eye contact with people while talking but always asked for your attention. You both were hopeless and were just waiting for the other one to confess. It was getting painful.

Chifuyu's eyes shifting to the side made you alert because he wasn't good at acting. And when he got up and ran, you knew who came inside.

"Hi, Captain! Bye, Captain!"

Mikey sat in front of you, dark bottomless eyes staring into your soul. You looked back at him, still pissed that he punched a perfectly nice guy. He then eyed your sundae and you immediately pulled it closer to you. He needed to learn that actions had consequences and that you weren't weak for him.

With a pout, Mikey placed his chin on his arms, splayed out on the table. It made you aware how broad he was, fingers nimble and boney and angular.

Pretty. Always so pretty.

"How's your boyfriend doing?"

Your teeth clicked and with a roll of your eyes, you established that Mikey needed to get pushed off a cliff somewhere.

"So you aren't gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Mikey drawled out, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

"Why you punched an innocent dude."

"He pissed me off."

"Why?"

"Did you say yes?"

"Answer me first."

"I did."

You glared, taking a petty bite of your ice cream in retaliation. Mikey glared back harder, only changing when he looked out the corner of his eyes. You were about to turn your head before he spoke up again.

"It was an accident."

Your snort was loud and unattractive, hiding your face to try and compose yourself. When you looked up,Mikey's face had softened.

"I don't believe you."

"It's the truth. Answer my question."

You debated your options. Because maybe saying that 'yeah I want to date him' would be going too far considering it would be a lie. But admitting that you didn't meant even more probing questions. Like why you were annoyed at Mikey for punching someone you didn't wanna date.

"Why do you care?" You retaliated like a dumbass.

"You're pissing me off."

"Good."

There was another pause. Mikey's hand moving to steal your bowl. You swerve it away from him with no chance of winning with his reflexes and the limited space. So your hand went to grab his wrist.

Your heart raced at immediate contact. You became all too aware of him. Aware of his delicate wrist, the muscle, the bone that jutted out, the blue veins against pale skin. You became aware of his reddened and bruised knuckles, his calluses and ripped cuticles. They were hands of a delinquent, that liked to grip things too tight and didn't mind rough surfaces and reveled in strenuous activity. They were big too, too big against your own hand and too rough for your soft skin.

And they were warm, soaking into you to leave a lasting impression.

Mikey let go of the bowl in favor of holding your arm, gentle and all encompassing. His thumb rubbed against your skin, causing goosebumps to form and a shiver to run down your spine.

"I was fighting with Takemitchy. The dude got caught in the crossfire. My hand landed on his face by accident. I can show you Mitchy as proof. He still looks run down. Even I took a few hits."

You saw. Saw the scratches on his face and the redness of his jaw. It made you want to chide him for not bandaging himself. But he always liked it when you did it. Your eyes couldn't meet his, staring at your fingers wrapped around his wrist and his thumb rubbing your skin.

"You need to stop fighting in public settings."

"It wasn't that bad. A tire or two got thrown around but that's about it."

"Where did you--- not gonna ask."

Mikey giggled, soft and gravelly. You were reminded that the years changed his voice in a way that was still his. There was a pause and you realised the question eating away at you wouldn't go away until you asked it. The secret you kept wouldn't help being hidden away. You were tired and just wanted him.

"You know……I talked to the guy today. Went to meet him."

Mikey's eyes instantly hardened, looking away with a click of his tongue.

"Ah, did he tell you I knocked his brains out? You shouldn't date a liar."

"No," you tried to keep your voice casual, "he told me that it hurt but you weren't even looking at him when it happened. He just got too close."

"Then why did you ask---"

"He apologised though, said he didn't know I had a boyfriend."

Mikey’s lips tugged upwards, turning his head to the side so he could catch his composure. And you were ready to slap the shit out of him.

“Huh, I don’t know what gave him that impression. We must look good together.”

“I feel like you saying ‘that’s for asking my girl out’ after you hit him might’ve done the trick.”

Mikey held his hands up in surrender, knees knocking against yours almost to tease.

"I didn't hit him, I just repurposed the accident. Didn't want it to go to waste."

"Manjiro."

"What?"

"I'm not yours."

"Since when?"

"Since always!!"

His eyebrows furrowed, leaning back with a huge frown like you'd just told him his house burnt down.

"What the fuck?"

"You can't just make me yours without asking me first, asshat."

"Everyone knows you're mine."

"I dont."

Mikey took your hand, lips on the back of it as if it was a normal part of his day. But your breath hitched and you froze. Because oh---

"I found you first."

Your palms slammed against the table.

"If you wanna kiss me so bad then do it on my mouth, you coward---"

And within the next second, Manjiro’s mouth crashed into yours. It nearly knocked you back, if it wasn’t for his hand at the back of your head, curling into your hair. You whimpered against him, his lips tugging into a satisfied smirk.

Chifuyu had yelled out, “Fucking finally!!”

The sound of your lips parting away from each other was enough to make you want to lean back in. Your lips weren’t willing to move even an inch away from him. He tasted good. Like vanilla. And he had trouble keeping himself away from you as well, leaving chaste kisses on the corners of your mouth, fingers keeping your chin lifted up.

A throat was cleared, your cheeks instantly burned with the realisation of where you were. Mikey glared at the waiter who just let him know that it was time to leave. And with fingers interlocked, Mikey pulled you away from the diner, sticking out his tongue to Ken-chin who sighed in relief and leaned against Emma.

You got on his bike without question, heart racing because oh god--

The door to his room slammed open and he barely paid attention to anything with his arm around you. You giggled as he lifted you up and swirled you inside with a flourish. Once the door was shut, his laughter was loud and warm as his lips crashed into you, hungry for more. And you let him lead you, combing your hand through his hair causing him to shiver.

Mikey hugged you close, gentle in his touch and you let him swallow you whole and envelop you. When his tongue prodded against your lip, you parted them easily as if he didn’t even have to ask. And oh, he felt good.

But Mikey will spend the rest of your lives telling you that you were the best feeling in the world.

“Mine.” Manjiro murmured out, sucking on your lower lip so harshly that your whole body did a visceral shudder.

You were breathing hard when you parted, eyes hazy but daring as you looked your best friend in the eye.

“You still haven’t asked me, asshat.”

Manjiro growled, eyes narrowed and twitching. Your head and body threw itself back as you burst out laughing, feeling free because you knew Mikey’s arm would never let you fall. That led your neck to be exposed to the littering kisses Manjiro gave out of vengeance.

You squealed as it tickled and felt your knees give out against the bed beneath you. He’d backed you up, without you noticing, like a predator cornering its prey for a meal well earned.

You felt yourself sink into the soft mattress, hand reached out to tug his shirt down towards you. Manjiro just stared at you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you didn’t understand and a grin so wide you could see all his teeth.

“Mine, in every timeline.” Mikey whispered.

And your breath hitched, speaking out without a second thought.

“Yours, in every universe.”

Manjiro’s eyes watered and he finally enveloped you, body a welcomed weight as he kissed you in slow languid bliss.

“Good baby,” he whispered and you whined out.

You pawed at him, liking the praise a little too much. Manjiro’s kisses left a wet hot trail as he went from your chin to your cheek. A wet sound heard every time his lips disconnected from you. You let him have his way, feeling his hand pat the side of your head.

You wanted to kiss him back but every time you tried, he clicked his tongue in disapproval and you just laid there as he poured his love into you. You had begun to tear up because Manjiro's love was overwhelming and it was for you.

Your eyes closed as his lips met your eyelids, tasting the salty tears and pulling back to inspect your face. You mewled at the lost contact, opening your eyes and pouting.

Oh, how dare he

He hushed you, hand patting your head again, lips continuing their venture on your face.

Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. And both of you became aware of the effect the intimacy had on you.

Manjiro pressed into you, hips solid and confident. And you felt his bulge against your pussy, only his pants and your underwear in the way. it was enough to drive you insane.

You yearned and yearned and begged with pretty fluttery eyes that had him breathless.

“Yeah? You wan’ me, honey?”

And despite the embarrassment, you nodded with the biggest pout you could muster. And Manjiro melted just at that, ready to burn the world for you if you asked him to. In another timeline, he probably had.

“Haven’t even been dating for a minute and you're already so needy.”

He didn’t even let you blubber out a complaint before your underwear was exposed to him. And you craved him so badly that your legs made space for only Manjiro. He appreciated it, boney fingers squeezing your hips before imprinting the memory of the wet patch into his mind.

Oh you were so sweet. A type of pliable that was only given to those you trusted.

“Not allowed to hide anything, okay?”

And with that, his nose traced the outline of your pussy, tongue peaking out for a taste that just wasn’t enough for you. Your thighs squished against his cheeks and he groaned, pressing his full mouth onto you. Your hips jutted upwards, a cry weak and wobbly escaping your lips. And with effort, you spoke.

“Stop teasing, jerk.”

The warmth was too much, you could feel him right there but the cotton was in the way. Despite your protest, he lapped you up out of greed. And your hands clutched onto his hair.

“If there’s nothing between us, I won’t be sane.” You heard him say and it just made you needier.

“Don’ want you to be. Please.”

And with that, his hand ripped your panties out of the way. Manjiro took a second to stare in awe at your pretty pussy. It was so wet, begging him to eat it out, practically drooling. Many thoughts went through his head.

How it would feel to be inside you, how warm it would be, if he could last long in the tightness? If he'd ever be able to survive without the taste of your pussy after this moment? If he gave your cunt a smack, would you like it?

Manjiro decided that keeping you waiting was the worst thing he could possibly do.

Mikey was a lot more hungry than he thought he was. Your pussy was engulfed in his mouth.

The direct contact was enough to make him moan. Your own got stuck in your throat, not realising how overwhelming it would be. When his tongue prodded inside, you let him guide your legs against your chest so that he could have more access. And then it plunged inside and you let out a warbled moan that felt too loud in your own ears. With a hand covering your mouth, you tried to suppress the little sounds tumbling out of you.

Manjiro’s middle finger tapped against the plush of your thigh and he pulled away with effort to say:

“No hiding. Be good.”

You cried out, flexing your fingers in his hair as he went back to the task at hand. And you let yourself voice out the feeling, soft “ah, ah, ah”s filling the air and causing you to tear up in embarrassment.

“Wan’ to be-be good for you.”

“Mhmmm,” He answered with the vibration of his hum shooting through your pussy and into your back that arched almost painfully.

The orgasm came out of nowhere, crashing into you the second Manjiro’s mouth wrapped around your clit and sucked.

You didn’t even care how loud you were being, brain wiping out everything it had as your body arched and twitched. Manjiro only stopped lapping your cum when you flinched away, kissing your inner thigh before moving to you for a kiss.

You let him inside your mouth easily, whimpering and pawing at his shoulder as you held him close. You shook in his embrace, muttering out weak and tiny ‘thank you’s that had him chuckling at you.

“Did your Manjiro make you feel good, bubba?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, kissing the corner of his lips in appreciation.

#mikey x reader #tokyorev headcanons #mikey headcanon #mikey x you #tokyo manji gang #tokyo rev fluff #mikey imagines #tokyo rev x you #mikey sano x reader #mikey x reader smut #mikey smut #mikey fluff #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #tokrev smut #tokrev x reader

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steddielations · 8 months

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Dom Steve Fic Recs

Strange as Angels (soft dom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie hasn't been able to get himself off in months, and now he's high, sweaty, and horny, thinking about the very man sitting in his room in nothing but a wife beater and a pair of tiny athletic shorts, and he thinks he might die. Steve notices. Of course, Steve fucking notices, what, with all the squirming Eddie's doing. Steve offers to help get Eddie off. As friends do. (As long as those friends are completely in love with each other.)

Like The Hero Who Never Ran (dom awakening series) by callmejude

While Steve and Dustin are searching for survivors, they're surprised to find Eddie alive, hiding out in Rick's cabin. Steve takes up the task of caring for him while staying in his trailer.

Genius Loci (dom bottom, magic steve) by @sayesayes

It’s 1986, and Steve falls in love with a boy who is leaving. It’s 1990, and Eddie comes back home. The fic where Steve is a selectively mute, homesteading, truck-driving witch with head injuries and also somehow it's canonverse.

(Don't) cream your pants (soft dom steve awakening series) by @corrodedbisexual

“Don’t know how to cream your pants, huh?” Steve asks, unable to conceal a smirk. He hears a quiet whine as Eddie seems to try and make himself disappear inside the couch. “Want me to show you how?”

Gilded (dom steve, blindfolds, ice play) by @cheshiredogao3

Steve and Eddie are looking forward to a weekend all to themselves, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Trouble Looks Good On You (wip, spanking, kink discovery) by me indelicate

It happens like a fever dream. The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, it’s obviously just an old jock habit that’s stuck with him. It wasn’t meant to have Eddie’s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harrington’s hand, or— Nope, because Eddie’s not even into that. But then, it happens again. Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddie’s new kinks.

You Make Me Feel Like I Am Whole Again (wip, dom top and dom bottom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie has never felt like his body belongs to him. It gets worse after he's nearly mauled to death, left with scars and healing wounds, a lopsided chest, and more trauma stacked on top of everything already wrong with him. Steve Harrington finds out Eddie's trans by accident after the bats, and Eddie finds out Steve's surprisingly okay with it. More than okay with it.

Bite Through These Wires (soft dom steve's strap game series 🤭) by @steves-strapcollection

“Wouldn’t you be Ken, though?” Steve had hoped Eddie would ask a question like that and he had to refrain from punching the air and ruining his punchline. “I come with all the coolest accessories, so clearly I’m still Barbie,” Steve retorted, his voice going just a bit deeper as he leaned closer to Eddie.

Relax (Lay it Back) (soft dom yoga instructor steve) by @wynnyfryd

Five times yoga instructor Steve teaches Eddie how to chill the fuck out, and the one time he learns his lesson.

Melt Me On Your Tongue (soft dom, bathing) by me indelicate

“This okay?” “Yeah it’s— shit, it’s more than okay, Steve.” “… you’re crying, Eds.” Eddie can’t hold back a choked off noise then, somewhere between an overwhelmed laugh and a sob. “No one’s ever done this to me before.” He doesn’t know if he means no one’s ever given him a bath, or braided his hair, or just any of the things Steve does for him, really. Eddie's never had a Steve before.

Kiss Me (Beneath the Milky Twilight) (pleasure dom steve, virgin eddie) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Eddie has never been kissed. Steve apparently would very much like to volunteer to fix this.

Getting Lost in the Dark is My Favorite Part (wip, masochist virgin eddie, kink discovery) by queerontilmorning

After his near-death experience, Eddie decides it's time to get rid of his pesky virginity and heads to a gay bar. It leads to some... realizations... for both him and Steve.

You're a Sweet Shot of Kerosene (When I Threw it Back, it Poisoned Me) (wip, mob boss steve) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Whatever fucked up shit Eddie’s father had inadvertently roped him into simply by being what he was — a shit-stain excuse for a sperm donor who preferred sticking a needle in his arm to taking care of his family — well, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about to be him that pays that price. And maybe Eddie’s delirious, because by the time it’s apparently his turn and they’re dragging him down some hallway (and yeah, it’s not like Eddie’s not trying to put up a fight, but it feels almost performative at this point considering he’s pretty much hogtied here), the only real thought he has when they deposit him on yet another cold, wet tile floor is this: Uncle Wayne is gonna be so pissed at me if I get shot in the head tonight.

closer to you (soft dom steve) by @natesfwl

“C’mon baby, where's my little rockstar?” Steve spanks him, groans when he feels Eddie tense up around him from the impact, “Perform for me.” “You let me penetrate you” Eddie stutters out the line as he lifts himself up with his knees. “There you go,” Steve whispers, watching as Eddie fights to keep his eyes locked onto Steve’s when he sinks back down. or the really self-indulgent fic of steddie fucking to the song closer by NIN.

Destroy The Silence (drummer steve) by @artaxlivs

Steve becomes the drummer for Corroded Coffin and Eddie can't handle his thirst

Trouble and Temptation (series wip, businessman dilf steve) by @heartharps

“Come on, Harrington. I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly.” When Steve looked up, he was glaring, as stern and serious as ever. “Eddie, let me remind you that as far as I'm concerned, nothing has ever happened between us other than of a professional nature.”

Sting, and Other Brainworms (series with switching) by @riality-check

“Do you need to go down, baby?” Eddie gets like this, sometimes. Stuck between overwhelmed and incredibly bored. Steve watches until he remembers that they have a way to fix this. Eddie calls it a hard reset. Steve calls it fucking him until he can’t see straight.

Edification (sadist steve) by aristal

“Alright Munson.” She bares her teeth and grins like a wolf. “Tell the class: what’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” A slow smile creeps into his features, and his dark eyes flash. “Oh, you’re asking the good questions, Wheeler.” He takes another long pull of his joint, dragging the moment out for dramatic effect. Steve doesn’t care. He wants to know the answer. He needs to know. Eventually, Eddie blows out the smoke, eyes a little hazy as he grins at the ceiling. “I’ve always liked the idea of being slapped around and choked in someone’s car.”

In My Boxers, Half Stoned (dom bottom Steve) by eddywow

"You can," Eddie said, almost sounding like he was nodding along to his words. The image was too pure for Steve. "You could say anything you want to me and I'd- I think I'd be into it. Because I saw your pics and like, I know your face isn't in them but- but I really like them. Is it okay that I liked them?"

Insatiable (public, skirts, cages) by @cheshiredogao3

When their club ritual is rudely interrupted, Steve and Eddie make a point of proving their bond—rather publicly.

Done Deal (series with switching) by @morningberriesao3

Steve Harrington doesn't have any money with him, so he offers to pay Eddie Munson some other way.

Lovebite (sub vampire eddie) by hellcore

It shouldn’t feel so good, being tasted.

* The next few don't have the tag but in my opinion they have dom Steve vibes and I want to include them here (:

Cyclical (wip, time loop fic, rimming, switching, lots of smut with plot) by @cuips-not-cute

steve keeps finding himself back in the boathouse where everything started, wrapped up in the arms of a boy who can’t stop dying. he's desperate to rewrite the timeline, trying everything he can think of to fix it. including falling in love.

Dirty Words by @morningberriesao3

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Memorize My Number, That's Why I Got A Phone (phone sex) by queerontilmorning

while on tour with Corroded Coffin, Eddie makes an important phone call to Steve.

My Right Hand Man (spanking, kink discovery) by @entanglednow

In which movie night takes an unexpected turn, and it's surprisingly easy to just let it happen.

Shot Right Through (pierced eddie) by @entanglednow

Steve overhears a conversation between Eddie and Robin, and then spends a few weeks trying to think of anything else.

Pleased To Meet You (demon steve) by midnightdrive

Eddie accidentally summons a demon who is bound to fulfill his every wish. He, somehow, gets more than he had bargained for.

#for the baddies that get it #i'm sure i missed some great ones please feel free to add on <3 #steddie #steddie fic rec #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dom steve harrington #sub eddie munson

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motherlvr · 10 months

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hi:D can you do miles!42 with a reader who doesn't really like getting told "watch who ur talking to" or smth bc most fics abt miles!42 is like that and nooo i won't ever let a man say that to me😭 and they like, know how to defend themself so they're pretty independent if thats alr ofc!

ngl i loved writing this, tysm for the req!

wc: 2.1k

pairing: E-42 Miles Morales x Strong, Independent! f! reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, kind of rivalry tbh, cursing, Miles is mean in this one, but gets character development, reader knows how to fight, baddie ong, reader doesn't take miles' bs

------------

"You gotta be shitting me." Mumbling under your breath, your eye involuntarily twitched. You glared at Miles like it was his fault for putting you in this situation.

Your glare was reciprocated as he said, "I ain't happy about it either, princesa." You hated when he called you that. It rolled off his tongue with such distaste. "Yeah? Glad we got that in common then." You snipped, irritated.

Miles Gonzalo Morales was a dick. To put it kindly.

He was a stuck-up, close-minded dick. It's like his sole purpose in life was to irk you. The two of you have never been on good terms. He tested your patience every waking moment.

But unfortunately for both of you, your Spanish teacher paired you up as partners for a major project. It would count for a good portion of your grade, so not doing it wasn't an option for you. You had less than two weeks to finish the project, and you weren't going to waste it.

You'd much prefer to do the project alone. One thing you've learned is: if you want something done correctly, do it yourself. And to never put it solely in the hands of a man. But the project was a requirement for the class, so you had no place to argue about it.

Thankfully, today was just a planning day. So it wouldn't be as painful, you hoped.

You showed him a plan you had thought about within only a few minutes and asked, "Thoughts?" He took a short glance at it and told you, "That's trash." A vein almost popped out of your head. You snapped, "You got any better ideas then?"

"Yea, anythin' other than that." He told you mindlessly. You had half a mind to make his braided head become real familiar with the cold surface of his desk. Around ten minutes later, he had finally come up with something. It wasn't that great, but at least he was semi-cooperative. You took one look at his plan and decided to turn the tables on him. You said, "You couldn't have come up with anything better? Shit's worse than my idea."

You could see him grip his pencil just a bit tighter, no doubt irritated by now. "Nah, watch your mouth." He told you, and you were unsure of how serious he was being. "Watch my mouth? You needa watch how when you turn around, one of your precious braids will be gone." You said as you made a snipping motion with your fingers. He protectively grabbed onto his braids, "Yo chill, ma."

As Spanish class progressed, everything only went downhill from there. He always seemed to hate every idea you had or had something to say. He groaned, "Woman, I swear. Your ideas are shit." Your former hopes of a peaceful partnership were long gone.

His choice of words alone irked you as you replied, "See, that's what you're not gonna call me. And if we're gonna be partners, you need to act decent for once. Get it together, Morales." You set clear boundaries as you pointed a finger at him. Surprisingly, he obliged. He looked like he made a revelation as he shook his head. "Nah, you right. That was outta line." The moment was oddly tranquil until he opened his mouth again. "I meant: I swear, your ideas are fucking terrible."

From that point further, the hopes of having a normal, mature, conversation were fleeting. The majority of the class was spent bickering rather than working on the task at hand.

You were one of the very few people that tested him. You gave him a challenge, while most people wouldn't utter a single complaint.

Eventually, at the end of the class, the two of you finally landed on an idea to carry out. A true miracle.

The next week in Spanish class passed and the days were cutting it closer and closer to the deadline. But there was still much work to be done. So, begrudgingly, you both had to work on it out of school. After Spanish, you were packing up your things when you asked him, "My place or yours?" His response was immediate. "My place. I'll give you my address. Come over after school, 'ight?" He said, writing down his address and handing it to you.

You accepted it and said, "Alright. Are your parents good with me coming over?" You questioned if he even had the decency to check first. Although you couldn't stand him most of the time, you didn't want to intrude on his family. He shrugged it off, "Yeah my ma's good with it. Already told her."

He wasn't about to tell you that his mother demanded the project was done at his house so she could keep a keen eye on the both of you.

You were dreading the final bell of the day. Spending more time than legally required with Miles wasn't your ideal image of fun. As the school day ended, you walked over to Miles' house.

Knocking on the door, it was soon opened by no one other than Miles' mother. She was expecting you, as a smile adorned her face. You greeted her, "¡Hola, Señora Morales! Gracias por invitarme a tu casa." (Hi, Mrs. Morales! Thank you for inviting me to your house.)

She widened her eyes at you, "¡Claro! ¿Cómo estás?" (of course, how are you?) She asked you with a sweet smile. You replied and reciprocated a smile, "Bien, ¿usted?" (good, you?) To which she responded, "Muy bien, gracias." (very good, thank you) As you put down your things, you noticed Miles was standing only a few feet away. His mother pulled Miles to the side and whispered, "She speaks Spanish, I like her." Not wanting to give away that she was a loud whisperer, you concealed a small laugh. It's a wonder how Miles turned out like that. His mother's wonderful. You knew she raised him better.

After his mother was done speaking to him, Miles led you to his room. His mother called out, "¡Deja la puerta abierta!" (leave the door open!) "Si, mami." He said back in an unusually nice tone.

You previously believed Miles Morales was a universal dick. But you soon realized you were somewhat wrong. He was a dick. To everyone except his mother, it seemed.

As you both settled down to start working on the project, you grinned at him like you had just found out a Federal-level secret. "You're such a momma's boy." You said.

His head whipped to you like you knew something you shouldn't. "No one would believe you." He said. You teased, "Oh, everyone would. Trust."

This was the most civil conversation the both of you have ever held within your whole history of knowing Miles. The afternoon was sprinkled with light-hearted jokes here and there, and it wasn't as painful as you initially believed. Needless to say, being forcibly confined in a space with Miles went much smoother than you could've ever anticipated. The project was progressing for once. And so was your relationship with Miles.

A few days later, you were in a better mood than regular. Within the past few days, Miles has been more tolerable. Maybe even likable. Apparently, you were in too good of a mood. You must've appeared too approachable today.

As you were walking in the hallways of school to your next class, a guy you didn't recognize slung an arm around your shoulders and said, "Hey, what's good jit?" You immediately pushed his arm off. He reeked of an excessive usage of cologne. You winced at his stench. "Don't call me that." You assertively said. But he only took it as a challenge. He said with a wink, "You tryna play hard to get? Alright, I'll play along."

"I'm not 'playing hard to get'," You mocked with air quotations. Dumbing it down, you continued, "I don't want you." Could a girl make it any more obvious?

Your words went straight over his oversized head. He said with a disgusting smirk, "I can change your mind." Your face visibly grimaced at his desperate attempt, "Not even baby Jesus could change my mind."

He was starting to get agitated at this point, "Nah, why you trippin', girl?" he said. You immediately retorted, "Why can't you take a damn hint?"

"C'mon, I know you want me. Gimme a chance." He said. You were sick and tired of this interaction, so you just decided to walk away. Turning your back, you tried to escape this conversation. But he grabbed your hand to prevent you from leaving. "Aye, where you goin'?"

You tried to be patient. And where did patience get you? Nowhere. In your mind, this guy was way too testosterone-deficient to be talking tough to you. There was nothing worse than a teenage boy. More importantly, a boy that didn't know what 'no' means.

And in an instant, the sound of a slap resounded throughout the hallway.

He looked like he was about to start crying. Holding his cheek in pain, he sneered, "Fuck you, bitch. You ain't shit anyway. I ain't even want you." But as you tried to walk away once again, he placed a tight grip on your shoulder to prevent you from escaping.

Miles was skipping class and wandering in the hallways when he saw you. From your body language, he could tell you were uncomfortable. His eyes glanced toward the guy's grip on your shoulder, and Miles suddenly understood the situation. He could see where this was heading. Or at least, he believed he did. Miles was about to intervene when within the blink of an eye, you had flipped the guy on his back and onto the floor.

You told the boy on the floor, "Don't try that shit again. With me or any other woman, got it?" Groaning in agony, the guy whimpered in response, and you took it as a 'yes'.

The guy was no André the Giant, but it impressed the hell out of Miles nonetheless. Since when could you do that? He questioned himself. Miles had to prevent his jaw from dropping. He was suddenly glad he never pushed you that far. You walked away unbothered as if nothing had happened. He gained a newfound respect for you. But that would have to stay unspoken.

Once Spanish class rolled around, you realized it was the second to last day you had to finish the project, so you were working extra diligently in Spanish class. You told Miles, "Alright, I finished decorating it. What do you think?" showing him the project. Not that you cared what he thought, but it would make this whole process much easier if he wouldn't shit on your every move. You've had your daily dose of asshole for the day. Almost an overdose, really.

A few moments passed by where he stared at the project, and then back to you. Fully expecting Miles to be his usual asshole self, you said, "Spit it out. What is it?" You waved your hand in front of his face. He swatted your hand away and replied, "I ain't gonna hold you, it's a pretty solid project so far."

You raised a brow at him, and suspiciously asked, "Really?" This was the first time he didn't have any retort to say. "Yeah, I think you're great, ma." He said. You cheekily grinned at him as he tried to correct himself, "I meant, great at the project. Yeah. The project." He almost stumbled on his words. He never did that. He was always collected. What was up with him? It was definitely a sudden change, but you weren't complaining.

There was only a small portion of the project left to do by the end of the class, so Miles suggested finishing it at his house.

This time after school, the both of you walked together to his house. As you worked on the project in his room, you noticed he wasn't getting much done. It seemed like he was in his head, whatever goes on in there. As you glanced up, he locked eyes with you. You hadn't a clue what he was thinking.

You originally would've preferred to do the project yourself, but if you had to have a partner, you believed the work should be divided equally. You weren't going to carry the whole project on your back.

"Why're you slacking, Miles? Our time is limited, y'know." "Ion know. Mind's elsewhere." He shrugged. It was subtle, but you noticed his glance travel to your lips. You grinned and took the opportunity to tease, "What, you want a kiss or somethin'?" You said it mainly as a joke. Sure, maybe you liked the way he gave you a challenge everyday. You wouldn't blatantly admit it, but it was refreshing to be with someone that actually cared about their work. But much to your surprise, he ran his hand over the back of his braids and said. "Shi, maybe it would motivate me. You feel me?"

Not expecting him to agree, you said, "I mean, alright. If you get off your ass, maybe I'll give you one." You tried to say as casually as you could. But you couldn't deny the fact that you were growing fond of him. You were internally conflicted as you wanted to hate him, but couldn't. In reality, it was far from hate.

Miles couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment his detest for you faded away and was replaced with something different. An emotion he rarely felt. Seeing you singlehandedly take on a guy was only fueling it for him. He quickly started working harder on his part. You mentally praised yourself. After a few silent moments, he spoke up, "Yo, I'm basically finished."

He was bullshitting, and you knew it. As you looked at his part of the project, he still had a good chunk to finish. But you caved and moved closer to him. Holding a hand to his face, you peppered a light kiss to the corner of his mouth, just barely avoiding his mouth.

As usual, he had something to say, "Don't play, mami." He resisted the urge to press his lips to yours until they were numb. You simply smiled at him and replied, "Yeah? Keep workin' and you'll earn a real one."

Immediately, Miles got right back to working on his part of the project without another complaint. You've never seen him work so studiously.

Pleased to say, with your motivation, Miles was more productive that day than all the other days combined.

------------

taglist! please lmk if u want to be added 🫶

@l5byrinth @iamspooderman

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 1 month

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Hacker

@would-we-be-friends-if-i asked:

Alec Hardison (hacker/tech genius, cinnamon roll, does NOT like heights but can deal with them if he must)

@pomrania writes:

The ones I'm uncertain about are Nate Ford and Hardison. Hardison mostly because there's very little tech for him to use, thus his master-class specialty isn't available and he'd have to be judged on more "normal" factors (although he's also a skilled grifter).

@r0sequarks writes:

Hardison is definitely dead. He is not meant to go into the field alone. His grifting style is notable for getting him dangerously in over his head on multiple occasions. Plus, he’s out of his element with nothing to hack. My boy’s getting eaten. Probably at the shaving incident since I doubt he’d take the crucifix.

@darthlordcommie writes:

Hardison: He's a hacker, he gets a bit too smug, his skill set is useless. Slurp slurp.

---------------------------------------------------

WRONG! WRONG! YOU'RE ALL WRONG ON THE INTERNET!

(intended lightly I love you all dearly)

I get where you all are coming from but like okay. Let's break this down.

Yes, it is true that Hardison's fatal flaw is overconfidence and getting a bit too impressed with himself. Yes he overcomplicates things. He's a genius and he knows it and that gets him into trouble. But this is not going to be a problem for him in Castle Dracula because:

Hardison is the member of the crew with a healthy respect for the supernatural

(Yes, yes, Parker believes in the supernatural, but that's not quite the same. Parker believes in the supernatural the way she does everything else - idiosyncratically.)

I'm surprised to see doubt that he'd accept the crucifix. Hardison, again uniquely among the Leverage crew, is godfearing. He's the one getting qualms about stealing from a church - not Nate, whose church it is. There is no way he'd refuse a crying old lady bestowing a religious artifact on him for his protection - his Nana raised him better than that. Not only is he a Polite Young Man, but there are some things you don't mess around with, and divinity is one of them.

And vampires are another! Hardison has two features that are going to offer him a lot of protection: he's extremely culturally literate and he's afraid of things that are scary. The others approach Dracula as a Mark; Hardison is the most likely to approach him as a vampire. If he were able to just nope on out of there he would. Hardison does not want to be here, doing this.

The cultural literacy is a bit of a double edged sword, because he might be operating off the wrong set of vampire lore, and if he comes in visibly armed against vampires Dracula will perceive him as a threat and kill him. This is where his tendency to go too far comes in - given the choice he would enter the Castle with like three braids of garlic around his neck and other unsubtle markers, and this would get him immediately killed. But if he only realizes he's in a vampire story after he becomes a prisoner, when he lacks the ability to outfit himself, then his knowledge (and fear) becomes his best weapon of defense. He can't get overcocky because there is nothing in here to inspire him own confidence. He'll be too terrified to be smug. And that's what's going to keep him alive.

One of you speculated that Nathan Ford is the most like Jonathan Harker of the crew. I couldn't disagree more. Hardison is. He's intelligent, assured and proud of his own skills, afraid of things that are scary, inclined to shit-eating when the situation permits it, young and idealistic, madly in love with his autistic wife, [century of your choice] up to date with a vengeance, a polite and sweet-faced young man, godfearing, skilled in encryption and decryption, constantly referencing his favorite media, logical and methodical, researches everything, and is afraid of heights. There's a reason I make Jonathan's catch phrase "Age of the Clerk, baby!" The novel Dracula is a technothriller and to the extent it's applicable in the late Victorian context, Jonathan is the Drac Attack Pack's hacker. And not just because he hacks Dracula's head off. Who presents the Documents and Backstory at the beginning of every Leverage episode? Hardison does.

All this to say, provided it takes him long enough to figure out that Dracula is an actual literal vampire that he can neither nope out nor arrive in full Blade cosplay, I think Hardison's stay in the Castle plays out almost exactly like the novel as written. As I said, I very much don't think he'd refuse the crucifix, so he won't die shaving. He'll absolutely panic like a rat in a trap before calming down. When he doesn't get cocky he does in fact know how to play a Mark quite well, so he can play the game with Dracula well enough for his fear and discomfort to be funny. He'll know he's going to die and act accordingly. He's gonna be real unhappy about that sheer drop but he will brave it as a matter of life and death. He is not going to go out to get devoured by wolves when he has the option of not doing that. There's nothing to hack and a decided lack of orange soda, but you can't have everything.

I seem to be in the minority here, but I actually do think Alec Hardison can survive Castle Dracula

#leverage #leverage: redemption #Alec Hardison #crooks #leverage week

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lilmaravilla · 6 months

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Barbie with a Sassy Boyfriend (E42! Miles Morales x Reader)

warnings: not edited. a few curse words and a small humorous argument will be present in this story. please let me know if there are any mistakes. miles can be a little sassy and dramatic. summary: you had asked miles to watch the barbie movies but through text he told you no. literally sassy miles finally agrees to watch the movies with you

being in a relationship with miles meant cute dates, cute love letters (mostly from you) and all the cute stuff that most couples do. though, there were also arguments like every other couple that were either serious or just plain full of sass. one thing to know, Miles is part of the sassy boyfriend apocalypse.

currently, you were being a victim of his sassy ass arguments at the moment and all because he didn't want to watch a barbie movie with you nor have a barbie movie marathon. here you were standing in the middle of the mall, with your friends waiting on you, aggressively typing on your phone. this boy didn't want to watch those "weird girly ass movies with no plot" according to him.

mami u know i don't want to watch them weird girly movies with no plot.

nah, don't be disrespecting elina and bibble like that! >:(

WHO? ma what is u on about bro? u know i ain't about that

SO NOW I'M BRO??? :o well, congratulations. i'm CRYING. you made me CRY!

baby

no. now is not the time for pet names. outta here with that.

nah i'm calling u a baby i'm insulting u

oh fr? like that? in that case. . . yo forehead big as shit with them braids

don't hate me cuz u ain't me ;) im sexy and i know it ma and it ain't my fault u don't got good taste

you stared at your phone completely dumbfounded. there's no way miles is this sassy. you have confirmed you're a victim of the sassy boyfriend apocalypse.

჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻

"nah, my homie bibble ain't do shit. he ain't touch no damn burbuja. como me molesta esa sirena," miles spoke, eyes glued to the screen. somehow miles had agreed to watch mermaidia with you after you called him an uncultured swine.

"just keep watching the movie," you rolled your eyes and chuckled at how entertained he was by the movie.

"aight my bad. sorry you don't like my voice," he joked, causing you to roll your eyes again.

there was a comfortable silence until you spoke up.

"can we dress you up as bibble?"

"don't push it, ma."

჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ჻ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻

author's note: i got the messages idea from this meme. also, this is the first time i write a story with Earth 42 Miles so please let me know if there is anything i can change. if you have any requests then please let me know! thank you <3

#self insert #x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #earth 42 miles x reader #42 miles morales #miles 42 #miles g morales #prowler miles x reader #miles morales x reader #prowler x reader #earth 42 miles x you #miles x you #sassy boy

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

A Brute, An Angel... (König x F!OC)

Summary: König gets an order to make a female SpecGru sniper talk, but König doesn't want to hurt women.

Category: Smut 🔞, angst, fluff

Tags & warnings: Explicit mature content +18 audiences only, strangers to lovers (slight enemies to lovers), dubious consent, threats of rape, virgin!König, size kink, size difference, p in v, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, squirting, hugs and cuddles, super fluffy ending. König will be named in later chapters.

A/N: KorTac and SpecGru are rivaling military contractors, Conor is König's superior (and a huge villain), and I just wanted to write angsty smut featuring our favourite Austrian boi.

Part 1/3 of Valkyrie

Read on Ao3

A Brute, An Angel...

"You're always yappin' about how ya can make prisoners talk. Now here's ya chance."

König tried his best to stand tall while Conor spat at him with a gruff accent he couldn't quite place. He could tell the man got off on this: getting a chance to order him around and making him uncomfortable. He concentrated on looking down at him — knowing perfectly well that it only pissed Conor off when he did that. As if König could will himself to be shorter.

"But she's a… She's a girl. Sir."

"She is an enemy, and we need that intel."

I highly doubt that, sir.

"What do you want me to do with her?"

"Make the captive talk. Ya don't have to do the usual. If y'know what I mean."

"Are you suggesting that I rape her, Conor?"

The fact that he used the Lieutenant's name to appeal to him on a more personal level should've spoken volumes. But it had little effect on the man everybody in the KorTac was more or less scared of.

"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm giving you an order."

If Calisto or Stiletto were here, Conor would be on the ground by now, begging for mercy. König found himself thinking what stopped him from gutting the man right then and there.

"Does the team leader know about this?"

“Never ya mind about that."

"Permission to speak, sir," Zero pushed in.

"Go on."

"This goes against the protocol-"

"Did ya give two shits about the bloody protocol when we were in Adal?"

The abrupt outburst almost made König flinch. Almost.

Zero didn't turn the slightly disgusted gaze away, but snapped his mouth shut.

"I - I can't do it," König muttered.

"You sayin' you refuse to obey an order?"

König straightened upon hearing the word 'order' but otherwise remained in confused silence.

"I suggest you carry on unless ya wanna get demoted to a fuckin' desk job. It's your call."

And with that, Conor turned and marched off. Zero followed suit, sparing a pitiful glance at König as he went.

He was left alone in the bunker hallway, illuminated by a lamp that produced an unnerving buzz.

Conor was only doing this because he liked to bully him. Somehow, somewhere, Lt had lost his humanity, but it wasn't supposed to be his problem. Not until Conor made it his problem.

Something in him made the Lieutenant tick. König didn't know whether it was because he was a relatively fresh recruit or whether it was the fact that he was a foreigner. Hell, maybe it was the mask, how could he know?

"Fuckin' jerry."

And he wasn't even; he was Austrian, but Conor didn't care, which meant that it was something else about him that got under his skin. The man had vehemently decided to hate him, and he could do nothing about it.

König turned to the door leading to the interrogation room, grabbed the doorknob, inhaled deeply, and went in.

The girl was tied to the ceiling with a grey paracord that bit into her wrists as she hung there, barely able to stand. The bastard had bound her unreasonably tight. An ugly sight, that.

But she wasn't.

The thick braid was messy, her arms were more or less bruised, and her face had dirt on it, but she was, by far, one of the loveliest beings he had ever seen. She looked like heaven and hell, an angel of war who had fought for days against overwhelming forces and only wanted to sleep.

He swallowed, glad of the hood making the blob of his Adam’s apple invisible. She stirred and looked up, eyes dark with the burned out wrath of a cornered wild thing. She looked dog-tired, and scared. Beaten. And no one had even struck her yet. Not that he knew of, at least.

She pulled herself to her feet by the rope, although it was long enough to allow her to stand, and raised her chin.

"So you're the one they sent to break me."

-----

It was him.

The man that had gotten her in this situation in the first place.

She had been stupid enough to freeze for a few moments, the crucial little moments that meant the difference between life and death, escape and capture. And for what? To watch how this beast raged on the battlefield like it was his playground, to watch how he plowed through her mates while bullets showered around him. Seemed to evade him even though he was the largest possible target in the whole damn skirmish.

It didn't really help that his gear was gone. He was still one of the biggest men she had ever seen. If not the biggest.

The black hood was still in place, though, making him look like an inquisitor. Or an executioner.

She suspected he was here to make her talk. He could probably make anyone talk... But there was a particular threat present here. She was a woman in a helpless state, and she had a hunch that this mountain of a man wouldn't shy away from any methods that would humiliate and destroy her. He probably enjoyed it: getting a little treat after a nice day in the field.

The man strode to her, and it seemed that the only thing that moved as he walked was his hips. But the sound of his weight, the sheer mass that met the floor through combat boots, made her draw back in a futile attempt to disappear somewhere between her raised arms.

He stopped a generous few feet away, crossed his arms over his chest, then unraveled them again to his sides. He was all corded muscle beneath that black shirt, the fabric barely concealing the curves of a well-built chest. The poor textile stretched from the swell of his shoulders.

She didn't say anything. She expected a punch in the face, a knee to the stomach. Something to get things started.

He walked behind her, much more slowly, the thumps against the cold, hard cement causing the hair on her neck to stand on end. He stepped close, so close that she could feel his body heat against her back.

"Listen to me." She flinched at his voice, far more high-pitched than she would've suspected from such a beast of a man.

"I'm going to help you. But you have to assist me here."

The 'here' sounded more like german for 'hier'. Through her terror sweat and confusion, she found herself wondering how odd it was that the KorTac had some German guy working for them.

"We have to…" he cleared his throat from the falsetto his voice was climbing to.

And she only now realized that he was nervous.

The soldier was fucking nervous.

"We have to have intercourse," he continued, his accent bleeding thick through her senses like some goddamn ASMR she used to calm herself with. A guilty pleasure she succumbed to when she tried to reach sleep after a mission.

Only after she got past the fact that the enemy soldier's voice made her feel tingly, she understood what he had said exactly. What he was proposing.

She knew that nerves and adrenaline were a fucked up thing. You could get turned on during the most absurd situations when the survival instinct kicked in. Those situations could include getting a target on sight and pulling the trigger, or getting hit and receiving care under fire.

Turned out that it could include the prospect of getting tortured by a 6 feet something enemy merc who whispered in her ear with a thick German accent, gently like a lover.

Perhaps this whole set-up was just another kind of torture. A good cop, bad cop routine, in which he was both of the cops. He tried to tear her walls down and make her trust him, and when she refused to tell him anything, he would get to work. Tear her nails off, dislocate joints, rape her bloody.

"I'm not going to speak."

She announced it with a far less stern voice than she would’ve preferred, and heard him swallow. Either he was damn good at acting, or he was the most socially anxious soldier she had ever seen.

He rounded her and stopped only an inch or two from her face. Which only reached the man’s chest, broad and lean, covered in that black shirt and smelling of battlefield along with his sweat - the combination hitting her nostrils as an undiluted, masculine scent. He reached a gloved hand to prop her chin up, to force her to look at him.

It was her turn to swallow, and the angle he forced her neck caused the sound of her gulp to echo in the bunker. The tactical glove had cut-proof padding on the knuckles, and it scratched the delicate facial skin, even though his touch was more of a coax than a yank. But that wasn’t what caught her attention so vividly that it nearly made her knees buckle.

It was his ice-blue stare. The eyes stood out from the holes of his mask, from among the heavily applied black facial paint like two beacons. And they were gentle. Bordering on puppy eyes. The thought alone nearly made her laugh hysterically.

Even with her faltering knowledge of human character, she could’ve bet all in that this man would not hurt her. That he was far from a torturer.

And the knowledge made her even more confused. If he wasn’t the torturer, then who was he? What the hell did he want?

“You have to co-operate.” His voice was strained with something akin to despair.

“I can only help you escape if you co-operate,” he whispered, his voice so low it went straight between her legs.

Jesus, this was not okay.

He released her chin, but she didn’t turn her gaze away. Her eyes roamed his face, or rather, the black hood that covered it. She wondered why he wore it when other soldiers didn’t bother to hide their identities. The only other man she had seen wearing a mask was Lt, with the top of a human skull attached to his balaclava. And even he wasn’t this big. Albeit menacing and shrouded in mystery that came from all things danger, death, and pain, the man before her now intrigued her far more than even Ghost did.

Why did he hide his face? Why was he so… jittery?

And why did he try to escape her gaze?

He looked like the whole situation was too much for him. To say that the man was distraught when she merely looked him straight in the eyes when he told her that they needed to fuck, would be an understatement.

If she were to choose a man to torture someone with his dick, this would be her last choice.

“What’s the escape plan, then?” She asked, still not believing for a second that he would help her, even if he didn’t strike her as intimidating anymore.

"I, uh…"

"You don't have a plan?"

"Well, not yet."

"Why am I not surprised," she murmured into the stale, dusty air of the chamber. "Why would you even want to help me?"

"I don't hurt women," he said and took a step back as if to confirm that statement.

This was so fucking ridiculous. He was a mercenary in a filthy bunker with a bound prisoner, assuring that he was a gentleman. Was she on candid camera or something?

She had never been in a situation like this. She had never imagined being in a situation even remotely close to this. She would have laughed over the absurdity of the whole thing but couldn't, because her lower lip started to tremble.

He noticed it and instantly shifted weight from one leg to the other. He tried to direct his anxiety into the leisurely movement, and it caused his hips to sway from one side to the other, making her think of all kinds of stupid associations, such as lapdance and snake hips.

With those rather tight khaki pants, it was impossible to prevent her eyes from darting to the bulging thighs and the evident package he was delivering between them.

Jesus fucking Christ, pull your shit together…

"I'm going to get you out of here," he promised.

"That's cute of you," she tiredly threw in, getting far too much satisfaction out of the reaction her words managed to pull out of him. He blinked a few times, and the colossal chest heaved as if the man was trying to catch his breath. "Funny that you need to fuck me to be able to do so."

Another switch from side to side, a sway of those goddamn khaki-covered hips.

"I'm almost positive that the only surveillance they have on this room is that camera over there. The screen is in another room," he told her, sounding stupidly proud of his debatable skills in spying. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. "But the guys there are usually watching tv," he hurried to add.

"I doubt they will today if your orders are to rape me." Again, he looked abashed, eyes darting to the floor and back to her. Was this guy thick in the head or something? "Probably got their beers popped and their pants down by now…" she said, and the man let out something close to a squeal.

"That is exactly why we have to… provide them with something until I come up with a plan."

She looked at him and almost smiled. Like one would smile at a daft dog that was far too eager to please.

"You just said you don't hurt women," she said.

"That is why I very much wish you would co-operate," he answered.

"You are the weirdest torturer ever."

"I - I am not a torturer. I'm just a soldier," he tried to assure her with that climbing voice. He was shitty at concealing his uneasiness. The man was completely flustered.

"Then why did they assign you with this… task," she demanded to know. It was yet again laughable: as if he was the one being grilled here. He wouldn't answer, and she cocked her head to the side.

"Ever interrogated with your dick before?" She blurted.

His hands were trembling. Slightly, but they were.

"Negative," he said, voice tight.

Was this guy….

Was he a virgin?

The twisted concept of some romantic chivalry, the nervousness, the respectful distance he kept, and the fact that his hands started shaking when she said a dirty word, all pointed to the possibility that he very much might be.

She thought he was picked because he was big, because his obvious blessings in the crotch department also held a promise of pain. But this guy certainly didn't know what the heck he was doing. And not only because he wasn't a torturer or because he didn't want to hurt a lady. She could almost swear, hand on Bible, that this man had never been with a woman. Not much further than the first base, anyway.

"Well, get on with it then."

She told herself it was only because it was useless to postpone the suffering that would eventually come anyway.

She told herself it was not because she was trying to break a Guinness world record of developing Stockholm Syndrome to this guy and his adorableness. She told herself it was definitely not because she kinda sorta wanted to see how he would act when he had to actually pull that cock out and touch her with it.

He stared at her, eyes wide beneath that oversized hood, and she could swear it was his heart, not hers, that made that thumping sound.

"I am going to touch you," he informed her. Like the dumbest moron.

If she ever got out of here, and if she ever, ever told this story to someone, they wouldn't be able to believe it.

He took his gloves off - why would he even bother to do that? - and let them drop to the ground.

His fingers were long, the fingernails meticulously cut. There were a few scrapes and scratches here and there on his palm, indicating his lack of coordination. Clumsy boy.

When he reached for her, she assumed he would go for her tits, or her waist, or grope her ass. But he didn't. Fingers cupped her face, trembling still, before they slid over her neck and grabbed her throat, not to choke, but to revel. Like she was a sculpture or something, and he wanted to know how the material felt. How soft she was.

She looked into his eyes, because eyes told everything; they would betray a flash of sadism or whatever else she still expected from this strange man. They roamed all over her, darted across her face, every now and then to her eyes, but mostly avoided her stare like the plague. He wouldn’t hold a gaze for much longer than a glimpse of a second. And there was still no sign of lust for inflicting pain. Only perplexed wonderment.

Her hands and arms were numb because of the position she was in, hands tied above her head, blood flow inhibited. But she paid it no mind as his hand traveled down her neck, caressed her collarbones, and then stopped right before he reached the gap between her breasts, free game in the white tank top she had been left with, along with her cargo pants and boots.

“Can I… May I kiss you?” He asked, his voice muffled and so thick that it was difficult to untangle what he had said.

It was such an odd request that her words left her, and she could only produce a whimpering sound at the back of her throat. He took it as a yes, and raised his hood, only enough to reveal a pair of thin lips among a light brown stubble. His mouth opened slightly, then closed, then opened again, as if he didn’t know how to proceed.

He bent down like the giant he was, not hinging at the hips but hunching over towards her, probably trying to appear smaller but ending up looking like there was a tower falling on her. The smell of gasoline and sweat hit her as his lips met hers, parted, and a shy flick of tongue swept across her bottom lip. She tried to remember how to breathe and ignore the rush of wetness that told her she would have no problem whatsoever with him parting her nether lips too. He captured her lip, sucked, then opened his mouth wider and hers with it.

She answered his kiss - just a little bit, and he instantly deepened it and moaned into her mouth. She fluttered her eyes open and saw that his were squeezed shut. He pressed a hand against her back and pulled her against his overwhelming body. All she could feel was muscle… and then some more. He was hard, the thick erection colliding with her stomach all but seductively. She went completely stiff, eyes wide and lips tight.

The man went even more rigid, if possible. He released her mouth with a grunt and buried his head in her neck.

"I can't -... I can't do this, I'm gonna go and tell him they need to find somebody else," he said in a strained voice, riddled with pain.

No. No.

The fuck he would.

If he would be replaced by somebody else, some crazy, blood-drunk soldier with cold eyes and a knife, some jerk-off who hadn't had a go with a woman since their last leave, she would fucking die.

"Please don't," she hushed and swallowed against him, the place where his hood and the collar of his shirt revealed skin.

"I want it to be you," she continued to whisper in his ear, meaning to say If it has to be somebody, let it be you, but choosing to deliver a sentence as persuasive as possible. As inviting as possible.

So that he wouldn't leave her in the hands of someone with no mercy.

"Scheiße…" The hot air brushed against her skin, even through that hood.

"If only I could touch you too," she said, regretting it immediately. She was acting a little too enthusiastic in the midst of her panic. Trying desperately to prevent him from leaving.

But the hand on her back moved down a bit, and long fingers splayed over the small of her back, pressing gently.

"Don't tease me," he huffed, panting although they were both quite still.

Jesus Christ… at this rate, the KorTac could hire her to do the interrogations.

She wondered whether the surveillance team was looking at the scene, which was far too intimate and loving to be an interrogation. What kind of a man would try to pry information out of someone by embracing them gently? Kissing them hesitantly?

In a way, this was torture: she didn't know what would happen to her after… whatever this was. She didn't know what procedures would follow when the others found out he had no intel for them to tell.

Let's get this fucking over with.

"What's your name?" She asked, hoping that the puppy boy wasn't naive enough to tell her his actual name.

"They call me König."

King in german...

"König…-"

She meant to ask him to touch her so that this horrible, awkward mess would come to at least some sort of an end, but couldn't find the words. His name on her tongue seemed to do the trick, though. He ground his hips against her, and had she not been tied to the ceiling, the movement would have toppled her. The hand on her back went behind her knee and raised it to his hip. Then another hand slid down to do the same to her other knee, pulling her from the ground like she weighed nothing at all.

The strain on her arms was released, and the relief was heavenly. For that alone, she could've let him do whatever he wanted to her.

"You're so klein… small," he commented with her raised to straddle his lap and her face finally on the same level as his. "Small people make good snipers," he declared with a hint of longing in his voice.

She had a terrible urge to sling the bundle of hands over his head. And not for self-defense reasons.

"I'm not that small, you're just big," she said, like a beauty to the beast, like it was a cute scene in a movie where everybody was nice to each other. Her gut feeling of the man being a virgin only increased by the minute. He was so… blameless. It was downright unintelligible that he was a soldier.

But she had seen how brutal he was on the field, how he had struck holes in her teammate with a combat knife like he was playing tag and didn't quite know the rules. Didn't know that one stab in a well-picked spot would have sufficed.

She had seen him haul a grown man with 100 extra pounds of tactical gear on him up like the poor man was a barbell, and bring them down over his knee. The sound of a breaking spine would probably haunt her dreams for the rest of her life. She had simply gawked at the display of utter, brutal violence before her. Normal men, even soldiers of a special forces tactical unit, simply didn't do stuff like that. Hands-on, down in the mud, barbarian kind of stuff from medieval times.

And now the same man was fondling her like she was his sweetheart. Like he was about to carry her in the bedroom full of roses and other syrupy valentines shit.

"And what do they call you?"

The accent was really doing things to her, along with the few german words tossed here and there, absentmindedly like candy. He was an enigma with his colossal body, croaking voice, and gentleness that surpassed even the violence.

"Valkyrie."

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, astonished.

"My team found out I used to do fencing, and I'm blonde, so…"

It was silly and the swords weren't even that big. One could hardly call them swords at all, the pointy little things they were.

But the situation indeed had taken a turn into a sick fairytale. Like, come on. Valkyrie and König? Some stupid hippie would've loved that: how it was meant to be, destined, even, that the two of them had met. That she was a damsel in distress, and he was here to save her from the ring of fire.

She stifled the urge to shake her head, to snap out of where this was spiraling into.

Affection.

They barely even knew each other's codenames. She was in a modern version of a dungeon, lit by a single light bulb, about to get raped by some edgy, mentally unstable goliath, she reminded herself. While perhaps psychologically interesting, he was not okay. This was not okay. She had been trained for situations like this.

Except that she wasn't. She was trained to withstand torture, battering, spending days in a cell where the lights never went out. She knew methods to draw the mind away from constant pain. But she hadn't received instructions on what to do in a situation where she wasn't even being questioned. Not even on the sly. Her call sign wasn't much of a secret. They probably knew who she was before they brought her to this room.

"There are many stories of valkyries in my Heimat," he prattled on enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I know the Nibelung saga," she said.

"Very heroic, very German tale."

"You ought to know."

"No no, I'm not German, I'm Austrian," he said.

This was turning into an odd conversation.

"König." She said in an attempt to bring his attention to the present moment. He fluttered his eyes, long lashes batting over that innocent-looking stare.

"Don't. Just… don't," she tried not to stutter.

He had lied to her about not being a torturer. Chatting with her like they were on their first date, discovering that they were actually intrigued about one another... It was insufferable. Although she was the one who had started it by asking his name…

"Right. Getting on with it," he said like he had been given an order. Her heart stung. Tears were welling up from the absurdity of this whole situation, from his silliness, from her having felt rather comfortable and safe in his hold. Fucking safe.

She should quit the army when she got out of here. If she got out of here. She wasn't right in the head to continue with this job.

"I've been an idiot," he told her.

You're damn right.

An idiot she could imagine herself falling in love with in another situation, but an idiot nonetheless.

"You should put on more of a fight, and…" he trailed off.

And you should be rough, you dumdum, she thought. Again, in another situation, she would've probably loved him to be rough.

"Roger," she said to him and heard him chuckle, saw how a few wrinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes. He lowered her down to the ground, and she hissed when her arms extended against the rope again. He let her go, gently, like it was his fault that she was attached to the roof.

"I would help you, but -"

"It's ok." She gave him a weighted look that told him to stop speaking. To get on with the action so that she wouldn't get attached even more than she already was.

He grabbed her by the throat again, doing a shitty job at trying to make it look like he was manhandling her. His eyes landed on her chest, and she could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, thinking about whether he should tear her top. Apparently deciding against it, he went for his trousers instead, pulling the belt buckle open with a click.

It had been a while, what with all the stress and the sleep deprivation not being an ideal combo to get her juices flowing. But nothing could prepare her for the surge of wet heat when the front of those light brown pants practically gave way for what must’ve been the largest bulge she had ever seen. It was almost vulgar, even more so when the fabric of his boxer shorts stretched at the sudden throb.

She realized her mouth was hanging slightly open, and she closed it carefully, but her lips parted again when he continued to shove both of those pants down. He didn’t even bother to take them off, and they were left somewhere mid-thigh, with belt buckle dangling in the air.

And God, he was huge.

It wouldn’t even stand up properly, even though there was no doubt that he had a full-on erection. It jerked between them like a threat, or a dare, but mostly it was just a long, thick, veined baulk that couldn’t support itself because it was just so goddamn big. He was uncut, but the foreskin had drawn back from the arousal, and the tip of his slit glistened with precum.

And he was flustered again, misinterpreting her stare as a sign of fear instead of awe.

"I promise I'll be quick," he whispered, and the first thing that her mind chirped back was Please don't. And not because it would probably be painful. But because she desperately wanted him to slide that monster in inch by inch and take his beautiful time with it.

"Uh-huh," she managed to say before the man codenamed King stretched his fingers toward her pants.

With trembling digits, he opened them and started tearing them down before realizing she could not spread her legs without him taking the pants off. And then he realized he couldn't take them off without taking her boots off.

So what happened was that her panties and pants were halfway down, and the Austrian hulk kneeled in front of her with his hooded face in level with her pussy. He turned his head to the side and leaned a bit on her thigh to unlace her boots, but she was pretty sure he did it mainly because he was embarrassed to look straight at her cunt.

She helped him as much as she could, raising her feet one by one for him to take the combat boots off. He tossed them somewhere to the side and tore her pants down, all the way down, and over her feet, leaving her in her tank top and socks.

He rose, his cock brushed her thigh, and she jerked like she had been scraped by some sharp object. It bounced at the contact, bumping against her again, sweeping a wet streak over her skin.

"Sorry," he mumbled like it was somehow worse than what he was about to do next. When he would shove… that thing inside her.

He picked her up again, almost in a hurry. Her heart was ramming against her ribcage and her mouth was dry as her feet left the ground. He was hard against her belly, flesh hot and throbbing and slick with precum that pushed out from the tip and left wet stains on her top.

This time she did raise her hands over his head and let the arms come down to rest on his shoulders. Her intuition told her she would soon need the support.

He moved her around like she was a doll, letting the erection drop between them to position himself against her slit. Her folds parted without effort as he slid against them, once, twice, before halting.

Don't comment about it, don't…

"You're wet," he grunted with delighted surprise.

"Yeah?" She said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Just fucking do it, she yelled in her mind, lips drawn into a straight line so that even a dumbass like he could see that this was not the moment for hesitation.

And he didn't hesitate.

He searched, adjusted himself, adjusted her, spread his stance, grunted…

And it was pretty clear by now that he didn't know what he was doing. Her nipples brushed against his chest as he searched for the right spot with her in his arms, and she hoped he would've taken his shirt off so she could feel skin instead of cotton.

"There," she helped him with a whisper as he hit the right spot. He returned, probed, and she guided him. "Now up…", and he bent his knees while raising her slightly. The angle was right, and he finally drove in, slowly but surely.

The stretch was phenomenal. It hurt more than a bit after he had passed the entrance, and the delicious feeling turned into a burning sensation.

"Wait.." she begged, and he stopped immediately, panting like a runner.

"Back up a bit."

He did, pulling out almost completely before she bucked her hips to let him know he could push back in. And when he did, she gasped, and he moaned, so tight and so glorious that the sound that erupted from him was laced with pure need.

"Ach, you're tight.. soft…"

She clenched around him at his shameless commentary, and he let out another broken sigh.

Of course it's tight when you're so big..

He wouldn't go fully in, and she doubted whether he ever even could. She had never been this filled. But more was coming.

He withdrew again before thrusting back inside, deeper still.

"Oh Jesus," she gasped, "yes, just like that.." the words escaped her lips and she noticed his eyes were directed at her, drunk and half-lidded.

"Yeah…" he echoed, his voice shivering like a leaf. "Das gut?"

If her hands were free, she would've torn that hood away, buried her fingers in his hair, and pulled until he would expose his fucking throat for her to kiss and lick.

He began thrusting with a steady pace, shallow but intense, going deeper every now and then when he slipped. His hands shifted, one by one, to grab her by her butt to glide her up and down his length. It was fucking hot that he didn't need his hips to fuck her, that he could just move her around with his hands and slam her against it if he wanted to. Her ankles hooked around his waist on reflex, and her fingers flexed in the ties, trying to grasp onto something but finding only air.

"You feel so good," the short, agonized 'good' coming out more like 'gut'; and her pussy tightened, pulled, and sucked him like he was the best thing ever.

"Sch…shit," he breathed laboriously, taking a moment and thrusting even deeper, eyes closing like he was on the brink of losing consciousness..

He hit a spot that was both familiar and unfamiliar, and she was pretty sure that if someone was looking at the surveillance material, they couldn't tell whether the look on her face was of pain or pleasure. She couldn't keep herself in check, couldn't seize control anymore. She was so soaked at this point that the evidence of her arousal was heavy and loud. So audible that it made her cheeks hot.

"I wonder what you taste like," he mused, his hood shaking in sync with his thrusts. "Honey and raindrops, eh?"

"Mh," she sobbed, her thighs quivering. She wanted to spread them more, to let him see her and have a taste, to present herself for him to do as he pleased. But she couldn't move much in his grasp. It was like she had been propped up on a machine, buckled to a seat reserved just for her.

He took a wider stance as if hearing her thoughts on wanting even more of what he had to offer, and she held on to him as he shifted like the continental plates beneath her. He proceeded to fuck her while leaning his head against the side of hers, and she held on to him as he breathed into her neck. The occasional moan sounded more like a sob as his cock slid in and out, in and out, slick with her wetness.

"You're what they sing about in Rheingold," he kept talking that romantic bullshit in her ear while stuffing her with that long Austrian cock that would make most women squirt if he kept at it long enough. "Und Walküre…"

It was so good she wanted to cry. She thought about letting a tear or two slip and saying it was just for the show if he asked. Virgin or not, König was doing a pretty decent job in making her a writhing, weak mess. He was not too quick, not too slow, but set just the right, rigorous pace that would send her into oblivion. He became the fountain stone, the buoy in the storm. He was the man that would send her over the brink and the man to hold her unwaveringly as she fell.

"Not much longer," he informed her light-heartedly, like he was in the middle of a mission about to be completed. Completed to the fucking full.

She couldn't even begin to tell him that she was already there, because everything suddenly coiled and burst, and she was arching her back, making him reach even deeper, almost fully inside her, the heavy balls slapping against her ass as her toes curled and her body went completely rigid…

The sound that broke out was not a yell, nor a scream, it was a violation of her vocal cords. She had never sounded like this — like someone falling and meeting the ground with a strained, lewd groan. Like someone who had the orgasm of their life.

He startled, almost quailed from her. Not because of the screaming, nor the sounds she made after… but because she came, hard, while he was banging her like a battering ram.

"Genau so…" König rasped, taken aback but trying his all to cover it. He slowed down on instinct, letting her greedy pussy suck on him like it was giving him a blowjob, telling him he was a good, good boy… because her words had left her.

He moved a little, and she could see the flash of those eyes from within the darkness of the hood, knew that he was watching her intently as she swam in ecstasy with an open mouth and pinched nose and eyes that wouldn't focus.

"Schön," he continued, sounding fragile. Weak. Vulnerable…

She couldn't for the life of her look at him, look in those eyes that must've told her things she wasn't strong enough to deal with at the very moment.

Her head dropped and her thighs went slack, but König held her, steadfast like the most gallant knight. He resumed his earlier pace with caution and care, breathing distinctly with his mouth open under that black mask. She was limp in his arms, trying to hold on as best she could while listening how the cock drove into her again with moist, sloppy sounds.

The moans that followed didn’t suit a man of his build at all. She had expected brute strength and hoarse grunts, not pinched, needy sobs and a head softly pressed against her. Forehead against fucking forehead. And he probably didn't even know what it was doing to her because he was such a stupid, adorable little — ugh, big dumbass.

She wanted to grasp his shoulders, slide her hands under his mask and raise it, kiss those moans straight from his lips, and run her fingers all over his stubble, the chiseled jawline she had seen only once. She wanted to feel him, all of him, not just his hands and his cock, even though they were good. Or fucking best. It almost made her cry; the post-orgasm need to cuddle for a bit but not being able to do so because her hands were bound to the fucking ceiling of a fucking dull grey bunker.

"Can I… cum..?"

Was he asking her permission to…

"Can I cum inside… Please, I'm close," he panted.

"Yeah… Yes.."

He slowed down the pace as he drew out his own upcoming release, relishing the last thrusts like he was sampling the finest cuisine. She finally dared to look at him and saw that his eyes were open and full of naked, helpless adoration. Devotion, even.

She must have been imagining: they were only the eyes of a man who was about to nut good. But damn if that fevered, helpless stare didn’t succeed in touching her very soul. To her horror, he wasn't shy this time, but held her gaze, held it, held it — until his lashes fluttered and he went over the brink with a cry.

It echoed from the damp concrete walls, just a single, prolonged wail that eventually broke and ended in miserable panting.

She could feel his cock throbbing, shooting the load inside, emptying the whole magazine in her. How the seed welled up, unable to go anywhere before he would decide to pull out.

König laid his head on her shoulder and pulled her against him, and she was not suspended only in rope but in time and space as well. His shoulders moved up and down with the heavy breaths, and she pulled her tied hands to awkwardly brush his neck as he came down from heaven.

He was shaking. Shaking, and let out a whimper against her skin, and for a fleeting moment, she was sure he was crying or on the verge of doing so.

"König?"

He shuddered a sigh, taking a moment to himself.

She felt hollow. Not raped, not assaulted, not abused. Just hollow, knowing what had happened between them would not be a recurring thing. That there was no 'them', not really. Not in the real, actual world.

"You can let go of me now," she whispered, although that was the last thing she wanted him to do.

But he did as she proposed, lowering her down and sliding out of her only after her feet had met solid ground. He pulled out carefully, gently, like he was leaving his beloved. Warm fluid descended down her left thigh in a streak, indicating that it had been a while for him.

Her head was full of dumb thoughts, such as whether he had a girl waiting for him somewhere back home. In Germany perhaps — no, in Austria. And if he had, just how lucky that person was.

She wondered if he had found someone here, and if they were in the military or not.

She wondered if there was no one, if he was alone, and if he curled up in a fetal position every night before he fell asleep in some bed that was too small for him.

And whether he would get into trouble for violating orders.

"You were," he started, eyes directed to the ground, "magnificent."

Was I your first, King?

"You weren't that bad yourself," she complimented him back, and he huffed.

"You liked it?" He asked in a way that made her heart squeeze tightly in her chest.

"Wasn't it obvious?" She couldn't help but smile. Couldn't… Wouldn't.

"Ja," he chuckled while looking down at his boots with an interest that was totally born from shyness. "I'm glad I could please you," he said before tucking himself demurely back into his trousers.

She wondered if he was as aware as she was of the fact that neither of them had played out the part they were supposed to. It had all gone out the window the moment he had touched her again. Practically thrown out, as if they were defying death itself together.

He gathered her boots and helped her step first inside her panties and then the cargo pants. He had to go around her back and reach from behind to zip her up and put her belt on, and it was such a mundane, cute act that she thought that this was indeed the cruelest form of torture she had ever witnessed. He hovered over her after he was done, and stole a brief caress of her waist before crouching to lace up her boots.

He rose, and came back in front of her, and the silence between them stretched to a short eternity. There were so many things she wanted to say, things he probably wanted to say, thoughts buzzing in both of their heads like bees as his seed cooled down on her thigh and made her pants stick to her skin here and there.

She thought about thanking him for being gentle, but what was she really thanking him for? Raping her tenderly? With the attentiveness and passion of a lover?

Was it rape if she had enjoyed it? If she had had one of the most powerful orgasms of her life?

He was… she had no words for him. The way he had unraveled her in mere minutes was shocking. Devastating, to say the least.

"I will find a way," he promised for the thousandth time. "I will not let them hurt you."

She nodded slowly, continued to do so while looking at him, her eyes welling with tears.

“Hey, kleine Süße, don't worry.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, soft and sweet. "I will be your Siegfried."

She didn't have the heart to remind him that both Siegfried and the valkyrie died in that story.

Part 2:

#könig fanfiction #könig smut #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty #könig imagine #mw2 smut #konig fanfiction #könig x oc #könig x female oc #könig

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happiest-hotch · 1 year

Text

Deserving

Summary: Aaron has a rough day being a dad, and you reassure him that he is very deserving of your family

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Angst/Fluff)

Word Count: 2.3k

Life with three children is not always easy. It's crazy to think it's been over a year since you and Aaron went from having two kids- Jack and your daughter, Eden- to three, adding sweet baby Noah to the family.

Mornings, although they've become a well-oiled routine, are always a challenge, but they're a satisfying one to complete.

Today, Aaron's slightly changed the patterns. Without an early morning budget meeting, mountains of paperwork, or active case, he's home until a 10 am call time for a case briefing at the BAU, which is very rare for a weekday.

So, instead of breakfast duty, you're taking the first shower while he handles getting everyone fed.

You don't doubt his abilities, but your morning showers are always quick and effective, as opposed to your relaxing nighttime ones, which, when you're lucky, take place with Aaron, so you're dressed and ready for the day quickly. However, the glorious difference of having someone else there is that you don't get interrupted once.

The chaos quickly catches up when you walk downstairs and hear your sweet baby boy crying loudly, very unhappy.

Aaron's frantically trying to calm the tear, offering him different types of cereal as a substitute for his toast and every juice in the fridge as he deduces the cause of an early morning crying fit. Jack looks done with his younger brother, sitting at the kitchen island with his hands over his ears, which makes it difficult for him to eat. He'd love a momentary reprieve of being able to travel two years back in time. He adores his younger brother, but you're not totally sure he wouldn't send him back for some momentary peace. As for Eden, she's nowhere to be found.

You spot the problem in a second, walking over and kissing the top of Jack's head before ruffling his hair affectionately. "Can you stop him now?" He implores.

Aaron looks at you with similarly pleading eyes, ready to admit defeat.

You take the plate from in front of the toddler, open the cupboard and take a different one out before you switch the food over and slide the new plate across the countertop.

In a second, his tears stop, and he digs into his toast like nothing has happened. The tears on his red hot cheeks dry as he eats happily. With a look of thanks, Jack digs into his breakfast.

"He doesn't like the blue plate." You explain to Aaron.

Your husband frowns, as confused as you were when you first noticed the quirk. "He eats off it every night." You've even learned to bring it to Rossi's for your fussy baby.

"Only at night and occasionally afternoon snack." You report to him.

Aaron's heart sinks, and the fact he doesn't know that about his own child hits him deep down. It's no secret that he's not always there, physically much less than most dads, and it weighs heavily on him.

"Oh." He lets out, trying to mask the disappointment he feels with himself. He turns around, grabbing your favorite mug. "Coffee, baby."

You smile, kissing his lips before gratefully taking the mug. "Thank you." You glance around the room again, not seeing a four-year-old coming running into the room. "Where's E?"

Aaron quickly puts down his mug. "Shit."

Jack chuckles at his dad's unusual swear before looking down at his oatmeal when Aaron glowers at him.

"It's okay." You place a gentle hand on his chest. "I'll sort her." With a quick kiss on Noah's forehead, you leave before Aaron can stop you.

Her great drama of the morning is an easy fix when you brush through her hair with the detangler meant for dry hair, not wet. She didn't inherit straight hair like her older brother and dad, and she wants to keep her hair long, which means it gets knotted overnight. You don't blame Aaron for the hiccup. He can't have known when you're the one who usually brushes his hair- his specialty being braiding- and the bottles look identical aside from the tiny writing, which you know he can't see because, although you wouldn't tell him, he probably should be wearing reading glasses.

"What's wrong?" Aaron asks, his voice laced with panic when his head peaks around her door.

"You're done, baby." You tell her, letting her climb off the chair and go to brush her teeth. You walk over to Aaron, hoping to provide some relief that nothing is wrong and that his children are just as dramatic as he is. "She only uses the one in the bathroom if her hair is wet. When it's dry, it's the one at her dressing table." You love your boys, biologically related to you or not, so much, but you love having a girly girl. Aaron's out of his depth. Even learning to braid took effort and nights of practicing on your hair, but he succeeded. As ill-prepared as he feels for the future, you know he'll always try for his baby girl. It's something you adore about him.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes sheepishly, looking down at the carpet.

You wrap your arm around his waist, and his arms hold you tightly, both of you appreciating a quick hug in the hallway. "You can't expect yourself to be perfect."

But you are. Aaron doesn't say it, but it's on the tip of his tongue.

"Go get ready." You instruct him. "I'll hold down the fort."

You're always holding down the fort. "Okay." He agrees, only leaving your side after taking a long kiss that he feels undeserving of.

Aaron's packed Eden and Jack's lunchboxes, which you're sure he's added loving notes to.

You get Noah changed for daycare, making sure he's got an extra change of clothing in his bag since he got paint all over his spare shirt.

Then you place him in front of the TV to watch cartoons with his siblings. Jack's too old for them, but he's such a good big brother that he never complains.

Your next task is packing lunch for the person who overlooked packing it for himself, writing him a note that you hope makes him smile.

He's also effective at getting himself ready, often having to do it quickly and in the middle of the night without enough sleep, and he's finished quicker than you were.

Aaron surveys the scene in the living room when he comes downstairs to find it quiet, much different from how you had. "How are they all ready to go?" He asks, and you see confusion where he's plagued with self-doubt.

"You did a lot of it." You assure him, aware your role this morning was fixing mistakes. "Are you taking Jack, and I'll take the other two?"

He's quiet for a second, brain buzzing away inside his head. "Yes. Yeah, that works." He agrees.

You notice those little details, but it's easy to assume it's about the incoming stress of his workday. "Okay, well, I love you."

That gets a quicker reaction. "I love you, too." He says, cupping your cheeks to kiss you sweetly.

"Team Hotchner?" You offer out a fist bump.

Aaron takes it with a chuckle that momentarily halts his frown. "Team Hotchner." He turns to the living room. "Jack, you ready?"

He nods, high-fiving his sibling before tossing his backpack over his shoulder and walking to the door.

"Love you, and have a good day." You tell him, pulling him into a side hug.

He hugs you properly. "Love you too."

Then two of your favorite people are out the door to continue their days, and you turn back to the other two. "Alright, babies, let's go."

Jack fills Aaron in on what's going on at school, or- as Aaron profiles it- everything minus the social aspects.

They pull up to the drop-off zone, and Aaron stops, knowing Jack has grown past wanting his dad to walk him into class. "Have a good day, bud." He says.

"Uh, Dad?" Jack starts awkwardly. "Did you bring lunch money for me?" Nope. Aaron didn't even know Jack's been buying his lunch. "It's just Y/n always-"

Aaron nods, fishing out his wallet from his pocket. "Y-yeah, of course." He answers.

Due to how infrequently he pays in cash, the only notes he has are $50s, probably- and hopefully- not what you give Jack each day.

He hands it over, and Jack scrunches his nose. "This is way too much." He states.

Thankfully, Aaron thinks quickly on his feet. "Treat your friends." He offers.

Jack grins, knowing he has permission to carry such a large sum of money to a 13-year-old. "Awesome. Thanks, Dad."

Then he's gone, and once he's out of eyesight, Aaron throws his head back against the headrest, hitting the steering wheel in frustration.

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling utterly useless and like he doesn't have enough of a purpose in the family you've built together. Although you've always treated Jack like your own, you know his son better than he does, and that's a warning sign that he can't ignore. It doesn't feel like it was together when he thinks about it. He was just there while you effortlessly did it all.

It's a bad day at work. It starts before he gets there, and it doesn't get better. The silver lining is there's no case that the team can't consult on from Quantico. Still, he can't bring himself to return home when he should. It gets later and later, and his thoughts spiral as he looks out across the dark bullpen and feels like he's 12 years in the past when he was losing Haley because he couldn't be a dad or a husband. He's trying to be different, better, learn from his mistakes because he doesn't get another shot, and he can't stand the thought of letting you down. He's surprised he even got a second chance.

By the time he gets home, the kids are in bed. Jack's light is still on, but the house is silent. The TV's on low, but you're paying more attention to your phone than it.

"Hey, baby, long day at work?" You wonder, not at all sounding mad about it.

Aaron feels like he needs to be punished, yelled at, and made to sleep on the couch, but he's met with understanding.

"Mhm." He answers, dropping his briefcase in his office and his keys on the side table.

"There's dinner in the microwave." You continue talking in your lighthearted tone.

It's wrong to be short with you, and he hates himself for it. "Thanks."

It's a pretty obvious sign.

You know something's wrong.

He thinks he's good at hiding it, but he's not when your focus is solely on him.

You're patient, letting him take your time as you put your phone down and wait until he's sitting next to you on the couch after eating.

"What's wrong?" You ask.

Aaron can sense your watchful stare and acts like he's focused on the TV. "Nothing."

"Aaron Hotchner." You warn. "I would appreciate your honesty. Whenever you're ready."

God, he loves you. There's nothing he's done in his life to deserve someone as understanding as you. "You're the definition of a supermom." He tells you. "I'm not jealous. You keep everything running smoothly here, and any stumbles you react to with so much grace. But I'm failing." You hate that he thinks that of himself. He's not perfect, but neither are you or anyone. One thing Aaron isn't doing is failing. "I barely know anything about our kids, stuff I should know, and I would know if I were a good dad. The thing is, I'm never here." Before you can dispute the claim, he continues. "I'm not, Y/n. If it's not casework, it's paperwork, but I'm never here as much as I should be. I don't deserve any of this."

You hate seeing him like this, having talked himself into his feelings all day. "Aaron." You coo, cupping his cheeks and trying to wipe up his tears. "Baby, you're allowed to make mistakes. Our kids love you and think you're the best dad in the world." You assure him. "Jack has looked at you like you're a superhero since I met him, and E and Noah do too. Every time you're away, they know you're out there saving people."

"You really think so?" He asks. "All of that?"

You nod, brushing your nose against his gently. "100%. There's never been a doubt in my mind that you deserve this family. You've got to believe me."

A flicker of a smile lights up his face. "I do." He decides.

"Did you eat your lunch?" You wonder.

Aaron's unsure where it came from, but he sheepishly looks away from you. "I didn't."

You hit him lightly on the chest, scolding him for not eating. "Then you didn't see the note I added."

"What did it say?" He asks, more excited knowing he's not in trouble.

You debate making him wait until tomorrow, but he needs to know. "Thank you for being the best dad ever to our kids. I love you." You recite.

It seems too convenient, and he frowns. "Really?"

"I think it's a soulmate thing." It's the only explanation you can come up with, having not known this morning that his stress was because he was worried about not being a good enough dad.

"I love you." He says, closing the small gap between you to kiss you.

You go in for another kiss once he pulls back. "I love you, too." You remind him. "Bedtime?" You ask when he yawns. "Then you can have another shot at perfecting the morning routine."

He nods, grateful for everything. "Let's do it."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner au #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds family #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst

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in-som-niyah · 2 months

Text

soft!oblivious!Jason Todd x fem!reader on her period

a/n: hey besties guess whos on the bathroom floor again haha its me!!!!! endo is trying to murder me but guess what jason's here to make it all better!!! this is entirely self-indulgent btw i wrote this to make myself feel better and to take my mind off the urge to rip my uterus out with my bare hands🫶🏾🎀🌸💝✨💖💗💕

Warnings: reader vomits, reader has a period, reader is in fucking pain, jason todd speaks spanish, reader is weakned, jason todd is a beautiful husband fuck you i said what i said

Note: reader and jason have a system where jason asks the reader what her pain is on a scale from 1-10 (10 being highest)

Jason's key turns in the lock of your shared apartment in Gotham.

To his surprise, the place is dark and lifeless. Upon checking his watch, which read 6:45pm, he noticed the peculiarity of the scene before him.

Usually, you would have started dinner by now, had some sexy 90's R&B playing (which you unashamedly sung along to) and would have greeted him babbling excitedly about what your colleagues thought about your new hairstyle.

But nope, there was nothing.

Though Jason was concerned, he tried to pass it off as a weird occurrence, until he heard a faint retch coming from the other side of the apartment.

Immediately, he parked whatever he was doing and came rushing (sprinting) to you, desperately needing to make sure you're okay.

When he found you in the bathroom hovering over the toilet, the sight clawed a hole in his chest.

You were gripping the edges of the toilet with shaky hands, trying to steady your unstable and shaking body. Your braids were tied back too tight, definitely causing you an uncomfortable and unnecessary headache.

Carefully, Jason stepped in the bathroom and lowered himself to you. He loosened your hair and re-tied it in a more comfortable way and kissed the top of your head.

In your dazed state, you barely recognized his lithe fingers in your hair, too exhausted physically and mentally to focus on anything other than the searing pain in your abdomen.

Finally empty, you reach to flush the toilet when a much bigger, scarred hand takes yours and kisses the back of it before flushing for you.

At this, you look up at him with bleary, tearful and irritated eyes, clearly indicative that you've been feeling like this for a while.

Jason's heart cracks.

Before either of you could speak, Jason pressed his forehead to yours and instructed you to steady your breathing. His hands expertly maneuver you to sit on your bum in front of him; this was not his first rodeo.

Jason was familiar with your illness, and what that meant for you sometimes. With practise, he was attuned to your needs and catered to them willingly. But still, his heart broke a little more every time he saw your body fold in on itself in pain.

When your breathing calmed he kissed your forehead just before another cramp seized your body, and your face crumpled in pain.

"Shit- You're okay sweetheart c'mere. Remember to breathe okay? In. Out."

You nodded lightly as you pushed yourself to move into his lap, the action only making your muscles strain but you were so desperate to feel his warmth you did it anyway.

As you continued to breathe Jason wrapped his strong arms around you and held you to his body, his hands came up to gently rub your lower back where he knew you were hurting.

"What's your number this time, amorcita." Jason asked in a tender voice, as to not upset your headache.

Through sniffles and shakes, you reluctantly surface your buried head from his chest to answer him.

"It was an 8 all day today..." you started, still in pain but able to speak.

"I took the painkillers too late, and they didn't work in time. I'm sorr-"

You're interrupted by Jason pulling you back into him. He would sooner take your pain than hear you apologize for a painful experience you couldn't control.

"Shhhh no sorries, princessa. You know that." He spoke into your hair.

Soon, the wave of pain settled, and you were granted a limited amount of small relief.

"I-I think I should move to the bed now. I don't know how much I have until the next one" you mumbled into his chest.

Through a positive rumble in his chest he agreed, and began to carefully untangle himself from you.

"Can you stand?" Jason asks, his eyes conveying sincerity.

You looked to the floor shook your head in shame. You couldn't believe you had to rely on Jason to help you so much.

"I'm gonna pick you up okay baby?" He says, but his eyes ask for your permission.

Upon granting it, he slips his arms under your body and lifts like you weigh nothing. He carefully walks to the bed, taking extra care in making sure he doesn't hit your head or legs on walls or doorways.

Once at your bedside, he places you down gently and presses a set of kisses to your nose, cheek and forehead. It is then when he notices how frigid your skin is, which worries him. But first, he needs more information.

"How long ago did you take the painkillers, mi vida?" He begins as he crouches to reach your eye level.

With an exasperated sigh, you close your eyes and shrug. Truly you had no idea how long it has been since you've been in such pain, much less since you've taken your last round of painkillers.

Jason returns your sigh, but with one of sadness as he reaches out his hand to absentmindedly rub your sore hips. Remembering your small remedies that help the pain, he stands and begins out the room.

Suddenly your hand grasp his ring and pinky, and he turns to face you again.

You look up at him with tears on your cheeks, silently begging him to stay.

At this, he leans down and captures your lips softly, silently letting you know that he would never do anything you wouldn't want him to.

With your hand still grasping his, he brings your hand to his lips to kiss, before breaking the silence.

"'Tell you what, amorcita. I'm gonna go get you your heating pad and boil some raspberry leaf tea, then i'll climb into bed with you and i'll rub your back as you fall asleep. But you gotta let go of me so I can do it, bien?"

Reluctantly, you took his offer and released his hand before he left a soothing kiss to your hairline and took off.

While he was gone, your were desperately breathing through another wave, trying not to scream or cry out. The pain continued to ebb and flow, but it was pain nonetheless.

When Jason returned with the tea, hot water bottle and a little square of dark chocolate he found you almost asleep, knees up to your chest while clutching your abdomen. He knew you well enough to know that your back is not enjoying the position at all.

He placed the tea and chocolate on your nightstand and carefully took his spot behind you. You slightly woke up at his shifting, but upon Jason's placement of the hot water bottle to your aching abdomen, you relaxed.

Jason breathed a silent breath of gratitude that you're able to rest easier than you were before now that you're comfortable. He moved himself closer to your body, firmly but delicately wrapping his arms around you and stretching out your aching back.

You appreciated this, the pressure releasing on your back and the soothing warmth of your hot water bottle contributing to easing your pains.

Jason retracted one of his arms from your waist in favour of rubbing your sore lower back. A sleepy hum of appreciation followed his ministrations just before you spoke.

"Jason?" you mumbled into your pillow

"Querida?" he replied, semi alert

"Thank you" you finish as you let yourself drift into a light and more comfortable sleep.

A peck to the back of your head is his response.

Jason knows he can't take away your pain. But when it cuts you deep, he'll be your remedy.

Always.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n pt2: bro im so sorry if this makes no sense im in pain leave me alone im tired its sleepytime

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gunthermunch · 7 months

Text

[Transcript under the cut]

Bluma: rows and flows of angled- angel hair Bluma: and ice cream castles in the air and fa-feather UGH canyons everywhere Mila: can i join you? Bluma: …singing? Mila: sitting. Bluma: oh. that's better, i'm not a good singer Mila: me neither, but i do love that song. Bluma: mmmnhgh Mila: what's wrong, pumpkin? Bluma: i lied to you, the guys from school are right. i do avoid my classmates as of lately Mila: oh, Bluma- why are you keeping all this to yourself? Bluma shrugs Bluma: they don't even like me anyways. it's not like my parents can do anything about it Mila: hmm… Bluma: i'm not letting my mom kill a child! Mila: who said anything about killing someone? Bluma: i know your ploty face! Bluma: sighs Bluma: …one day this girl Orla asked me why i didn't like getting my pictures taken and i told her it's because it makes me sad i get to show up on them and my mom doesn't and she just backed off. and then some kids laughed. i thought Orla was nice Bluma: i just wish i got to feel normal outside of my house one day Mila: you'll find your people, munchkin. you're just so little still Mila: and you know who used to struggle in a similar way? Bluma: who? Mila: grandpa. Bluma: … i guess we both have a coconut allergy Mila: oh not Marcus darling i meant- Mila: I guess your dad didn't tell you about Ernest yet. Bluma: who's Ernest? Mila: your father and uncles' dad, and my very first big big love, and husband. Bluma: …wait Bluma: Marcus is not my real grandpa?! Mila: darling you have two real grandpas. Bluma: okay this can be great. where is he? Mila: oh uh- he- is… gone, honey. Bluma: hm. my luck today is really bad. Bluma: how did he fix himself anyways? Mila: well, he didn't. we just found each other and made a family Mila: and then you eventually came along. So… let's say i love a nice weirdo Bluma: i appreciate your honesty, Mila Munch. Mila: thank you. Bluma sighs in relief Bluma: i like this room Mila: i still think it stinks, but if you like it we can make it yours next summer Bluma: really? Mila: of course. Bluma: can we hang stars from the ceiling Mila: yes. Bluma: and can i triple braid your hair while we watch TV? Mila: oh yes. Bluma: i love you grandma Mila: i love you too, my baby.

WG: yeah there's no way im sending this. sorry Marcus: it's chill. do you feel better tho? WG: kinda. who knew Gunther was right about that writing your feelings over thing Marcus: speaking of that, what are you even doing over there? WG: uhh uncleing? and i guess i've been playing a lot of guitar. and singing WG: i stopped sucking a little Marcus: man you should totally try and make something out of that. get out! travel! make yourself a city guy! WG: aha… who knows really. WG: hey uh thank you. i didn't mean to dump all that onto you. Lucas did say something about you being great at this but holy shit Marcus: eh, i'm just a mama's boy that watched too many telenovelas with her. Mila: and it shows. Marcus: heeyy Mils!

WG: HEY Blooms! let's get you home already

Bluma: coming!!

#aha.....#ts4 #ts4 story #munch #wolfgang munch #mila munch #marcus flex #bluma vatore

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teyamsgrl · 9 months

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the final step ✧ neteyam

❗️ MDNI ❗️

i got this fic idea as a request through dm, so thank you to the lovely person who requested this one! first time fics are the best and i loooove writing tsaheylu into fics as well. neteyam is the perfect person for this concept as well i can't even !!!!

°˖➴ warnings: fem metkayina reader, agedup!neteyam, first time, tsaheylu, l-bombs, tit play, riding, slow and soft 🥹 - yawne: beloved, sevin: pretty, muntxate: female spouse/mate

being able to call neteyam yours was something you never took for granted. though his family arrived in awa'atlu searching for uturu, the sully family had adjusted extremely well and all the metkayina girls fawned over neteyam. you knew he was committed to you but the spark of jealousy in you was pushing you to make that final step.

you and neteyam were travelling through the sea swiftly on your ilus, coming out of the water to land on a rock in the middle of the sea. the sky was gorgeous, colours and stars littering it that you couldn't help but admire it as you climbed atop the rock. neteyam smiled widely at you, his eyes scanning your body and the glowing freckles it held. "beautiful out here, isn't it?" you breathe, sitting down and ushering for neteyam to join you. he nods and takes a seat beside you, his large hand holding your thigh with such grace. you rest your head on his shoulder, cheeks heating up as you contemplate what you're about to say. "what is it?" neteyam could read you like a book, knowing that your few seconds of silence meant your mind was racing.

"i- i want to make the bond, seal it between us.." you whisper, lifting your head to look him in the eyes. "i would love that, yawne, please.." he whispers back, hand grabbing your chin softly. you hum and lean in to kiss him, this kiss much deeper than your previous ones. it had more depth to it, lips connecting so skillfully as if they were made to move together. you were in neteyam's lap within seconds, his hands tight on your hips as they grind into his bulge. little groans of his are filling your kiss, your whines tying in with them as you lightly pull his braids. "shit-" he breathes as he pulls back, hands coming to the back of your neck, untying your top and tossing it to the side.

the mix of adoration and lust in his eyes is profound, looking up at you in his lap. "touch them, please.." you sigh, grabbing his wrists and dragging his hands your chest, the size of his hands engulfing you immediately. he squeezes softly to test the waters, using your sharp intake of breath as an indicator to bring his thumb and index finger to your nipples, twisting and pulling slightly. your back arches into his touch, hands now in his braids once again. he leans in and takes one into his mouth, sucking ever so gently on the hardening bud. "that's it-" you whine out, pushing him closer if even at all possible. he hums around your nipple, releasing it with a pop before repeating his actions on the other nipple.

once off your chest neteyam started to untie your loincloth, the fabric soaked in your wetness in a way that had your cheeks flushing a light purple. "i'm just as excited, don't be shy, sevin" he says as he finally gets your loincloth untied and tosses it over with your top. you whine faintly and grab at his loincloth, managing to untie it and add it to the pile of discarded garments. he chuckles at your eagerness before stroking his length a few times, precum dripping down the long shaft. your mouth almost waters at the sight, not expecting his cock to look as good as it did, and you had high expectations. "it's so pretty.." you murmur, dragging a finger through his precum and causing his hips to buck up.

"ah-" he grunts, hands squeezing at your hips, "are you ready?" you nod, "i'm ready, teyam.." you hover over his cock as he lines it up with your entrance, helping you slowly sink down and adjust to his size. you wince at the stretch but keep yourself stable with his shoulders. "you're doing great, yawne" he sighs, head thrown back ever so slightly as your pussy envelopes him. the gasp that leaves your mouth once he is fully inside is boisterous, his tip probing at your cervix. "oh eywa-" you moan as you start to bounce up and down on him, his groans also filling your ears. "so good, this is so good..." he breathes, resting his forehead on yours as you continue moving. you brush your nose against his and he continues the action, mewls and profanities escaping from both of you.

you remove your hands from neteyam's shoulders, reaching behind him to grab his queue while also pulling yours from behind you. you bring the two ends together, tendrils attaching themselves to each other and connecting you two beyond the physical realm. yours and neteyam's pupils dilate as your souls and spirit intertwine, your speed picking up at the flood of feelings. "i love you" you whimper as you feel the knot inside of you about to snap any second. "i love you too, i love you muntxate" he rambles as his orgasm approaches, his hips snapping up as he empties into you, the sudden thrust pulling your orgasm out simultaneously. you clench and quiver in his lap as your orgasm fizzles out, his own chest heaving from the adrenaline of his release.

you lean into his shoulder as you catch your breath, hands rubbing along his back. he kisses your neck gingerly while hugging you close, coming down from the high together. "that was amazing..." he whispers, squeezing you tight as if he doesn't want you to slip away. "it was... we are officially mated, ma'teyam" you smile and lift your head from his shoulder, holding his face in your hands. "yes we are" he smiles back, pressing a loving kiss to your lips. "should we head back?" he asks but you shake your head quickly, "not just yet, i want to stay in this moment a little longer..."

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starfxkr · 4 days

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ummmm can we talk more about john b putting a leash/collar on pup!reader...... the thought of him having her sit on her knees and stick her tongue out while he tugs the leash forward has me feral

🪼

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

this was a new step to your relationship, one that meant you put full trust in john b that he would love and care for you on a level deeper than you ever thought.

the collars simple, it's not even a traditional collar really--a simple braided necklace he made himself with all your favorite colors, a little engraved heart shaped pendant that read property of john b routledge in plain font.

you were kneeling in front of him in anticipation, nothing on but that pretty collar as you waited for his instruction.

the outline of his thick cock was straining against his shorts and your mouth watered at the thought it's weight again your tongue, but you knew you had to be patient.

"open that pretty mouth for me pup." john b looked at you with those soft brown eyes, a slight smile on his face as he tapped your lips with his finger.

eagerly you do what he says, letting out a soft exclamation when he pinches your tongue between his thumb and forefinger and gently pulls it out your mouth.

"you were so good today you know that?" slowly he began to rub his finger against the pink muscle, making you whimper and drool in anticipation. whenever he praised you like this, you knew you were in for a treat and given how quickly he was pulling himself out his shorts you knew now was no exception.

"i think you deserve a treat," he softly tugs your towards his crotch more, you have no choice but to crawl closer--collar quietly jingling" until your head was in his lap, "go on now, s'all yours."

that was all you needed to engulf him in your mouth with a moan the second the earthy taste of him flooded your mouth. you worked his girth length down your throat as best as you can and john b made no secret of how much he enjoyed it--moaning and grunting with each wet suck.

your head was practically empty, your thoughts only of john b and his heavy cock and the desire to taste him cum filling your mouth.

"go down, all the way, fuck you're gonna make me cum."

you give him your all--spit drooling down your chin and over his heavy sack, you fight the urge to bring them up to your searching tongue peaking past your lips because he didn't say you could touch him yet, but you can't help but rock your hips in search of some friction.

"shit, shit, stay right there, stay there, goddamn." he lets out a loud grunt as he cums, his brown curls spilling over the back of the couch while he holds your head down and continues to fuck your face.

each spurt of hot cum down your throat makes your eyes flutter knowing you've made him feel good. you so deeply float into a hazy space you don't notice him pulling you off and lifting you into his lap.

"woah there, still with me?"

you nod in affirmation, burrowing yourself into his bulky chest.

"you're a real good girl pup, you know that." john b brushes a palm against your sweaty cheek and kisses your face until your eyes are more alert and you're giggling, "can't lose you just yet, i want you conscious when i fuck you."

#✨.txt #john b prompt #puppy!reader #🪼 anon

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jacesbeloved · 2 years

Text

unexpected visit

request: “Hi! Can I request a jacaerys x stark!reader friends to lovers where jace calls her princess but they are not either married or bethroed. Like fluffy teasing that he wished it was true.”

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader

warnings/notes: canon divergent (rhaenyra has already been ruling for a year and there’s no war yay!), fem!reader, childhood friends, jace being a playful, ambiguous little shit (endearingly)

The great hall of Winterfell held the same cheerfulness that it had always had. Various households share their own cups and feasts with one another.

You, the daughter of the king, had enjoyed yourself long enough to excuse yourself to accommodate the cooks that have been cooking dishes since early morrow.

Always known as the nicest out of the king's children, to you, it was just basic decency. The cooks sighed softly at the sight of you once more, scolding you to head back to the halls.

Your presence remained in the gigantic kitchen for as long as you could stay there without being intrigued by the loud chatter and rushing outside. The cooks looked at you with the same amount of confusion before you all ran to the doorway, trying to see what was happening.

"My lady," one of the cooks, cautiously held her hand out to stop you from going out, peeking in first to see if it was safe. "A dragon has arrived outside!"

The both of you turned to each other with confusion, "A dragon? What would the queen need with the North?" You think to yourself.

If there was a dragon, then it meant there was royalty inside of Winterfell. And so you nod at the cook before going back to the great hall.

When you got back, there were already chit-chatters going around the hall, with your family nowhere to be found. You sigh to yourself before running to the courtyard. Your direwolf, Aura, following fast.

"Has there been any news on who came?" You asked a random guard.

"It is said to be one of Queen Rhaenyra's sons, my lady." The guard replies, and you feel something bloom in your chest.

There was already a crowd when you got to the courtyard; the people that saw you were yelling at the others to part ways for you. They glanced at you first before moving away as you tried to catch a glimpse of who it was.

Your father's familiar fur coat suddenly comes into view, and finally you're in the front, the majestic dragon in front of you as the chattering slowly silences, Aura beside you.

You slide your eyes over the dragon and to the figure beside it.

It was him: tall, with brown hair and a firm demeanor. And while your eyes had just landed on him, he already had his on you.

"Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Queen Rhaenyra, the heir to the Iron Throne!" The guard announces, and the surrounding crowd nods in respect.

"Prince Jacaerys! What an unexpected visit. Is the queen well?" Your father greets hospitably, walking forward to the prince.

Jacaerys nods at him, smiling warmly, before he hands an envelope to the older man. He rubbed the thick leather gloves he wore together as he grew chilly.

"My brother, Lucerys, is getting married. Our mother hopes for the presence of you and your family there, and as her eldest, I was tasked with delivering the message." Your father nods as he reads the contents of the invitation.

While your father reads the contents, Jace looks around. Your hands were anxious as you had last seen him years and years ago. Not a single letter between the two of you.

His gaze returned to your figure; slightly taller than he remembered, your hair was longer, darker, and braided into a beautiful crown that met behind your head. The two of you lock eyes with one another, feeling your breath get caught in your throat at the sudden tension.

He cocks his head subtly to the side and smiles discreetly. "Aura's grown." He thinks to himself, seeing the majestic wolf beside you.

The prince's attention gets drawn back to your father's loud chuckle, and you finally get to breath again. You thought to yourself that he'd be leaving now since he'd already delivered the message, so you didn't bother hoping for him to stay, to spend time with you, his long-time friend.

"It is an honor, my prince!" Your father states before he gestures at the guards. "Bring your dragon to the gates, it would be warmer there and it could stay there for the time being." Jacaerys' forehead creases.

"Unless you have plans back in Westeros? Prince Jacaerys, we're also celebrating. You're free to spend the night with us and come back tomorrow! We'll have a chamber ready for you!" The old man looks beside him to gesture at the servants who scurry quickly to ready the chambers.

Jace chuckles lightly at this, patting the dragon beside him. You can clearly see the way he was deciding in his head while your father waited for his word.

The prince glances at you, his eyebrows arching before a small smile paints itself on his lips. "It would be my pleasure."

Your father claps. "Very well then! Y/N, show the prince to the gates, then bring him back to the great hall." You stare at your father in surprise, your mouth suddenly dry as you fail to say a response before he bows at the prince and heads back to the hall.

You tried to reach back to your father, but he had already gone back. Now it was just you, your wolf, the dragon, and Jace.

The two of you stare in silence, looking around as you both wait for the first word. Jace let out a chilly breath, nestling his hands in his thick coat as he also felt Vermax shiver.

"Well, does my princess want to stay in the snow a few minutes longer?" Jace says sassily.

You narrow your eyes at him before muttering, "Follow me." silently. Aura and Jace with Vermax follow your steps. Jace ruffles the wolf's head with a slight grin, happy that the direwolf still remembers him.

"Anywhere here is fine." You gesture at the warm roofed space, and Jace nods at you before letting his dragon stay in it.

"Thank you, my princess."

"I told you to stop calling me that. I'm not a princess, more so, your princess." You respond quickly. "Well, to me, you are." He replies in an ambiguous manner, making your eyebrows furrow.

A slight smirk grows on Jace's face as he turns back at you, seeing the glare you had. "And I missed my princess. How long has it been, 10, 12, years?" Jace ponders as he follows you out of the space and back to the great hall.

"You say you missed me, but not a letter nor message has been received from you in those 13 years. Not a visit." You laugh sarcastically.

Jace had his eyes glued on you each passing second, watching the way your eyes held an ounce of fury as you remembered the way you two basically cut each other off 13 years ago.

"Did you miss me? You could have just told me that, you know." He teases, ignoring your whole statement.

You snap your head towards him, a look of disbelief evident on your face at his insinuation. "I most certainly did not miss the prince's irritating and narcissistic presence."

Jace holds his chest, acting like his heart has just been cracked by your words. You roll your eyes at his actions before continuing on walking.

"You wouldn't be this grumpy if you hadn't missed me, princess." He states this in a matter-of-fact tone, smiling smugly at you from behind.

You ignore him, nodding at the guard who welcomed the both of you back into the great hall. As they approach you, the crowd greets you two once more.

"Extend my wishes to your brother. I hope he loves his betrothed as much as you do."

Before you even get to walk away from the prince, he follows you quickly. His arm gently wraps around your back as he joins you, your eyes staring at him in confusion.

"I am as much of a single man as you are a single woman," he whispers close to your ear, pausing to look at the confusion on your face. "I am yet to be betrothed, Y/N. Though I could be..." The prince drags off by the end. He stares at your eyes, mesmerized by your brown eyes just like he always used to be.

You two have gone way back. You both know that. You two walked the thin line between friends and lovers. Too coward to directly ask each other out, at the same time too discontented with the mere title as "friends."

It has been years since you acknowledged that. And you missed him, too. You also acknowledged that—though you refused to admit it. But the thought that he is yet to be wed, yet to be betrothed, the anger you once felt when you thought he had not invited you to his wedding, now disappears. That mere thought gave you some hope that maybe the two of you could cross that line.

"Is that a proposal, Prince Jacaerys?" You inquire, playful teasing evident in your tone. Although it had been a farfetched idea for you, there was still something inside of you that hoped his response would be different from what you were expecting.

You see Jace smile at your question, jerking his head to the side, making you snap your head to where the two of you were. He walked the two of you to the open space, a space for dancing.

You looked at him in a death glare as you mimicked the steps of the other guests around you. Jace, enjoying the situation he put you two in, puts his arm around your waist before moving around you, well-aware of the traditions and dances of House Stark after spending his earlier years with you back in Westeros.

"You are free to interpret it however you like, my princess." Jace says, his voice smooth as he purrs the last two words.

"I am not a princess, Jacaerys." You aggressively pull him by the collar of his thick coat, modifying the dance move a bit as a way to emphasize your point. He smiles at you warmly, holding you between his arms in the next move.

"You could be," he eyes you with a hint of mischief and persuasion on his face. "Depends if you're willing to wed a particular prince, or the prince, perhaps."

#jace velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon fic #jacaerys velaryon fluff #friends to lovers #hotd #hotd fic #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys imagines #jacaerys fluff

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daddypriceugh · 5 months

Text

Favourite nurse

********************

Here is a small something for you guys :)

I'm thinking about making a part 2 with some smut but I'm gonna let y'all decide if you want that <33

Link for Part 2 below :)

https://www.tumblr.com/daddypriceugh/736715457204273152/favourite-nurse-part-2?source=share

Tw: meantion of wounds

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The hospital lights were too bright and the people too loud.

That's at least what Ghost thought as he sat on a small bed waiting for you, his favourite nurse. He has been here for 3 hours now, and his wounds were still open and ready to get infected. It's not like he had the chance to leave prior, but he chose to wave every other nurse off when they came his way.

None is like you.

He shifted, making the bed squeak and huffed. Where were you?

Right on cue you're figure appeared from around the corner and shit did you look good.

Your hair was braided with some strand loose at the front. You had a smile plastered on your face, which vanished when you saw him.

A frown formed as you approached him making his heart beat fast in uncertainty. What were you thinking?

He stared at your mouth when you stood in front of him, starting to speak.

"What happened?" Your voice was laced with worry and confusion. Wasn't he here yesterday?

Ghost cleared his throat which felt odly dry.

"Had a fight" he answered shortly. You nodded in response.

"Alright ehm- well let's get to work then" You said but the last part was more for you than for him.

He took his shirt of to reveal the wounds and you prayed that he couldn't see you gawking at his abs. Like damn what did they feed him.

Shaking those thoughts away you started disinfecting the cuts, trying to stay calm.

Why did his presence bother you so much?

"How was your day" His voice cut the tension and you thanked him mentally.

"It- uh it was good yeah. Not many people came in and...yup" you said while biting your lip.

He hummed contently, probably pleased with the answer.

The minutes went by and you finally finished your work.

"Alright everything is patched up now. Take this cream and rub it over the wounds a bit it will help with the pain"

He took the cream from you, fingers brushing against yours. It may sound weird but you could have sworn that you saw him redden underneath his mask.

"Thanks doc"

He stood up and grabbed his bag, slugging it over his right shoulder.

"No problem really. But please take care of yourself, I really don't want to see you here again tomorrow"

You mentally slapped yourself for that sentence. 'I don't want to see you' like wtf was wrong with you.

"I-i mean I want to see you ju-just not hurt" you rambled, trying to save yourself from your self-driven-shit.

"Don't worry I know what you meant" he said softly, hand was reaching to your face and to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You face warmed up and probably reddened at this gesture.

"I'll see you then Ghost" you said as he walked down the hallway.

He turned around.

"See you doc. And it's Simon"

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod fluff #simon riley x reader

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byunpum · 1 year

Note

Hello 😊 I have a request for reader fighting with Loak cause he had Tsireya braid shells in his hair that he took from reader

Pair: Lo'ak X human reader (siblings)

Tags: Silly fight, adorable, loak and the reader being idiots.

Warning: None.

Note: I hope this request has been well done. I didn't understand much, but I did the best I could. I don't know, if you meant that loak took the beads from the reader, and gave them to tsireya, OR that loak had beads in his hair that the reader had given to tsireya. But I'm going with the first option.

AVATAR MASTERLIST

So are you going to that reunion?" asks tsireya. You two were sitting on the beach, talking about anything. But just now she was asking you if you were going to attend a meeting that the younger metkayina were having to celebrate their becoming adults. You didn't know whether to go or not. It all depended on if your brothers were going to attend, well… if neteyam was going to attend, if he wasn't going you weren't going. Orders from your father.

Father? Siblings? You were the human daughter that jake had with a woman from the RDA base, before he became a full navi. It was a one-night stand, and your mother gave you up quickly at birth… she didn't plan on keeping you. So when the humans were sent to earth again, he left you with your father and took off. Jake of course, always looked out for you. You were his oldest daughter, you were only 8 months older than neteyam. On the other hand, Neytiri accepted you completely, she might hate humans and couldn't stand spider's presence, but you were her now partner's daughter. She was your mother, she raised you and took care of you. She had no preference for anyone, you were one of her children.

Although you were the oldest, neteyam was the one who behaved older than you. While kiri and you were next. Then there was your younger brother loak, shit you loved loak…but someday he was going to make you bald. " Well…I don't know, I have to ask neteyam" you say, as you start to braid a piece of your hair. You see how tsireya is still talking, you are watching the girl. You see her movements and gestures. But your eyes are fixed on her hair, your breathing stops when you see the set of beads you had created a few days ago.

The beads were a set of 4, a mixture of shells and pearls that you had collected with extreme care, choosing the most precious ones. You spent hours, preparing them to be the perfect size and shape. You were going to give them to Neytiri, so they were very special to you. And now they were hanging in the hair of your younger brother's lover. Tsireya sees how you are looking at her, your eyes are wide open, and from what she had learned you were turning pink. The girl follows your gaze, until she locates what you were looking at. She glances at the braid she had the beads on and then looks back at you.

"Do you like them? They're beautiful aren't they, loak gave them to me last night… he's very" tsireya falls silent, as she watches you get up furiously. You don't even say a proper goodbye to your friend and run off to your marui. It doesn't take you long to get to the marui, there was your father cutting up some fish.

"Hey beautiful…what's up? What's with that face?" asks Jake, looking up to see your behavior. You walk over to your father and sit down next to him. You literally drop you on the floor. "Dad…I'm going to kill loak" you say.

"Y/N you always want to kill loak" jake says, turning his gaze away…as he continued to cut the fish. This wasn't new between you and loak. You guys were always fighting. "He took a bead he had prepared for mom" you're yelling. "And did he break them?" asks Jake.

"No, but he gave them to tsireya…. and those beads are mine. I was the one who spent work making them" you speak, while resting your head on your dad's forearm. Jake reaches up and strokes your hair a little. "Baby…take it easy. When he gets here we'll talk to him." Jake says, trying to reassure his daughter. He knew she was very sentimental, and these things…even if they were silly to some people they affected you. He knew that everything you did always had a purpose. But you were also very temperamental.

You were trying to calm down, until you hear the laughter of aonung, neteyam and… loak. -that idiot- you think, picking yourself up off the ground and getting out of the marui. Jake says nothing and continues to prepare the fish. When you get out of the marui, you see how the 3 guys are joking on the coast near the marui. You walk quickly. Loak doesn't notice you approaching quickly, and he didn't know how upset you were. Neteyam was the only one who noticed your behavior, but it was too late. You jump on top of loak, pushing the boy into the water.

"I'm going to kill you!!!" you yell, as you are fighting with loak. "Get off me crazy!!!" loak is struggling with your hands, trying to get free from you. You might be small, but you were like an annoying chihuahua. You were not easy to beat. "You took my beads, and you give them away just because." You punch him in the face. Loak gives a cry of pain. And pulls your hair. Meanwhile neteyam was watching the situation, he was laughing next to aonung. " I bet you Y/N is going to win" says neteyam, making aonung give a laugh.

It was night and the two of you were sitting on the floor of the marui, while neytiti healed some bruises on loak's face. You are intact. "This would be 20 against 10…loak you are losing" teases neteyam. You were still upset, and you were looking at loak with angry eyes. "I know you're upset…but Y/N you shouldn't have hit loak like that. And loak stop taking Y/N's things" says neytiri, getting up from the floor. To go to you, sitting next to you and hugging you. "Honey… you'll make another set of beads later. And I will gladly use them" neytiri pulls you closer to her, to comfort you. Tuk moves closer to his brother, to pretend as if she's beating him. Kiri had to laugh, while jake carries tuk, to leave his big brother alone. Loak gives you a look, but quickly changes it when he sees how you were still upset.

After dinner, everyone gets ready for bed. You settle in next to tuk, you were pretty sleepy. As usual, ever since you came to the Metkayina clan you all slept together. Neteyam, next to him was kiri, tuk then you and next to you loak. You feel him lie down next to you. "Are you asleep?" asks loak, thumping you with his tail. "If I were asleep… would I be answering you?" you say, as you give your tail a squeeze. Loak gives a jump, but settles down to be closer to you. The boy hugs you from behind. So you're on his chest. You and Loak were always fighting, but you were inseparable…since you were little. Ever since Loak was born, you never left his side. So he hated it when you were mad at him, because everyone could be mad at him and he didn't care. But if you were upset with him…he felt like he was going to die.

"Forgive me…please" Loak whines. You continue to ignore him and pretend to sleep. "I know I shouldn't have taken your beads, but I needed something to impress tsireya" loak keeps talking. You turn away from him, to turn around and come face to face with your brother. "You didn't have to take mine… you would have asked me and I would have made you some special ones for her." You say, smacking him upside the head. Loak yelps, but laughs a little. "Forgive me?" Loak pouts. You take a deep breath, you couldn't be upset with him. "Okay… but as punishment, you'll have to help me with something" you say with a mischievous grin. "What's that?" Loak says. "You have to help me talk to aonung" you spit. Loak opens his mouth and turns quickly, to turn his back to you. " No… not that idiot" loak says, closing his eyes. "LOAKKKK" you start pushing him.

You two were quietly fighting, while neytiri and jake heard you in the distance. "What are we going to do with those two?" says neytiri, getting more comfortable on jake's chest. "Leave them, they'll be fine" jake speaks, closing his eyes and trying to ignore their little fight on the other side of the marui.

p.s Ahhh I already imagined a whole story of Y/N and the sullys. Waaaa

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