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taurasiluvr · 8 months ago

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WE GOT A DOPE LOVE, WE GOT A BOND THAT THEY SPOKE OF / TWO GUNS WE DON'T GIVE THEM HATERS NO LOVE ── BUECKERS⁵

how you can help palestine part one part two

★ i got a some requests for a last part for my paige fic, so here it is!! ★ "girlyy u shld add another part to ur paige fic where reader finally breaks up w her bf and ends up giving back to paige?? (p receives) queen ur literally feeding us rn🙇🏽‍♀️" /// "and NOW i think you should do a final third part of the paige x reader where reader leaves that bum ass boyfriend and finally gets with paige 😜😜"

⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. homophobia (from ex), arguing, singular physical altercation (if you can even call it that), oral + fingering (r giving), lovey-dovey sex, break-ups.

⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 3.8k

⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; requests are open for those who want to send them in :p

you and your boyfriend walk hand-in-hand into the crowded gymnasium, paige's jersey clad on your body. as you made your way to the bleachers, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness. again, you were wearing paige's jersey, a silent testament to the bond you shared, and you knew it would be noticed by everyone, including your boyfriend.

he glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. "you're really supporting her, huh?"

"mhm," you replied, squeezing his hand. "she's important to me, you know that."

he nodded, his expression softening. "yeah sometimes i wish i played basketball so you could support me like you do her," he joked as you gave him a nervous laugh.

the worst part of that was – you kind wish he did, too.

you found a spot in the bleachers, settling in as the players warmed up on the court. the sound of basketballs bouncing and sneakers squeaking against the floor filled the gym. you scanned the court, your eyes quickly finding paige; she looked focused and determined, her movements fluid and confident. you felt your lips curve up into a subconscious smile as you watched her, and it filled you with adoration knowing how much she loved this sport, it made you fall in love with her even more.

as the game began, you cheered along with the rest of the crowd, your excitement growing with each play. paige was on fire (per usual), her skill on full display. you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride every time she made a basket or a crucial play. your boyfriend cheered too, his competitive nature coming out as he got into the game.

at halftime, the score was close, and the tension in the gym was palpable. you turned to your boyfriend, who was animatedly discussing the game with the dad next to him. he seemed to be enjoying himself, and you felt a small sense of relief. maybe things were starting to settle down.

as the second half began, the intensity ramped up. UConn was behind by a few points, and the pressure was on. you watched her closely, her determination evident in every move she made. with just a few minutes left on the clock, she made a play, stealing the ball and driving it down the court for a layup that brought the crowd to its feet.

you jumped up, cheering loudly, your heart pounding with excitement. your boyfriend joined in, his enthusiasm matching yours. as the final buzzer sounded, UConn emerged victorious, the gym erupting in cheers and applause.

you made your way down to the court, weaving through the throngs of celebrating fans. paige spotted you and jogged over, a huge smile on her face. she looked radiant, her eyes shining with triumph.

"my god, that was insane!" you exclaimed, wrapping her in a hug.

"i know!" paige replied, her breath still coming in short gasps from the exertion. she glanced at your boyfriend and gave him a nod.

he smiled, watching the interaction between you two. "you played a hell of a game, never thought women's basketball could be that entertaining."

you cleared your throat, nudging him slightly as you gave paige a sympathetic smile. "babe," you gave him a sigh, earning a shrug from him.

paige laughed, ignoring the comment. "well uh, maybe that's your sign to watch more."

"yeah, maybe."

there was a moment of awkward silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. you felt caught between the two people who meant so much to you, each with their own place in your heart (at least, that was what you were trying to convince yourself).

paige's teammates called her over for a group photo, and she glanced behind her. "aaliyah's boyfriend is hosting an after-party, if you're down," she didn't really acknowledge your boyfriend, her gaze fixed on you.

your lips curved up into a genuine smile as you nodded, and it felt like it was just the two of you for a moment. "yeah, we're down."

"okay, perfect." paige grinned before she turned around toward the team. you watched her go, your heart swelling with a mixture of emotions.

your boyfriend squeezed your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts. "babe, we have my function tomorrow morning, remember?"

"yeah, we won't stay out too late." your gaze stayed on the blonde before you glanced at your boyfriend, forcing a smile.

he nodded, though his expression remained wary. "okay, just don't want you to be too tired."

the drive to aaliyah's boyfriend's house was filled with a tense silence, your boyfriend focused on the road while you stared out the window, lost in thought. when you arrived, the house was already crowded, music and laughter spilling out into the neighborhood.

you spotted paige as soon as you walked in, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the chaos. she waved you over, her smile bright and inviting. "hey! so glad you guys could make it,"

"of course," you replied, returning her smile. "wouldn't miss it."

your boyfriend trailed behind you, glancing around the crowded room. "nice place," he commented, his tone neutral.

paige nodded, her attention shifting to him briefly before returning to you. "yeah, it's pretty great. come on, let's get you some drinks."

as your boyfriend found some of his friends, paige led you to the kitchen where a variety of beverages were spread out on the counter. as you poured yourself a drink, paige leaned in closer, her voice low. "you okay? you seem a little tense."

you gave her a small smile, grateful for her concern. "yeah, just a lot on my mind."

paige's eyes softened, and she gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "i'm here if you wanna talk."

"thanks, p," you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you at her touch.

the evening wore on, and you found yourself relaxing more and more as you mingled with friends and enjoyed the party. however, there was an underlying tension that you couldn't quite shake, a constant reminder of the complicated situation you were in.

toward the end of the night, you found yourself alone on the back porch, taking a moment to breathe in the cool night air. paige soon joined you, her presence a calming balm to your nerves.

"needed a break?" she asked, leaning against the railing beside you.

"yeah, just a little overwhelmed," you admitted, staring up at the stars.

paige nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "i get it. tonight's been a lot."

you turned to her, the unspoken tension between you palpable. "paige, you know i... i think that, um..."

paige's attention was fully fixed on you now, her eyes never leaving your face. "you think what?"

before you could finish, the door to the porch opened, and your boyfriend stumbled out, his expression exhausted but he immediately straightened up as he saw how close you and paige were. "hey, there you are. everything okay, what's goin' on?"

you sighed, your frustration bubbling over as you glanced back at him. "yeah," you muttered, annoyance taking over. with a scoff, you shook your head and began walking back into the house.

your boyfriend seemed confused and maybe even a little angry as he glanced toward you and paige. "the fuck is up with your attitude all of a sudden?"

"god, nothing," you retorted, rolling your eyes as you tried to push past him. "get outta my way."

"no! you think i'm fucking stupid?" his voice grew louder, anger seeping into his tone. he blocked your path, his presence imposing.

"just let me through," you insisted, trying to sidestep him.

"you've been acting weird all night, and now i find you out here with her?" he jabbed a finger towards paige, who had been watching the exchange with a concerned expression.

"jesus, you're overreacting!" you snapped, the tension in the air thickening. "it's not what you think-"

"oh, really? cus it sure as hell doesn't look like it," he spat back, his voice rising. he grabbed your arm and pushed you back outside, his grip tight as you let out a yelp.

the force of his grip was jarring, and the sharp yank backward sent you stumbling. your breath caught in your throat as you struggled to regain your balance, the pain from his grip making your arm throb. paige's eyes widened in alarm, and she took a step forward, her voice urgent.

"hey, asshole, let go of her!" paige shouted, her tone steely as she tried to pull you out of your boyfriend's grasp.

his grip tightened around your arm, his eyes locked onto paige's as his face contorted with anger. "don't fucking touch her," he hissed through gritted teeth. "you think you can just waltz in and steal her from me? you're a fuckin' girl and you're over here, corrupting her."

"corrupting her?" paige scoffed, her voice firm, her hands raised defensively. "what is this, the fuckin' 60s? are you kidding me?"

your boyfriend's grip on your arm tightened once more, and he turned to face paige, his eyes flashing with rage. "stay outta of this, you little bitch."

the insult hit you like a physical blow, and you flinched, your heart pounding in your chest. "don't call her that!" you shouted, your voice breaking with emotion. "let go of me!"

"or what?" he sneered, his grip still unyielding. "think you can just walk away from me?"

you could feel your anger and frustration reaching a boiling point. "god, just shut up! you're acting like a complete asshole."

"yeah, and who's the one sneaking around with this bitch?" he shot back, his words dripping with venom.

"i told you to not call her that!" you shouted, your voice cracking with emotion.

"or what?" he stepped closer to you, his face twisted in rage. "you gonna leave me for her? is that it?"

before you could respond, paige stepped between you, her gaze locked onto your boyfriend's. "you need to fuck off!"

"oh, so you're her knight in shining armor now?" he sneered as he finally let your arm go with a push, causing you to stumble backward. "fuckin' pathetic. you think you can take her from me? you're just a sad, desperate bitch who can't stand that she'll never want you like she wants me."

paige's jaw clenched, but she didn't move. "i don't need to take her from you. you're doing a fine job of that yourself."

"fuck you," he growled, pushing paige back roughly.

"don't fucking touch her!" you screamed, before getting his face.

the aggression in his actions was the final straw for you. "we are done," you declared, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt.

he turned back to you, his eyes wide with shock. "what?"

"you heard me," you said, stepping away from him. "i'm done with this. i'm done with you, no more breaks no more... no more of this, i'm done."

your boyfriend stepped back, his chest heaving with rage. "you think this is over? you think you can just walk away like this?" he shouted, his voice echoing in the quiet night. "for a girl?!"

paige stepped forward, her expression nothing short of pissed. "yeah, it is. you needa leave her alone, seriously, this shit is getting bad."

he glared at paige, his jaw clenched. "you think you're so tough, don’t you? just wait. you'll see what happens when i get back inside."

"oh yeah? i'm not fucking scared of you, i don't care who you think you are," paige snapped, she'd had enough of this guy the moment she met him – this was her last straw. "but what you're not gonna do, is step into my fucking place and threaten me or my girl."

"your girl? you gotta me fuckin' with me," he let out a bitter laugh as he took a menacing step toward paige, his eyes blazing with fury.

paige didn't flinch, her stance firm and unyielding. "yeah, my girl," she said, her voice laced with a dangerous edge. "and if you think i'm just gonna stand by and let you grab her like that, you're fucking crazy."

he sneered, his face contorting with contempt. "you really think she wants you? you're just a pathetic rebound, a distraction."

paige's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching at her sides. "this isn't about what you think. this is about you being an abusive asshole who can't handle the fact that she deserves better."

the words hit like a slap, and he recoiled, his face twisted with rage and denial. "you're fucking delusional," he spat. "she'll come crawling back to me. you'll see."

"not if i have anything to say about it," paige retorted, stepping forward to close the distance between them. "now get the fuck out."

the air thick with unspoken threats and barely contained anger. you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, feeling torn and overwhelmed. this confrontation had been brewing for a long time, and now it was finally coming to a head.

he glanced at you, his eyes flashing with a mix of betrayal and desperation. "is this what you want? to be with her?" he demanded, his voice breaking with emotion.

you took a deep breath, your hands trembling. "i wanna be happy. i want to feel safe. and after tonight, i-i don't feel that with you."

for a moment, the silence was deafening, the only sound the distant hum of the party still going on inside. your boyfriend stared at you, his expression a mix of anger and disbelief, before finally turning on his heel and storming back into the house. the door slammed shut behind him with a resounding bang, the noise echoing in the quiet night.

you let out a shuddering breath, your knees feeling weak. paige wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "it's okay," she murmured, her voice soothing. "he's gone."

you clung to paige, the reality of what had just happened crashing down on you. the fear, the anger, the confusion – it all seemed so overwhelming.

"he'd... he's never grabbed me like that before," you murmured, your voice trembling as you clung to her. "never put a hand on me, ever."

paige held you tighter, her hand gently rubbing your back. "i'm so sorry you had to go through that," she whispered. "now you know his true colors,"

you buried your face in her shoulder, the tears finally breaking free. "don't know what to do," you admitted, your voice choked with emotion. "i don't know if i can handle this."

paige pulled back slightly, cupping your face in her hands and looking into your eyes. "you're stronger than you think," she said softly. "and you're not alone. i'm here for you, always."

you nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath. "thank you, p," you whispered.

she pulled you into a tight hug, her warmth and strength surrounding you. "you don't have to thank me," she murmured. "i care about you. and i won't let anyone hurt you, especially a 5"8 frat guy,"

you let out a tearful laugh, shaking your head as your grip tightened around her.

she gave you a small, reassuring smile. "come on, let's get you home and away from all this shit,"

you nodded again, allowing her to guide you back into the house. the noise of the party seemed louder now, a stark contrast to the quiet tension of the porch. as you walked through the crowd, you felt the weight of curious eyes on you, but paige's steady presence beside you gave you the strength to keep moving.

⠀ ── ⠀

"i'm sorry," you buried your face in paige's neck, the warmth of her bed comforting. the events of the night had left you emotionally drained, but here, wrapped in paige's embrace, you felt a sense of safety.

paige's hand gently stroked your back, her touch soothing. "you don't have to apologize," she said softly. "none of this is your fault, i promise."

you sighed, the tears still threatening to spill. "i just feel so stupid. i should have seen the signs, should have ended it sooner. i should have listened to everyone when they said he was toxic,"

paige pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting yours. "hey, don't blame yourself," she said firmly. "it's not easy to see things clearly when you're in the middle of it. what's important is that you're safe now."

you nodded, grateful for her understanding. "thank you for being there," you whispered. "don't know what would have done without you tonight."

"you don't have to think about what could've happened," paige's expression softened, and she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "i'll always be here for you," she promised.

you felt a surge of warmth at her words, the sincerity in her voice reassuring. you looked up at the blonde, the warmth in her eyes making you feel fuzzy inside. "i have to find a way to repay you for everything."

"nah, you don't have to, princess." her lips curved into a smile. "you know i woulda killed him right then and there if you weren't there, baby."

the petname made your face flush as you smiled up at paige, your heart beginning to race. "not just for tonight... i meant all the times you fucked me good,"

paige let out a breathless at the vulgarity in your words, her own face flushing as she licked her lips as they curved into a smirk. "really, princess? you're gonna make me blush," she teased, her voice dropping to a playful whisper.

"mhm," you batted your eyelashes up at her, making paige let out a laugh. your hands travelled to her naked stomach, your hand flush against it. "let me make it up to you, p,"

paige's breath hitched as your hands moved against her stomach, your touch sending shivers through her body. her eyes darkened with desire as she looked down at you, her smirk widening. "oh, baby," she murmured, her voice thick with anticipation. "what do you have in mind?"

you grinned, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her collarbone, your lips trailing a path of fire down her skin. "think you deserve a little pampering," you whispered against her skin, your hands sliding lower, teasing the edge of her waistband.

paige let out a low moan, her hands tangling in your hair as she arched into your touch. "fuck, you drive me crazy," she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

you continued your slow exploration, your lips and hands working in tandem to elicit more sounds of pleasure from her. you could feel the heat building between you, the air thick with anticipation. "relax and let me take care of you," you murmured, your voice soothing.

paige's eyes fluttered shut, her breath coming in shallow gasps as you continued your ministrations. your heart raced at her sounds, a surge of desire flooding through you. your moved with purpose, paige's hands roamed over your back, her nails digging into your skin as she struggled to hold on.

you moved downward, finding your place in between her legs. her hand was weaving through your hair, her eyes fixed on your face. you moved her underwear to the side as you licked a stripe against slick pussy, earning a low groan from the blonde.

"fuck, keep lookin' at me like that," paige let out a breathless laugh as she gripped your head.

you looked up at paige, maintaining eye contact as your tongue moved against her. her breath hitched, and her grip on your hair tightened. "god, you're so good at this," she moaned, her voice breaking with pleasure.

encouraged by her reaction, you continued your movements, your tongue and fingers working perfectly to bring her to the edge. the taste of her arousal and the sight of her coming undone because of you sent waves of desire coursing through your body.

paige's moans grew louder, her body trembling as she struggled to maintain control. "don't stop, baby," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "fuck yeah, princess, oh fuck,"

you had no intention of stopping, your focus solely on her and the pleasure you were giving her. you increased your pace, your efforts rewarded by the way her hips bucked against you and the cries of pleasure that escaped her lips.

she was close, you could feel it in the way her body tensed and the desperate sounds she made. you began flickering your tongue against her clit, quickly pushing her over the edge. paige's entire body shuddered, her back arching off the bed as she came with a loud, guttural groan.

you kept going, drawing out her orgasm for as long as possible until she finally collapsed back onto the bed, her body limp and trembling. you moved back up to her, pressing soft kisses along her stomach and chest as she caught her breath.

"fuck, that was incredible," paige managed to say, her voice hoarse. she pulled you up to her, capturing your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss. "you're incredible."

you smiled against her lips, your heart swelling with pride and affection. "love making you feel good," you whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

paige's eyes softened, and she cupped your face in her hands. "and i love you," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "more than anything."

"i love you too, p."

paige's eyes glistened with a mix of love and contentment, and she pulled you into another tender embrace. you nestled into her warmth, feeling a sense of peace wash over you that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"let's just stay like this for a while," you murmured, your voice muffled against her skin.

"absolutely," Paige whispered back, her hand gently stroking your hair. "just you and me, no one else."

the two of you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside fading into insignificance. in that moment, it felt like nothing could touch you, like you were both cocooned in a bubble of safety and love.

after a while, Paige shifted slightly, her hand trailing down your arm. "how about we get some sleep?" she suggested softly. "its been a long night."

you nodded, feeling the exhaustion of the evening catching up with you. "yeah, that sounds good."

paige helped you settle into the bed, her movements gentle and caring. she tucked the blanket around you, then slid in beside you, pulling you close once more. you could feel her heartbeat against your back, a steady, comforting rhythm that lulled you into a sense of security.

"goodnight, princess," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

"goodnight, p," you replied, your eyes already drifting shut.

as you lay there, on the cusp of sleep, you felt a profound sense of gratefulness. despite the turmoil, you knew you had someone by your side who truly cared for you, someone who would stand by you no matter what.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 13 days ago

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How could you love somebody like me?

Pairing: f!reader x Javier Peña Words count: 3032 Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you. Tags/warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, angst, Javi is still a DEA agent but it's a modern setting so the man has a smartphone. Reader is described having female genitalia and breasts, no other description of her is given, she doesn't blush and her hair is not described. Mention of alcohol, mention of cheating, Javi is a cheater, no happy ending, we will go through the man's phone (you're not supposed to do that but I never said my reader could do no wrong, right?), use of pet names (gatita which means kitten in Spanish, baby, darling), smut, angry sex, unprotected p in v (do better irl), cream pie, of course a little nipple play ‘cause it’s still my fic, toxic relationship, self doubt, mention of Steve, a huge pile of lies, Javi is bad at feelings, some reader’s thoughts marked in italics. I think it's all, let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @jolapeno 's "Dear-uary" challenge. This was my prompt, I struggled a little bit at first but I ended up having a blast writing this ❤︎ Heavily inspired by this song (from which the fic also takes its title), I heard it randomly on Spotify one day and I thought "wait, this is perfect for Javi!" and I ended up being obsessed with two more songs by the same artist. LOL Many thanks to: - @aurorawritestoescape , my beta, for her help and advice, she will probably dream of elephants because of me tonight hahaha Kate I own you a big one, thanks baby so much, I love you ❤️ - The person who basically pulled this out of my brain and supported me throughout the process, my precious, my peanut @joelmillerisapunk. 🥰 Love you so much it's ridiculous🥹 - @milla-frenchy for letting me blather about this thing some days ago. Love you, bb ❤︎ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any.

Edited - because I forgot to change the most important detail, of course. I’m not myself if I’m not doing a mess. Yay. It’s okay now.

“Why the hell am I here? Was I the only available hole this week?”

“No,” he whispers.

“So what?”

Javier came back and found you in the middle of the room.

You were brandishing his phone like a sword in the air, the banner of everything that was wrong.

His face went pale when he saw you like that.

Eyes wide open.

Mouth agape.

He tried to say something but you immediately hit him with a vomit of words.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hiss under your breath, feeling your eyes sting.

Javier is a marble statue in front of you, his lips pressed together, his absent eyes not even looking at you, staring at a spot behind your shoulders, his arms abandoned along his sides.

He seems anchored to the ground.

His last words to you still burn on your skin like a fire you cannot extinguish.

A heavy silence between you fills the air of the room and makes it unbreathable.

“Fuck, Javier, talk to me,” you whisper angrily.

You clutch his phone in your hands, so tightly that your knuckles are white from exertion, as if you were clinging to it to keep yourself from falling off a cliff.

“You knew I was no good,” he says sternly.

You have been in this room for two days.

Officially, Javier has to stay here because henchmen of one of the new drug lords in town are set on taking him out.

Unofficially, he has you infiltrating the room.

Typical Javier, spending his time under protection fucking someone.

You foolishly almost believed it was romantic, until this morning.

“So you’re trying to say that it’s my fault? Is that what you want to say? It’s my fault that as soon as I turn my back you go and stick your cock in someone else's pussy?” You don’t even have the strength to scream right now. Your voice comes out rancorous but low, hoarse, like a blown growl.

Oh, you’re not going to accept being lectured by him, fuck no.

“No, I’m just saying -” he tries to explain and you glare at him, making the words die in his mouth.

"What?"

“Fuck, I'll never change,” he shrugs as if it were a truism that only you can't grasp.

His eyes shift to the ground, dull and absent.

“You don't change because you are convinced that you can't,” you admonish him, feeling anger rising from your chest.

"That's not true," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on the crimson and gold carpet that lies at your feet.

“Yes, it is,” you insist, ”and you seem to like to think of yourself as an incurable asshole.”

He still fails to see the real problem, the elephant in the room that lives and thrives among you.

"Then you tell me, if you think you know me so well,” he asks with defiance.

“You bet I fucking know you,” you lash out. “You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well, news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationships.”

“Don’t fucking analyze me,” he hisses, finally setting his eyes back on you.

Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground.

You bitterly laugh, “Truth hurts, huh? I know something about it”.

The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, and his mouth tightens into a line so thin you think he’s about to burst. He stays quiet instead, eyes back on the damask carpet decoration.

_____________

“Yes, Steve, I'm fine. That jerk won't find me here, and anyway it's full of police outside the door.”

A pause and a sigh.

”No, no one followed her, they don't know who she is.”

You stood behind the half-closed bathroom door listening.

You smiled.

His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling.

Until you heard something else.

A booming laugh.

Water ran in the shower, tiny droplets coated the wall as the mirror fogged up.

“Whatever. Of course I'm still screwing around. At least, I was doing it before that asshole started chasing me,” his voice suddenly lowered so you took a chance and opened the door a little more. You wanted to make sure you heard right.

Your hand trembled against the doorknob, you grabbed your wrist to hold it steady.

“You idiot,” he scoffed. “Yeah, we'll be in touch.”

Suspicion. The black wing of a crow that had been wrapped around your heart for a long time.

But then why did it hurt so much?

You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.

He always places the phone with its screen down when you go out to dinner, softly smiling at it when he checks it after a few vibrations, telling you “it’s Steve” when you ask.

But you know that crooked smile.

He dodges when you ask him about his day "oh work, you know, just work."

He tells you he is with Steve but you hear female voices in the background.

Every time you try to confront him it always ends the same way, him telling you, “you’re paranoid, there’s no one else, just you, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

And then he fucks your doubts into oblivion.

You heard the thud of the phone on the blankets. And then Javier calling you.

You swallowed the gall rising from the walls of your stomach and just smiled when he joined you in the bathroom and suggested that you shower together.

You wanted some proof before you charged him.

If there was anything you had learned from being with him, it was that hard evidence was the key. So you played cool.

He fucked you against the shower wall and you moaned into his neck.

He licked your pussy like a man starved and you just bit your lips until you felt iron on your tongue.

He kissed you with that liar's mouth, and you let him.

And you fell asleep beside him, on the unmade bed of your uncertainties.

This morning someone from outside called him into the hallway to report the latest movements of the guy who was looking for him.

His phone was on the bedside table.

It was like a magnet, pulling your hand to it.

You were almost sure you knew his unlock code ‘cause you had watched the movements of his finger many times.

You tried twice without success.

The third time you let out a long sigh, visualized in your mind the movement one more time and unlocked it.

You were in.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your fingers swiped and clicked on the screen.

And there they were.

Dozens and dozens of messages and pics exchanged with 4 different women.

You scrolled through one of the chats with a certain Maria, who regularly sent him pictures of her tits and her legs spread wide, her pussy in the shot.

There was sexting, arranged dates, same promises he gave to you, things you never asked for but he kept repeating like a broken record. Even the same pet name. Gatita.

Blood simmered in your veins, a jolt in your heart, throat dry.

Your finger furiously scrolled through the chat, finding tons of messages he had sent her while he was with you.

You switched to another one and you found pretty much the same. And yet another, message after message containing flirting and explicit sex.

“Oh Javi, you keep getting better and better with that cock of yours”

“My pussy needs you, darling, can you come over?”

“I can’t stop thinking about your huge cock dripping on me”

And the more you scrolled, the more a question formed in your brain, rumbling through your temples like a deafening drum.

Was he ever sincere with you?

________

When he looks up at you again, you see it. A veil of fragility in the dense blackness of his gaze.

He looks almost helpless. “I know you tried,” he admits, ”You tried harder than anyone else.”

“Apparently it was no use,” you chastise him.

He doesn’t reply.

Instead he comes closer and closer.

You pull back, responding to his every step forward with a backward one.

“Please,” he whispers.

“No.”

“Don't do that.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” you bark.

”I know...”

“Fuck off, Javier, leave me alone.”

You pull back until you hit the wall behind you.

Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore.

When your lips collide you let it happen.

It’s like when you drink too much Tequila.

It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable.

You love it, so you keep doing it.

Javier is the same.

He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?”

He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.

He is a time bomb that explodes in your heart every time he touches you. So you keep doing it.

“Fuck,” you whisper against his lips.

“Yeah…I know. I’m not worthy.”

And yet, you’re still here.

You let him peel off your every layer of clothing, to leave you naked and vulnerable in front of him.

You do nothing when he undresses too. Hastily taking off his shirt, fumbling with the button of his jeans, nervous hands and short breaths.

It is like some mind fuck game, intoxicating, dangerous, capable of leaving permanent marks.

He lowers his jeans just enough to free his cock, no boxers. Always ready.

His hands run over your hips and you groan.

His tongue slides over your neck, his eyes closed, his breath heavy and warm on your skin.

He makes you cry, but you don't say no.

His lips latch onto your nipple and adrenaline rushes through your veins up into your head, hitting hard like a jackhammer.

You don’t pull back anymore, you push your tit into his mouth so eagerly you feel his teeth closing on your bud and you whine in pleasure.

His growing erection leaks against your center. You are trapped. Not so much because you are between him and the wall but because you no longer know how to get him out of your head.

Right now it doesn't matter how much it hurts.

He slides his hands down your thighs and you know what he wants, without needing to speak. You wrap your legs around his waist. He kneels on the bed with you still clinging to him, you lie back on the soft blankets that smell of you both, arch your back and press against his cock. You folds splayed and dripping for him.

His fingers go up your rib cage, stop under your breasts and grasp there, he draws you back to him and your mouths collide again.

You let his tongue enter. You let the fleeting pleasure of this instant take over all the no's you know you have to say.

There’s no right kind of love here, this room is drowned in angry sex.

Angry at how you can never say no to him, angry at how he makes you feel, angry because you know that no one has ever fucked you the way he did, invading your body with a pleasure so addictive that it makes you sick. Angry because maybe he's right, he can't change.

You break the kiss and bite on his shoulder, a small act of revenge that really does no harm compared to your bleeding heart.

Your hands grasp on the golden skin of his back, leaving marks with your nails digging into it, your miserable attempt to leave marks on him in return.

You moan convulsively under his touch, your mouth wide open against his, your tongue desperately seeking him out.

His hands tighten on your ass, lifting you slightly, his cock slides over your wet opening, a guttural sound comes out of the back of your throat without you being able to hold it back.

You want him inside you.

You need him inside you.

And it’s wrong, and desperate. It’s masochistic.

You don’t even care for his jeans’s zip scraping your skin.

The thin line between pain and pleasure is so blurred now.

It’s a pathetic shit show of need and urgency.

You’d walk away from any other guy but Javier is the person you can never have just for yourself and at the same time he is the only one you want.

He is the knife and the wound at the same time.

When he asks “Whose pussy is this?” in his deep groaning voice that fucks directly with your brain, you can only reply “yours.”

Digging your nails deeper, biting more, wailing louder but just pleading with him.

You take his shaft in your hand and rub it against you in blind desperation, wetting it with your juices.

He groans into your ears while his hand reaches for your nipple and his big strong arm holds you close.

You are sitting on his thighs, your legs crossed behind his back.

His fingers pinch your nipple as you don't stop stroking his big throbbing cock.

Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now.

Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart.

“Fuck me,” you groan.

He pushes against your core, entering you with one deep thrust.

Your pussy is weeping so much it doesn’t even hurt.

You clench on him with all the strength you have, chocking his cock with your walls.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re gripping me so hard, baby. There’s nothing you want more than this, huh? Me fucking you raw?”

“Shut up,” you hiss.

He starts moving, pumping into you as his hand reaches for your clit, brushing it in circles.

You whine, clinging onto his back, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You can’t look him in the eye, you can’t face your own shameful reflection in his pupils, you can’t think of anything else than this pleasure firing your body, your limbs, your mind.

Your pussy never gets the memo when it comes to him. She just clenches, and cries and asks for more.

At the verge of your brink, when you’re so utterly overwhelmed you could swear, you’re about to jump out of your skin, you hear it.

It’s the softest whisper on your skin, so low you barely catch the words, “I love you”

You cry a single tear that slides down the column of his neck, it could be mistaken for a bead of sweat so easily and Javier doesn’t notice it. But it’s there. You’re crying again.

You come, weeping.

Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.

But there’s no hope anymore.

You know you can’t go on like that.

You cried before. You argued before. It’s all useless.

A devastating orgasm shoots through you, leaving you without defense.

It’s the last thing you want but you need to get it over with.

You lie on the bed, feeling his last twitches inside you, his cum dripping onto your walls, his cock pressing against that spot that belongs only to him.

He lies down on you, gently crushing you with his weight, his sweaty skin against yours, the smell of your orgasm filling your nostrils.

You’re hopeless and breathless.

He's still inside you, like he doesn't want to leave.

You know you have to.

Eventually he shifts, lying on the other side of the bed muttering, “god, you really are something else.” He takes the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lights one, taking a long drag.

“I'm not enough,” you want to scream looking at him through the cloud of smoke enveloping him. “Or maybe you're not, for me.”

When he is about to fall asleep, you get up. You pick up your clothes off the floor and put them on silently.

“Where are you going, gatita?” he grunts.

Does he think he has solved it? Does he think you will forgive him as you did the other times?

You don’t reply.

"You only ever tell me the truth when you think I won't hear it,” you type on your phone and send it to him, before coming out of the door without turning your back.

You leave him there, wondering, lost as he makes you feel.

There will be two broken hearts.

You know he loves you and you love him.

He is convinced that he doesn’t deserve you and pushes you away every time you get close to his soul.

He knows that you see him clearly; that scares him.

You are tired of fighting for the both of you.

You push the elevator button under the gaze of an unsuspecting policeman who urges, “Where are you going, miss?”

“I'm leaving.”

“Do you need someone to accompany you?”

“No, thank you.”

“Someone could follow you,” he counters.

“No one knows me, you don't have to worry.”

You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist.

None of this happens.

The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.

Tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @almostempty , @probablyreadinsmut , @thundermartini , @gothcsz , @cas-readsandwrites , @harriedandharassed

Archive tag: @pedrostories

If you want to be added or removed just let me know! Thank you very much for reading❤︎

#javier peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #jolapenosdearuary #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x female reader #javier peña #narcos au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcu #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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after-witch · 1 year ago

Text

To the Top [Yandere Chuuya x Reader]

Title: To the Top [Yandere Chuuya x Reader]

Synopsis: Over the past few months of your pregnancy, you’ve never been sweeter to Chuuya. Little does he know that for every smile you’ve given him, you’ve stashed away something for your escape.

Word count: 3100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, reader is pregnant, abusive behavior (chains, restrictions, food control, etc)

Life in this shut-up penthouse was never exactly invigorating--but over the past few months it has become unbearable. And that unbearable, stifling heaviness weighing you down every single day has taken its toll in more ways than one.

It’s made you feel like you’re going to lose it at any moment. It’s made you feel like you’d rather be anywhere than here.

You want to get out.

Chuuya had rules for you, of course, when he first started keeping you here. They came slow--a leash that tightened before you realized it--and sure.

But now, with your belly swollen and growing bigger by the day, he’s completely taken control.

You’re not allowed to go outside, even with Chuuya, even surrounded by bodyguards ready to take a bullet or unload them into any would-be assassins. Those brief bouts of fresh air were one of the few bright spots in your life, now blotted out from Chuuya’s paranoia of losing you.

You’re not allowed to use your exercise bike or take a swim in the heated indoor pool tucked in the basement. It doesn’t matter how much you argue that you should be exercising for the sake of your health, because Chuuya says he does let you exercise. According to him, anyway.

He only lets you do the mildest--and you do mean mildest--of aerobic exercises in the pool. Only under supervision, and the moment you look like you want to start leaning into the water and getting in a nice backstroke, Chuuya orders you out and you’d best comply if you ever want to see the pool again for the next 2 years.

You’re not allowed to eat whatever you want, even when your cravings feel like they’re going to eat you from the inside out. He doesn’t starve you, no, no, no. But you can’t have a big juicy cheeseburger topped with bacon and a side of onion rings, a heavenly concoction that makes you drool just to think of it.

If you must have a burger, and it’s a big if--Chuuya allows you to eat a made-from-scratch ground turkey burger with low fat cheese and a side of mashed sweet potato (no butter, no extra salt!) all courtesy of the well-trained personal chef Chuuya hired to live in the building.

They’re the reason you are eating three square meals and two snacks a day, and the reason each and every meal is perfectly designed to eat every nutrition goal. Everything you eat is always nutritious and sure, the food isn’t disgusting… but it’s not fucking fair, is it, that you can’t just eat what you want when you want.

Chuuya insists you eat only the best of foods. He makes sure every meal comes with a little cup of medicine--prenatal vitamins and anything else the doctor thinks will help keep you safe during your pregnancy.

He doesn’t let you run around or fret or clean or do much of anything at all. He doesn’t want you to exert yourself, he says. You can’t eat what you want or do what you want or go where you want.

It’s all too much.

You fought at first. You argued. You pleaded. But it didn’t do anything but make Chuuya tighten his hold on you.

And that’s why you accept his rules now with the utmost of patience and sweetness that you can muster. Oh, you haven’t given in. You aren’t meekly submitting to Chuuya and agreeing that he surely knows what’s best for you.

You’re just biding your time for the day when you can get the hell out of here.

Besides, you needed a little bit of freedom if you were going to escape. And a little bit of freedom was all you were going to get.

Early on in the pregnancy, Chuuya kept you locked in the bedroom when he was away because you fought him too much. A chain around your ankle kept you from even trying to get out the bedroom door.

Yes, you were given food by a stoic bodyguard throughout the day and it wasn’t like you were left to fend for yourself, but still. It would be impossible to leave if you were stuck in the bedroom all day.

Now, though, Chuuya lets you walk around the penthouse when he’s gone. He allows the chef to premake some of your meals so that you can microwave them if he’s not here to feed you; you can watch a movie in the living room or take a nap on your shared bed or whatever you’d like, as long as it’s quiet and calming.

Because you’re good, and you’ve behaved, and you let him do what’s best for you.

It’s not a lot of freedom. But it’s enough to give you the chance to start stashing away supplies for your escape; it’s enough to give you the perfect moment to pretend to fall asleep on the sofa before Chuuya leaves one day, so you can look just in time to see the passcode he enters on the electronic lock attached to the front door.

It’s enough to put you on the path towards freedom.

Chuuya paces back and forth so rapidly that you’re starting to feel a bit dizzy. There’s a framed picture of flowers--your favorite--on the wall behind him, and you focus on that to keep yourself steady. Chuuya… flowers… Chuuya… flowers.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight. I could send someone else for this.”

“Chuuya.”

“Or I can send one of my guards to stay in the apartment while I’m gone. Just to be safe? Shit, I don’t know.”

“Chuuya.”

“Fuck it, I’ll call it in, I’m not going--”

“Chuuya.”

He stops, and you take the opportunity to step forward and grasp both of his hands in yours. You pull them against your chest and watch as his expression goes from agitated and fretful to sweet, almost puppy-love. Every time you touch him without being told, it’s like you can see a sweet light spark in his eyes. Too bad you lost your spark a while ago.

“Go,” you say, soft and sweet and so fake you wonder that he can’t see through it. “I’ll be fine. The building’s being guarded, and the door will be locked.” The tension begins to melt from his shoulders, and you continue. “Just come home safe, all right?”

His frown holds for only a moment more, then it splits into a grin.

“Yeah. Yeah… You’re right.” He lifts his hands, taking yours with them, so that he can press a short kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll be back in the early morning--don’t wait up for me, you two need your sleep. Got it?”

We won’t be here when you get back, you think. “I know. We’ll go to bed early,” you say.

And then you lean forward and kiss him softly on the lips, your stomach brushing against him as you do.

He expects a kiss whenever he leaves and you’re almost happy to give it, tonight, because you know it will be the last one he ever gets from you.

You don’t act right away. You’re not stupid. It’s about 2 hours after he leaves that the plan is ready to set into motion. In the meantime, you’ve read and reread the same page of your book a thousand times; sweat has begun to cling to your back as your eyes dart from the page to the clock.

The sensation of your stomach in knots is equaled only by the frenzy of activity inside your belly--you swear they can sense what’s going on. Can they feel how your heart has begun to race? Can they tell that your muscles are tense? That your ears are strained, listening for the sound of his footsteps, in case he changed his mind?

You’re thankful that you’re not alone when you finally retrieve your bag from its hiding spot. You’ve got supplies. Some cash, food, a few water bottles. Underwear, clothes--yours and the babies--and some of the baby things Chuuya has already picked up. A blanket, a package of bottles, in case he doesn’t take to the breast.

It’s not a lot. But it will be enough to get you through to safety and freedom, and that’s all that really matters.

The bag shifts on your shoulders as you stand at the door, heart pounding, breath coming in short puffs. The guards outside the door are doing their rounds--back and forth, stopping in front of the front door of the penthouse and again at the door of the elevator just a few steps away, then going round the corner to complete a circle.

It takes them 15 seconds to walk down the hallway once they walk away from the elevator. And you have about 60 seconds to get from the front door into the elevator before they come back. Maybe 90 seconds, maybe 2 minutes, if they stop to chat. They don’t do that with any regularity, so it’s impossible to plan for it. So you don’t.

Instead, you count, one hand on your belly, one hand poised above the numbers on the electronic lock. It makes a noise so you have to wait to just… the right… time…

Now.

Despite all of the careful planning that went into this, as soon as your fingers press the code in, all thinking seems to cease. You are running on pure instinct. The door opens and you don’t even look to make sure the guards aren’t there, instead you fly right to the elevator door and push down.

It could all go wrong here. If someone is in the elevator, if someone is coming up from the floors, if the elevator didn’t return to the top after Chuuya left.

But the door has mercy and opens right away, and you rush into it, almost tripping over the threshold. Your finger trembles onto the close door button and it shuts. You don’t hear shouts. You don’t hear panic.

They didn’t see you.

Timing, again, is everything. You press the fifth floor so that the elevator will stop there long enough for the guards at the bottom to--you hope, you hope, you hope, if you timed it right--be around the corner as well. But there’s no telling if your timing is correct here. Maybe they don’t leave the doors at all, on the bottom floor. Maybe there are more guards, maybe they take shifts. All these maybes ball up in your stomach and take the air out of you as the elevator reaches the ground floor and opens.

You rush out without looking, but no one is there. You’re at the private back entrance and you don’t waste time thinking about how lucky you are or what to do next; you simply push yourself out the door and begin to run down the street.

It doesn’t take long for your feet to hurt. The house slippers Chuuya gives you are not meant for concrete, not meant for uneven sidewalks where people occasionally drop glass bottles and cigarette butts.

You don’t let the pain stop you. You never have before.

As you run, solid thoughts finally begin to return to your mind, which feels less fuzzy and more aware of the danger that you might be in. You did it. You’re out. You’re gone. You’re free.

But not just yet, right? You need to stay hidden. You need to be safe. You need, above all, to get off the highly visible streets.

A sign for a bus stop catches your eye. Yes--a bus. You could let it take you as far as it will, and then go from there. But the sign says the bus stops on the hour, and there’s still 30 minutes to go--you can’t stay out on the street that long.

Instead, you slip into an alley just a little bit away from the sign. It’s close enough that you could press yourself against a wall and still keep an eye out for when the bus arrives. Will it be comfortable? No. Will it be smelly? Probably. Will you be out of public view? Yes--so that’s what you do.

You slip into the alley and immediately every nerve on your body raises because there is someone here with you.

No. Scratch that.

Two someones.

There is a man standing that you can only see from behind. He is shrouded in the shadows of the alleyway’s end, which isn’t lit by anything but the hint of light from the street.

And there is a man on the ground, pressed against the farthest end of the alley, begging for his life. You only catch some of the words that tumble out of his desperate lips: I didn’t betray you, I swear, I swear, I can tell you everything you need to know, it wasn’t me, oh please, fuck, I swear--

And then he doesn’t speak anymore because the first man shoots him in the head. He falls backward and something hits the wall and you can't help the noise of startled horror that slips out of your mouth.

The man turns around, gun drawn, and you have just enough time to think--this is it--before he steps forward.

And… says your name?

The man is Chuuya.

The man is Chuuya, who holsters his gun and, mouth gaping, has his hands on you before you can even think about running. He’s checking you over--for bruises or cuts or who knows what else--and his grip on your forearm is relentlessly strong.

“What the fuck? What the fuck?” He says, not believing the sight of you, even as he touches you. “Babe, what’s wrong? Did something happen? Where’s--”

And then he sees the bag slung over your shoulder. Sees how full it looks. He glances down at your stomach. Then back up at your face.

“You were trying to leave?”

The hurt on his face might induce pity, if you weren’t currently dealing with the most horrific adrenaline rush in the world.

“No,” you sputter. “Yes. No. I--”

And it’s then that your body and mind crash together, and the realization that you’ve been caught catches up with you. You should run. You will run.

And you try, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t even have enough leverage to take a step back with how tightly he’s holding you. Your mind knows this, but your body doesn’t accept it quite yet, and you squirm fruitlessly against him.

He only needs one hand to keep you by his side as he takes out his phone and barks out an order at someone to come take care of the body of the poor dead man in the alley.

Then he looks back at you and hurt, fear, anger, play out on his face in a series of moments.

“We’re going,” he tells you. He’s back on his phone, another order. A car to pick you up.

His voice promises locked doors and lost privileges, yes, but there’s something else simmering in there that has you yanking back feebly as he drags you out of the alley and into an unmarked car.

Every guard Chuuya crosses stammers out apologies, swears they don’t know how this happened. Chuuya deals with them in clipped tones that make you wonder if they’ll survive the night. Reassigned, if they’re lucky.

The penthouse is just as you left it. Quiet. Clean. A now runny smoothie, fortified with vitamins and calculated with the perfect natal nutrients, sits on the counter; you didn’t drink it tonight.

Chuuya drags you through to the bedroom. All this time, he hasn’t let go of your hand. There will be finger-shaped bruises tomorrow.

You expect him to scream at you. Maybe even hurt you. A physical slap might hurt less than this all-consuming fear as he pulls you into the bedroom and gently guides you to sit down on the bed. What will he do? What will he say?

Your hand grasps your belly--please don’t hurt me.

Chuuya growls out bubbling anger, turns, and punches the wall so hard that his fist goes through the drywall. His knuckles have freckles of blood on them.

The sound, the sight of the blood, the anger pressing down on your shoulders--it’s all too much and hot tears spill over your lower eyelids and down your cheeks, salty, burning.

He’s on his knees, immediately, wrapping his arms around your midsection and pressing kisses to your tear-stained cheeks.

“Babe, I’m sorry--I didn’t mean to scare you.” He hushes your hiccuping sobs, wiping and kissing your tears in alternate measures. “I was just so fucking mad.”

At me? You think.

“Those guards,” he continues, frowning. “They weren’t watching you like they should.”

“But I…” You don’t finish: But I’m the one who ran away.

Your confusion must show on your face, because he presses a kiss to your cheek, to your lips.

“Hush. I know you’re prone to fits like this. I don’t mind. It’s why I do so much to watch over you, y’know?” He rubs at your cheeks with this thumb and cracks a smile. From the corner of your eye, you can see the blood on his knuckles. “It was either the wall or one of those guys’ heads, right?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer as he kisses you, more lingering this time.

“You make me crazy,” he whispers against your lips. “You know that?”

“Chuuya,” you whisper, breath mingling with this. “Please, I want to… I want to…” Leave. Be free. All words you could say, that never make their way past your lips.

He sits up taller on his knees and rests his head against your stomach. There’s a flurry of movement inside you--does the baby know he’s there? What does the baby, in all its primordial growth, think of any of today’s events?

“I know it’s scary,” Chuuya murmurs. “You don’t have to tell me. We’re about to be parents. Anyone would be worried.”

That’s not what you wanted to say. It’s hard to say if Chuuya knows it and pretends otherwise or simply doesn’t acknowledge your resistance at all.

He sighs through his nose and closes his eyes.

“I’ll have to bring the chain back out for a while. Maybe until the baby comes.” He opens his eyes just a little and glances up at you with a smile. “But I can make it long enough for you to walk around. Doctor said you needed to stretch your legs every day, babe.”

He closes his eyes again and you don’t know what else you can do but reach out and rest your palm against his head. He leans into your touch.

“I know,” you croak out. There’s a few beats--of your heart?--and your fingers curl against his hair. “I’m sorry I went outside.” What else can you do, but lean into Chuuya, but apologize for doing what he insists you never do. Leave him, be free, live your own life.

He sighs and nuzzles himself against your stomach. He presses a soft kiss to it before pulling himself off the floor, leaning down, and kissing you on the head.

“I know, babe. Don’t worry. I’m not mad.”

You wonder what Chuuya might have done if he had gotten angry at you.

Perhaps it’s better not to know.

#yandere chuuya #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere #afterwitch writes

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demonic0angel · 2 months ago

Note

Can you write some badhumor? I love them😭

(Hell yeah!! It got long bc I got excited lmao)

Nightwing was not in a great position right now. He was currently tied up, suspended off of the ground, injected with unknown drugs, and only moments away from being delivered to some new and unknown mob boss within Blüdhaven. All he could do was wait for an opportunity to escape until the drugs kicked in.

"I guess this is what they meant when an angel loses their wings, huh?" A low, velvety voice said. "You seem to have lost yours."

Dick looked up in shock. "... Wraith?!"

There, floating near the windows on the ceilings, was a being wearing black and white with glowing, floating hair and luminscently green skin. He smiled, flashing sharp fangs, and Nightwing felt his heart drop.

Wraith was a neutral entity that had appeared in Blüdhaven for an unknown purpose. There was little known about him, except that he was powerful, feared nothing, hated humans, and had a strange, unexplained fondness for Nightwing.

Although Nightwing could not trust him, he could not deny that Wraith hadn't done anything yet. For the most part, he just roamed Blüdhaven to follow Nightwing and watch him occasionally with flirty or cryptic comments before disappearing and then coming back at the most random times.

Nightwing shuddered as he realized that he was now vulnerable in front of this being with unknown motives.

"Hello, birdie," Wraith purred. "You seem a little... tied up."

Nightwing chuckled, hiding his inner nervousness. His body was beginning to shake from the drugs and the exertion of being extended off of the ground by his hands. "Yep. So could you untie me?"

Wraith floated down, touching upon the ground gracefully before prowling forward, head tilted as he observed Nightwing's tied up form.

"I could... but what's in it for me?"

Fuck.

Nightwing grit his teeth. His vision was growing blurry. Sweat began to bead at his brow as the heat within his body rose sharply. He glared at Wraith, who stood still, watching him with the eyes of a predator.

"If you can't, then just fuck off."

"You're more rude than usual, little bird."

Nightwing felt his body tremble as the pain and heat suddenly grew unbearable, like needles were stabbing into him over and over. His ears began to ring and the world started to swirl, spiraling into colors and dark spots.

"Ohhh. Oops."

And then his vision faded into unconsciousness and blistering heat.

In his slumber, he felt the comforting presence of something cold. He chased after the chill to drive off the sweltering heat, and as cool hands gingerly weaved onto his hair and scratched at his scalp, he fell deeper and deeper into a gentle sleep.

He woke up the next morning, eyes wide as he sat up in a comfortable and large bed.

He looked down on himself, where he was still dressed in his hero suit and mask, but all of his visible injuries were treated and bandaged. His sprained wrist was wrapped and splinted expertly, but there was nothing else that was out of the ordinary. He didn't not feel as achy or tired as he expected from such an ordeal yesterday.

Nightwing carefully climbed out of bed and then investigated the room. There were no cameras or recording devices, and the door was even unlocked and open. There was nothing suspicious about the room besides the fact that Nightwing was in it, alone.

He peeked outside of the room and then he went through the hallway, observing the place. It looked like a high-end apartment, and there was no one else but him inside. When he entered the kitchen, there was a meal prepared for him, wrapped up and cool on the counter.

There was a note attached to it as well, written in a messy scrawl.

'Nightwing, I hope you had a good rest. I can assure you that the food is not poisoned and the gang members have already been taken care of. Do not wreck the place, since it does not belong to me.

— Wraith'

Nightwing pursed his lips. He looked at the food on the tray and then at the apartment again. Everything looked cold, impersonal, but also neat and clean. Without a second thought, he snatched the entire meal tray before opening and window and jumping out with zero hesitation.

He landed on the roof of a building next door, mentally recorded the address of the apartment number, and when he got home to his own run-down apartment, he immediately began his investigation, though not without checking the food for poison first.

As the tests ran, he searched for the name of whoever owned the apartment complex.

The food was soon deemed clear before he could find anything, and Nightwing took a bite as he typed. He barely withheld a moan as the amazing flavors burst on his tongue. Nightwing's eyes lit up as he now regarded the food with more awe. He scarfed it down, barely able to focus on working the entire time, completely rejuvenated by the delicious food and rest.

The apartment was rented by a man named Daniel Nightingale, but owned by a man named Vlad Masters. Daniel was currently working as an executive assistant to the CEO of the Masters Company, who had recently moved locations into Gotham and Blüdhaven.

There were, however, no pictures of this assistant, and no reports or news of him.

Nightwing licked away the last remains of his breakfast from his lips, deep in thought as he tried to connect the dots between Wraith and this Daniel character.

If he looked into him now... then maybe he could find out more about Wraith?

(And maybe Nightwing could figure out the strange feeling in his chest that blossomed whenever he thought of Wraith, who had treated him with a strange amount of respect and interest all in once.)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #anon ask #dark danny #dan fenton #dan phantom #dick grayson #dick x dan #bad humor ship #ty for the ask <3

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ginnysgraffiti · 10 months ago

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thigh riding, dirty thoughts, 18+

(the idea is not mine)!!

&. TIMOTHÉE x yn.

your skirt raised up, bunching around your hips as you moved against timothée's thigh. even through your panties, you could feel how his thigh muscle was tense over your sweet spot, whimpering at how good that feeling felt.

you had never been a great adventurer or scout prodigy of the woods.

no, you hated insects, their bites and everything that had to do with it.

however, timmy insisted so much on taking you into the woods that you even sent the mosquitoes to hell.

the idea was nice: an evening in a tent, meat on the spit in front of the fire and time to admire the stars under the sky of a cool and quiet evening.

but no, no skewer of meat would have stopped timothée from taking what belonged to him, not even in the middle of the woods; and now the grip he exerted to crush you against the tree was so strong that his physical need went against your expectations of that innocent afternoon.

your boyfriend brought a hand to your waist, helping you with your movements. his other hand did not remain idle; it flowed slowly down your chest, touching your breasts.

"you're so cute." timmy admitted, his hoarse voice taking over. he was mesmerized by the sight of you using him to pleasure yourself, when both of you already got too much needy. the way your head fell back, the moans that continually escaped through your open mouth. his pants were getting tighter and tighter, the blood rushing south.

“i could watch you forever.”

groaning, you nodded in agreement.

“i could do this forever.”

already, your orgasm was near the surface, settling warm under your skin. you dropped your head onto his shoulder, shifting and crying out at the new angle. timothée groaned at your reaction, taking your hand away.

even with a clouded mind, you had the decency to help your boyfriend. you dragged your hand awkwardly away, unbuttoning his pants so you could grasp his hardness. a high pitched moan at your touch, hips bucking into your hand. in the movement that the thigh makes against you, the muscles now flexed even more.

you screamed and moved even faster, barely managing to continue the uncoordinated hand work. your boyfriend watched, stunned, as you reached your climax, hips bucking against him. his hands rested on your waist to stabilize you, helping you down and repressing his most indecent moans biting his tongue.

panting, you let your head fall onto his chest. he laughed lightly, though his hands remained on your hips. he used a strong grip to ease you, moving from his thigh to his cock, urging you to continue the movement. you gasped at the sensation, still sensitive there from having just come.

“i know you just did it with my thigh, but can you ride something else now, babe?”

#timothee chalamet #timothée imagine #timothée x reader #timothée chamalet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet smut #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #&. TIMOTHEE CHALAMET #&. TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET #&. TIMOTHEE CHALAMET x yn #&. TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET x yn #&. TIMOTHEE CHALAMET x reader #&. TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET x reader

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eldritchpotato · 1 month ago

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The Hunt

You’re running through the woods, doing your absolute best to escape from the creature hunting you. Unfortunately, you’re outmatched and the huntress has no intention of letting her prize get away.

Content Warning: female reader, primal play, alien smut, alien anatomy and rough sex.

Your heart is drumming in your chest. You know she is out there. The occasional click and growl. The rustling of branches. You can’t see her, not that sprinting through the woods as fast as your legs can carry you remotely helps with that, but that primal part of your lizard brain knows you're still being pursued.

You duck behind a tree, gasping for air as you try to compose yourself. You’re making so much noise, but your chest is spasming so much you couldn’t slow your breathing if you tried.

You can’t hear her footsteps, she’s too skilled for that. Peering around the tree you manage to make out the faint shimmer. Thank the heavens for the rain or you wouldn’t have a hope in hell of spotting her through her active camouflage.

Her form stops moving and you know you’ve been spotted. An amused thrill emerges from the massive shape before she rushes you. How something so big can move so fast you have no idea.

You scramble to your feet, slipping in the mud. Your clothes have been long since ruined but you have far bigger problems.

The tree behind you explodes, large invisible blades splintering the trunk. You would scream, but you still haven’t caught your breath.

There’s no point in turning to look behind you. If you could even see her you would just realize how utterly fucked you were.

Your only option is to keep going. At some point going down the hill becomes sliding, then tumbling. Banging against a rock and scratching yourself on a branch as you claw your way up the other side of the ditch.

All is silent. At least you can’t make out anything over your heavy breathing. You’re alone now, or at least you have a moment of respite. There’s no way she isn’t still watching you. She’s an expert hunter, a predator, your odds of escaping are virtually none. But you have to try.

A growl emerges from the woods around you. You spin on shaky legs, struggling to pinpoint the origin. You’re so slippery caked in mud, you can barely stay on your feet. Sure it helps to hide your heat signature but your exertion increases your body temperature far too much for it to be of any use.

Your own attempts to flee only make your position more obvious. A branch snaps above you, she’s in the trees. It’s enough to give away her position though.

You turn and run.

It’s easy enough to realize your mistake before you even can process why. The thing flies directly at you, your own panicked brain sending you right where she wanted you.

One moment you're turning, the next your legs are being pulled out from under you, the bola tying you up as you roll down the slope through the mud.

By the time the pain subsides and you manage to start to untangle yourself you hear her thump to the ground. Footprints appear in the mud as the invisible figure stalks towards you. The rain is blocked by the trees here but the occasional droplet makes her form spark into existence.

Crawling is futile, you’ll never get away without the use of your legs. But she’s towering over you before that could ever be an option. Her hulking figure appears. Her silver featureless mask, her writhing tendrils of hair, her toned and muscular body.

She reaches down and grabs you up by your jacket. Her other hand reaches up to unclasp her mask, her mandibles flare as she lets out a roar of triumph.

You’ve lost.

Tossing her mask to the side she picks you up with both arms, pinning you to the tree effortlessly. Her claws tear off your cheap clothing already long ruined by blood. You're covered in bumps and scratches, tomorrow you’re going to be extremely sore.

She’s saying something, without your translator you're at a disadvantage but you’ve spent enough time in her company to recognize the clicking gruff gloating of victory.

No reason to make it easy. Unfortunately, she knows you too well, your brief attempt at struggling doesn’t remotely budge her. When she slips her claws between your legs in response you can’t help but tense.

She laughs then, unbuckling her belt and tugging off the rest of her armour. With one arm less to keep you in place you can wiggle, not that it gets you very far, the tree bark digging into your back.

She clicks at you in warning before tugging you against her broad chest. The tentacles between her legs are already grasping at you, sucking to your thighs and trying to wiggle between your legs.

You kick at her, petulant more than anything. A large hand wraps around your throat, gently restricting airflow as she lets out a pleased growl.

She’s always liked this. She’s a hunter after all, what fun is it if the prey surrenders?

Whispering something in your ear you feel her forked tongue trail down your neck. She holds you with one arm and spreads your legs with the other.

You’re utterly soaked, as to be expected, but she would still be teasing you about it if she wasn't busy slipping her tentacles inside you. They sucker your bodies together and hold you in place as much as they can.

You know how sensitive they are, just like her hair tendrils. Unfortunately with your hands pinned you’re at her mercy and can hardly tease her.

You groan as they fill you up, wiggling deeper.

She lets out a purr, licking at your neck as she fucks you, her clit rubbing against yours.

The breath you had only started to recover is forced from your lungs. When her grip starts to falter she presses you against the tree, manhandling you so she can fuck you properly.

As whine leaves you as you clench around her, her tentacles never leave you though, only burrowing and wiggling even deeper, attaching you wide.

That would be enough to make you cum, but her heat sliding against you is just too much. You’ve never been particularly vocal, but she always manages to fuck you hard enough that you lose control of yourself.

Your fingers dig into her leathery skin, your cunt fluttering as your orgasm approaches. You can’t take it, too much to be pleasurable, too rough not to be painful. She’s using your body, claiming her reward.

But you’re cumming regardless, your muscles spasming, if she wasn’t pinning you against the tree you would have lost your grip. Your head falls back against the bark, your eyes tightly shut as you clench your teeth. Your vision has gone white, cumming so you can’t feel anything else, but she’s not done yet.

Your muscles can’t keep up anymore, too exhausted to not just clench down. Your gushing, drenching her tentacles and cunt as she keeps fucking you. You’ve lost any control of yourself, you can’t even breathe.

She howls, her crest slamming into the tree inches away from you as her mandibles nip at your shoulder. She cums, her weight crashing into you and nearly smothering you as she tenses. Her own wetness mixed with yours.

She’s got no eggs to fill you with at this time of year, not that you were a male that could fertilize them but that only makes it more fun. But quite honestly considering you’ve been cumming for a solid minute you think that might break you.

When she finally releases you she takes you into her arms rather than letting you slump to the middle ground. Cheap clothes are one thing, you’re far too precious.

“Fuck,” is all you can croak, your pussy still thrumming with overstimulation even as her tentacles gently and lovingly ease themselves out of you.

She presses a kiss to your forehead, her fangs ticking your foreheads.

“F-hmm,” you groan.

She laughs weakly and gathers her things.

Your vision is still spinning as she carries you back to her ship. She’s going to spend the next week panicked about every scratch and bruise she gave you but it would be so worth it for this.

Weakly you promise yourself that next time you’ll manage to escape. Even if you know that definitely won’t be the case.

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poppurini · 8 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤ⎯ ㅤ𐙚 your general refuses to kiss you, but you always get your way. ⌇ princess!reader, tall general lilia, secret relationship TEHEURIGUEHEH

“Princess, I cannot kiss you.”

The general’s tone was as cold as ever. Standing tall, his posture was poise and proper compared to the royalty seated on the bed with swaying legs and a certain mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Lilia’s gaze was stern and sharp, locked onto yours without wavering and yet all it took was a soft tug from your delicate hands for him to sigh in defeat; he follows you to your bed, making sure the door was closed shut. It would mean hell for the both of you if anyone were to witness your intimacy.

“It’s not wrong for a girlfriend to ask her boyfriend for kisses.”

He always had a soft spot for you and really, who could blame him? You always looked so adorable and gorgeous whenever you got whatever you wanted. Those perfect smiles and precious laughter make his heart pound rapidly against its cage. As much as he hated to admit, the feared General Vanrouge was a weak man against his princess.

“No, it is not, but remember, I am not your lover at the moment. I am simply a general protecting her highness as she makes her escape from the ball.”

Lilia stared at you, his gaze now softened with a defeated look before crossing his arms and leaning against one of your bed posts. You couldn’t help yourself and admired the man’s figure towering yours, batting your eyelashes up at him with a smile you can’t quite control.

You held his hand and swayed it back and forth slightly, laughing softly when you heard another one of his sighs; you knew you’ve won. You always do. He always let you.

“Balls are boring,” you hugged his arm and leaned against it comfortably. “I’d rather spend time with you.”

The man exerted a sigh through an exhale, tilting his head to study you clinging onto his arm. His hand caressed yours before gently intertwining your fingers together, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand as you looked up with beautiful crescent eyes.

You were rather attached to him, he could tell. Lilia didn’t know when the lines between a general and a princess begin to blur and every night he was ashamed of himself for falling, but he couldn’t deny the flutters in his stomach, the smile that naturally stretches on his lips, and the ache pounding in his chest. Everything he felt for you was real.

The general used his free hand to caress your heated cheeks, brushing back your hair so he could admire every detail of your features that effortlessly captured his affection. You, however, whined a little, immediately pulling away and placing your hair back to framing your face as your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment and shyness.

“It’s prettier this way.”

A quiet mumble escaped you and Lilia blinked in stoic confusion. Chuckling, he gave your head a soft pat before crossing his arms again, this time leaning back against your bed post with amusement.

“My princess is prettiest whenever.”

He did it again. He flirts perhaps once a decade—which shouldn’t be that long in terms of fae years, no?—and this was one of the times. This was one of the times where your eyes would widen and your lips part in shock, freezing in your seat as your heart swooned in ecstasy before throwing yourself onto him and nuzzling in close.

#lilia vanrouge x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland #female reader

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 10 months ago

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This Didn't Happen

Notes: Just a silly thing; prompts 7 & 15 taken from this Morning After prompt list.

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Sexual implications; behavior expected of our fave billionaire stinky bastard man

Summary: Had you gone to the conference planning to sleep with Nathan Bateman? No.

Had you? Yes.

Were you regretting it? Absolutely.

"Stop smiling at me."

"I'm not smiling."

"Yes you are."

"How do you know? You're not even looking at me."

"I don't need to look at you, I can feel it from here." You tried to smooth your rumpled clothing before drawing in a deep breath to steady yourself, gathering your thoughts.

Had you gone to the conference planning to sleep with Nathan Bateman? No.

Had you? Yes.

Were you regretting it? Absolutely.

The sex had been (insanely, mind-bogglingly) good. You were still sensitive, still buzzing from your orgasm as you tried to plan a graceful exit. It was proving difficult, given the circumstances—but there was no smooth way to dip out of a one night stand. Almost all of the conference attendees were staying at the same hotel as you were. What if you ran into someone that you knew in the hallway? Your wrinkled clothes would give you away immediately.

You gathered your courage before you forced yourself to turn and look at him.

Nathan was smiling—lounging in the bed with a satisfied smirk as he put his glasses back on and fixed you with a knowing gaze. You wanted to slap the look off of his face, but some part of you was certain that he would enjoy it. Not only was he smiling, but he looked criminally gorgeous. His cheeks were still slightly flushed from exertion; his forehead was still dotted with sweat; you were trying to ignore the few streaks of irritated skin where your nails had dug into his shoulder.

"We're not gonna cuddle?" He teased, brows waggling. You scoffed, turning away and beginning to hunt around his hotel room for your shoes.

"Listen, Bateman—"

"You have my attention."

"Good, 'cause I'm really gonna need you to focus up right now." You faced him again, planting your hands on your hips and forcing a stern set to your brow. "This didn't happen. Got it?"

"Didn't it?"

"No."

Nathan blinked at you a couple of times, lips curling into a teasing smile as he glanced toward to marks on his shoulder.

"Huh. Then I wonder where these came from."

"The mystery may never be solved." Son of a bitch, where are you goddamn shoes—

"So if anyone asks what we got up to this evening—?"

"Make something up," You snapped.

"What's your alibi?"

"I'll figure it out when I get back to my room."

"What if you run into someone in the elevator and they ask?"

"I'll make something up."

"You oughta brainstorm now. You don't improvise well."

"Thanks for the tip."

"They're under the desk."

"What?"

"Your shoes."

You went still, slowly glancing in that direction, and wincing when you spotted them. How the hell did they get under there?

"You kicked them off," Nathan added. "Almost broke your neck. Remember?"

You ignored the goad, picking them up and hurriedly pulling them on before heading for the door. You heard the rustle of sheets as Nathan pushed them off of his lap and stood.

"Hey," He called out.

"What?"

"You sure this never happened?"

"Positive."

You reached for the doorknob, freezing as Nathan crowded up against your back. You shivered at the feeling of his body pressing against yours, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"I hope it doesn't happen again sometime," He murmured. You began to turn to look back at him, only to spot yourself in a small mirror by the door. Your eyes narrowed as you spotted a mark blooming on your neck, and you couldn't stop yourself from whirling around to look at him.

"Did you really have to leave a giant hickey on my neck?!"

Nathan smirked, gaze sweeping over your face before he tipped his head to the side, getting a better look at the hickey.

"What makes you think I did that?"

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @writefightandflightclub ; @thedukeofcaladan ; @beepboopyoda ; @foxilayde ; @rachelwritesstuff

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman/Reader #Nathan Bateman/You #Nathan Bateman fic #Nathan Bateman imagine #prompts

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angelatmidnight1 · 15 days ago

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Between a Rock and a Hard Place

A/N: I've had a stressful couple of weeks and wanted to write a quick story with ler!Astarion and lee!reader. This was inspired by one of the helping lines he has where he says "you look good helpless". @tickly-deer-boy here is a quick Astarion fic!

Summary- Tav is stuck, and Astarion comes to get them out of trouble. He had no idea that they were ticklish…and gods, is it entertaining.

Paring- Astarion x Tav (platonic).

Word Count- 1.8k.

Warnings- None. But please note this is a tickle fic!

Tav grunted in frustration as they tried to wriggle free from the narrow space between the crates. Their movements only caused them to get more wedged in the spot. They were reaching forward, straining to reach Lae’zel’s outstretched hand, only to just be out of her reach.

“K’chaki. I told you to go around.” Lae’zel grumbled in exasperation. She withdrew her hand. “We waste precious time while you struggle. At any moment, we could become ghaik.”

“I know that,” Tav groaned and tried to launch themselves forward. They barely moved an inch, and now their waist was fully stuck between the crates. “It’s almost like you’ve been saying the same thing since we crashed! If you’d shut up and give me your hand, I’d be out of here already.”

“You cannot reach my hand,” Lae’zel pointed out as if it was as obvious as day. “And I have no time to wait and make up for your shortcomings. Had I known you would slow me down, I would have left you to your fate on the nautolid.”

“And you would have no astral prism. You’d turn into a mindflayer before me,” Tav grunted and decided to change tactics, twisting their hips to try and dislodge themselves. It didn’t work. Lae’zel checked her pack, believing she’d been the one carrying it, only for Tav to give a mocking sneer. “Honestly, it’d be an improvement. You wouldn’t be talking so much if you had a mouth full of tentacles.”

Lae’zel scowled. She took a step forward, hand on the hilt of her sword. “You think it’s wise to provoke me in your position?”

Before you could challenge her, Astarion’s silky voice sounded from somewhere behind you. “Now now, darlings. Let’s not turn our blades on each other. We’ve so many enemies we could stab instead..”

Tav heard the sound of his shoes crunching over gravel as he approached them. The sound stopped when he froze, taking in the scene of the trapped leader in front of him. “Oh. Oh dear. Someone’s gotten themselves in a spot of trouble, hm?”

Tav didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking. They bristled, and they would’ve turned to leer at them if they hadn’t been pinned at the waist. “Hilarious, Astarion. Truly. How about doing something useful and helping me?”

The vampire clicked his tongue. “My, so touchy. I’m almost tempted to leave you there. Who knows what a less friendly adventurer would do if they found you?”

“You wouldn’t,” Tav retorted. “You’d miss me too much. Who else would wake up day after day to tell you how handsome you are?”

“Cheeky,” Astarion smirked. “Still, I’m not convinced to help you. If only there was a word you could say that would make me reconsider. Something like, oh, I don’t know…please?”

“To hells with that,” Tav palmed the sides of the crates and pushed at them. Besides the occasional, minuscule move, they remained right where they were. Their face contorted with exertion, and they heard Astarion snickering behind them.

“That’s four words, and I'm not looking for any of them.” Astarion stepped closer and leaned against the crates. “But by all means, keep squirming. You look good helpless…”

The heat rose to their cheeks, or maybe that was from all of their struggling? Tav wasn’t sure. They gave up on pushing the crates and twisting their body to and fro. Then, exhaling through their nose, they grumbled, “Fine. Please help me, Astarion. There, happy?”

“Your groveling skills need work,” he snorted. “But it would be cruel for me to expect a grand performance in your state. So of course, my dear, I’ll help you.” Astarion moved behind them, hands outstretching to rest on their sides. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and he rotated them to determine the best angle to pull them from. The light touches sent shivers up their spine, though he didn’t seem to notice. If anything, Tav would’ve chalked it up to the cold. Astarion moved his hands higher, now resting just below their rib cage. His fingers slid along their skin, looking for gods know what, and they jolted.

“What are you doing?” Tav cried incredulously. Lucky for them, he couldn’t see the grin tugging at the corner of their lips. Lae’zel had already stormed off, leaving the two of them alone.

“Helping you. Obviously.” Astarion rolled his eyes and readjusted his hold, returning to their sides. This time, he was squeezing them in an attempt to get a better grip. “And I’d have an easier time if you would hold still.”

Tav choked on a giggle. They did the opposite of what he said and fidgeted some more. Suddenly, the impossible feat of getting themselves out on their own didn’t sound all that impossible. “Forget it, Astarion. I’ll d-do it myself..”

“Nonsense. Stop squirming, and I’ll pull you out.”

“No, but-”

Astarion’s fingers ghosted over their stomach, and they squeaked. He froze, and Tav felt their heart do somersaults in their chest.

“What is the matter with you?” Astarion took his hands away from their belly, fingers resting just above their hips. The confusion was as clear as day in his voice. “You’re acting as if I’m hurting you.”

Tav remained quiet. They feared that they’d end up giggling if they spoke.

“Tav? Am I hurting you?”

“...No.” Tav hesitated, shaking their head. They wracked their mind for a plausible explanation. “It’s just, uh, your hands. They’re cold.”

“Cold enough to feel through your clothing?” Astarion raised a brow, tone flat. “Odd. You haven’t told me that before..”

Tav didn’t even believe the tale they’d spun. “W-Well, they’re just that c—ah!” Tav squealed when he lightly pinched their hip. “Don’t do that!”

They went to smack at his hand, but hit one of the crates instead. Although they couldn’t see it, Astarion’s eyes brightened with mischief.

“Oh, now I understand…” Astarion grinned a predatory grin, rolling his knuckles against their hip. Tav squirmed, biting down on their lip to trap the impending giggles. “You’re ticklish, aren’t you?”

“Noho!” The word alone sent butterflies in their stomach. They brought one of their hands up to their mouth, their other hand uselessly hitting the top of the crates. “Damn it Astarion, just pull me ouhuhut!”

“I’m trying, Tav, but you’re not making this easy for me.” Astarion shuffled closer to them, now using his thumbs to deliberately knead into their hips. Tav gasped and giggled into their hand, feet stomping into the dirt. “It’s impossible to get a good grip with you kicking around like this..”

“You’re nohoht trying!” Tav argued, bucking their hips as Astarion kept kneading into them. The ticklish sensations surged through them like electric shocks, and it was harder to suppress their frantic giggling. “Gah! S-Shihihit! When I get out of hehehehre, you’re dehehehad!”

“I’m already dead,” Astarion snorted. “But do tell me, what is so funny? Surely I am not tickling you?”

Tav growled in between their giggles. They giggled harder when he changed tactics and squeezed their hips again, again, and again. Both hands flew to their mouth to muffle their squeals.

“Darling,” Astarion purred, “I need an answer.”

“Gohoho to hehehell!” The dam broke, and Tav giggled freely. They twisted and bucked as much as their trapped position allowed, clawing at the crates. “Stohohohp it!”

“Stop what?” Astarion feigned confusion, nails skittering along their waistline. “I’m only trying to help, just as you asked! You’re stuck in here good, I’m afraid.”

“Nohoho! I’ll f-freehehee myself!” Tav sputtered as he dragged his nails up their belly. They shouted and shook their head back and forth, laughing loudly. “Let gOHOHOhahaha!”

“I can’t do that, dear. That would make me a terrible friend,” Astarion tutted. He stopped scritching at their belly, teasing their sides with featherlight strokes. “And, while I’m on the topic, do you know what else sours a friendship?”

Tav’s laughter died down to short, breathless giggles. Their cheeks were well beyond flushed, and they fidgeted in anticipation. “I—hah—don’t know... what?”

“Lying,” Astarion grinned and gently pinched just beneath their rib cage. Tav squealed and bucked. “For instance, pretending not to be delightfully ticklish when you very clearly are.”

Tav’s eyes widened, panic flashing across their face. “I’m—I'm nohot—”

“Ah-ah, there it is again.” Astarion double downed on his efforts, kneading one of his thumbs into the side of their belly. Tav shrieked and kicked their legs uselessly, falling back into another laughing fit. “You are an insolent little pup, aren’t you? Lying is one thing, but lying to a friend? Lying to me?”

As if they weren’t already stuck enough, Astarion wrapped his free arm around their waist, making it much harder to squirm or kick. He continued tickling their stomach, alternating between gently scratching along their skin with his nails and kneading with his thumb. He moved at a leisurely pace, as if he had all the time in the world. And, truth be told, he did. Tav’s laughter took on a more desperate note, and they threw their head back.

“NAHAHA! Alright! Okay! I’m sohohohorry!” Tav shouted and pounded their fist against the damned crates. They doubled over, or at least made an effort to, and squealed with laughter. “I’m sohohohohrry!”

“So you are,” he hummed. “And yet, I’m not fully convinced. You’ve already lied to me once. Who’s to say you aren’t doing it again?” He dropped to his knees, lazily raking his nails down the backs of their thighs. Tav shrieked and kicked around even more.

“I’m nOHOHOHohohot! I’m not!!” Tav grit their teeth and giggled madly. They tried to lift their legs out of his reach, but he chased after them with minimal effort. “PLehehehehease! I’m nohoht lying!”

Astarion laughed. “You learn fast. It’s still a no, though. I’m just gutted that you would lie to me.” He pretended to sound sad while he spidered his nails along the backs of their knees. Tav howled, curling in on themselves as much as possible. “After all of the time we spent together! After I offered to help you..”

Tav cackled when one of Astarion’s hands snuck back up to prod at their belly. He swirled his pointer finger in random patterns, scritching just shy of their hip bones, around their navel, and ending at their lowermost ribs. He did the same thing in reverse, eventually settling back on the ground to squeeze and tickle their knees and thighs. His fearless leader was a puddle of squeals and giggles, and that’s one crime he was happy to be guilty of.

“I CAHAHAHN’T!” Tav went back to pounding their fists against the crates, eyes shining with tears. “Astarion, plehehehehehease!”

After what felt like forever, Astarion stopped tickling them. He gripped their hips and, with one firm pull, dislodged them from their trap. They fell back into him, and he held them up, still by their hips. “There you are, you’re free!” he snickered. “You’re welcome.”

Tav exhaled, shutting their eyes. They were coming down from the ticklish sensations, chest rising and falling from each breath they took. They were still smiling a bit, so what they said next had very little bite. “Bastard.”

“Careful,” Astarion tapped his fingers against their hips, and Tav lurched forward. “We wouldn’t want this little secret to slip to any of our friends, hm?”

#bg3 #bg3 tickle #bg3 tickling #ticklish!reader #lee!reader #ler!astarion #astarion x tav #ticklish!tav #lee!tav

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lilacliquors · 1 year ago

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kinktober day seventeen: dirty talk

pairing: billy butcher x reader

word count: 398

notes: day seventeen! wow, i can't believe we're over halfway done with the month. work today was iffy but writing this made me feel better. and i'm interviewing for the full time position on monday!!

“fuckin’ hell, look at you …”

you were riding him like your life depended on it. he’d been gone for days, away on yet another dangerous supe chase, and just the sight of him home safe drove you wild. you practically tore each other’s clothes off, and there you were, lost in the feeling of him.

“mm, missed … missed you so much,” you panted, and he looked up at you with a smirk.

“i can tell. god, the way you take my cock … feel it fill you up? makes you feel full, doesn’t it? like you’ve been missing somethin’ the last few days?” he asked, and those questions alone made your stomach flop and your pussy throb.

“oh, god yes,” you breathed, nodding your head quickly.

“atta girl. and that’s not all you want to fill you up, is it? hm? want me to cum in that tight cunt, mark it as mine? no one else can fuck you like this, so why should i?”

you shuddered slightly and braced yourself on his abdomen, whining as you rocked your hips. he always knew just what to say, he had the foulest mouth of any man you’d ever met, and you loved it.

“tell … tell me more,” you begged, your legs starting to burn with exertion.

“more? such a naughty girl. tell you what, you milk my fucking cock dry, and i’ll bury my face between your thighs for as long as you want me to. that pretty pussy is nothing short of a feast, and i’m starving. hell, i’ll let you ride my fucking face and i won’t let you up until i’ve had my fill.”

you whimpered as his hands wrapped around your hips, and he began to buck up into you, hitting that sweet spot just right. you gasped, then threw your head back as he fucked into you, grunting and groaning as your walls clenched around him.

“that’s it, just like that. feels so fucking good …”

he relished your cries of pleasure, and he knew he had you right where he wanted you. too drunk off of him to protest, too needy for him to tap out. and it was the most beautiful sight in the world. he just couldn’t get enough, and he was going to make good on his promise to you.

you were in for a long night.

#atomwritez #billy butcher smut #billy butcher x reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober2023 #atomwritez kinktober2023

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slvtforasht0n · 6 days ago

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Jealousy, jealousy

title inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s track on Sour

.✦ || Boyfriend!Ash x Reader

.✦ || This is your first time being a stagehand at your boyfriend and his band’s show. Even though you couldn’t watch him perform, a particular interaction between him and a female fan piqued your interest. You couldn’t help but look, ought to see what’s happening. Instead, jealousy gets the better of you once you see what’s really going on, your mood permanently shifted. At least, that’s what it felt like.

A/N: first half is highly based on that one interaction that happened in the 5SOS diaries. forever jealous of that girl lol. anyway, i hope you like what i’ve brought out for you for my first post ever. kinda always wanted a tumblr account to post every idea or blurb i get, but ya girl can be very very lazy sometimes.

inspired to write smut ever since i had wattpad. saying this loud and proud. loved duplicity, stall and malignant so there’s that random fact (turn it up for all the other harries/directioners reading this)

i don’t write that much so i’m still trying to improve wherever i need to. ps. english isn’t my first language, so if you do spot grammer/vocab mistakes, it’s not on me sista, still learning:3 sooo i guess i’ll just finish it off by saying this; sit back, relax and enjoy :^)

CONTENT WARNING: fluff & smut, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), spitting, sliiiight dirty talking

WORD COUNT: 5,2k

────୨ৎ────

As much as you hate your boyfriend in this moment— he wriggled his way to here. His hands all over your frame, reaching to every spot he can find, almost as if his hands have a mind of their own.

His kisses grow more impatient, needy and full of want. Drawing gentle circles against the small strip of bare skin on your back, making you both break the kiss apart with a small gasp.

You weren’t sure of your emotions. Did you want to continue and make him have his way with you? Or did you want to push him away and strangle the living hell out of him?

A faint whimper escapes your lips in between the kiss, his hand traveling down to the heat between your clothed legs. That feeling alone begs to differ. As much as you don’t want to admit to it. You still have that small abhor, but also intense jealousy from what happened prior to all of this.

He breaks the kiss apart, his eyes finding yours. The hazelly green forest almost dispersed into his black pupils, blown out and primed. Fuck… you think to yourself. He looks so provocatively striking, like an erotic sex-god, which is enough to drive you wild— both in a good and a bad way.

“Let me make it up to you, amore mio.” He prompts, his hands finding your waist again to pull you in closer, showing you how induced he is, the want and need inside of him written all over his face.

—

This day has been…chaotic, booked, a haywire of physical and mental exertion that drove you into madness. Almost. You only had a 20 minute break before going back to work, crew following along, five different people guffing into your earpiece that just rubs you the wrong way. Being irritated isn’t even slightly nearing to what you’re actually feeling.

Finally, you walked inside the venue, a moment of calm before the storm. Happy you can let your guard down for another minute or two. You take a deep breath, moving scenery and props along with two other crew members, joining in after your one true moment of silence.

Being a stagehand at a show of your own boyfriend is uncommon, just something you’re not really used to. You’re not sure if you’re able to keep your cool seeing Ashton on stage, beating those drums expertisely, face etched into pure concentration. You always found it to be a work of art, to see your boyfriend practicing at home or somewhere that isn’t on a stage.

But hey, you bite the bullet once it’s showtime, having to face away from the stage, meanwhile he’ll be there to steal the show.

The crew had cued that the band arrived several moments later, and as much as you want to run away to find him, you’re still stuck planning, discussing and arranging tonight’s act.

Hours have passed on and exhaustion seemed to get the better of you. The small gig now filled with a couple of thousands of fangirls, boys, moms, dads, you name it. Two thousand to be exact. You’re not sure if it makes you intrigued, or uncomfortable. Either way, you find yourself lucky you’re not in that crammed crowd.

Playing more intimate, smaller shows was out of the ordinary for the band, something they wouldn’t have done a year ago or two.

The show has started not long after, and your back is facing the stage, eyes on all of these screaming fangirls for their idols in front of them, hands in the air, phones recording, but mainly their loud screams that’s luckily muffled by your in-ears. All you could do is focus on the beat of the drums, imagining his every movement of prowess, how trickles of sweat is already forming on his forehead.

You don’t have it in you not to look, so you do. Just the smallest of sneak-peak. Though, his eyes immediately found yours, like all of his focus was on the back of your head this whole time. Your heart starts to pound faster against your chest, turning your head back to the crowd ahead. Just keep your cool… keep your cool— You have to remind yourself every minute. Or rather every second.

You’re glued to the spot, making sure everyone’s safe and sound. However, there’s a small interaction going on between a fan and… Ashton. His voice being heard through the microphone gives you some sort of solace, your focal point on every pronunciation and syllable on the words that falls from his lips.

This particular interaction is focused on the fan’s cardboard sign, stipulating that it’s her twenty first birthday and now legal to drink, suggesting Ashton a shot. They expeditiously agree and brought the stunned girl up stage. Your eyes followed hers, turning around to look at the stage ahead. You didn’t have the heart in you to dismiss this and act like nothing’s going on.

Ashton’s change of demeanour, presence next to this fan, and just the overall vibes he’s got going on throws you right off the wall. It’s like he’s throwing her a curveball of coy behaviour, something that doesn’t sit right with you. It’s either that or you’re overthinking it. But then again, you might not be, especially having your eyes glued on him right now, watching him unfold into someone he’s not.

You hate it. You hated every second of it, watching the scene ahead. She gets to be the one giving your sweaty boyfriend a hug, a prolonged hug. Sharing a shot, looking into his eyes- him looking into her eyes. It’s like hot steams are blowing out of your ears by how much you hate seeing this with your own eyes. If it were possible, you’d throw Ashton’s drum kit right to his head out of spite and anger. You can’t believe him.

You’re definitely not overthinking, since you’ve picked up on him being ‘the man of the show’. Trying to seem more charming and appealing, in all the wrong ways. You know he loves getting this type of attention, boosts his ego in the wrong way and you’d love to just kick him right in the nuts.

Once the show’s over, you’re finally in your own privacy, changing your uniform to your day to day outerwear. A knock is heard on the door, catching you out of your hazy thoughts, while also feeling jealous and incensed. You open the door and you’re immediately knocked down with a feather.

“What are you doing here?” you utter, laced in a grim tone, not expecting to see his cheery face. Ashton stands in front of you, eyebrows raised by your surprising outburst.

“Checking in on my girlfriend. What else would I be doing?” He responds nonchalantly, entering the small room without needing to ask for permission. Of course he wouldn’t.

He runs a hand through his damp curls, looking around the room before looking back to you. It’s like he struggles to read you and why you’re not responding to him, why you’re facing away from him. “Hey…” He starts off, walking up to you and placing his hands on your waist, making you turn around to face him.

You push his hands off your body almost immediately, his eyes on stalks. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he counters, his eyes searching yours.

The more he acts this oblivious, the more you want to give into the idea of kicking him in the nuts and walking out of this room. You decide to just tell him before he’s going for the the well known question ‘are you on your period?’.

“The fuck was that up stage?” you angrily mutter, crossing your arms over your chest.

He seems confused, which is one more reason to be angry at him. How can he be so painfully heedless? You desperately need to just knock some sense into that thick skull of his.

“What?” he raises his arms in an ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ motion.

“Oh, so now you’ve got memory loss? Great.” you roll your eyes, facing the other way instead of him. Again. How can a human being manage to piss you off this much? It’s inane.

“Amore… tell me.” He waits for you to say something, anything at all, but all you do is stand there and glare, causing him to take a step closer to you. “Was it the girl who I did a shot with?”

Bingo.

You can’t help but roll your eyes again, as if it wasn’t that obvious why you’d be mad at him about that in the first place.

“Oh come on… Nothing happened, alright? Just did her a favour and probably made her whole night.”

“Yeah, right.” You bite back immediately, not buying any of the bullshit he’s spitting. You can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re deranged in anger, but also so confused and hurt. He’d never gone this close to a girl before in all the months you’ve been dating, so he surely needs to understand why you’re acting the way you are.

“Why are you making a big deal out of this?” he murmurs, managing to boil your blood to the point you could burn anything you touch into ashes.

“Are you kidding me, Ash?” you poss in vexation, glaring through his soul. Words can’t express how tense you’re getting and how much you want to wipe that foolish smirk off his face.

“Babe, you can’t be serious, can you?” He sneers, his eyes giving you a once over. You only let out a frustrated sigh, turning your back to him a third time.

You don’t know what he deserves more, a sucker punch right to his jaw or the infamous silent treatment. Maybe both could give him a well-earned reality check.

“Are you seriously mad about some measly fucking interaction? Really, Y/N?” he huffs, seeming more annoyed than amused this time. Which makes you, on the other hand, infuriated by even more rage.

The way he acts so unbothered is insufferable. You turn on your heel, facing him, an angry etched expression on your face he certainly can’t dismiss now. “You were flirting with her, you ass! Right in front of me!” You bark back, sick of his apathetic state. Just utterly sick of him.

“I wasn’t, Y/N! Why would you even think that?” he retorts, his obliviousness turning into annoyance, his arms now crossed over his chest as well.

You don’t respond, only letting out a spiteful scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I really don’t see what’s wrong here. You have no reason to be mad at me. None.” he mutters, which is just the cherry on the cake, isn’t it? You let out another angry huff before turning on your heel and leaving him in the room, despite it being yours.

However, you’re not as quick as you thought you were as he catches your wrist, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you closer to him.

“Don’t run away from me, baby. None of that bullshit. Talk it out with me, curse me out, just don’t ever shut me out, okay?” he calmly explains, his eyes trained on yours with his eyebrows creased together in concentration on you. Only you. You take a deep breath, flicking your eyes in between his.

“Why were you flirting with that girl?” you ask after a long pause, your eyes focusing on that one curl that fell on his forehead.

“I wasn’t.” He responds, and it just made you feel even more obscured from this ridiculous situation that brought tension between you two.

You’re starting to think you might be overdoing it. Might be a bit of the jealous kind and just making this ought to paint you to be dramatic.

“Is that all you have to say?” you mask getting offended by his short, incoherent reply, just by answering repulsively back.

“What more can I say then? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill here.” He crosses his arms again, and it just messes with your head on what type of emotions and feelings are coursing through him. What his thought process is, ‘cause he’s doing everything he can to dismiss the issue. Dismissing your feelings that are as valid as can be. At least that’s what you wanna think.

“Never mind.” You pull away from his grip, sitting down at the nearest couch. You’re done trying to argue to a wall, because that’s the position you feel like you’re in, feeling trapped in a loophole if he continues to act this clueless.

He looks over at you, no remorse whatsoever, and that somehow rises more anger out of you, though you make sure you keep your poker-face. There’s no point anymore if he won’t try to understand you.

“Are ya really just gonna sit there and stare?” he asks. But after a long pause, he just knows there’s not going to be a reply.

“Silent treatment won’t solve anything, love.” he adds, looking at you across the room, his eyebrows furrowed as he runs his hand through his hair again.

“Y/N…Just quit it already, will ya?” he grows more annoyed and impatient by your attitude. However, nothing will make you utter out a word again. Not when he at least attempts to apologise.

“Fuck’s sake, Y/N… I don’t have time for this. I’m sorry, alright? I wasn’t flirting with the girl- would never do that.”

You think to yourself you might have overexaggerated on wanting an attempted apology, cause it just pisses you off even more.

“Talk to me…” he prompts, taking a few steps closer to you.

You don’t respond, and he takes it as some sort of indication to stride closer. He takes your hands in his, pulling you up to your feet and cupping your jaw, making sure you look him in the eyes. “Please?”

You hate him. You hate him so much you’re becoming a tough nut to crack, and he’s fully aware of that. He knows how stubborn and jealous you can get over the smallest things. Still, you don’t know where his mind is.

He pulls you in for a kiss, connecting his lips with yours, catching you by surprise. His hands are trailing down your body and reposing on your waist, pulling you closer than before.

If this is how he ventures his way out to say sorry to you, when you can’t take it as a simple word, you’re not…entirely against it.

You stare profoundly into his eyes after he breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours—But your feelings are very conflicting. You so want to give in, but you’re still mad. And you still hate him. Well, you’re trying to make yourself hate him.

It feels like it’s been ages since you’ve uttered out a word, but that’s none of your concern as you pull him in for another heated kiss, your hand finding its way through his tousled hair, earning a soft groan on his end. His tongue slips out and swipes at your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter your mouth as you oblige immediately.

He has you fully wrapped around your finger. You can’t even be mad at him anymore, even if it’s play pretend.

His hands are on your waist, but it didn’t take long before one hand slips between your legs, making you instantly weak in the knees.

“Let me make it up to you, amore mio.” replays in your mind over and over when you brought him in for another desperate kiss, pouring out all of your feelings and love for him. The way he said it, the desperation in his voice and his dilated eyes— you can never say no to that. You need him.

You’re a hot mess, letting out huffs of pleasure as he continues to palm you through your jeans, like an attempt to hear you, even if it’s not through articulated words.

He pulls away from your lips, traveling his heated series of kisses down to your pulse-point, eliciting another hot whimper out of you. You’re dazed and all you want is more. More of him. Just more.

He hoists you up, your legs immediately clinging around his hips as he leads you towards the small couch, laying you down and hovering his body over yours.

He’s such a sight for sore eyes, carrying the grace of dawn and the mystery of dusk. Your eyes wandering over every feature of his face, just taking him in. He bites back a smile, his eyes lingering on your chest, then back to your eyes. “Want me to make you feel good, yeah?” his voice is ragged with desire, low and husky that has such a toll on you.

He goes back in for a fervent kiss before you could even respond, pouring out all of his love for you that makes you forget the anger you once had a thousand times more. Your hands wander over his shoulders, all the way down to his hips, pulling him in closer, trapping him in between your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist.

He lets out a low grunt in between the kiss, his hips grinding against your heat, drawing out another small sound out of you. His hands that has a mind of its own fondling your breasts through the thin material of your shirt, like he couldn’t get enough of you and he physically needs more. You want more of him too, totally entranced by him, the heat of desire pooling in between your legs with an intensified want to have him in ways that’s unrefined. He moves towards the crook of your neck again, marking you up as his.

You’re already impatient as is, your uncoordinated fingers fumbling with his belt, like you can’t stand seeing him in clothes for another wasted second. He lets you, still immersed in marking your neck up, making sure there are angry marks left behind.

Once you’ve found the zipper of his tight jeans, you tug the material down, his hands coming in rescue and helping himself out of his jeans. In an instant, he pulls at the hem of your shirt, dragging the material over your head and throwing it somewhere in the room. Your eyes have wandered off to the door behind him and suddenly you’re too aware that someone could walk in easily.

“Babe… this room has no lock.” you mention, evoking a small smirk on his face. “Don’t you think it’s more fun that way? No one’s gonna come in.” He teases, eyes shamelessly staring at your bra, like he’s trying to smog up the power to disappear things with his mind.

“But-“ he’s quick to pipe you down by a kiss on the lips. “No ‘but’s’, you’re safe with me, amore.”

You pull him back in, sick of prolonging this any longer and seriously needing a good fuck if he’s gonna make it worth the while. If this is his way to at least attempt to apologise, then he better makes it good. Not that he has ever disappointed you in that division.

He hovers over you again, faces inches from yours, his hand snaking under your back to unclasp your bra in what feels like a nanosecond. He pulls the material off your body like it’s some sort of pest- like he’s been wanting it off since the moment he had laid eyes on you. He nips and sucks at your skin, hands exploring every inch of you. He licks a stripe right above your boobs, staring up at you with a well-known grin, eager to have his way with you.

He swipes his tongue over your sensitive nipple, lapping you up and then latching you in between his lips, paying great attention to you with his mouth, suckling and nibbling on your flesh. His other hand wanders to your untended breast, his fingers playing with the other nipple. You let out a soft whimper, already captivated by his fervent skills, your fingers threading through his soft curls.

Your eyes catches his, a sultry grin appearing on his face that has you overdriven with more arousal, more desire for him.

He moves to your other nipple, giving it the same, equal attention, drawing even more sounds and pants out of you.

All you really want is for him to hurry up. Your mind can’t get off of that damned door that has no lock on it, and he’s about to undress you intimately, which has made you apprehensive. He quickly catches on by your stiff demeanour and he lowers himself down, licking a long strip down your bare stomach- trying to make you forget about the door.

You lull your head back, your breath ragged and uneven as you tug at his golden strands tighter than before, earning a low grunt from him. He sure knows how to make you forget about stuff in an instant.

He has his hands on each side of your hips, trailing them towards the button of your black jeans. He works his way to get you out of your clothes, fast and determined, pulling the fabric down your thighs as you help him kick off the material.

“So gorgeous f’me, amore.” he grunts, quickly discarding his shirt off of him, accentuating his perfect, sweaty body to you, the sculputred abs and delicious pecs staring right at you as we speak. You sit up straight on the couch with only the flimsy laced underwear you’re wearing covering three percent of your body at most.

His eyes widen the moment you drop down to your knees in front of him, head-level with the black boxer briefs clung tightly on him. It highlights the swell of his tent that’s covered by the thin material of his Calvin Kleins. Your doe-eyed expression seems to get the better of him, already biting his bottom lip from your sight.

You waste no time, hooking your fingers under the material of his boxers, sliding them down ‘till they drop to his feet. He’s quick when it comes to stepping out of them, eager for you.

You’ve seen him like this before, plenty of times even, but right now— it’s like his arousal is as painful as it seems. His tip an angry shade of pink, pre-cum glazing down to his shaft. His breathing is laboured, his eyes concentrated on you, like he’s trying to moderate himself, keeping everything under control before he snaps.

You wrap your hand around his cock, the smallest of touch already making him hiss in pleasure. With deep shared eye contact, you start to pump him slowly, collecting the pre-cum that’s spilling out of him, whirling it over his tip, eliciting another desperate whimper from his agape lips. His eyebrows are creased, the purity in his eyes completely gone- reciprocated into something more coarse and obscene.

“Baby.. open your mouth.” he demands in a breathier tone, and you instantly oblige. With that, he cups your jaw with both of his large hands, his eyes intensely staring at yours. You don’t know what to expect, but he stars to hover over you, his face significantly closer to yours. He gives you that snarky smirk you know all too well, and then makes sure to lift your jaw a little up higher as he spits into your mouth without caution. Your eyes widen a little, his spit landing right on your tongue.

“Now swallow f’me, amore.” he orders, and you do exactly as he says.

Jesus…even in times like these— he still tastes divine.

His one hand threads through your hair, his other leaving the underside of your chin. “Show me what you’ve got…be my good girl.” he growls, standing up straight. You’re completely gone off guard by this small interaction between you and him, but you quickly shake it off, your trembly hand going back to where it was before.

You lick a strip up over his shaft, swirling your tongue on his tip that has him already writhing for more. You finally take him in your mouth, wrapping your lips sweetly around him and taking him inch by inch, a swall groan leaving his lips in exchange.

You set up a space, sucking him as you wrap your hand around the part that doesn’t fit in your mouth, his hand threading in your hair expeditiously. Low grunts and groans escapes his mouth, totally entranced by your ministrations as he couldn’t help but thrust forward, meeting your pace and rhythm all. He hits the back of your throat at every thrust, tears already brimming in your eyes that eventually seeps down to your cheeks. You couldn’t help but suck him with more precision, eyes deeply concentrated on his breathtaking face.

The desperation and anguish is written all over him, like he couldn’t bear this and needs you in ways where it’s humanly impossible to describe. Sweat already trickles over his forehead, eyes pleading for you, in a way that makes you believe his pupils are contorted into spelling your name- his want like a screeching howl that blares through your eardrums.

In a quick motion, he pulls out of you and you take your time to catch your breath, heaving them out like you’ve ran a marathon, quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He pulls you to your feet, hands on your hips and instantly pushing you backwards on the couch as your back hits the cushions, laying flat on the surface. Hovering over you, he delicately scans his eyes over your whole frame, taking in every detail from your tousled hair to your almost naked self. He traps himself in between your spread out legs, his length making contact with your lower abdomen, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

His arms are on each side of you, a few strands of his curls hanging over his forehead. “Need to fuck you, baby. Need you right now.” He murmurs, his voice hoarse and his tone laced in pure lust.

You bite your bottom lip as he positions you, hands firmly grasping your hips in desperation. “Please…” You utter out, the only thing your lips can form as a sole word, while your mind is going a million miles an hour with how much you have to say.

The warmth of his palms are soon replaced by the cool air hitting your hips, his hands sliding down to your thighs as his fingers prudently play with the lace of your underwear. “So beautiful…” He murmurs in almost a whisper. “I only have eyes for you, you know that right?” He adds, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, examining him. “I know...” you reply in a soft mumble and his lips quirk up in a lopsided smile.

You glance down his body, and the sight alone has you as weak as water. He pumps himself a few times, eyes still trained on yours. He pulls at the laced material of your panties, prodding his length right under the fabric as he teasingly begins to rub himself against you. You let out a stifled moan, eyebrows creased upwards in simple pleasure. He’s fervent with you, fastening his pace ever so slightly that drives you insane. “So wet f’me, yeah?” he grunts, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

Your soft moans are muffled in between the kiss as his hand that rested on your hip is now gripping your thigh, quickly hooking it over his shoulder. He positions himself at your entrance, gliding himself inside you fervently with your panties now pushed aside. A soft gasp escapes your throat, head already lulled back by how full he’s making you feel once he’s fully inside. After making sure you adjust to him, he begins to set up a slow pace, hovering over your body even closer as this new profound feeling intensifies, hitting you in all the right places.

“So fucking pretty for me, baby… Let me hear you, yeah? Moan f’me…” he praises, and all you could do in response to that is grow louder- despite still being in a semi-public setting. There’s a small chance someone could walk in, or even hear you through the door, but your mind is elsewhere. It’s on him, totally engulfed in pleasure he gives you.

“Taking me so well…” He pants, heaving out breaths as his thrusts start to become rougher, dragging out more moans out of you. “So good for me, aren’t you? Gonna fill you up so well...” He continues, his hands trailing over every inch of your body, fingers lightly pinching at your nipples, eliciting another whimpery moan from your lips.

He continues to thrust into you deliciously, hooking your other leg over his other shoulder, this newfound angle hitting your sweet spot delightfully over and over again. Moans spill out of you in an overwhelming sensation, that’s probably music to his ears by the way he’s thoroughly captivated by you.

His own moans fall from his lips once your hips buck up to match his rhythm of his thrusts. “I’m so close...” you heave out, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He takes this as a sign to fuck you harder. Rougher. Like he wants to break you in half.

He adds his thumb to your sensitive clit, drawing out louder moans, that has no way of becoming less when it’s only pitching up higher in decibels. “You’re so fucking hot, baby…So perfect.” he praises you, totally wrapped up in utter pleasure, the slapping sounds of skin on skin echoing through the room.

“Please…” you plead in a high whimper, not really sure why, but you’re completely overdriven in ecstasy, his thumb on your sensitivity never leaving you which adds to more pleasure, egging you on.

“Yeah, amore mio? Gonna give it to me, aren’t you? Show me… Show me how good I make you feel.” he groans completely out of breath, his chest glistening with his own sweat. He leans down, folding you in half like a damned pretzel, hitting you even deeper than before. He nips on the skin at the crook of your neck, humming against you.

“Making me feel so good…” he murmurs against your skin, his thrusts piercing more moans out of you, knowing how much you enjoy his rough side.

The bubbling feeling inside your lower abdomen intensifies by the minute, exhibiting that you’re nearing the finish line. He knows by your desperate pants and graphic sounds as he strives to get you to the pinnacle point of pleasure, picking up on his thrusts, fucking you harder against the cushions with fervor.

Your brain starts to feel like scrambled eggs, moving from left to right in a stirring pan as his lips finds yours in a sweet quick kiss, pulling away to look at you. His hands grip your waist as tight as ever, definitely leaving a mark behind. His whimpers like a melody you can never get sick of, no matter how many times you’re willing to repeat the same tune.

A few more thrusts in and you hear the familiar ringing in your ears as you near the edge completely, your climax washing over you like a tidal wave. You scream out his name in the process, clenching sweetly around him as he follows right behind you and finishes, trails of curse words falling from his lips in heavy grunts—filling you with his cum.

He unhooks your legs from his shoulders, pulling out of you with a small gasp. He crashes down next to you, heaving out hefty breaths. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, keeping you close to his glistening body. “See? You’re safe with me, just like I told you.” he breathes, letting out a soft chuckle.

You turn your face to look at him, a genuine smile formed on your lips, despite being completely out of breath. “Mmmh, never said you were wrong.”

He chuckles in response, planting a sweet kiss to your temple. “You felt incredible baby, definitely needed this after the show.”

You smile, all the anger and jealousy from before completely wiped off of you. “I always do.” you counter with a smug grin, giving him a bit of a tease.

“A win-win situation for me, eh?” He eyes you, eyebrows raised with a cheeky smile. You laugh, shaking your head. “Definitely.” You agree, a small giggle followed after.

“So… I take it that you’re not mad at me anymore?” He asks, his voice laced in a sincere tone.

You had almost forgotten about how immensely infuriated you were before this happened. “I forgive you.” you murmur, glancing at him.

“I mean it when I told you I only have eyes for you.” he utters, pulling you even closer than before, pecking the top of your head.

This was definitely a way to end the night, after a very small gig took place and how the man of your dreams next to you can have you riled up in anger as well as desire in the span of two seconds. You’re not complaining about it at all. You wouldn’t have him any other way— even if it means all the ups and downs that comes with it.

————

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cottonlemonade · 10 months ago

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How To Comfort People by Tsukishima Kei

word count: 961 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: Tsukishima x chubby!Reader

genre: angsty fluff, rivals to… whatever this is

warnings: horrible social skills

request: small-medium strawberry-passion fruit lemonade with extra ice and a slice of ginger for Tsukishima Kei || angsty-fluff, forced proximity and getting caught in a storm with rival Tsukishima

Tsukishima said Goodbye to the rest of the team and walked down the road alone. The thought of spending a whole bus ride with the others who were still downtrodden from their loss against Aoba Josai was too annoying. Instead he called his older brother to pick him up. Thunder rumbled above and the steely gray sky matched his mood. Tch, it was just a club. No reason to care so much. Hands in his pockets he spotted the small corner shop his brother told him to meet him at. It was still a little ways away but Tsukki didn‘t mind the walk. He kicked a pebble along the path. Then something wet hit his neck and when he looked up, big drops of rain splattered his glasses. Cursing extensively he fell into a jog, his limbs still screaming from the exertion of the match.

He sought shelter at a run down bus stop halfway to the intersection. Still swearing he shook his hair, brushed at his clothes and then took off his glasses, feeling around for a somewhat dry spot on his shirt he could wipe them on.

Once he could see again, he noticed a figure standing with him under the rusty, slightly leaking roof.

The thought that he had seen you before clung to him much like his wet jacket. Then when you nodded and smiled politely he realized that you were that pudgy manager from Aoba Josai. Just his luck. When he decided to simply ignore you until his brother came, the ribbed roof creaked and a small wave of icy rain water splashed into his collar, running down the back of his neck. He gave a decidedly embarrassing shriek and jumped to the side. To add insult to injury he stumbled and bumped into you. Perfect.

Muttering an apology with a small bow he turned to stare stoically out onto the slowly flooding road. After a minute or so he heard you take a deep breath.

“You guys played really well.“, you said, awkwardly holding onto the strap of your bag, “It was pretty impressive seeing so many first years on the starting team.“

Tsukki guessed you meant it as a compliment and he was not about to tell you that it was simply lack of team members that influenced the roster significantly.

In his opinion, it would have been perfectly fine to stand there in silence but his proximity seemed to jump start some kind of rambling in you because now you just wouldn‘t shut up, “I‘m sure you‘ll have better luck next time.“

Tsukki was certain you were just taunting him at this point.

He bit back, “Your oh so „Great King“ is not unbeatable. Everyone has a weakness and next time we‘ll find yours and destroy you.“ Where the hell did that come from? It seemed that the loss did bother him more than he thought. He almost sounded like Hinata.

Even worse, your expression changed from - what he had interpreted as - patronizing to shocked. He pressed his lips together. So what if you had been sincere? He would rather listen to Hinata babble about the Little Giant for two hours than apologize. But then again… you did look genuinely confused and even… hurt (?) at his words.

Long silent seconds dragged on between you two, the downpour on the thin metal roof drumming in his ears. He threw another glance in your direction and a little triceratops figure dangling from your bag caught his eyes. It was the same make as the parasaurolophus he had on his house keys.

Tsukki let out a small breath, then looked around, needlessly making sure that no one would see or hear him and then mumbled “sorry“ being 110% sure that it was entirely drowned out by the heavy drops hitting the metal above.

Lightning flashed across the sky and he saw you flinch and retreat a little into the corner. Great, apparently he was trapped here with a five year old. Thinking of the triceratops he pressed out a rather lukewarm “there there“.

When the thunder clap followed you seemed to shrink even further and Tsukki saw that your hands started to shake.

… What would his brother do if he was here? Akiteru was always the one with the social skills. He would make sure that you were okay and comfort you. Tsukki definitely already did that. And then he would probably prevent you from getting scared again. Resisting the urge to groan loudly at the pathetic display in front of him he reached up and took off the headphones around his neck. You looked up at him with impossibly big eyes when he placed them over your ears. They were top of the line so excellent noise cancelling was a given. Stepping a little to his right, he was now standing directly in front of you - tall enough to block your view of the sky and of the next lightning flashing through the clouds.

Teary eyes aside you were actually not that horrible to look at, he thought. Even… even quite cute, especially with the way his headphones seemed to squish your chubby cheeks together a bit more. Plus there was the triceratops. Always a sign of good taste, really.

A honk behind him ripped Tsukki from his thoughts. Akiteru‘s beat-up car waited in front of the dingy bus stop, engine running.

In one swift motion, Tsukki collected his headphones again and with a curt nod (more towards the key chain than you) he hurried to the passenger side.

His brother offered a sort of happy frown when he closed the door.

“Shouldn‘t I give your friend a ride?“

“No.“

And with that, the brothers drove off, making way for the bus behind them.

✨ @s4lemsstuff ✨ thank you for the request - it was lot of fun to figure out! 😂 hope you like it!

For requests see here

#sunnys lemonade stand #tsukishima kei x chubby reader #tsukishima x chubby reader #tsukki x chubby Reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #hq tsukishima #hq tsukki #haikyuu tsukki #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x curvy reader

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yanverse · 4 months ago

Text

Good Morning - Morgan Lane

plot: morgan doesn't want you to go to work <3

(cws: gn! darling, lazy sex, anal, unprotected, fingering, dirty talk, begging, quickie, lil jealousy factor, slight size difference, established relationship)

word count: 2.1k

It was the sun rays peeking through the curtains that had first woken you up, but the rumbling of Morgan's light snores against your back was the second. He had passed out on top of you, holding you like a teddy bear in his sleep, and although he was soft it didn't mean he wasn't strong enough to keep you there. Morgan had always been a big guy, and without some decent leverage or just a convincing argument for him to let you up, you'd watch the minutes on the alarm clock pass by on his bedside until you were late.

“Gotta go to work, baby.” You tried to wiggle out from under him, but Morgan's hefty frame kept you pinned, as did his thick arms around your waist. He whined and mumbled something incoherent into your hair, though it was clear enough that he wasn't intent on letting you leave the bed. “Morgan, c'mon. Can't be late again.”

“Yes you can.” He huffed softly into your ear as he shifted around, finally pulling his head up to reach it so you could hear his sweet, hoarse voice, and feel his chapped lips press kisses to your jaw. You both were a bit raspy from the night before, but from the way your boyfriend had exerted himself he was a lot worse off than you were. Your scalp was sore, your back ached, but aside from that and a smattering of bruises all across your body you at least had some energy to spare. Morgan might as well have been dead weight on top of you–well, except for one not-so-small part that was a bit more excited.

“Morgan.” You warned with a stern tone. He rubbed lazy circles into your hip, the spot where your underwear didn't quite reach and it was just bare, smooth skin.

“‘m not doing anything.” He shifted his hips, but the distinct stiffness digging into your thigh didn't let up. It only moved to align more with your cheeks as he ground it gently against you.

“Yes you are.”

“No ‘m not.”

“Yes you are, Morgan Lane.”

“Can't help it.” Morgan finally moaned, his breath a flutter of air as his hips stuttered. As much as you used it to be firm with him, you knew good and well how much he liked it when you pulled out the “government name” as he called it. Probably just because he really liked bugging you. “Feels so nice…I bet you look so pretty.”

“I need to go to work.”

“Work can go to hell,” He panted, moving up all of a sudden to sit up on his knees. “I'm sick of missing time with you.” The calluses on his huge, warm hands rubbed against your skin as he lifted your shirt up, and squeezed soft handfuls of your ass in his palms as he started playing with it. Your butt had such a hold on him that it drove you crazy, you'd rarely seen such an ass man in your life–although maybe that was in part because he had to feel it to see it, or maybe just because your boyfriend was a deplorable freak in bed.

“Morgan-”

“Pleeeease,” He begged selfishly. “Please, baby, I'll be so good if you give it to me. Promise! I want you so bad…I can't survive the day without a part of you with me..” He put on that false, whiney tone while his whimpers hit your ears like a weak spot and the low, soft rasp of his voice sent tingles down your spine. Morgan knew exactly what he was doing as he groped you, there was no playing innocent with him.

You felt him tug on the waist of your underwear–not enough to yank it down, just to plead silently with you for permission–and just like you always ended up doing, you let out a sigh and a “be quick, then” and he grinned into a kiss on the back of your neck.

“Ultra-speed service, I promise.” He chuckled, tugging the fabric down to your knees.

“That's not something to brag about.” You rolled your eyes, but Morgan had his tongue on your thigh in seconds and you just sort of forgot about it. He liked the tease of inching up closer and closer to your sex, sometimes he'd start at your knees or he'd even kiss his way up from your calves if he had the time. This morning it was quick though, and he spread your cheeks apart with little ceremony as he sucked his two fingers into his mouth. Slowly, he eased the tips of them against your tight rim, but chuckled hoarsely when he felt them wiggle in with more immediate acceptance than he anticipated.

“You like it, huh?”

“Don't start.” You warned, but your tone was undeniably cheeky. You could only hide your small, prideful smile by burying your face in his pillow.

Morgan inched his fingers deeper, taking time not to strain you but keeping a steady pace to make sure he didn't make you too late. You'd already be limping into work anyways with how hard his cock was as it stirred in his boxers.

“Always knew you were fuckin’ dirty.” He murmured under his breath, and when he took that tone with you your legs buckled and started shaking with the intensity of your moans. Morgan liked talking dirty but he always had some anxiety that you didn't, so it was rare that he'd let it go completely and just say whatever came to mind. But he had no idea just how hot it was and how good he was at it, especially with his voice all low and raspy from a night of sleep. God knows how you did any work around him when he was sick. “You like it back here, huh? You like getting your ass played with?”

“Morgan-” You cried out, but only finished with a squeal as he brought his palm down on your behind. He could leave welts if he really tried, but usually some swelling and a bit of soreness was the norm. If you were good, that was.

“Want your coworkers to find out you like this?” He muttered as he straddled himself over you, your thighs pinned to the bed as you listened to the shlick of him freeing his cock and stroking it into readiness. He spit into his palm to work some slickness into it, but obviously realized that wasn't enough as you caught his hand in your peripheral reaching to the nightstand to crack open your bottle of lube. A bit of patting around led him right to it. “Bet they'd think you're a whore. Wouldn't they?” You listened to the squirt of fluid splashing into his hand. With your nails digging into the sheets and gripping them shakily, you nodded into the pillow.

“Good.” He huffed, guiding his sticky, slick tip between your cheeks to nestle in against that tight, rough spot. “Then they'll know I fuck you too good to take you away from me.”

“Morgan–nngh-!” A squeal erupted from your lips, not quite caught by your hands as you clapped them over your mouth, as the bed suddenly dipped and pressure spread you open in an instant. Morgan gasped himself as he slid in too quickly and paused with just the tip inside, his hands planted on either side of your head to grip the sheets in earnest.

“Oh my god, oh my…fffuuck sorry, shit, didn’ mean to–” Your walls pulsed around him and he froze, but his lungs seized to push out an airy moan that was so high you weren't sure he could ever copy it. “Ooohh, honey, are you looking at me? No, right?” He gasped out like he'd just been holding his breath. His hand slid over to thread through your hair, and he felt you shake your head with your face in the pillows. “Mmnh…okay, I got a good picture in my head. Jesus-” Morgan thrusted forwards, burying himself entirely in that impossibly tight space, and his grip on your hair jolted pain through you as he yanked it back. “-fucking christ! Shh-hit-”

It wasn't abnormal for Morgan to get a little lost in the thick of it when he was getting off, but things only grew more intense the longer you spent together. Somehow the honeymoon phase wasn't just a phase, but more like a transitional period; with every mundane effort Morgan got more sensitive to you, he liked you more, he was satisfied easier. You weren't sure what it was about him or you or both of you as a couple, but it seemed like every time you came together your boyfriend grew more attached to you. In fact, it felt like he nearly wanted to be a part of you–especially once he hit a good rhythm, and bucked his hips down with the aim of getting as deep into you as he could possibly manage.

“Feel it in your belly? Yeah?” He moaned from behind, lips flush to the back of your neck. “Ohhh, fuck, fuck–”

“M-Morgan-!” You spluttered out, having finally found your voice. You hissed at him to quiet down, to not wake up your neighbours so early in the morning, but he only bit down on your shoulder and his cries still thrummed muffledly throughout the apartment. You'd just have to accept your fate at this point. Morgan snaked a hand around your waist and pressed his huge, warm palm to your belly. The sensation of him sheathed inside you, whether imagined or really felt, had his hips pinned to your backside as he barely pulled back out to thrust. Every shlick, shluck, shluck vibrated through your body as he let your sweet walls suck him in closer.

His fingertips grazed your scalp to remind you he was there, to ensure his grip on you wasn't forgotten as he rutted against you with moans wasted against your skin. I love you, I love you, I love you. Those words would be his if his teeth weren't sunk into your flesh as he grunted them, humping feverishly to claim that end he wanted so badly. Morgan pitched you forward further into the blankets, weight pinning you completely under him; and with your nails dug into the crisp sheets you'd just washed this week, you felt a cord inside you snap with need that awashed you, suddenly, with an all-encompassing sense of bliss to block out the ache of Morgan's depth. He shuddered, stilled, and your woeful spasming rendered him utterly speechless–he stiffened and blew out each burst of love he'd kept locked up, and only as he did so did he finally melt into your sweat-soaked back like his bones had turned to jelly. His teeth finally unlatched as he shivered out a deep sigh, a kiss placed to your broken skin before he laid his cheek to your spine and puffed out each low, laborious breath in time with your heartbeat.

As the peace slowly returned, your high coming down with relative ease, you shifted slightly only to feel a dribble of hot, sticky warmth pulse downwards. Like glue, it stuck the two of you together, but you nudged at Morgan to move himself apart so you could clean up from the aftermath. For once, he agreed without complaint and slid off of your tired body to roll over on his back beside you. The expression on his face could be described as nothing less than complete, serene bliss as he caught his breath, one of those huge hands perched on his chest.

“See?” He panted, eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling. “Super…fast.”

“You made a mess,” You hushed dryly, slipping out of his loose grip on your thigh to head into his bathroom. You wobbled, caught yourself on the nightstand, and although he called out in worry if you were okay, you certainly were. A bit of stumbling was nothing new when Morgan and the bedroom were involved. “I'm taking a shower.”

“Me too?” His face lit up, he heaved himself up on one elbow to face the bathroom door, and before you could stop him with an absolutely not, you mongrel he was already feeling his way along the wall to slip inside. Joining you would almost certainly lead to something even messier, but…it was Morgan. That boyish charm, messy curls, bright, freckled smile as he patted your face and lifted it up to kiss it–the soft rasp of his voice as he let you know how good you were, how nice you felt, how beautiful he knew you were, the hand on your lower back as he steadied you and nudged the dial to spray a hail of fresh, warm water to soothe your aches…and how could you ever, ever say no to that?

#morgan lane #morgan lane x reader #morgan x reader #yanverse #spicy writing #yandere ocs #ellie writes #2k

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ivystoryweaver · 2 years ago

Text

With You part 13

prev next || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Who left you that note on the counter? (It was Marc)

Pairings: Marc Spector x gn!reader, (Steven Grant x gn!reader, Jake Lockley x gn!reader) No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.4k

Content: angst, sprinkle of fluff (more under the cut)

Warnings: like a lot of cursing, spiciest chapter to date, nsfw tho the language is still gn and not overly explicit but you have been warned. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

The three of you agreed that Marc just needed some time. As always, you decided not to take it personally. This was about him.

You beat Steven home again the following evening, and this time, waiting on the kitchen counter, was an envelope bearing your name.

'On the roof -M'

Just that little scribble - Marc's handwriting, that he'd taken the time to put into an envelope for you - had you gasping for air.

You bolted for the stairwell, clad in your scrubs and in no mood to wait the brief eternity for the lift. Taking the stairs two at a time, you heaved yourself breathlessly through the rooftop door, gasping out his name.

"Marc!?"

Your husband wasn't exactly the film-style, run-and-jump-hug kind of man, so you were going to have to work very hard not to tackle him.

"Marc? It's me!" you panted, more from the anticipation than from exertion.

Unable to locate him in his usual spot, you peered over the building's edge, down to the city below - in case he was hanging there like Spider-Man?

Dumb.

Scurrying around the rooftop, you checked behind cooling towers and anything else obstructing your view.

No Marc.

Cursing under your breath, you dialed his phone, hoping maybe you missed him somehow, but knowing full well that the roof of your building wasn't that big.

No answer.

So back down you went. Maybe he wasn't fronting anymore. Sometimes it happened, whether one of them wanted it to or not. Couldn't really blame him if that were the case.

That didn't stop you from ringing his mobile again as you raced back down the stairs, narrowly missing a dangerously close face-plant situation once arriving at your floor.

"Marc!" You cried, bursting back into your flat. Releasing a shuddering sigh, your eyes burned with the beginnings of frustrated tears.

Right then, he emerged from the bathroom, soaking wet, dark ringlets dripping down his cheeks, with a white towel tucked snugly around his hips.

"I'm here," he softly responded, approaching you slowly, stopping before even reaching arm's length. Realizing you were in some sort of distress, he withdrew, almost imperceptibly.

"M-Marc," you stuttered out, unable to believe it as actually him. And not just him - who you had missed terribly for two weeks - he was soaking wet and half naked.

Swallowing hard, he pushed his fingers through his drenched curls, sprinkling the floor with water droplets and creating one hell of a sexy mess.

He figured you must be really upset with him for being gone so long.

Neither of you moved. You just stood, staring, your chest heaving with emotion as Marc wilted, drawing in on himself.

Steven would probably be here soon. You had to do something. Anything!

"I-I saw your note," you blurted. "I ran upstairs to look for you. I- "

"Shit. I left the note earlier, in case..." Figures he would have sent you up to the roof on a wild goose chase. No wonder you were keeping your distance. The quick note had replaced a long letter he had composed for you. Something to try to explain. But he tore the letter up and replaced it with the rooftop note, because the letter was utterly inadequate.

Head dropping in shame, Marc's fists clenched by his sides. "I'm sorry," he choked out.

You had to try anything. Inching forward, you moved carefully, afraid of scaring off the elusive creature he'd become these past weeks.

Stretching your fingers out slowly, you made sure he could see your incoming touch with his eyes - then asked for verbal permission before you made contact.

"Baby...is this okay?" One fingertip grazed his knuckle like a whisper.

Realizing you were here, right in front of him - touching him - soothed his fears almost instantly.

Exhaling shakily, he stared at the floor, even as he pushed his fingers up to meet your palm. With the faintest caress, you traced the length of his fingers, slowly pushing your own in between each one until your hands intertwined.

"Marc...please - I need..." Chomping down on your tongue, you called upon every restraining force in your body to keep from pushing him away.

"What?" He whispered - wide, brown eyes flickering briefly up to yours. Water droplets made his impossibly long lashes glisten. He must have quite literally run from the shower. "What do you need?"

Tugging on your intertwined fingers, he pulled you close enough to feel the steamy humidity of his solid chest.

Feeling your shaking puffs of breath cool his heated skin, he wilted inside as you squeezed your eyes shut.

"I...is it okay if I hug you?" Your body twitched with nervous energy, your glassy eyes finally locking with his.

In them, he saw raw truth. He saw you. You weren't angry with him - you were something else. Maybe you needed him to touch you, but you wouldn't violate his safety to get what you wanted. Never. The restraint you were showing him was burning you alive.

'I'll burn down the whole world first.'

Your promise to never leave him flooded back to his memory, propelling him to dip his knees and scoop you up into his arms.

"I'll get you all wet," he murmured, even while nuzzling his sopping curls against your cheek.

"Then get me wet," you groaned, fingers clawing at his shoulders, hauling him into your embrace. "Please just...stay. Just a little longer, Marc, please."

Lips parted, you mouthed the damp skin of his cheek before pressing a kiss there.

Relief surged through him, simultaneously weakening his grip on you while fortifying his desire to stay here with you.

Feeling his hold on you loosen, you cursed yourself internally, face flaming as tears burned your eyes. It must be too much for him - the frantic searching, calling out for him - the pleas to stay and now, a soft kiss to his warm skin.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, releasing him. It hurt so badly, you could barely stand.

Playing the last 30 seconds over in his mind, Marc frantically attempted to figure out what he did wrong. What else he did wrong... You let go of him...although you apologized. For what?

"For what?" He uttered, reaching out for your arms, his fingertips electrifying your skin.

Ducking down again, his heart shattered at the sight of your tears. When would he ever stop fucking up your life?

As your gazes locked, he brushed his knuckles tenderly across your cheek. "I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I missed you," you whispered, nuzzling into his touch. "Did you get my letter?"

Nodding, he dragged his fingers down the side of your neck to grasp your shoulder. "I'm sorry I did that to you, honey. I didn't mean to be gone so long. I was so tired..."

"It's okay, baby, that's why you have Steven and Jake," you attempted, your hands twitching with the pulsing need to touch him again. Touch him more.

Right. Jake.

The one Khonshu wanted. The one you wanted. The one who was now here with you, living life with you, moving his clothes into the closet, showing you who he was.

The preferred one. Giving you the love you deserved, along with Steven - so alive, full of hope. Steven was the glue in this whole thing, as much as you were. Without Steven, Marc wondered if he might somehow slip away into the recesses of his own mind, leaving your heart in more capable hands.

Moon Knight was certainly in far more capable hands.

"It shouldn't be okay," he sighed, his skin crawling uncomfortably. "It's not okay for your husband to leave you without telling you." Shaking his head, his arms dropped heavily down to his sides. "But I guess it was okay to you because you have Jake now."

Ouch.

Your lip trembled - he'd pulled away from you again. "I...I haven't had chance to talk to you, like I promised I would - about Jake." What the hell? You didn't want to talk about Jake right now, you wanted to see and feel and love Marc!

"A-are you mad at me?" You whimpered, trying to find your footing in this conversation.

"Mad at you?" He gasped in disbelief as his hands found his hips. "You're the one who should be mad. You shouldn't have to fucking live like this." Shifting from foot to foot, he grew restless, like he wanted to claw his way out of his own skin. Or have a drink. Fuck.

Blowing out a long breath, you tried to steady yourself. If you hurt his feelings, oh well. If he withdrew into his mind and you didn't see him for another couple weeks, so be it. You thrived on honesty and communication. The real. No more tiptoeing.

"Marc, I don't need for you to tell me how I should have to live. I can decide the life I want to have," you calmly explained, relaxing your body and boldly holding his gaze. "I'm not mad that you're a system or that you're going through something new or hard for you."

"I know you're not mad," he muttered. "You never are. Because I can't disappoint you or hurt you if you expect nothing from me."

He may as well have thrown ice cold water in your face and then slapped you.

But he wasn't done.

"Why do you want to be on this merry-go-round...roundabout?" He added the less American term. "My drinking, my fucking panic attacks, nightmares - all my shit," he spat, his chest heaving. "I asked myself how anyone could put up with this, or would even want to, and the answer is...obvious."

Pushing a hand back through his damp waves, he re-stated his worst fear. Something he found himself finally able to voice out loud, after two weeks in the headspace.

His dramatic pause was long enough that you cleared your throat and prompted him to go on. He may as well get all this off his chest, even if it destroyed you. "What answer is obvious?"

Daring to meet your eyes, he could see, in real time, how much he was fucking up. But it was like a plane crashing - he couldn't stop the descent.

"The answer is Steven," he rasped, his voice hoarse - thick with emotion. "You don't expect anything from me because Steven is so good to you. He's so good at everything. And now Jake..." his voice trailed off as his dark eyes clouded with moisture. "Jake stepped right into my shoes - with you, with Khonshu. I don't do anything. I don't give you anything. But you're a good person and you love me anyway. Believe, me, I could not be more grateful for that. Or any less deserving."

You were crying now - heavy, wet tears streaking your beautiful cheeks as you sank to the floor. He had actually done it. He had rendered even you speechless.

Without another word, he walked back into the bathroom and shut the door.

God, how every word out of his mouth cut you so deep. You could cry for a week, but where would that get you? He thought Jake had taken his place? If he wanted a taste of the shit you and Jake gave each other, he could have it. But no way would you spend another instant on this floor, no matter how your gut twisted with pain.

Racing over to the bathroom door, you pounded. "Marc, open the door!" You shouted, wincing as you realized this was probably the opposite of what he needed. Lowering your voice, you announced that you were coming in.

Marc was naked.

His towel was hanging up in its usual place and he was reaching for the underwear lying on the countertop.

Why was he getting dressed in the bathroom if you were married?

Whatever. Didn't matter. Fuck him.

"You don't need those," you said sharply, yanking the boxer briefs out of his grasp and tossing them aside. Pushing your fingers over the soft flesh of his abdomen, up onto his chest, your nails scraped his damp skin. "You think I don't need you, Marc?"

Gripping his face in your hands, you lifted up on your toes, crushing your mouth against his.

He was stunned for a moment, but slowly melted into your kiss as you slid your tongue over his demandingly.

His hands found your hips, gripping them tightly before yanking you hard against his chest. The two of you stumbled backwards, breaking your kiss and sending you crashing into him.

Reaching for his muscular arms to steady yourself, you panted, desperate for him in every possible way. That's when your eyes traveled down to plainly see that he wanted you too.

Jerking your scrubs off your body, Marc quickly joined you in yanking and pulling until you were as bare as he was. Between every movement, your lips chased one another's, licking and tasting - connecting at every possible point, until he pushed you up against the door.

The fire in your eyes had him weak for you.

You surprised him by returning to a deeper topic even as your bare bodies pushed and pulled against the other. "You treat my love and compassion as indifference? Fuck you."

He stilled for a moment, but you gripped his length firmly in your palm, tugging and making him groan.

"You think I should be mad?" You spat, working him roughly. "Congratulations. I am."

"Baby," he panted, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as his body submitted to your demanding touch.

"You think Jake took your place, here, with me?" You growled on his ear, biting his earlobe and tugging it between your lips. "Fuck you both. Nothing is taking you away from me."

Groaning your name, Marc's hips stuttered against your hand as his forehead dropped to your shoulder.

"You think I don't expect anything from you?" Yanking on his wet curls, you jerked his head back so you could see his face. "I really fucking do." Using your grip on his length, you guided him to where you really wanted to feel him.

"You think you don't give me anything?" You whined, as he entered you, your body shuddering with pleasure as he groaned on your ear. "You've given me everything." Moving on him slowly, you moaned as he pinned you against the bathroom door. "Give it to me, Marc."

"Fuck...baby..." he gasped, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

He couldn't help himself - after deep, frantic thrusts over and over - he finished before you, whimpering and desperate.

Good. You had him right where you wanted him. Vulnerable and sated. Or at least slightly relieved, maybe.

Yanking the towel off the rack, you handed it to him so he could clean up a little bit. "Go lie down on the bed," you ordered, your eyes dark and unreadable.

Swallowing, Marc nodded once and complied. As soon as he left the bathroom, you stared at yourself in the mirror, exhaling shakily. What just transpired between the two of you felt really fucking good, but it was more than sex. You were doing battle. And Marc wasn't getting out of your bed until he understood a few things.

Moments later, you climbed on top of your husband in bed, salaciously kissing him, draping your body over his.

"I want you to do something for me," you murmured after a long while, as both of your bodies stirred with new desire.

"Anything," he whispered, his hands finding their way between your legs.

Gasping as he teased you, you reveled in his touch, forgetting to finish your thought.

"What can I do, baby?" Marc hummed against your skin. Being needed by you? He lived for it.

You kissed him again, your body writhing under his caress. "I want you to stop deciding how I feel."

"O-okay," he groaned as your breath tickled his lips.

"I'm serious," you went on, forcing him still - waiting for him to look at you. "If I'm mad, I'll be mad. If I'm patient and understanding, you can't tell me to be angry."

He was trying to listen, but he really wanted you again. "Uh-huh," he ground out, thrusting upward, hoping...

"You see this?" Showing him your wedding band, you pushed your fingers through his. "You remember the vows I made?"

"Yes," he panted, desperate for you, wishing you would touch him back. "Please, honey..."

"I know," you cooed, kissing him again. His mouth, his cheek, his eyebrow. "Who did I make vows to?"

His eyes locked onto you and he melted. "Me."

"That's right," you smiled gently down at him. "So stop with all the bullshit you keep telling yourself. And stop telling me how I feel."

Feeling a little relief in the air, Marc sat up and kissed you urgently. "So damn bossy." He said this while continuing to stroke and caress you.

"You were being an asshole," you half teased, shivering as he grazed a particularly sensitive spot. "I definitely prefer your usual method of stress relief."

His eyebrows shot up playfully as he slowly removed his hand, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. "Is that right?"

The air between you crackled with electricity as you waited...

Wetting your lips, your eyes traveled down from his warm gaze, over his sharp nose to the fullness of his parted lips. The strong line of his jaw twitched with anticipation and that wasn't the only thing that twitched under the heat of your stare.

He pounced, rolling you underneath him, face down, nuzzling into your neck as his body smothered yours. "Are you sure, baby?" He growled, licking a stripe up the side of your neck while dragging his palms up your bare thighs. "Because I need a lot of relief."

With that warning, he pushed his way inside you, groaning on your ear. His strong hand slid around your abdomen, pulling your body against his as you began moving together. "I am sorry," he breathed.

"Shut up," you gasped as the hand on your abdomen traveled down between your legs.

You and Marc stayed in bed for hours, relieving a lot of stress. He had to re-visit the shower, not that you were complaining. The two of you did finally make your way to the rooftop, after the moon shone in the dark sky.

Wrapping his arms around you from behind, Marc nuzzled your cheek with his nose. "Can I ask you something? About your letter?"

"'Course," you murmured, tracing his forearm with your fingertips.

"What did you mean when you said I was the real Moon Knight?"

You thought for a moment, thinking back through the composition of your letter to him.

"Well...I mean - when Khonshu found you - or you found him, rather - he was in search of an avatar. The only reason he still has one is because you said yes. You're still the real Moon Knight," you explained. "I'm not saying you have to be him if you don't want to be. But if Khonshu wants Jake, he should be grateful to you. Otherwise, he might still be searching for an avatar."

"I guess so," he mumbled with a sigh. "Still prefers Jake though."

"For being a deity, he is dumb as a fucking rock sometimes," you sarcastically remarked. "I know you and Jake are different, but he may have noticed you share a body. If he needs Jake, he needs you. He needs Steven."

Marc was quiet for a few minutes, but it was a calm quiet, rather than the tension from earlier.

"I don't know, babe, I...I just can't seem to find my place in all this lately. And, believe me, I know how that sounds - a new husband, saying shit like that. It's not right."

"Sweetheart, you feel how you feel," you softly responded, resting your head against the solid warmth of his chest behind you. "You don't always have to make a judgment on that. You're too hard on yourself."

"That's what Steven says," he lightly chuckled. "You're much too hard on y'self, mate."

His terrible impression of his alter made you giggle.

"Well, you know he's right," you replied, "And - the other day, Steven told me I'm always right, so...I think you should really listen to us."

"Yeah..."

You hadn't noticed at first but the two of you had started to gently sway to the muffled tune drifting out a neighbor's open window. Something from the 1970s...American.

"Can I ask you something?" You echoed his question.

"Mm-hmm," he mumbled into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer.

"Do you want to be Moon Knight?"

He didn't answer for a while. And that pretty much told you everything you needed to know.

next->

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