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â itâs the little things â
Warnings: fluff, some angst
Summary: Thereâs some harder questions to answer about Jason.
Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader
A/N: An idea that popped up when I couldnât answer a nieceâs question about her fatherâs job (heâs a firefighter). Enjoy!
"Momma, why doesn't daddy smile a lot?" He looked up at you, his young face serious, as if pondering some profound thought.
Six year old Owen was sitting at the dining table, a picture book sprawled open in front of him. While he often asked about Jasonâs âworkâ, this time his questioning took a different turn.
You looked at him, your movements slowing down as you mulled over your answer. âHe does, baby. He smiles when you play with him, remember?â You turned the tap on, washing off the soap on the plate.
Owen shrugged, his young mind processing the answer, his fingers idly tracing the pictures in the open book.
âBut it's not like yours,â he pointed out. The pure innocence and simplicity of his remark struck at your heart. He looked back up at you, his eyes curious and childlike. âWhy aren't his smiles like yours? You smile a lot.â
You tilted your head a bit. âWanna explain a bit?â You asked gently, trying to both pry into his question and buy yourself time to find a good answer for him.
Owen thought for a moment, his young mind struggling to put his thoughts into words. He was quiet as he looked at the picture book, then back at you.
He finally spoke, his voice filled with innocence and curiosity. âDaddy's smiles are different. They're small and quick, like he's not really happy.â
He paused, his little brow furrowing as he continued. âYour smiles are big and warm. It's like you're really, really happy,â he added with lilt in his tone as if he thought it was his fault somehow.
You hummed in a contemplative manner. âI guess he does do those quick smiles, doesnât he?â You were still stalling. You knew Owen had questions about his father, but you didnât think youâd get this question while Jason was out for evening patrol.
You turned off the tap. Owen nodded, his gaze still fixed on you.
âYeah... and he doesn't laugh often either, like you do when you watch funny movies.â His small lips pursing as if in thought. âWhy is that, momma? Why does daddy laugh and smile less than you do?â
You started drying the dishes, thinking over your answer before you said something that wouldnât make sense to a six year old. âHeâs⌠not unhappy, Owen. Heâs justâŚâ you trailed off, searching for the right words.
You found it hard to find the right words to explain the complexity of Jasonâs emotional state to an innocent and curious child.
âJustâŚ?â Owen prompted, his young eyes fixed on you, silently urging you to continue.
You looked down at the dishes for a moment, prolonging your next words. âYou know how he tells you about those adventures he goes on during work?â You breathed in deeply as Owenâs eyes lit up.
Owen nodded, his interest piqued. âYeah, the ones where he's a super cool hero who beats up the bad guys.â
You hummed in agreement. âSometimes, thereâs bad people who hurt good people,â you started slowly, watching his reaction to your carefully crafted words. âAnd sometimes, your daddy canât help all of them get better.â
Owen's expression turned pensive, his young mind trying to grasp the concept. His little fingers traced the same picture in the open book, as if trying to make sense of the world.
He looked back up at you, his voice soft. âWhy can't daddy help them all get better, momma?â
âBecause he canât be everywhere all at once, right?â You put away the last plate and wiped your hands on a towel before sitting down on the kitchen island stool beside Owen.
Owen nodded, his young mind slowly processing your words. He was quiet for a moment, his gaze again fixed on the picture book in front of him.
Then, looking up at you, he spoke, his voice soft and a hint of concern in his eyes. "Does that make daddy sad? That he can't help everybody?"
You nodded. âIt does, baby,â you confirmed with a gentle yet sad smile. âIt makes him sad, but then he comes home to us and we make him feel better.â You raked a hand through his dark hair gently.
Owen's face softened at your touch, leaning slightly into your hand. He looked up at you, his eyes now filled with a mixture of understanding and love.
He nodded silently, his tiny hand reaching out to hold yours for a moment. The weight of your words seemed to sink in, his young mind grappling with the reality of his father's job and the complicated emotions it brought about.
âYour mommaâs right,â Jasonâs voice came from behind. Both you and Owen looked over to the doorway to see Jason standing there, leaning against the doorframe, his tired eyes observing the two of you.
Owen brightened visibly at the sight of his father, his usual energetic self returning momentarily. âDaddy! You're home early!â
Jason pushed off the doorframe and approached you both, his weariness momentarily replaced by a hint of warmth as he looked at Owen. He spoke, his rough voice slightly hoarse. âYeah, buddy. Patrol wrapped up a bit earlier than expected.â
His eyes darted to you for a brief moment, eyes conveying his appreciation for your way of explaining his feelings in a way he couldnât himself comprehend.
âYou kicked some bad guys' butts, right, daddy?âOwen smiled widely, his innocent excitement at seeing his father evident. He looked up at Jason with a sense of admiration that only a child could feel.
Jason grinned, albeit a bit strained. He ruffled Owenâs hair. âHeck yeah, I did.â
#jason todd x reader#jason todd/reader#jason todd fluff#jason todd angst#jason todd x fem!reader#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x female reader#jason todd x female reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#red hood x you#red hood x reader#dad!jason todd#dc fanfics#dc red hood#jason todd dc#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic#jason todd#dc x y/n#dc x you#dc x reader#red hood#red hood fanfiction
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plot ââ tasked with interviewing actor drew starkey about his latest movie, you unintentionally steal the spotlight, leaving him blushing and lost for words under your mesmerizing gaze.
content ââ reader being toooo pretty that drew is just like woah, drew being so observant ugh love him, reader not even trying to get his attention at all but ure just so alluring to him
authors note ââ yea FUCK my series even tho i made that poll tbh im just so unmotivated. i saw this pic of drew n had some ideas for this lil oneshot of reader interviewing him post-premiere or something and him literally falling in love n reader noticing the little things n he becomes soheart eyes for u omg
you were a little nervous, to say the least. it was supposed to be a one-on-one interview, which somehow felt more intense than group ones with an entire cast. at least in those, the attention wasnât entirely on you. but now? now it was just you and drew starkey, a handful of questions, and an awkwardly large camera crew standing just out of frame, watching everything. no pressure, right?
your boss had insisted that this interview focus on drewâs performance in his latest film. fair enough, but it also meant no backupâno costar to bounce off of or share the spotlight. it felt intimate in a way you werenât entirely comfortable with, no matter how many times youâd done this. at the end of the day, it was just you sitting across from a celebrity while everyone else quietly judged your ability to hold a conversation.
you had almost turned this job down when you first started, not because of the nerves (though there were plenty) but because of the sheer vulnerability of it. still, the exposure wasnât bad, and the paycheck? even better.
as you stepped into the room, clipboard in hand, the tension in your chest tightened just a bit. drew starkey, an actor you were only somewhat familiar with, sat casually in his chair. outer banks, hellraiser, the other zoeyâyouâd done your homework, skimming through his projects like your career depended on it. because, well, it kind of did. and he was . . . well, better looking in person, if that was even possible. the kind of face that made you forget you had questions to ask in the first place.
meanwhile, drew had been at this for hours. interviews were basically part of the job, but after a while, they all blended together. same questions, same conversations, just with different faces. he was tired but not miserable, holding onto the thought of dinner plans with some friends later that night.
interviews werenât badâhe liked the connection when it happened, like the guy he was first interviewed by had laughed when he cracked a jokeâbut there was only so much charm drew could muster after a full day of talking about himself and the same film.
when you walked into the room, he barely glanced up at first. another assistant, probably, or someone from the crew running around to keep things moving. he didnât pay much attention until you stopped right in front of him, introducing yourself and the network you worked for, arm extended for a handshake.
his gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, he forgot how to move, but he pulled himself together quickly, or at least he hoped it looked that way. he shook your hand, smiling the kind of easy, practiced smile heâd perfected over the years, but there was something a little shaky in his voice when he said, ânice to meet you.â
he sat back down, reminding himself to focus. you were a professional. he was a professional. this was just another interview. but it was hard to ignore the way his heart picked up every time you looked at him like thatâfocused, curious, maybe even a little nervous yourself. he wasnât sure what it was about you, but for the first time that day, he couldnât wait for the next question.
his hand went to his earlobe almost instinctively, a nervous habit he hadnât really noticed until now. yeah, you were . . . stunning, in the kind of way that made him feel like he should stand up straighter or check his hair. if someone had told him you were a celebrity, he wouldnât have questioned it. but the fact that you were here to interview him? that just felt unfair.
but the interview was smooth, the kind heâd done a hundred times before. the questions were predictable again, circling around the same themes: his character, the challenges of filming, the energy on set. drew answered easily, slipping into that familiar rhythm, but every so often, his focus waveredânot on the questions, but on you.
you glanced down at your list, scanning it for the next prompt, and then back up at him with those eyes. god, those eyes. drew swore they could make anyone feel like they were the only person in the room, even though he knew there were at least ten crew members just beyond the cameras.
he noticed it, thoughâhow bored you seemed, even if you were too professional to let it show. your smile was polite, your tone unwavering, but every now and then, you hesitated just slightly before asking him a question, like you were already tired of the script youâd been given.
and then there was him, barely able to hold eye contact. it was almost embarrassing when he caught himself smiling at you, just a small, almost shy curve of his lips, but it was enough for you to pause, tilting your head slightly as if you were studying him.
"are you okay?" you asked softly, your own lips quirking into a smile that practically knocked the wind out of him.
it was such a simple exchange, but drew could feel the heat creeping up his neck. âyeah. yeah, iâm . . . awesome,â he managed, clearing his throat and looking away for half a second before his eyes found their way back to yours. he had to play it off, had to stay professional, but the way you smiled back at him, like his answer had made your day a little brighter? it felt like a win. still, he reminded himself: there was only so much time left. you were on a clock, and he couldnât afford to waste it, even if you made it almost too easy to get distracted.
you just laughed, accepting his answer, but the moment lingered. your smile lingered. and the questions rolled on, one after another. nothing groundbreaking, but you kept it light, adding just enough to make it feel like a conversation. drew appreciated that. but eventually, after a particularly shared laughâhe couldnât even remember what the joke had beenâhe leaned in slightly, his voice carrying a hint of playful curiosity.
âokay, so what did you think about the movie?â he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. it caught you off guard; he could tell by the way your posture shifted, your pen stilling over your notes.
and then you started talking.
at first, it was simpleâa few observations, some praise for the direction, the performances. but the more you went on, the more animated you became, your voice lifting slightly, your words flowing effortlessly. you dove deep, unraveling moments and emotions from the film like youâd been holding them in since the premiere. drew leaned back, one hand resting against his chin as he watched you, utterly mesmerized.
you talked about the subtlety of his character, how his guarded exterior felt like a shield hiding something raw and vulnerable. you mentioned the tension between the charactersâthe way their connection felt like a push-and-pull dance neither could fully commit to but couldnât walk away from either. you dissected the music, the cinematography, how it all wove together like a symphony of yearning and restraint.
and the way you talked about his performance . . .
you didnât gush, which he appreciated, but your words were thoughtful, specific. you spoke about his quiet expressions, the way he held so much in his body languageâthe hesitation in his glances, the way his character seemed to pull back just when you thought heâd lean in. it was like youâd been watching with a magnifying glass, picking apart moments even he hadnât considered.
he couldnât stop himself from grinning. not just because you liked the movie, though that didnât hurt, but because it was you. you, sitting across from him, completely unaware of how captivating you looked while tearing apart his work in the best possible way. if someone had asked him to focus on anything other than the way you gestured, your fingers brushing lightly against the edge of your clipboard, or the way your lips curved when you spoke, he wouldâve failed miserably.
drew just sat there, watching you, and he couldnât help but smile. you werenât just prettyâyou were sharp, insightful, and clearly so much more than the routine questions your clipboard suggested.
âyouâre good at this,â he said when you finally paused for a breath, and he meant it. but he couldnât help the slight teasing edge in his tone, the way his smile softened just a little as his eyes met yours again.
#drew#drew starkey#drew starkey x you#drew starkey smut#drew starkey blurb#drew starkey fic#drew starkey fanfic#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey imagine#drew x you#drew blurb#drew smut#drew fic#drew imagine#drew fanfic#drew fanfiction
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This Week in BL - Why so much on right now?
Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.
NOV 2024 Week 4
Ongoing Series - Thai
Your Sky (Sun iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 - Classic old school Thai BL. Of course I love it. NaĂŻve sunshine freshman vs strict older protective boy (who already likes him but refuses to show it). Is he grumpy or just gay and tired of all of these women? We donât know. We donât care. We just want to see them fake a relationship. And thatâs what weâre getting. I love it. I also love the friendship group, and that the younger brother is in it and he has some of the same magic BL-hottie superpowers as his older brother. Itâs great.
Love Sick 2024 (Sun iQIYI) ep 10 of 15 - Phun actually turns into dangerous babygirl when he is flirting, who knew? (Dangerous Babygirl is a new archetype I have just invented by the way. Yes, I am pleased with myself.) Noh, who is a nice boy, doesnât stand a chance. Neither does Jeed, since this new babygirl superpower gives Phun a damn near perfect âback off bitchâ face.
The arm drape public claiming, it gets me every time. Has done since SOTUS. Nong Mick is hero-level in this version, hands-down my favorite character this time around (and a non-entity last time). I love him so much I canât stand it. I havenât updated my 1:1 comparison yet this week, didnât have time to rewatch 2014, but I will later tonight.  I'm chronicling my experience with 2024 as compared to 2014 here.Â
Kidnap (Fri Gaga) ep 12 end - What an absolutely excellent final episode. Smiley kisses!Â
ConclusionÂ
A cute if patently absurd little show about a stuntman who is somehow convinced to kidnap a rich kid except they fall in love. It takes itself a little more seriously than it deserves for such a silly plot and some crappy stunts and contradictory content, but it was a pleasantly romantic experience all around, and I enjoyed myself. Extra credit for Q in that perfect blue color throughout. No complaints, a solid BL. 8/10Â
The Heart Killers (Weds Gaga) ep 1 of 12 - Jojo directs FirstKhao & JoongDunk in an action romcom about assassin brothers (Khao & Joong) who meet a tattoo artist (First) and a cocky mechanic (Dunk). I'm highly amused that Joong plays the older brother to Khao and that we have a take on the Taming of the ShrewBL. This has all GMMTV's best chemistry in one BL and some fresh concepts that I've only seen tackled in m/m romance novels (check out Amy Lane's Racing for the Sun, thank me later). My only quibble is Jojo, I like his style but his characters can get unreliably messy soâŚ... this gonna be interesting.
Buckle up buttercups I got thoughts:
Frankly, I havenât decided if this is good or so bad and so camp that itâs good? The latter I suspect. Either way, Iâm enjoying it very much, but I had very little doubt that I would. This falls into so many of my wheelhouses. Not just the premise but the casting and the approach and the script. They pretty much knocked it out of the park with the first episode: one night stand + safe sex + linguistic negotiation = Iâm in! During the opening sequence I spent the entire time worried about how many fingerprints Bison was leaving everywhere. And then I realized this show is going to require DEMAND we turn our brains entirely off.
We are in KinnPorshce / The Sign territory people. Take emergency precautions! Do not engage brain meats!
Kiss Me Kate only gay and hitmen? Frankly, it sells itself. The music is extremely stupid though. (Brain, stop it!) I gotta say that FirstKhao are good becauseâŚâŚ FirstKhao. But JoongDunk are absolutely perfectly cast. Like: couldnât be a better pair in these roles. Dunk, in particular, is slaying. I did not have Dunk as Petruchio down on my âbest casting choice of all timeâ BL bingo card, but apparently there he is. Awesome.Â
Fourever You (Thurs YT) ep 8 of 16 - Iâm warming up to the second couple a little bit. I actually donât mind a bully romance the way some do. But this isnât quite hitting the notes that I want from one. Still, I found this week more engaging than last week.Â
Secret Love (? YT?) 1-12 of 81 eps - They dropped 12 eps at once randomly on YT totaling about 20 min. So of course, I watched it. Because I have no self-control and STEPBROTHERS! Adopted into a rich family, boy falls in love with heir. But when he is made the heir instead, everything goes wrong. Now enemies the two boys reunite and sparks! I hate this format but dammit I love this utter dross. Itâs very early Chinese BL feeling but from Thailand. I donât care. Itâs so stupidly great. This is my kind of BL.
Caged Again (Fri Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - There is something sweetly innocent and earnest about this show. It reminds me of Takara and Amagi or even Light On Me but less stiff - this one is quintessentially quirky and casually Thai about it. Itâs interesting that this has an 18+ rating, which means itâs either gonna go very violent or sexy or both. Right now I canât imagine that, it doesnât suit. But Iâm looking forward to seeing where this goes. Junior with his Mean Girl crop top moment is the goddess of the week though. Fierce queen penguin.
Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT?) ep 4 of 24 - I love the side couple so damn much. How are they so adorable? Still not wild about the mains, and not likely to get there anytime soon. That said, I did like seeing the âsleeping in your boyfriendâs class while he gives you his jacketâ trope drop. We havenât had that one for a really long time. My Engineer maybe?
Every You Every Me (Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 8 - I did find this installment kind of boring. I just donât like actors as main characters. Much as Iâm enjoying this show and I think the actors are doing a good job, I really do wish it was more like what we had been sold on: Connected reborn characters fated to be together over and over again. Not this weird little mishmash of whatever. Iâm now annoyed by a format I was initially charmed by.Â
Jack & Joker (Mon IQIYI) ep 10-11 of 12 - still on hold until it ends or I can cope with the pain. Â I just canât go into darkness right now.
Ongoing Series - Not Thai
Our Youth AKA Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu (Japan Tues Gaga) ep 3 of 11 - SNIFF TEST! But done by Japan so itâs that much better and more kinky. The way H looks at M pretty much defines naked lust. âI got extra beat up so youâd take pity on me and then I admitted it to youâ is so damn warped I canât even with this boy. This feral kid is gonna drive me feral. The power and the control and the execution of this show is just spectacular. I keep thinking about it after its done and telling people IRL about it. (I rarely talk BL IRL.) Itâs classy. I do love it when Japan does classy BL for us.Â
See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga) ep 6 of 13 - so completely and utterly adorable. The learning sign language thing! I loved it so much.
Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 10 of 12 eps - Possibly one of the best confessions of the year I have to say. Also a wonderful character growth arc for our lawyer. Exactly as one might hope. The plot twist was slightly predictable but still adds a delicious note of tension to our final episodes.
Blue Canvas of Youthful Days (China Sun iQIYI) eps 7-8 of 12 - You donât want me but you wonât let anybody else have me either. The song of the repressed seme. I did like the irrational jealousy moment and a few other bits, of course the crying kiss. You know I love a crying kiss. Even if itâs a somewhat censored one. But this is also leaning a little bit darker than I want at the moment. This being China, I anticipate the darkness and doom getting worse not better.
Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 9 of ? - The incredible migrating lip injury continues. Could we please get on with the BL aspect of this show? Iâm getting frustrated as well as slightly bored at this juncture. Pacing darlings. Pacing.
Love in the Air: Koi no Yokan (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - Still not sure. I think I like this better than the original, but Iâm confused. I did make disgusted scoff noises and say âoh dearâ a couple of times. Which makes me sound like a World War II grandpa (only the housemate's cat noticed), but is also classic me when profoundly disappointed by a piece of media. Thatâs said, the sex scene was pretty good. In the end, I wasnât as frustrated by this version of these characters, but they didnât have as many highs or lows as the original. So first half probably works out about the same in my all-purpose rating system. The true proof in the pudding is going to be couple number 2 tho......
It's airing but......
Winter Is Not The Death of Summer (Weds YT) ?? eps - Criminals who meet in prison fall in love. I did find it on YouTube, but I did not find any English subs for it. The first episode seems to be only six minutes long. It is very pulp. But it is intriguing. So I hope it gets some sort of international or something at some point. for now Iâll put it to the wayside.
Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - I DNF'd at ep 7, I couldn't make it. I am weak. Life is hard enough right now, this show is making it harder. Itâs not what I want from my entertainment.
Bad to Bed (Taiwan Sat YT) 10 eps - This is a little too low production value even for me + just very very odd. DNF
In Case You Missed it
Love for Loves Sake got some kind of special on 11/9. Not sure what, why, or where. Only the rumor that it...... is. I'll believe it when I see it...... literally. Let me know if you found it.
The Bangkok Podcast covered Marriage Equality in Thailand: More Complex Than it Seems. They missed some of the point and all of the queer perspective. But it's a local lawyer talking about it and how it was implemented, which is quite interesting.
Dominant Yakuza and Wimpy Corporate Slave AKA Ore-sama Yakuza to Hetare Shachiku: Kuni wo Koeta Jingi Naki Dekiai, Japan YT. A 30 min slice of ridiculousness. This mini walked out the back of one of my 1999 yaoi (you know those little shorts they always had along with the main story?) and randomly got cut together by some helpful malcontent, tumbled into my YT feed like a Taiwanese prat fall, and I couldn't be happier.
This is the Cliff's notes of a story that could have been amazing, but I adored it anyway. Basically what it says on the tin: office cutie from Taiwan working in Japan runs across hot AF mafia hit man beating up lesser thugs. Falls instantly in love, turns out so does the yakuza. They end up together for...... reasons? (one is cute and the other is cool?) That's it. It's dumb and I loved it. 7/10 because it really isn't good, but it lives on in a very warped corner of my shriveled old heart.
Next Week Looks Like This:
Still to come:
11/28 Spare Me Your Mercy (Thai Thurs iQIYI) 8 eps on OneD (no word on inter) - Increased rates of deaths in terminal patients has a police captain investigating the palliative care doctor with whom he's fallen in love. Their relationship deepens but the mystery persists, driven by mistrust. Adapted from the novel "Euthanasia" by Sammon (Triage, Manner of Death) stars some old guard BL actors: Tor Thanapob from Hormones as the doctor and (fuck me YES) Jaylerr from Great Men Academy and goddamn Grean Fictions as the captain!
Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.
THIS WEEKâS BEST MOMENTS
We stan a smitten seme who's too reserved for his own good. Sunshine is gonna have this boy wrapped around his little finger in no time. (Well in 12 eps, but we know what we like!) Your Sky
King behavior.
Dangerous Babygirl behavior.
Both Love Sick 2024.
(last week)
The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs
#this week in BL#BL updates#Your Sky#fourever you#Perfect 10 Liners#Caged Again#Teenager Judge#Kidnap the series review#Love Sick 2024#The Heart Killers#Secret Love#caged again#Love in the Air Koi no Yokan#Love in the Air Japan#Every You Every Me#Blue Canvas of Youthful Days#Love is Like a Poison#Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru#Our Youth#Miseinen Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu#See Your Love#Ore-sama Yakuza to Hetare Shachiku: Kuni wo Koeta Jingi Naki Dekiai#upcoming BL#BL news#BL reviews#BL gossip
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"The Author" (Reality Warped AU)
This is the villain.... "Alan"
He's not that scary yet XP...... Anyways, lore!
¡ ⢠ââ Ů đ Ů ââ ⢠¡
Summary/Synopsis:
Imagine sitting at your desk, writing the ending of your own book. When all of the sudden you wake up in a world that you literally made! Goodness this is an authorâs wet dream! At least thatâs what Alan is supposed to feel, until he remembers what kind of person âAlanâ is in his storyâŚ.
Where Alan Becker, the author of Animation vs Animator and his standalone Animation vs Minecraft (kudos to Mojang) was suddenly sucked in his own book, now he finds himself in place of his self insert character named âAlanâ.... Heâs supposed to be glad because heâs meeting his own creations (his own characters! Can you believe that?!), until he remembered heâs the âsupposedâ villain of the story.
Oh well, he can change things up right?
Ugh, rightâŚ. He is the villain, and being a villain means itâs hard to gain your character's trust (why did he even write his character as a villain?......a right because he couldn't think of any other villain, so naturally he wrote himself as one.... ugh).
¡ ⢠ââ Ů đ Ů ââ ⢠¡
LORE:
âAlanâ in this AU is the villain, the creator of victim, The Chosen One, The Dark Lord and The Second Coming: The Chosen Oneâs Return. He was the worst out of the worst, he only thought of them as some play toy. Telling them what to do, and such. He was the fucking worst, at least to their point of viewâŚ. Actually, scratch that, he was the worst to everyoneâs eyes. Even the Color Gang hates Alan (and somehow, they were the âchillestâ out of them all). They were so used to Alan treating them like dirt at this point. Then all of the sudden heâs all kind now? What games is he playing?
Alan Becker is just an author, a really well-known author that created Animator vs Animation, originally a story he created as a teen then he tweaked it a little bit when he got older (his writing was atrocious, it clearly needed some work). But nevertheless, he was proud of his work, he even gained a fandom because of it. Met a lot of people too, and friends too! As a child, he always wanted friends on his own computer, always fantasizing how he would be with them and how fun it would be. So naturally he made a story, and that story became a sensation years later. He really should be thankful for his family and friends for giving him a push to actually publish it. After losing his interest in drawing (he clearly was not improving) he decided to just hone his writing skills better, after all a lot had said he was better at writing than drawing. And somehow, heâs glad he actually continued it. So, tell him, why the fuck did he suddenly wake up in his own story?!?! Not only that, but he also has no face?! Oh god he has no face (actually it was his fault for not really going in depth on how âAlanâ looks like, now he suffered the consequence of losing his own face).
Now he's stuck as his own self insert character, forced to play a villain role, before deciding, fuck it and fed his characters kindness and love, because for the life of him he cannot act like an asshole; he feels too bad............ Naturally, he also knew how the story would end, and it won't end on a good note. So thankfully, acting kind will MOST PROBABLY change their ending... Hopefully, oh god out of all books he gets sucked into, it's his own book which probably has so many plot holes?! Someone please save him now!!!
¡ ⢠ââ Ů đ Ů ââ ⢠¡
Here is your well-deserved lore everyone! We finally got another Alan who isn't crazy, turned crazy, evil, a terrorist need I say more? - S
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I wasn't gonna make an Indigo Park oc but then I started thinking about the theme park I went to as a kid and I got the idea of a beaver running a ride based on water flumes like Logger's Run or Splash Mountain :3
They're also based on wildlife education characters like Smokey the Bear and Ranger Rick!
#indigo park#indigo park oc#id imagine their ride would be close to Oceanic Odyssey so theyd be good friends with Finley :)#they also 100% sound like Velma Dinkley#this design was so fun to work on tho#and doing research on similar characters unearthed some Core Memories#like I completely forgot about Ranger Rick!!!#i used to love reading those and national geographic whenever I found an issue :)#i like to think theyre a really anxious character that tries to prepare for everything#but then their worrying causes things to go wrong#but somehow they manage to narrowly escape it every time#the name took a bit bc i wanted to name them after a tree but none of them sounded right#i almost went with Bramble but Baylee sounded better to me and wasnt as similar to Rambley#also their ride is based on Logger's Run from Michigan Adventure my beloved <3#theres a little storyline about needing to transport the logs to fix a dam thats about to burst#and at the end you save the day and are rewarded with an honorary Ranger Badge! (sold separately)#anyways thats all i love them thx#i played a lot with overlays too i think it turned out pretty cool :)#i am not immune to cute art style and fun character design#also i remembered to sign my art for once lol#spacebug does art
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Genuinely curious, whatâs up with Noirâs age? And what does it have to do with his 08/09 run? ((You may ignore if you wish :D))
i no longer have to do an extremely long explaination about comics noir because it has already been done here, by foolsocracy!!!!!!! really great breakdown of his very vague age, which is never said outright in the 08-09 run, only implied!! my own personal take on this is that he's 17-turning-18 in the first one, just about graduated high school but not able to afford college (see the panel below LOL)
this also got a little longer than i thought it would, so under the cut for the rest of it! the tl:dr is "itsv!noir is not the same as comics!noir, and people saying that he's 19 isn't strictly true. to me, he's around 30!"
eyes without a face (the 09 run!!) only takes place 8 months after, in september 1933, which makes peter 18-turning-19. this is more of a headcanon though!! (see the noir birthday poll, which made me a noir-is-a-december-baby truther)
(peter being a libra is mentioned once in the first issue of amazing spider-man (2015), mostly as a punchline, and a specific date of october 10th was given in another issue that i have lost. other media, like with the mcu, has his birthday on august 10th. but to me noir is a sagittarius and you cannot pry that from me)
the 2020 run of noir begins establishing the year as 1939, making peter around his mid-20s, and 25 if you believe me on the 'peter was 17 in noir 2008' LOL.... i won't lie though i haven't read this one properly i very quickly skimmed so pinch of salt regarding my takes on the 2020 run
noir being in his teens during the first original runs is why "itsv!noir is 17-19" goes around so often! i've seen that on tumblr, twitter AND on tiktok and i don't mind what people hc, but it has become a pet peeve when people say it like its canon even though it's never been mentioned by the writers or the art book. itsv!noir is similar to his comic counterpart, but his differences in his origin story make me interpret him as a different noir (like how peter b.'s dimension is 616B, making him... 90214B?)
again, we are straying from itsv canon/etc here because i'm deranged, but i personally hc noir as being 32! some of my friends think he's in his mid-20s, others think he's older, but really the only reason is that 32 is the midpoint between the other two peter parkers: ripeter was 26 and peter b is 38. he's also voiced by nic cage, which makes me think older in the first place!
i just like the idea that he's more experienced that ripeter, but hasn't gone through as much as peter b. he spends most of the movie being broody ("moral ambiguity of your actions!", "matches burn down to my fingertips", etc etc), or snarkier than you'd expect ("it's that easy" "who are you again?" "you gonna fight or are you just bumping gums" etc etc). he also very sweetly tells everyone that he loves them before he leaves !!! i feel like it can in fact be in character for a peter parker in his late 20-early 30s, distanced from his tragedies in his own world by time (he doesn't forget them, that's different !) being able to look out for the spiders around him.
okay now we are VERY deep into hc territory, but it makes him able to balance out the rest of the itsv spider-gang as an older-brother figure who's able to guide peni, miles and gwen but also be able to act as a voice of reason for peter b. and ham if the sitauation calls for it. that being said noir is still peter parker and is therefore capable of spider-esque tomfoolery, which can lead to him misjudging the need for a snarky one liner ("this is a pretty hard core origin story"). my characterisation of him is also very inspired by heyitsspiderman, the itsv fic that changed me for the better, and noir isn't even in it that much LOL
veering back into itsv!noir's age and your actual question though: he's always read older in the movies, and not at all 17-19. noir is always going to be around 30 (32 if i have to give a number) to me!! if anything, he did go through the same kind of 'canon events' as comics noir did, but is an older and more experienced version of him, with tweaks to the backstory (like a radioactive spider instead of a spider-god, and webshooters instead of organic webbing). there are reasons ofc to see him being younger (egg creams are non-alcoholic, and that if it's 1933, his comicsverse self would be 18-19 too) . however you must consider that sony didn't expand on this and therefore it's up to fan interpretation and also that
#this kind of turns into meta . sort of . sorry about that#and i know some people take those jokes noir makes as like. just very blunt observations of what is happening#i personally believe they are jokes that aren't landing. or just him being a bit annoying <3 i love him for this#i can talk forever and forever about movie noir. its how i got into him in the first place . picked me up and swept me away#and now i overthink and read too much into his like. 6 mins of screentime#also the rich beautiful itsv noir backstory that exists only in my mind..... which is mostly the same#just with small tweaks and adjustments. its MY SIDE CHARACTER and I GET TO CHOOSE THE HCS#eg. the insane 'peter quits working at the bugle very annoyingly for everyone involved before becoming a PI' like this shit just#swirls in my brain. forever and ever.#noir#answered#edit: sorry im just realising this is boiling down to itsv noir is freshly out of his 20s#therefore experiencing post 20s clarity and is not yet going through a peter b-like midlife crisis#and is not a teenager anymore and doesn't have to battle puberty as well as supervillians#so he's somehow doing a little better than the rest of them and able to pass on funny little tips and lifehacks
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BLESS HALLOWEEN - r.c (+18)
pairing: frat!rafe/ghostface!rafe x reader (uni au) warnings: no plot; smut
inspired by this audio (+18)
between midterms, a terrible class project partner, and your roommate constant need to fuck her boyfriend at any given hour of the day, youâre half asleep most days.
the only thing you should be doing is sleeping, anywhere, for hours, but instead, you let yourself get dragged to a halloween party.Â
sure, youâre running on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, but heaven forbid you to miss a party because your roommate just had to be there. never mind that sheâs been wearing her "not-so-pg sexy witch" costume since last tuesday, casting spells for her crush to notice her (like he doesnât see half her skin every night anyway).
you look hotter than you'd like to admit. black mini dress? check. sky-high boots? check. a little lace mask that hides just enough to keep the mystery going? obviously.
you're not trying too hard, but youâre giving just enough to turn heads, with a vibe that says, âi might ruin your life, but you'll thank me for it."
youâre rocking some version of a "slutty masquerade," not that anyone could guess what that means, but it gets you a free drink within five minutes. and the best part? nobody knows itâs you.
the only downside is that youâre in his territory.
it could be anywhere, but itâs happening at his frat.
your project partner, personal headache and resident menace, rafe cameron holds court here like heâs king of the idiots.
heâs hot, youâll give him that, guyâs all charm until itâs time to work; then heâs as useless as that cheap foundation your roommate keeps borrowing.
and now youâre here, half hoping to avoid his face entirelyâhis smirk that screams "âm getting credit off your hard work" and that irking attitude that makes him think heâs doing you a favor.
as if seeing him once a week in class isnât enough of a problem. you pull your mask down a bit lower, not that heâd recognize you through the lace, but just in case.
against all odds, youâre having a good time. the drinks are goodâsomething sugaryâand you find yourself laughing, loosening up.
mid-laugh, you walk straight into someone, practically face-plant into a solid chest. you stagger back, the guy's hand catching your elbow to hold you, and you look up, only to be met with a ghostface mask.
âohh, sorry,â he says with an amused chuckle like he's getting a kick out of startling you. "sorry, sorryâi  didnât mean to scare you," he adds, not sounding remotely sorry.
you raise a brow, your lips curving just slightly. âhmm, you sure? cause it kinda looks like you enjoy it."
he puts a hand up in mock innocence. ânah, i swear, completely unintentional,âÂ
you blink up at him, squinting against the red lighting to catch a better look at his mask. itâs honestly a little creepy up close, that ghostface grin somehow twisting a bit more under the lights and crowd. but youâre in the mood to get laid tonight.
"nice costume,â you donât bother to hide the way your eyes stuck to every corner of his body, âscary.â
he doesnât catch it though, leaning down, head tilting, âwhat?â he asks, chuckling a bit as he stands closer. âyeah, sorryâthe musicâs way too loud.â
rolling your eyes with a little attitude, you repeat yourself, a bit louder. âi said, your costumeâs scary.â
he nods, shaking his head like heâs relieved, and rubs the back of his neck, as if this mask isnât hiding the flush you think you see creeping up his neck. âoh, thanks. yeah, uh, you lookâŚâ his voice trails off a little, and he clears his throat, swallowing. âyou look pretty, uh, scary too.â
you raise a brow, "you think so?"
he nods again, âyeah, âm terrified of hot women, soâŚâ
the music cuts him off this time around, his words getting lost in the heavy bass, itâs harder to know what heâs saying when you canât read his lips. you frown, stepping closer into his space. âhmm?â
the guy practically jolts, ânothing, nothingâitâs, uhâŚâ he stammers, then gestures at your face, his fingers brushing near your mask. âitâs a cool mask.â
you smile, amused. âthanks, ghostface. should i be, yâknow, scared of you?â
 âi donât know, that depends. should i be scared of you?â
"nop, you're cute. i like where this is going."
the guyâs mask tilts, thereâs smidge of surprise in his voice. "really? soâso youâre into masks and, like, the whole psycho-killer thing?â
you shrug nonchalantly, letting your gaze drag over him slower. "only if they're hot and built like you."
there's a short pause, and you can practically feel the amused smile hidden under his mask. âoh, okay, yeah, yeahâso what is it? do you like being scared, or?â
thereâs something about a guy like himâtall, broad-shouldered, who could probably break you in half without even trying. and honestly? you like that kind of shit. youâve always wanted a guy who could cover you with his entire body, whoâd tower over you in a way that was intimidating enough to make your heart pound.Â
the kind that, if you begged nicely, might just be able to cut off your oxygen in bed with one hand. and here he is, looking like he could throw you around a little if you wanted him to. which you might. his hand still hovering near your waist isnât exactly subtle eitherâitâs like he knows, somehow. either way, you keep your expression smooth, not giving him anything, itâs more fun that way.
you let out a giggle thatâs only partly mocking. "maybe i just like danger, ghostface. or maybe i like watching people squirm."
âholy shit, thatâs fucked up.â
you take a slow sip of your drink, watching his shirt cling to his chest as he takes a deep breath, every inch of that body sculpted to the fucking gods like it was made for nights like this. shit, thatâs a nice body.Â
you canât help the sly smirk that pulls at your lips as you murmur, âwhatâs wrong with liking it rough?â
he snickers, almost breathlessly, and you know youâre getting to him. âthereâs something a little wrong with you.â
yeah, there is. you almost blurt out the truthâthat your panties are drenched and practically glued to your skin because of him, that heâs got you feeling hornier than youâve felt in a long time. but you choose to let your fingers trail down his arm, slow and teasing.Â
âyou think so?â you faux-pout, giving him a look thatâs all dark lashes and bad intentions.
he swallows, stumbling over his words. ây-yeah, i mean, thereâs some things you need to⌠work on.â
you tilt your head, smiling in that way you know drives guys crazy, leaning in just enough to make him catch his breath. âwould you like to help me?â
he stares at you, goosebumps rising along his arm where your fingers still rest, visibly caught off guard, âwhat does that mean?â
with a wicked grin, you reach up, wrapping your manicured hands around his neck, his breath all but halting as you pull him down until his face is level with yours. his breath hitches, and you take your time, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear, enough to make him shiver.Â
âyou find me upstairs,â you murmur, voice dripping with promise, âand âm all yours. okay?â
instead of waiting for him to process it, youâre already sneaking off into the crowd, leaving him rooted. you donât try looking back, already feeling his stare burning into you, dazed and desperate as he takes in what you just promised. you donât second guess yourself once, you know heâs coming.
by the time he shakes himself out of his trance, youâre halfway up the stairs.
at the top, you stop, one quick peek over your shoulder to check if heâs still watching. the look on his face is pricelessâlike heâs not sure if heâs about to follow a dream or walk into his worst nightmare. perfect, you think.
you push open a random door and slip into an empty room, locking eyes with yourself in the mirror. hair a little wild, eyes glinting with that mischievous glint you know all too well. you adjust your mask, the lace sitting just right over your cheekbones. you pull your dress higher, letting it ride up just a little higher, admiring the way the fabric clings to you, showing off every curve.
you turn the lights off, letting the room fall into shadows. heâll have to work for it if he wants to find you. you can imagine the way heâll hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering what the hell heâs getting himself into.Â
why make it easy for him?
rafe watches you leave, standing there like a fucking idiot, heart hammering in his chest as he replays what just happened. the words âfind me upstairs, and iâm all yoursâ looping in his mind like a mantra. the confidence in your voice, the way you looked at him like you already knew heâd be followingâfuck, itâs enough to make him hard just thinking about it.
he swallows, trying to be calm as he looks around, but thereâs no hiding the way his breathingâs quickened, how his body is buzzing at the thought of finding you, alone, in a dark room, just waiting for him.
youâre playing with him, he tells himself, but he doesnât care. heâs going to go after you anyway.
pushing through the crowd, heâs half-dazed, talking to himself under his breath, almost wheezing out a series of what the fucks. his grip wraps around the banister as he ascends the stairs, his fingers still itching from where youâd brushed against him. he feels completely out of his element. girls flirt with him all the time, heâs with girls all the time, sure, but thisâthis is different.Â
he always been a sucker for a good challenge and youâd practically left him in the dust, tossing back that promise without even checking if heâd follow.
at the top, he pauses, looking down the hallway, every door holding the possibility that you might be behind it, waiting.Â
rafe feels that thrill coil in his stomach, his heart pounding in anticipation. heâs like a kid on halloween night, trick-or-treating at the house heâs always been too afraid to knock on. but you dared him, so thereâs no way heâs backing out now.
he starts with the first door, pushing it open only to find it empty, checking the shadows, in case youâre hiding, but nothing. he goes into the next door, finding a couple already in there, and quickly shuts it again, eyes slamming shut, ignoring their annoyed stares as he backs out.
third timeâs the charm, yeah? he thinks, reaching for the next door and pulling it open. the door creaks as it swings shut behind him, his footsteps are slow, hesitant, and the scuff of his shoes against the floor makes him cringe.Â
it takes him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, pupils dilating as he walks further inside.his breathing is loud and uneven, almost like heâd run all the way here. he stops in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling hard, his breath painfully audible.Â
his heart is doing an annoying thing, pounding, and he swears he can hear it.
did he misread you? the space is eerily quiet, he canât help but wonder if heâs been set up, if youâre somewhere downstairs, laughing at how eagerly he followed your trail up here like a fucking dumbass.
rafe scans the roomâs edges, searching, and he notices a quick movement in the cornerâsomething. he swallows he leans forward a little, squinting to make out any familiar shape.
âyou wanna play hide and seek?â he calls out, hoping heâs not making a full out of himself, âis that it?â heâs taking gulps of air, feeling dizzy from being in the dark for so long, âyou like this?â
a quiet giggle echoes from one of the corners, inviting, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. youâre playing this game too well, lurking just beyond his reach, and the longer he waits, the more desperate he feels.
he swallows, his mind spiraling as he steps walks around, slow and cautious, hands slightly trembling. heâs caught off guard by just how badly he wants you; the way you kept looking at him like he was the prey downstairs, has him all kinds of worked up.Â
his cock stirring against his jeans is proof enough.Â
âyou want me to scare you or somethinâ?â he provokes you, praying itâs enough to lure you out, âyou think itâs smart? letting a stranger chase you into a room, with no one else around. youâre all alone with me.â
âwho says youâre that dangerous?â
the second the words leave your mouth, rafeâs resolve slips.Â
itâs maddening, the way youâre hiding from him, how your voice seems to come to him from every dark corner of the room. he shouldnât have drowned two shots before following you, but the liquid courage had been tempting.Â
youâre keeping him on a tight leash, making him wonder if heâs got a shot or if youâre just messing with his head. he wants to see you again, your expressionâwants to read you, even if the last time he tried, he ended up with his mind in knots.
âyou donât even know my name,â he muses, taking a couple steps closer to the closet, âdoes that make it more fun for you? that you donât know anything about me?â
his movements are cautious, almost reverent as if youâre something sacred and forbidden all at once. he stops, opening the doors, leaning inside as he half-whispers, ânot here, huh?â no answer, just silence, but he swears he can feel you watching him, your gaze prickling his skin, almost burning, âwhere are you? câmon come out, iâll go easy on you.â
he sighs, sounding like more of a frustrated exhale. no sign of you anywhere. he shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh, more amused than annoyed.Â
âbe a good girl and come out.â
rafe stalks around the room with the focus of someone hunting prey, his footsteps deliberate, his hands gliding along the walls and over furniture. he reaches the small bathroom door adjacent to the room, his fingers tightening around the handle. his lips pull into a smirk as he pausesâlistening.Â
the roomâs quiet, but then, he hears it: the faint, uneven rhythm of your breathing, a quickened inhale, almost as if his words had finally affected you. he stops dead, dropping his hand from the door and turning around with a dark gleam in his eyes.Â
âwaitâwait,â his voice lowers with satisfaction, with the thrill of the chase. he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes roving the room as he zeroes in on where youâre hiding. âi can hear you, can hear you breathing.âÂ
he takes a slow, taunting step, his head tilting, as though heâs relishing the way youâre fighting to stay silent, to keep control.Â
âwhatâs the matter? you sound a littleâŚâ he trails off in a murmur, enjoying the tables turning. â...shaken up. are you scared?â
your breath slips, just enough to betray you and his lips quirk up.
âi know exactly where you are.â with lazy confidence, he walks over to the far corner where the heavy velvet curtains seem to pool against the floor, drawn closed over the tall, narrow window.Â
his fingers brush the fabric, his eyes narrowing as if he can feel the warmth of you just on the other side. then, in one smooth motion, he grabs the curtain and yanks it open.Â
âcaught you.â
moonlight spills in, illuminating you both. in a second, youâre pressed against the wall, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and his eyes rake over you, lingering on the way your costume accentuates every curve of your body.Â
he steps in close, his silhouette blocking the light as he cages you in, one hand pressing against the wall beside your head, the other landing on your waist. his gaze drops to your lips, taking time to roam the way youâre biting your lip.
you tilt your chin up, âmaybe i just like trouble.âÂ
rafeâs grip on your waist tightens in response, a hunger that he canât hide, while heâs memorizing the way youâre looking up at him, ready to push him just as far as he can take it.
âyouâre in trouble, alrighâ,â he shakes his head, while his hand inches down, slipping lower along your body until his thumb brushes against the curve of your hip, âdonât think you understand what youâre getting yourself into.â
your fingers slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his black shirt, the way his heart hammers from your touch alone.
âmaybe thatâs what i want,â you whisper, tipping your head up so your lips brush against his mask.
he shudders, and you let your fingers trail slowly down, tracing over the line of his collarbone. rafe swallows hard, his body thrumming with tension. his eyes dropping to your mouth once again, wishing heâd been smart enough to take the mask off, so he could kiss you.Â
âyou donât know what youâre asking for,â he breathes, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. heâs already melting under your touch, the desperation in the way he holds onto you confessing just how badly he needs it.
âyou want me?â you ask, watching his pupils dilate as you lean in even closer, close enough that he can smell the fruity trace of your drink on your breath trough the mask, the lingering sweetness making him light-headed.
 jesus fucking christ where have you been all his life?
âyeah,â he mutters, voice strained, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you, âi want you.â his hand trails up your side, down the line of your dress, stopping just at the hem. he hesitates, holding himself back for your sake, the look in his eyes begging for permission, daring you to say something, to let him go further.
you smirk, letting your fingers slip lower, grazing over the top of his waistband, ââm already so wet for you.â
a rough, almost growling sound escapes his throat as his fingers taunt around you, his control slipping at the admission. âyeah?â he grunts, letting his hand glide under the hem of your dress, his fingers inching higher, grazing along the sensitive skin of your thigh, âlets find out.â
the first brush of his fingers against your thong sends a shiver from your head to your toes, his smirk growing. heâs bold now, unapologetic as he moves them up, grazing the thin barrier of fabric between his hand and you.
your panties are ruined, drenched, and stuck to you most uncomfortably, he can tell from the way you keep pushing your hips forward, begging him to do something.Â
he doesnât think twice before using two fingers to pull the sticky fabric to the side.
âfuck,â he mutters to himself, âall this for me?â
you have to bite your lip to stop a moan from slipping out when he finally touches you properly. two of his long, thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding into you with no resistance. the feeling of your cunt clamping around him makes his cock twitch.Â
he works you open, even the slightest touches have you arching your back from the wall. the need in his eyes turns ravenous with every desperate little gasp you let out. he moves slowly, deliberately, feeling the warmth of you clenching around his him, as he curls his fingers just right,Â
âyouâre so wet, ah, yeahâyouâre gonna scream for me?â
his thumb finds your clit with ease, and he presses down, drawing gentle circles that make your knees buckle. he grins, drinking in every sound youâre trying to bite back. his thumb stays steady over your clit, circling with the perfect rhythm, applying just enough pressure to keep you breathless.
âcâme here,â his other hand moves with swift, easy dominance, capturing your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you firmly against the wall,â you like this shit?âÂ
âyouâre gonna fuck me with the mask on?â you grind yourself harder against him, practically delusional from the way heâs making you feel, âkinky.â
he's mesmerized by the way your breasts jolt underneath your dress with each shaky breath you take, your skin feels feverish, heat radiating off it like a furnace.
âjust like you wanted,â he promises, his voice filled with satisfaction as his thumb presses down harder, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. âgo on, let me hear itâride my hand.â
he tightens his hold on your wrists, keeping you perfectly in place, not prying his eyes away from how your brows frow with every grind.Â
âfuckkkkk, do that again,â you whine when he hits a particular spot, your walls tightening around him in a way that makes him want to stop the foreplay and fuck you right away.
rafe leans forward to coo praise into your ear, âlike this?â your skin is sticky with sweatâsome saliva tooâhis. heâs never been this fucking hard in his life. he slows down on purpose, to torture you, doing anything in his power to make you beg, âooh look at youâ a fuckin mess.â he taunts.
âdonât be an asshole,â you groan, fingers itching to be set free, and grab his shoulders so you can slam down on him harder, âyou gotta make me cum if you want to fuck me.â
he runs deep circles into your clit making you press your legs together, knowing that he's getting exactly what he wants makes him chuckle into your skin. by this point as he mindlessly humps against your writhing body, heâs peeking down, taking a moment to admire the mess of slickness between your thighs.
âyou want more?â youâre so caught up in the feeling that you donât notice his hand leaving yours, wrapping it around your neck, pulling you closer to him, âanswer meâ
âanother finger,â you spit out when he tightens his grip on your neck, the added touch having you on the brink.
rafe doesnât even look at you, too entranced by your mess to make eye contact. he never got so lost during sex, but your pussyâs making him intoxicated to the point where his senses are dull, and the part of him thatâs fully aware is his dick.Â
heâs not even inside you yet, and still, he can cum just from seeing you ride his fingers. âanother?â
he groans at the way one of your hands move to flex over his, watching in amusement as you try to get him to add one more finger. he mutters a low, gruff âgood girlâ as he slides a third finger in, pressing just deep enough to make your legs tremble, since you asked so nicely.
âthink you can handle more?â rafe prods, âyouâre so tight, donât think you canât take me.â
the way his fingers work, methodical and relentless, leaves you barely able to breathe, let alone answer.
âi could take t-two of you,â you tease, letting a breath out, and turning your head to face him. god you wondered if he looked good under that mask, but if he was this good in bed, who fucking cared.
âthe only thing youâre taking is this fucking costume off,â he grumbles against your shiny lips, fanning like a wild animal catching the scent of its prey. heâs already tugging at the material, pulling the straps to the side before you can, nudging it aside, âlook at you. gotta get my hands on you.â
rafe moves his attention to your breast and squeezes firmly, the tips of his fingers clasping down on your nipple, pressing and pulling as he chases after those sweet sounds that leave your lips.
âlook at these tits, fuckâ he rasps, eyes trailing over your chest and savoring every inch, his breath almost a snarl, âthisâ what you wanted?â
you pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adamâs apple, âi wanted your cock not your fingerâ"
his pitches your nipple harder making you squirm, âwatch your fuckinâ mouth.â
the way youâre creaming his hand should be illegal, but this man is clearly sent from above. someone finally listened to you and gave you exactly what you needed to survive your dry spell.Â
you reach down to cup him up through his jeans, âor what?â
he moans, head dropping to your shoulder, âfuck,â he mutters, his tone conveying that heâs just as distracted, watching how your puffy folds glisten with your arousal.
âhmmm, canât hear you ghostface.â
rafeâs too entranced to put you in your place, youâve got him eating out the palm of your hand. the sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers are obscene, the simple act of your hand grazing cock has his knees buckling.
he can feel his heart beating miles a minute and he swears he could die right there, his hand coming down to grip the swell of your ass, kneading it firmly. you sigh contently with every slow drag of his hand, your head falling on his shoulder, nipping at his neck no doubt marking him up again.
âopen your mouth.â you lift your head immediately, no smartass bullshit coming out of your lips, he chuckles breathlessly at your impatience, fingers moving from your ass to your parted hole, âsuck my fingers, go on.â
itâs hard to make any coherent thought when his fingers are still inside you, dragging against your spongy walls deliciously, but your tongue automatically slips around his digits, doing your best to suck them down your throat. youâd never felt so willing to let a man bend you however he wants to, hushed curses escaping your occupied mouth, raking your nails down his arm.Â
âgood girl, yeahhhh, thatâs it,â he grunts when you prod his skin harder, âyou like digginâ your nails into me, like it rough, huh? âcourse you do,â he stammers out when you clamp harder around him, your slick making everything slippery, âcourse you fucking do.â
with his fingers buried deep inside you and your lips wrapped around his other hand, rafeâs fully intoxicated, drunker than he can ever get. the sounds you make, he never wanted to taste something so bad, if it wasnât for his stupid maskâ
âtake this thing offâ" he grinds his hips into you, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing deliciously against your bare skin, teasing you, while his hand leaves your mouth to do nothing else but rip your panties apart.
you let out a huff, glancing down at whatâs left of your underwear as he tosses it aside like nothing, already sliding his back up your thigh, âyouâre paying for those.â
âwhatever you want.â
youâre already occupied with his stupid belt, fingers quickly working to take the damn thing off, pawing at him to help. itâs only then he leaves your pussy unattended, settling his hold on your hips while you fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers.Â
he grabs the underside of your thigh, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist, backing you two further into the wall, eyes gazing into yours, even though you canât see him. why the fuck do your eyes look so familiar?
the tip of his dick kisses the skin of your pussy, the firm head bumping against your clit as he rubs himself against you, âhappy?â
looking down, you watch his cock slide back and forth between your thighs, the friction making heat slowly rise in your core, warmth swarming in your chest. heâs so fucking big. you watch him, eyes half-lidded, your legs aching from the position, almost drooling from the sight alone.Â
you donât know how much longer you can let him tease you.
âso happy,â you nod, not tearing your attention from him.
âyeah?â he cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed, concentrating not to cum on the spot with the way youâre eating his cock alive just with your pretty little eyes, âyouâre gonna let a stranger fuck you?â
rafe reaches down, teasingly rubbing the tip of his dick over your folds, tracing it over your clit a few times. you look up, lips curling into the most earth-shattering smirk.âi can always find someone elâ"
you both groan when he slides into you with no warning, your warm walls enveloping him perfectly, sucking him in like a vice, a perfect tight fit. he pumps you so full, not waiting for any adjustment, your walls fluttering around his girth, thick tip slightly curved up from your position.
âfuck, fuck, fuckkk,â he drawls out, rolling his hips in tight circles, slowly fucking into you, dragging himself along your walls to learn what you like, âthis pussy, ohâso good.â
your head falls back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. you want him to let go and beat your walls loose, especially when he looks so good doing it. you melt into him, body sagging, downright losing it with how easily he holds you up and still pounds relentlessly into you, your breathing picking up with his change of pace.Â
heâs so strong.
âthis good enough for ya?â he murmurs against your ear, picking on the way your body shudders, a scream for anyone outside that door to hear, âhmm? you like my voice, right here?â
âyouâre gonna make me cum,â you feel yourself grip him harder, his thick cock stretching you open, dragging out moan after moan from your lips, âoh my god.â
itâs the sweetest torture, the way his pelvis smacks against your tummy with every thrust, barely even pulling out to roll back into you.
âsuch a fuckinâ slut, arenât you?â he growls, âletting a stranger fuck you openâholy shit, holy shit,â he hisses, almost as if heâs in pain, when you teasingly whine your hips back into him, fluttering at the low sound he breaths right by your ear.  âshit, youâre squeezingâfuck.â
âyouâre so b-big,â you wheeze at a rough thrust, hand coming down to press against his lower stomach.
âyeah? good enough for you, huh?â his hips increase in rhythm, rocking into you, his thrusts precise, beating against your g-spot with vigor, âtakinâ it so good baby.â
by now youâre seeing stars in your vision from the white-hot pleasure shooting up your spine, smart mouth forgotten, âharder.â
âharder?â heâs fucking into you at such a pace you feel like heâs gonna split you in half, âdonât think you can take it.â
âplease.â
it sounds too pretty coming out of your mouth. having a girl like you beg feeds his ego like nothing else.Â
he buries himself so deep, his pelvis is pressed hard against the hilt of your mound, fingers coming down to pinch and roll your neglected clit between his fingers.
âfucking take it then.â rafe snaps his hips with every word, glaring into your teary eyes.Â
you gasp, nodding your head frantically, too fucked out to even use your words properly when he bottoms out properly, leaving you entirely only to slam inside harder than before. you squeal, not expecting him to use his entire body strength to almost fold in half while youâre still standing.
âno one can h-hear you down here, go ahead,â your mouth runs dry as you feel his body helplessly pressing into yours, âlemme hear those pretty noises, câmon, scream fâme.â
youâve never moaned so loud in your life, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, him filling you to the brim, âw-where the fuck have you b-been?â
he chuckles, though it comes out strained, âright here,â he makes a point by ramming into your g-spot perfectly, âhold your leg up fâme.â
for once in your life, you do as youâre told while focusing on his clothed stomach, feeling it constrict with every deep breath he takes.Â
âyou look so pretty like this,â you hear him praise you, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, âcould fuck you for hours.â
the tip of his dick is kissing right against your cĂŠrvix, ânot stopping you.â
âyeah? thatâs how good is it?â he laughs, âcanât believe stranger cock does it for you.â
you open your mouth to speak, probably to give him shit about how he wouldnât stop teasing you, but your words run dry as you feel the familiar sensation of his fingers playing with your overstimulated clit. motherfucker.
your body tenses as he builds up the pressure, and a strangled symphony of your wails leaves your sore throat. itâs too much and not enough at the same time, the pressure of his cock as well as his fingers, heâs quite literally fucking you dumb.Â
ânothinâ to say now, huh?â
the better it feels, the farther gone youâre in your mind, âs-shut the fuck up.â
if you were with someone else, it would bother you that your tits are quite literally out while heâs still dressed, besides the jeans pooling by his ankles, but that stupid black wife beater looks mouthwatering on him.Â
somehow the outfit and the mask add to the allure, not knowing whoâs behind it, but still letting him treat you like a rag doll. youâre bouncing down onto him, almost sniffling as your pussyâs still twitching and soaking, so close to your well-deserved orgasm.
âcum inside,â your headâs starting to sting from how bad you need to cum,âplease.â
rafe swears he almost falls on his ass, âwhat?â
âinside,â you grit out, eyes closed in bliss, âwant to feel you cum inside.â
he lets out a groan at the way you say it, âare you serious? oh fuck, what a little cock-slut.â he canât help but let out a chuckle at your fucked-out state, lost in the chase of your own pleasure to care about how pitiful you look right now, âyouâre gonna cum around me? go on,â he coos, kneading at the flesh of your thighs.
you nod, slipping out a high-pitched âmhmâ, knowing this shit is about to hit you like a train. you arch yourself into him, whimpering lewdly and cutting small moon crescents into his shoulders with your long nails.
rafe feels like heâs lost all ability to fuck anyone else but you, growling at the filthy thoughts swimming through his mind, the urge to fill you up with his cum getting stronger as he enjoys watching you.Â
a strained whimper escapes you as you lean forward to bury your head in his shoulder, groaning against the skin, âdonât stop.â
ân-never stopping, câmon,â you swear you see stars while heâs slipping out curses and praises that youâre not even sure make sense. âholy shit, yeahh, fuck.â
he applies a little more pressure to your clit and thatâs all it takes for you to be gone, your chest touching his, blinding flashes of paradise filling your vision as you leave reality, having it ripped away from you.Â
your mouth is parted in the most beautiful oh shape heâs ever witnessed. tears are streaking down your eyes and he canât help but be turned on by them.
âoh! fuck, fuckingââ you squeeze your eyes shut, having no idea how you pulled the words out between continuous sobs that escape from you.
rafe feels like a fucking creep, he canât take his eyes off you for the life of him, hips snapping animalistically into your pussy while he grunts, groans, and cries as he talks you through it, âthatâsss itt, so good, so fuckinâ perfect.â
he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.Â
heâs chasing his orgasm while he watches yours; he all but whines when he releases inside of you, not slowing down in the slightest as he makes sure you take every drop. his hand comes down on your stomach forcing you back down with his python grip, feeling his bulge right there makes his eyes roll as his hand tightens on your waist. youâre still clenching and spasming as you milk him dry, âfuckinâ take it.â
his hips donât let up, grinding into your core despite him already finishing inside of you. for another ten minutes.
five minutes later, youâre both a little hazy from the endorphin rush, still processing. once he pulls away, rafe feels a lazy grin stretching across his face, feeling more satisfied than ever. unlike the past hour, the room isnât filled with your moans, but complete silence as you both try to breathe like normal people again, collecting yourselves, adjusting clothes, and then thereâs an unspoken agreement that maybe, itâs time to see whoâs behind the masks.
you fumble with the edges of the fabric, hesitating for a moment before finally pulling them off, unveiling each otherâs faces.
you freeze, staring at him in disbelief.
âyou gotta be fucking kiddinâ me,â you nearly burn a hole through his head, eyes narrowing with pure annoyance as you process this disaster, voice dripping with irritation, âwhat the fuck? rafe?â
heâs completely still, staring at you with his mouth wide open, eyes wide like heâs just seen a ghostâeverything youâre hurling at him is going in and out his ears. the realization that he just spent the last hour fucking you is making him dumber. the girl heâd been thinking about, dreaming about, wanting more than heâd ever admit, even to himself.
the anger in your eyes, the annoyed way youâre crossing your arms and glaring at himâitâs so perfectly you. heâs watched you in class a hundred times, always stealing glances when you werenât looking or cursing his ass off, catching little glimpses of her attitude that only made him want you more.Â
but heâd never thought heâd get a moment like this.Â
bless halloween.
âare you even listening to me?â you snap, catching his starstruck expression, waving a hand in front of his face. âhello? earth to cameron? stop looking at me like a puppy, this was a mistake.â
more than a mistake. you canât believe you just fucked the reason why you didnât want to come to the party in the very first place.Â
and the worst part is that youâd do it again.
âiâŚi justâŚwow,â he breathes, âitâs really you.â he lets out an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw âcanât believe it.â
you groan, rolling your eyes and shaking your head in exasperation. âare you serious right now?
âcan i eat you out?â
you blink, realizing youâve been staring, âwhat?â
he takes a step closer, filling the small space between you. you swear the sound of his next words drag a whimper from your throat, âcan i eat you out?â
you nearly choke to death as his hand ghost near your waist, the barest brush of contact, sending sparks dancing across your skin, âright now?â
rafe leans down to your size, eager to get on his knees and taste you.
âwhy not?â
well, fucking damnit.
dont go fucking strangers with ghostface masks at random parties
#itneverendshere worksâ¨#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron au#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron smut#rafe smut#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron x smut#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron university au#frat!rafe#ghostface#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron and you#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe fic#rafe cameron obx#rafe obx#smut#it's honestly just smut#a little plot#LITTLE LITTLE PLOT#sex with strangers#outer banks smut
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TRADING CARDS!
ĘÉ summary: tojiâs in need of some cash, and youâre in need of having your cherry popped! heâll take your v card if you lend him your credit card. simple, right?
warnings: fem!reader, penetration (p in v), breast play, tummy bulge, squirting, loss of virginity (reader), fingering, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader just finished college), tojis a bit of a perv, 18+ minors dni.
wc: 7.2k
"hey, doll?" toji grunts as he pokes his head into your room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he shoots you a slightly apologetic grin. "i'm gonna need ya to cover my half of the rent again this month."
you look up from your phone, your lips pulling down into a small frown at his words. this isn't the first time this has happened, and it certainly won't be the last, either. "seriously, toji?"
toji simply gives you a noncommittal shrug in response, turning the pockets of his sweatpants inside out as if to further prove his point â there wasn't a single cent in sight. "i ain't got nothin', sweets. hardly been able to buy food these last few days."
you roll your eyes, letting out a soft huff at his not-so-subtle attempt to make you feel bad for him (which almost always worked, and he knew it.) "fine. but you better come through next month. i can't keep covering you."
he lets out a sigh of relief, reaching out to ruffle your hair with one his large hands. "yeah yeah, i'll pay up next time. promise." he was lying through his teeth, and you both knew it. but you chose not to comment on it â maybe a small part of you wanted to keep toji as your roommate, even if you had to pay his rent half the time.
toji heads back out into the living room to lazily slump across the couch, leaving you to your own thoughts.
it was really starting to grate on your nerves how much you had to support him. he's a fully grown man, and you're a young girl fresh out of college. and yet, somehow, you ended up being the one paying his bills with the leftover money from your summer job.
and maybe it wouldn't bother you so much, if you weren't so constantly pent up.
college was supposed to be your time to shine, where you'd attend countless parties and have meaningless hookups with guys in bathrooms, just like all the movies you watched when you were younger.
but it wasn't really like that. and as much as you loathe to admit it, you're still a virgin. with only your own feeble fingers to keep you company, you can probably count on one hand the amount of orgasms you've had in your life.
and that's when you have an idea.
it's just like trading cards â toji takes your v card, and in return, you lend him your credit card.
it's shameless, and you might've felt embarrassed with yourself for even coming up with it if you weren't in dire need of releasing some tension.
and if toji's as desperate for money as he makes out like he is, maybe he wouldn't mind agreeing to your little proposition.
the only catch in your genius idea is that you actually have to ask toji about it.
you've been lingering outside his bedroom door for what feels like hours, trying to figure out how to actually phrase your proposal without making a complete fool of yourself.
but just as you timidly raise a fist to knock, the door swings open, and toji walks right into you, causing you to collide face first with his toned chest. you barely register the two strong hands that rest over your shoulders to steady you, your mind suddenly laser focused on the way your cheek is squished between his pecs.
"oops. sorry, doll," toji chuckles heartily, moving one of his hands from your shoulder to gently grasp your hair and pull your now noticeably flushed face away from his chest. "didn't see ya there."
"n-no, it's my fault." you manage to stammer out, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain your composure. shit, you hadn't even asked him yet, and you were already a mess.
he raises a thick eyebrow at your skittish demeanour, his hand leaving your hair to teasingly poke at one of your adorably pink cheeks. "aww, what's this? you blushin'?"
you try and shoot him a glare, but it looks more like a pout than anything else as you meekly swat his hand away from your face. "shut up, toji. you're the one who walked right into me."
he lets out a deep, amused chortle at this, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at you with a lazy smirk. "right. and you're the one who was lingering outside my door like a creeper."
you let out an embarrassed huff at his rebuttal, knowing there's no way to deny it now. you take another deep breath, idly wringing your hands as you crane your neck to look up at him. "yeah. about that. i, um, i wanted to ask you something."
toji cocks his head to the side, his expression turning mildly curious. "oh? what could you possibly want to ask this old man, hm?" he grunts, your little nervous fidgets not going unnoticed by him.
"w-well, i, um..." you begin, your features twisting up into a grimace as you struggle to get the words out. damn it, you were already cursing your past self for thinking this was a good idea. "i have a proposition for you."
this seems to pique the dark-haired man's interest, and he straightens his back slightly, reaching up with a large hand to scratch his chin. "what kind of proposition are we talkin', sweets?"
you swallow thickly at the way he puts such emphasis on the word proposition, as if he already knows exactly what you're thinking. but of course he doesn't â how could he?
"the kind of proposition where i lend you my credit card to help with your little... money problem," you begin, fighting to keep your voice as steady as possible. "and in return, you..."
toji's eyebrows raise even higher at your words, and he lets out a grunt of irritation when you trail off at the end of your sentence. "in return i what? use your words, doll."
"and in return, you..." you repeat quietly, your voice becoming consistently quieter until the last few words come out as a mere whisper. "help me lose my virginity."
the silence that follows your words is absolutely deafening, the only noise being the faint sounds of cars passing by the road outside the apartment.
you immediately start thinking of ways to salvage the situation, maybe just laugh it off and say it was a prank or something. it's a flimsy excuse, but it's better than this painful silence.
just as you open your mouth in an attempt to backtrack, toji grasps your chin in one large hand, effectively shutting you up with the movement. "you're a damn virgin?" he rasps out, turning your flushed face from side to side as if examining it would help him find the answer.
"u-uh, yeah," you mutter sheepishly, shrinking in on yourself slightly under the sudden intensity of his gaze. "why do you sound so surprised?"
toji barks out an almost incredulous laugh, as if you were utterly ridiculous for even asking such a thing. "seriously?" he huffs, shaking his head. "you're a fine little thing. figured ya would've had guys linin' up around the block for ya at college."
your eyes widen almost comically at his words, your mouth opening and closing a few times as you try to form a coherent response. you never expected your considerably older, rough around the edges roommate to actually find you attractive. "i-is that a yes, then?"
he scoffs loudly at this, repeating your words back to you in a mocking tone. "how the hell do ya expect me to say no to that?" he mutters, the pad of his thumb skimming across your jaw. "i've done worse deals for a whole lot less."
you let out a long sigh of relief, some of the tension leaving your shoulders at his agreement. the hardest part was out the way â you'd managed to get him on board.
"hey." toji grunts, his hand on your chin squeezing hard enough to get your attention as he angles it higher, tearing you from your thoughts. "look at me when we're talkin', girl."
your eyes widen even further at his sudden commanding tone, your thighs instinctively pressing together slightly beneath your skirt. the reaction doesn't go unnoticed by toji, but he doesn't comment on it, simply filing the information away for later.
"ya sure this is what y'want, sweets?" toji asks, his voice barely above a low mutter as he leans his head down closer to your level, his hot breaths just barely puffing across your face as he seemingly searches for any signs of hesitance. "once it's done there ain't no goin' back."
"i... i know." you gulp, vaguely aware of the way his dark eyes follow the gentle bobbing of your throat. "i wouldn't have asked if i didn't want this."
he hums, appearing satisfied with your answer. his thumb moves from your jaw to the plump skin of your lower lip, pulling it down slightly before letting it snap back into place. "how long do i get ya credit card for?"
"how long?" you repeat, blinking a few times. you hadn't even thought about that. and it was becoming quite hard to focus with the way he was toying with your lip. "um... twenty four hours."
toji grunts in acknowledgement, but his lips start to spread into a mischievous grin, and you can tell he's not going to make this easy for you. "nah. forty eight."
you let out an indignant huff, your eyes narrowing at the audacity of this man. two whole days? he was probably planning on bankrupting you at this rate. "thirty six." you counter.
he lets out a hearty laugh, his chest visibly rumbling with amusement at your haggling. his thumb traces over your lip again, causing you to let out a shuddering breath. "mm. ya got y'erself a deal there, dollface."
"good." you mutter, reaching out a hand towards him in a gesture of sealing the deal. toji takes it, his large hand entirely enveloping yours as he gives it a brisk shake.
before you can even think of saying anything else, toji uses his grip on your hand to tug you closer to his chest, your face almost colliding with his torso again.
"i'm assumin' you've atleast kissed before?" toji muses, this thumb still tracing the contour of your lips as if that would answer his question.
you let out a small, embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you find yourself avoiding his gaze again. "yeah, i have."
toji tuts, yanking your chin back up again, more forcibly this time. "jesus, girl. what did i say about keeping your eyes on me?" he grumbles. "and whatcha laughin' for? i say somethin' funny?"
"sorry." you huff, your lips pushing out into an involuntary pout. "i'm not laughing because of you. it was just a really... bad kiss."
he hums in response, tilting his head to the side as his grin morphs into a small smirk. "damn. a virgin and you've never even had a good kiss. i got my work cut out for me here."
you try and shoot him another glare, a huff of exasperation leaving your lips. "no need to rub it in, toji. i'm paying you for this, remember?"
toji barks out an amused chuckle, shaking his head at your little attempts to try and look stern. cute. "yeah yeah, i know ya are. and don't worry, ya won't regret it."
you're about to open your mouth to retort, but before a single syllable can leave your mouth, toji's lips are on yours. they're rough and slightly chapped as they brush over your own, just the texture you would've expected them to be if you had to guess.
it's not a rough kiss, but it's not exactly gentle either. it's somewhere in the middle, somewhere that makes you think even the way toji kisses is just so... toji.
he pulls away after a few moments, letting out a soft huff of laughter at your dazed expression. "you still in there, sweets?" he hums, flicking his thumb against your forehead.
you can feel the way your cheeks flush darker at his taunting words, silently cursing yourself for getting so worked up over a simple kiss. damn it, it was so obvious just how touch starved you were. how were you going to make it through this?
"i'm still here." you grumble under your breath, causing toji to chuckle even harder. "and if you're just gonna keep laughing at me, maybe i'll go ask someone else to help me."
toji's chuckle turns into a bark of laughter, and his lips curve up into a smug grin as he flicks your forehead again. "no can do. we already shook on it. handshake's sacred, dollface. dontcha know?"
"ugh. you just made thatâ" you attempt to argue, but he shuts you up by pressing his lips back onto yours again, slightly rougher this time. you let out a sound of surprise against his mouth when his scar brushes against your skin, but slowly, you start to reciprocate the gesture.
he lets out a satisfied hum, starting to take a few steps backwards through the doorway of his room, his lips still moving against yours all the way.
you angle your face up to unknowingly chase after his lips when he pulls away, and you have to swallow down the embarrassing sound that threatens to escape you when you realize what you're doing.
toji snorts, shutting the door behind the two of you with a stupidly self-satisfied smirk stretching across his lips. "that attached to me already, huh? we only just started."
"i'm not attached." you scoff meekly, though your actions severely contradict your words as you lean up on your tiptoes in the search of another kiss.
"mhm. whatever y'say, girl." he mutters amusedly, his hand snaking under your chin again to help you reach his mouth. he meets you halfway, his kisses growing slowly more insistent as his tongue flickers out to swipe over your lower lip.
a soft gasp escapes your lips at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle asking for entrance into your mouth, but you comply, parting your lips to allow the intrusion.
he lets out a satisfied grunt, his tongue darting every which way as it expertly explores the warm cavern of your mouth. you just stand there, completely stock still, for a long few seconds before your own tongue starts to meekly lick against his.
"yeah, there we go," toji mutters into your mouth, his thick tongue easily enveloping yours as he rolls them together. he's so effortless with it, like this is second nature for him â you suppose it probably is. you're not oblivious to the amount of hookups he brings back to the apartment when he thinks you're asleep.
toji pulls back from your mouth with a lewd pop! once he registers that you need some air, observing the way your chest rapidly rises and falls like you can't get enough oxygen with silent amusement.
he's going to have such fun pulling more of these pretty reactions from you.
while you're still desperately trying to catch your breath, he slides both of his rough, calloused palms under the fabric of your shirt, his hands leaving a tingling trail of heat across your skin.
"waitâ" you begin to protest, but whatever you were going to say trails off once you feel his fingers brush against the underside of your breasts.
he lets out a grunt of surprise, raising his bushy eyebrows. "no bra, doll?" toji scoffs, shaking his head. "you were ready for this, weren't ya?
your cheeks flood with embarrassment for the nth time this evening, and you feel the sudden urge to just shove his hands away and go back to your room to get yourself off with your feeble fingers. but you don't.
toji lets out yet another snort of laughter at your reaction, rolling his eyes. "i ain't sayin' it's a bad thing, girl," he mumbles, moving his hands to cup each of your breasts in his wide palms. "makes things easier for me. i like it."
you let out a small huff of relief at his sort-of-creepy reassurance, unable to fight the way your body instinctively leans into his touch, pressing your chest into his hands slightly.
he hums, removing his hands only to push your shirt up to get a look at your bare breasts, the fabric bunching up around your collarbone as he leans in closer to inspect your assets.
"toji!" you gasp in complaint, trying to push down the instinct to cover yourself up from your roommate's intense gaze. but when your hands fly up to guard your chest, he instantly grabs your wrists, making you freeze.
"ah ah," he chides with a smug smirk, easily moving both of your wrists into one hand while the other reaches out to fondle your breasts. "no need to be shy. ya got a nice pair of juicy tits right here."
his compliment is so lewd, and even with the way you attempt to wriggle your wrists free from his grip, he effortlessly keeps them trapped with one strong hand.
toji squeezes and kneads the supple flesh of your breasts, laving both with equal attention as he feels up every inch of skin available to him. he can't believe his little roommate has been hiding these pretty tits from him all this time.
when he leans down to pop one into his mouth, you let out a strangled gasp which quickly morphs into an almost pornographic moan when he starts to gently suckle at your highly sensitive nipple.
"shit." you manage to push out, your breaths becoming increasingly more erratic as he starts to flick his rough tongue over your perked bud. you can feel rather than hear the raspy chuckle he lets out at your reaction.
"so damn sensitive," toji rumbles as he pulls back from your breast, which is now shiny and slick with his salvia, before moving to the other. "y'like that, huh?"
it takes you a few moments to form a coherent response, your mind suddenly feeling unable to focus on anything other than the way he's practically making out with your chest. "y-yeah."
toji's smirk widens in a grin at your stammered words, clearly finding enjoyment in the way your body is reacting to his every touch. "bet ya do. poor thing, graduated college and still never been properly touched."
you let out an indignant huff, annoyance momentarily taking over your pleasure. damn it, why did he always have to mock you at any given opportunity? you're starting to wish you never told him about your virginity.
he snorts again at your huff, removing his mouth from your breast with a long, stringy trail of salvia connecting his lips to your chest. "whatcha huffin' for, girl? thought ya wanted this."
you shoot him another one of your trying-to-be-stern-but-really-just-pouting glares. "i do want this. but i also want you to stop laughing at me the entire time."
he rolls his eyes dramatically, acting as if not laughing at your expense was the most difficult thing he'd been asked to do today. "i'm not laughin' at you, dollface. i'm laughin' at those stupid ass college boys who missed out on having you like this."
before you can even begin to process his words, toji crowds you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you instinctively plop down onto the mattress, looking up at him with wide eyes.
he snickers at your shocked expression, moving forward to stand between your legs. from this position, he towers over you even more than usual, and you have to crane your neck practically all the way back to meet his eyes.
"why so surprised, hmm?" toji drawls, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear in an uncharacteristically gentle touch. "y'think i didn't notice how pretty ya were the first damn day ya moved in?"
you open and close your mouth a few times before managing to pull yourself together enough to speak. "honestly? i kinda figured you didn't pay me much attention â considering how many hookups you bring around here."
he hums in response, moving his hand to grasp your chin and force you to maintain eye contact with him. "so you noticed that, huh?" he grunts, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "they're just distractions, really. i've wanted you for a while, but i assumed ya wouldn't be interested in and old man like me."
you can only raise an eyebrow incredulously at his words, as if he'd just said something ridiculous. "toji, you're so dramatic. you're not that old."
he barks out a loud laugh at this, slowly lowering himself to his knees between your legs. the audible sound of his muscles protesting the movement seems to disprove your words, making you wince. "no need to flatter me, sweets. i know 'm old." he mutters, his smirk still firmly in place.
you open your mouth to argue, but quickly forget whatever you were about to say when toji's large palms start to trail up your thighs, stopping just below the edge of your skirt.
"ya got no panties on too?" he asks teasingly, although you can hear the faint sense of actual curiosity in his tone. however, when his fingers graze against the edge of your lace panties, he huffs. "hmph. you disappoint me."
you roll your eyes at his words. you would've gone pantyless too, but unfortunately the prospect of finally losing your virginity made you so wet that you had to wear them to prevent yourself from dripping on the floor of the apartment.
"you've touched yourself before, i take it?" toji grunts as his hand moves to easily cup your clothed pussy in his palm, his smirk becoming a grin again when he feels how damp the material is.
you suck in a sharp breath, your eyes fluttering in pleasure at the feel of someone else's hand except your own touching your most sensitive area. "y-yeah, i have. but it's..."
toji seems to understand why you trailed off, letting out a hum of acknowledgement as his fingers start to rub little circles against your panties. "but your little fingers can't make you cum right, yeah?"
you can only manage a feeble nod, fighting the urge to start grinding yourself into his hand. he chuckles amusedly at your reaction, his fingers just dipping under the edge of your panties but not quite.
if you were one of his usual hookups, he'd probably be balls deep inside you by now. but you're not â you're his pretty little roommate he's had his eye on for a while, and on top of that, you're a virgin.
he's going to take his sweet time with you.
toji spends what feels like an eternity teasing you through your underwear until you're squirming restless on the edge of his bed before he finally, finally makes direct contact with your pussy.
"shit," he grunts as he swipes his finger through your sopping folds, the digit practically slipping across your slick skin. "you're so damn wet, baby. i've hardly even touched you yet."
you can't stop the pathetic whine that escapes your throat, your cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink and your eyes half-lidded with need as you look down at him. "please, toji."
fucking hell. he actually has to restrain himself from just pouncing on you right there and then when you beg him so sweetly. instead, he lets out a raspy chuckle, his finger moving down to lazily circle your dripping entrance. "please what, girl? use your words."
"please..." you say again, your voice breathless as you wriggle your hips slightly underneath his hand. "touch me properly."
toji snorts at your phrasing, shaking his head. but before another retort can leave his lips, he's rendered speechless for a moment when he slides a finger into your entrance, your gummy walls instantly sucking him in.
"jesus," he mutters hoarsely, yanking your panties to the side with his other hand to get an unobstructed view of the way your little pussy flutters around his finger. "what a pretty fuckin' cunt."
you let out what can only be described as a mewl at his words, and the noise sounds foreign to your own ears. god, what is he doing to you?
he groans low in his throat at the sound you make, moving his finger around inside of you as gently as he can and brushing the thick digit against your spongy walls.
it should be illegal, really, how quickly toji manages to find your sweet spot. he's had a single finger inside your pussy for just under a minute, and the calloused pad of his digit is already grazing your sensitive g spot.
"ah!" you practically sob, your thighs instinctively clenching around his beefy arm. you've never felt such an intense spark of pleasure before â it's obvious you never managed to find that spot before when you attempted to get yourself off.
he grins smugly, brushing his finger over the spot again, almost touching it but not quite enough to properly stimulate you. "that's the spot, ain't it, dollface?" the question is rhetorical. you both know that's the spot.
but before you can start grinding yourself down onto his finger, he abruptly pulls it out, admiring the way the digit is now coated in your shiny slick.
you open your mouth to protest, or beg for more, or something, but all rational thoughts leave your mind when you see toji slip his finger into his mouth, sucking your juices from it with a low grunt.
"damn, that's good," he mutters gruffly, almost to himself, as he slides it out of his mouth with a lewd pop! â his eyes then fall back on your glistening pussy, his pupils dilated considerably more than before.
in a matter of moments, toji's slid your ruined panties down your legs, admiring the sticky mess soiled there before shamelessly shoving them in his pocket of his sweatpants.
"hey!â" you huff half-heartedly, but before you can even think of finishing the sentence, toji's chapped lips are placing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses up your thighs.
"mmph," you moan softly, not bothering to protest as he slides your thighs further apart with his palms, his lips nibbling against the supple skin of your inner thighs, undoubtably leaving small marks that will bloom tomorrow.
"wanna eat you," toji murmurs once he's face to face with your pussy, his hot breaths puffing across your sensitive skin and visibly making your little clit twitch impatiently. "can i eat you, dollface?"
you crease your eyebrows a little in confusion at his request. from what you'd heard from your college friends, guys hated performing oral for girls. but the way toji was staring hungrily at your cunt, his tongue swiping across his dry lips, made you think he would simply laugh at you again if you told him that.
"o-okay," you mutter sheepishly. and the second the agreement leaves your lips, toji's burying his entire face against your heat, groaning into your pussy as he rubs his sharp nose up and down your sopping folds.
when he first slides his rough tongue across your sensitive skin, you swear you go cross-eyed for a full moment before regaining control of yourself. it's like nothing you've ever felt before, wet and warm and so deliciously lewd.
"fuckin' sweeter than candy," toji grunts against your skin, the vibrations causing your body to instinctively attempt to wriggle away. but he's not having it, his beefy arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you in place. "ah ah, no runnin', baby."
while before you might've tried to argue a little in protest, your brain has already turned to mush from just his finger and his tongue, so you can only let out a few unintelligible murmurs.
"yeahhh," he snorts as he continues to sloppily lap at your folds, gathering as much of your syrupy slick on his tastebuds as possible. "don't hear none of that backtalk now."
god, he's so messy with it. you can hardly manage to keep your eyes open to gaze at him, but when you do, it only makes your pleasure heighten to new levels.
you've never seen your roommate so focused on anything before â not even those storage wars shows he likes to shout at on the tv. his eyes are half-lidded, his thick fingers are digging into your thighs so hard you can visibly see the marks forming, and his tongue is ruthless as it delves in and out of your dripping hole.
"t-toji, shit. feels so good," you manage to stammer out, your head thrown back and your hands traveling up to tangle in his messy dark hair without thinking, tugging on it gently.
your action draws a raspy chuckle from low in toji's throat, and his sloppy, shameless tongue seems to speed up even more in response. you vaguely register a glob of saliva landing on your pussy, but just as quick as it falls there, he's already licking it back up. "c'mon, girl, i know you can pull harder than that."
you attempt to tug his dishevelled strands harder, but your hands feel weak, and your thighs are starting to shake slightly around his head. you notice a familiar spring coiling in the depths of your stomach, but it feels more intense than any build-up to an orgasm you've given yourself before.
"t-think i'm close." you gasp out, your mouth hanging open as you try and keep your body from collapsing back against the mattress. he's quick to help, his hands sliding up the back of your skirt to support your back.
toji hums in satisfaction, a shit-eating (or, in this case, a pussy-eating) grin spreading across his lips as he continues to devour you, his tongue repeatedly massaging your g spot.
it feels like he's trying to eat you whole, and it's completely overwhelming in the best way possible.
"yeah?" he mutters against your cunt, wrapping his lips around your puffy, swollen clit and sucking the sensitive bud harshly. "go on then, baby. cum for me."
it feels like a part of you was instinctively waiting for his permission, because the second those words leave his mouth, your entire body starts convulsing in his strong arms, a strangled cry leaving your open mouth as you orgasm.
your earlier suspicion was right, because this is the hardest you've ever cum before in your entire life. (not that there's really much competition). your limbs feel all tingly and airy, and there aren't really many thoughts left in your mind except from toji, toji, toji.
"hmmph," toji grumbles, pulling back from your cunt after he's sure every bit of your sweet release is down his throat. he looks up at you, snickering gruffly at the utterly dumb look across your features.
you look completely fucked out already, and he hasn't even fucked you yet. that's what happens when you make a deal with a virgin, he assumes.
while you attempt to come down from your high, toji shifts slightly, his knees aching slightly from spending so long on the floor. but even worse than that, is the raging erection he has straining against the material of his sweatpants.
it's been there since he started kissing you, and it's only gotten progressively worse as the time stretched on. he's so hard now that it actually hurts, and the small stain of pre-cum darkening the front makes him feel like a damn teenager again.
toji gets to his feet, ignoring the way his stiff muscles protest, and sheds his sweats and his boxers in one swift movement, kicking them somewhere across the room. he makes his way between your legs, spreading them even further apart to make room for his body.
"wait..." you mumble dazedly, your words adorably slurred as you blink lazily up at him, reaching out a hand as if silently asking for something. "don't y'want me to return the favour first?"
he snorts, although it makes something inside him warm the slightest bit at your consideration. "nah, dollface. you're paying me, not the other way 'round, yeah?"
your pouty expression from earlier returns, but before you can argue further, your eyes fall on his cock, which you only just notice is free from his sweatpants. it's bigger than any you've seen videos of online before, with a prominent vein running down the length and pearly rivulets of pre-cum leaking from the pudgy tip.
your mouth falls into a small 'o' shape, a sudden sense of dread filling you at the mere thought of trying to take that inside of you. why did you have to make this deal with someone who has such an unnecessarily large dick?
toji chuckles deeply at your reaction, cocking his head to the side with a smug smirk. "what? don't tell me you're g'nna chicken out on me now, sweets?"
you could just smooth down your skirt, hand him your credit card as payment for what he's done for you already, and walk right out of his room the way you came in.
but you don't. you've come too far already to back out now â you're this close to finally losing your virginity.
"no," you murmur meekly, swallowing thickly and tearing your eyes away from his cock and meeting his eyes again. "i don't wanna stop. it's just... is that thing really gonna fit in me?"
he barks out an amused laugh at this, his rough palms on your thighs squeezing in what's probably his way of giving you a reassuring gesture. "it'll fit, baby. i loosened you up a little already, so that'll help."
"okay," you mutter, your eyes flickering back down as he wraps a large hand around the meaty base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance and rubbing it along your puffy folds, gathering some of your creamy slick on the head. "is it gonna hurt? it's gonna hurt, isn't it?"
toji huffs at your hurried rambling, leaning his head down to shut you up with a quick kiss to your lips. "it'll only hurt at the start," he grunts in as soothing a tone as he can muster, bracing a hand against the headboard above you.
this seems to ease your nerves, if only a little, and you nod in a sign of silent permission. but he doesn't appear satisfied with this, and he grasps your chin with his free hand. "that ain't good enough, dollface. use your words f'me."
"y-you can start now." you murmur in response, your eyes glued to the way the muscles in his arm flex above you as he begins to slowly push himself in.
"fuckin' shit," he groans, the sound more guttural than anything he's let out so far as his cock breaches the first ring of muscle inside of you, his beefy arm visibly shaking as he tries to hold himself back from just plunging all the way in. "so damn tight in here."
your face contorts into a grimace as a rush of pain pangs through your body, your hands clutching at the sheets for purchase. you'd heard about it hurting online, but then again, most people didn't take a cock as big as toji's for their first time.
"sorry, babydoll." he mutters hoarsely, his gruff tone holding an underlying tone of genuine sympathy instead of the amusement he's shown so far â he's clearly aware of the strain he's having on your body.
he gives you a few moments to adjust to the intrusion, gritting his teeth to hold back any sounds that threaten to spill out of his mouth when he feels your cunt clenching and unclenching around him.
"you can keep going now," you manage to say, your eyes screwed shut and your hands fisted in the bedcovers as you try to deal with the pain. "i'm okay."
he grunts in response, the hand that was around your chin moving to grasp one of your balled up hands as he continues to sink himself inside inch by inch. he can feel how hard you squeeze his hand the entire time, probably cutting off the circulation to his arm in the process.
but he couldn't care less about that. not when he so close to finally being balls deep inside of his pretty little roommate.
"biiiig stretch." toji hums, a low, drawn out sound, when he finally feels himself bottom out, your spongy walls contracting and fluttering around him as if they can't decide whether to push the intrusion out or pull it in deeper. "there we go."
you, on the other hand, couldn't manage to string together a single syllable. it feels like toji has buried himself into your guts, like he's physically rearranging your anatomy right before your eyes.
toji lets his own eyes flutter shut for a moment, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. he knows you need a while to adjust to taking all of him, but damn if he doesn't want to pound you into the mattress right now.
you let out a strangled groan, wriggling around against the covers as your body stretches to accommodate his sheer size. it feels like he could split you in half without much effort. "p-please... start moving, toji."
"you sure?" he rasps gruffly, his hand gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles have gone completely white. "once i start i prolly won't be able to stop."
"i-i don't care. just..." you begin, unable to even finish the thought when he shifts slightly, unintentionally pushing into you even deeper. "move."
he snorts at your desperation, but the sound turns into something akin to a growl when he pulls out slightly, before shoving himself right back in all the way.
"ah!" you sob pathetically, clinging onto his hand even tighter as he starts to shallowly thrust into you. shit, you're pretty sure you just felt something inside of you snap.
you're officially no longer a virgin.
"yeahhh." toji grunts above you, his lips spreading into a pussydrunk grin as he moves he moves his hips leisurely but expertly. you're starting to understand why his hookups always cry his name so loud through the thin walls separating your rooms.
the initial pain slowly starts to fade, being replaced by an overwhelming sense of pleasure and fullness. you bring your shaky legs up to wrap around his beefy back, your ankles locking against his skin.
"jesus, girl," he groans, his hips subtly stuttering in their pace in response to your actions. "y'er pullin' me in even deeper."
you open your mouth to apologize, or retort, or something, but it comes out as a slurred garble when you feel toji's fat cockhead brush against your cervix.
"uh huhh." he grins smugly, his hand that was interlaced with yours moving down to grip your hip and keep you in place as he quickens his pace slightly. he's being a little gentler than he usually would be just for you, but this is still toji here.
"t-too much!" you cry out, reaching up to grasp onto his bicep above you for some sort of support. your entire body is jolting against the covers in response to his increasingly hard thrusts, your mouth hanging open dumbly.
"nah, dollface," he grunts in protest, his fingers digging into the skin of your hip as if to ground you. "i know y'can take it. doing so damn well f'me."
toji brings his palm up from your hip to slide under your previously bunched up shirt, fondling your breasts and rolling one of your hardened nipples between his fingers.
this makes a loud mewl escape from your throat, your cunt clenching around him in response to the dual sensations. if you thought his tongue made you reach new heights of pleasure, his cock is a completely different beast.
you can already feel something strange stirring in the depths of your stomach. it's not like your previous orgasm, it's unfamiliar â it almost feels like you're about to pee.
"t-toji, feels weird," you slur out, squirming against the covers as you try to hold the rising sensation at bay. "like i'm gonna pee or something. m-maybe y'should pull out."
he barks out a laugh at this, as if he knows something you don't. his hand moves down to pat your stomach, right where the prominent bulge of his cock is moving in and out.
"that means you're gonna squirt, baby." he utters simply, making your eyes widen in surprise. now that's something you've definitely never managed to make yourself do before.
looks like you're gonna be ticking off more than one first from the list today.
"makin' ya squirt for y'er first time," he proclaims cockily, smirking to himself as he effortlessly keeps up the languid rolls of his hips. "i'm damn good, ain't i?"
"i haven't even squirted yet." you grumble, heat flooding to your cheeks in response to his teasing. he's still your annoyingly smug roommate, even when he's fucking you into his mattress.
"key word â yet." toji shrugs in response, his lethal thrusts quickening in pace. his rough palm pushes down right above your bulging tummy, causing you to let out a strangled gasp.
your cunt clenches impossibly tighter around him, your ankles digging into the skin of his back as you feel your second orgasm of the night start to wash over you. "fuck. g-gonna..."
"yeah? c'mon, baby, make a mess all on me." he grunts gruffly, his hand moving down to rub lazy, sloppy circles against your puffy clit, the nub pulsing under his touch.
"tojiiii!" you practically sob, the added stimulation sending you hurling over the edge before you can process it. your vision goes completely white with the intensity of your high, your breaths coming in heavy gasps.
"oh, thattt's it," he hums in satisfaction, lightly patting your pussy as he watches the gushes of clear liquid squirt out, lewdly coating the base of his cock and balls in your essence. "fuckin' good girl."
it only takes him a couple more strokes for toji to know he's close too, and he quickly pulls out, slapping his thick cock against the flushed skin of your tummy and giving it a few final jerks.
as much as he'd love to fill you up, he figures that since you're a virgin, you probably wouldn't be on birth control.
and he's not about take that risk.
toji lets out a low, raspy grunt as he spills his creamy, pearlescent cum all over your stomach, tainting the supple skin with his sticky, oozy mess.
he lazily tugs his boxers and sweatpants back up, wiping some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before leaning down and giving your cheek a quick, wet kiss.
then he saunters out of the room, leaving you panting and limp on his bed while he rifles through your purse on the living room table.
"i would've done that for free, by the way." toji mutters amusedly as he pulls out your credit card, waving it tauntingly in front of his face with the smuggest grin yet stretching at his lips. "see ya in thirty six hours, dollface."
Š 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.
iâd like to dedicate my first proper fic to @screampied because her works inspired me to begin writing my own! <3
LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!
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sugoroo#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#toji#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#toji zenin#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#anime smut#smut#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader smut
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Seeing ghosts in Gotham
Heâs walking alone. Despite how dark it is, heâs not particularly nervous, not like the couple of people hovering in an alley.
His shift at Batburger went a little long, not that heâs complaining, he needed the money.
Everything is fine. Splendid. Fantastic. A little quiet, enough to pretend itâs a nice stroll home like it was back in Amity. Of course that all kind of goes up in flames when a dark figure drops into a crouch right in front of him. About two arm lengths away is a guy who straightens to a little taller than Danny himself. From the flickering street light across the street he can spot red, crisscross yellow, and a dark cape.
Red Robin.
Danny shakes his head and turns around.
âNope.â
A smaller body is already standing behind him, blocking his path. The little guy with a serious face folds his arms across his chest as if challenging Danny to try to get by him.
Heâs had enough tussles with Danielle to know better than to test the kid.
Danny rubs at his eyes with a hand, purposefully keeping the other limp at his side. He turns back around.
âOkay. Fine. What? What do you want?â
âYou sent in a folder of information to solve the Boothe case,â Red Robin states confidently like there wasnât any doubt it was Danny who sent it in.
He frowns. It was sent in anonymously. As in they shouldnât be able to know it was him. Then again they are detectives in their own right even if they dress weird.
âSee? This is why no one helps out the police if theyâre gonna get grilled for it later on,â he complains sourly.
âThat case is connected to another string of crimes weâve been investigating. I need to know where you got your information.â
Danny glares at him for a second, actually thinking about telling him, then he remembers how quickly these guys throw people into Arkham.
âDo you not get what anonymous means?â
âWhat is your source?â He asks, completely ignoring Dannyâs concerns.
âWhat are gonna do? Dangle me over the side of a building to get me to talk like you do with the criminals you guys pick up? Go ahead. See where that gets you,â he shrugs indifferently.
âYouâre a runaway.â
Dannyâs eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into a warning as he turns to look at the pipsqueak that spoke.
âFrom your poorly made fake ID and the fact you donât look close to eighteen, you must be a runaway minor. We could bring you in to the proper authorities if you prove to be⌠uncooperative.â
Danny sneers in annoyance.
âSeriously?â He turns back to Red Robin. Clearly the older of the two and the one leading this investigation. âThis is what I get for trying to help? Blackmail?â
âRobin can be a bit⌠abrasive. I, on the other hand, can appreciate a different approach.â
Suddenly thereâs a couple pieces of paper money in between his fingers. Danny couldnât see how much it was from this far away, but it didnât really change how he felt about the whole situation.
âNow bribery? Wow, you guys really got the whole good cop, bad cop thing down, donât cha?â
âThen what do you want?â
âFor you to stop wasting your time,â Danny answers with a snap.
Red Robin pauses.
âOur time,â he repeats calmly.
âYea. Your time. This is a dead end and you should move on.â
âAnd why are you a dead end?â Presses Robin.
âBecause,â Danny emphasizes with a look over his shoulder, âthe guy youâre really looking for, my source as you put it, is dead, okay? So you canât go ask him questions. I sent in everything that was relevant. Find another lead.â
Red Robinâs expression remains blank as he mentally calculates his next move. Danny hopes he takes his advice and let him go home.
âHis name?â
Danny folds his arms over his chest, a pathetic attempt to protect himself. He chews on his lip a minute. To tell him or not to tell him. Itâs not really ratting the guy out since heâs, you know, dead. Although there is a large chance Dannyâs missing something and itâs all going to lead back to him somehow.
âI didnât kill him.â
âI never said you did,â the vigilante replies calmly, almost nonchalant.
Danny shifts his weight with nerves. He really wasnât getting out of this without giving them something, huh?
âGreg,â he grinds out like itâs painful.
Silence for a few moments, then-
âAs in Gregory Boothe?â
The victim of this whole conversation? Yes.
Dannyâs silence is answer enough and the diverted gaze just solidified their suspicions.
âGregory Bootheâs body turned up a month ago. Presumably heâd been dead for several weeks before that.â
Red lets that damning information hang in the air like Danny didnât already know.
âSo when did he talk to you? Last week?â
Danny jerks at the off handed joke, actually taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. He grimaces at his knee jerk response, but canât take it back. A glance toward the vigilante shows a calculating stunned expression from what he can see ignoring the mask. He looks away again finding a discarded soda can very interesting.
âWhat is that supposed to mean?â Demands Robin behind him.
Danny tried to resist the urge to curl even more into himself, but knows he failed without even having to look.
âYouâre a medium,â Red Robin states. Itâs not even a question.
Danny flinches and shoots the guy a scared glare.
âI am not one of those scam artists,â he hisses firmly.
âNo,â Red agrees, âyouâre not. You didnât ask for money or attention.â
Danny stares like itâs his first time seeing him. The lack of aggression or accusations was new and a little disarming. He was genuinely confused as to why the guy wasnât immediately going to denial or throwing him in Arkham.
âHell of a city to hide in when you can see ghosts,â Red Robin says in a light tone like he was teasing him. The small tug to his lips just proves it.
Dannyâs shoulders practically sag at the playful demeanor. A hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously.
âYea, well⌠no one was gonna look for me here.â
Which was only half the reason he chose Gotham, but it was still truthful.
âSo⌠Greg?â
âIsnât here right now.â Danny pauses and snorts at himself. âPlease leave a message.â
The vigilante does have a sense of humor because he smirks in response to the joke.
âIs there another way to⌠make contact? Summoning maybe?â
Danny raises an eyebrow incredulously.
âSummoning is rude,â he says like itâs common sense.
Instead he turns to the nearest reliable ghost in the vicinity.
âHey, Susan, can you go-â
The vigilantes canât hear how she interrupts him because she was standing there the whole time and knows exactly what he was going to ask.
âOkay, thanks. Meet at mine.â
The ghost woman nods and flies off to go hunt down dear old Greg and Danny turns to Red Robin. He makes a casual move with his head to say âfollow meâ and continues walking down the sidewalk past the guy and further into the old, decrepit buildings heâs been squatting in.
They already know heâs a runaway, being homeless shouldnât come as a shock to them. Even with his two jobs, he canât afford to rent an apartment. No wonder so many people are in poverty or in the slums.
He ducks into his rundown building, ignoring the rats scurrying away, and hops up the rickety stairs, avoiding the ones that were unstable. It was a nightmare figuring out which steps were faulty. Lots of injuries.
At the top he turns to see Red easily copying his movements up the stairs while Robin balances along the railing like a tight rope. When they reach the top at the same time Danny just stares at them for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation. Darn vigilantes. Why did Danny have to get caught up in this mess?
He turns, walking along the floor closest to the wall before getting to what heâs deemed his room.
It used to be an office from what he can tell. A desk pushed against the far wall and a ripped sofa heâs been using as a bed on the other wall. The floors were the most stable in this room which really won out.
Danny goes to the desk where all his papers are scattered over the surface. An organizational pattern only he understands as he shuffles through the pile he pulls from the cubby above the desk. It holds all the same information he sent into the police, just in its raw form with about twice the amount of useless information. Along with it is a few other âcasesâ that sounds familiar that he just threw together into a pile. Maybe the genius detectives could decipher what he couldnât.
âHere,â he says, holding out the stack. Red Robin doesnât hesitate to take it off his hands.
Thereâs no chair for the desk anymore so he slides some papers out of the way to hop onto the desk to wait.
âNo.â
The vigilantes look at him and he shakes his head and looks over to the side.
âNo, Abby. Iâm not wasting their time.â
Red Robin goes back to flipping through papers. Most of them were old business papers he had found in the office and just written on the back. Some were receipts or pamphlets or some other random scrap of paper he could get his hands on.
âBecause yours was an accident. Thereâs nothing for them to solve.â
Robin watched him cautiously as if waiting for Danny to snap or suddenly turn violent. Instead he leans back on his hands in a vulnerable position which screamed âI donât want to hurt anyoneâ.
âThere is a lot more information here than what was submitted to the police,â Red Robin comments neutrally, purposefully ignoring Dannyâs exasperated sigh and one-sided conversation.
Danny shrugs in defense, âDidnât think all of it was relevant.â
The vigilante doesnât respond.
Robin drifts closer as Danny gives a withering glare to the corner. He examines the mess of papers surrounding the teen in the low lighting.
âAre these all files of victims?â
Danny glances over them with a knowledgeable eye.
âMost.â He twists to point at the top left corner of the cubbies. âThose are accidents though⌠well, what sounds like accidents.â
âThere should be more.â
Danny looks at the boy with a tilted head and raises brow.
âNot everyone sticks around,â he explains simply.
Then something draws his attention away across the room. Surprisingly his eyes donât glaze over like someone with mental illness, instead they sharpen to see something they canât. It resembled Constantine or Thomas.
âGreg, these guys wanna talk to you.â
What proceeds is a very awkward interaction with Danny as a middle man between victim and vigilante. Despite the need for a translator, Red Robin does in fact get a lead from the conversation.
âThank you for your cooperation.â
Danny nods. âSure, no problem. Just donât rat me out to the police and I can help with any other case that pops up with a ghost attached.â
âYou know we can help with your living situation,â Red Robin offers with a glance around the room.
âWhat, and put me in foster care? No thanks, Iâll pass.â
âThere are other options,â Robin chimes in with nonchalance that implies he doesnât actually care.
âYou donât pass for eighteen, but if you let me make you a new ID we could say youâre emancipated.â
Danny frowns.
âIâd have to be sixteen to be eligible for emancipation.â
âYou could be sixteen.â
No, he really couldnât. Maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, but Danny is fourteen with all the baby fat and innocent face that comes with it. His license now is a clear fake to anyone who sees it, but in this city no oneâs gonna question it to his face. They just raise a brow, look at him, then shrug it off and roll with the lie.
âWhat do you want?â He demands. All this good will and wanting to help him canât be free.
âWe want to help,â Red says too easily.
Danny stares for a second, eyes narrowed as he tries to block out the multiple voices around him.
Insurance. He wants Danny to owe him so he can keep coming back for more information.
âI just told you I would help. Why are you still trying to get leverage?â He demands with irritation.
âWe want to help-â
âYou want me in your back pocket.â
Red Robin doesnât give that a response, his lips pressing together to make a hard line.
Instead of pushing, he surprisingly takes a step back and heads towards the door, papers still in hand. Danny doesnât argue.
Robin ducks out first, blending into the shadows without even a glance over his shoulder. Red Robin pauses in the doorway.
âDonât try to skip town,â he states like an order. Like if Danny did in fact try, he would be found and brought back.
It didnât even cross Dannyâs mind.
âWasnât planning on it,â he says tiredly, too fed up with the day to defend himself.
Red Robin watches him for a moment before nodding and disappearing out the room.
Danny slumps with a groan, finally sliding off the desk to shuffle to the couch, body flopping face first into the worn cushions.
Itâs silent to everyone else but Danny.
âI know.â
âŚ
âI know, Jack, but I donât trust them. Even if he is your son.â
Danny never noticed the bug planted by Robin on the underside of the desk.
#dp x dc#dc x dp#dp x dc crossover#danny fenton#danny phantom#batman#tim drake#damian wayne#red robin#dc robin#story ideas#Danny sees ghosts#itâs his way of helping#medium#homeless#runaway#batburger
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i'll show you, rafe cameron
stepbro!rafe x fem!reader
masterlist
synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.
warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.
word count. 4k.
author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!
it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.
it's the perfect moment.
rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.
you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.
rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.
what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.
and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.
well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...
you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.
somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.
the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.
how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.
before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on âthis way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.
how are you supposed to know which one to pick?
you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.
"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.
well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.
you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.
"iâ this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guyâ well, i... i uhmâ i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class andâ listen, i know this is silly, but..."
"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.
the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.
"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.
you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.
"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."
"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.
if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.
honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.
"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.
it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.
"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.
there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.
"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle âunlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"
he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.
"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.
"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"
your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."
"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."
to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?
"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.
"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."
only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.
god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.
"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.
he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.
he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.
your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.
he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."
"it's justâ this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.
the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.
the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate âat least that's what the title says.
"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."
"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.
your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.
you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.
as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation âhe's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.
you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.
rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.
he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.
his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.
"youâ you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.
rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.
"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."
his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.
your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.
rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."
you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.
"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"
rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.
"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.
your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.
taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.
"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.
you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.
he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.
he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"
you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.
"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.
withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.
rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.
after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.
"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.
you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.
rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.
"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.
heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.
and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.
when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.
"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.
you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.
"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"
"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.
"such a good girl," he praises.
at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.
he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.
suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?
he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.
"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "i'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."
you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?
it's just the tip.
"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.
rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.
"rafe," you whimper.
rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.
he can't fucking take this anymore.
with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.
"jesus, fuck." he grunts.
your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.
"gonnaâ might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."
your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further âwhich nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.
you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.
this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.
you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.
"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"
you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.
after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.
#đ â§âË â
rafeysbunny#đ â§âË â
one shots#obx#outer banks#obx smut#outer banks smut#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron outer banks#outer banks rafe#rafe obx#obx rafe cameron#outer banks rafe cameron#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe x you#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x virgin!reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x innocent!reader#just the tip#stepbro!rafe#stepbrother!rafe cameron#rafe cameron x stepsister!reader
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cw: nsfw! 18+ mdni, f!reader
BRUCE was sprawled out on his bed, black sheets barely covering his naked body, his bulky thigh nudging its way out under and out of them when it got too hot. He kept his hand behind his head, half-lidded eyes never leaving your form as he watched you carefully.
âAgain.â
You stood near his side of the bed, one leg propped up on it, naked except for one of Bruce's white button up shirts, the upper four buttons undone, courtesy of yours truly (Bruce Wayne). Your hand follows the skin of your leg from your calves, to your knees up, up to your thigh where your fingers hook under your simple sheer tights. Slowly, you begin to pull them down your leg, and Bruce's eyes follow the movement religiously. His lips part when your skin reappears under the delicate barrier, the act almost hypnotizing.Â
Bruce inhales sharply when your whole leg gets exposed to him, and his eyes immediately trail up to your face, smiling lazily, a faint dimple showing âAgain,âÂ
You roll your eyes playfully, biting back a smile, and yet you do as he says, somehow also getting worked up over this. You stare unabashedly at his chest, the way it rises and falls with each breath. Your eyes travel lower, down to his happy trail, and Bruce, ever so observant, notices this, and readjusts his hips slightly, making the sheet shift the slightest bit. When your eyes snap up to his, he raises his eyebrow in challenge. You huff, fingers beginning to work again, pulling the tights up your leg this time, slowly though, never rushing this.Â
But you still wanted to fuck with him a little. So when you pull the tights just past your knee you stop completely and watch in amusement as Bruceâs gaze snaps up to yours immediately, eyes narrowing playfully, âThat was the best part, and you ruined it,â he complained in a gruff voice, and you grinned, âI know.â
He clicks his tongue as he scooted closer to the edge of the bed, skimming his fingers over your skin, barely touching you as he went to resume your work, âI'll just have to do it for you then,â his fingers pull the tights up your pretty thigh, and he bites his lip when his work is done, hands now properly touching your skin over your tights, running them up and down your thigh appreciatively.Â
âYouâre insatiable.â you say as you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his head back the slightest bit, and Bruce groans lowly from the tug, leaning down to press a kiss against your thigh. He then looks up at you innocently, humming as if he was agreeing with you.Â
Suddenly his hand wraps around your waist, and he tugs you closer, and you gasp when you fall on his lap, tights long forgotten as he studies your face, grabbing your ass in both hands and lifting you up so you could prop your knees on either side of him, âI can't help it.â he confessed, before claiming your lips with his.
Your hand came up to caress his cheek, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair as you kiss him back. Somehow the sheet was still bunched around his waist, covering his hard cock, and yet you wasted no time and rolled your hips against him. Bruce moans against your lips, his hold on you tightening. His hands knead the skin of your ass, as he pulls away and starts pressing kisses down your jaw. You reward him with another roll of your hips, your pussy meeting his cock through the fabric, and he raises his hips the slightest bit, nudging your clit in the process. He hisses when you whimper, his hands now trailing up your bare back under your (his) shirt. âSweet girl..â
Bruceâs kisses turn more filthy, now pressing open-mouthed kisses on your lips, panting against your mouth for just a second as he pulls away, and your tongue darts out to lick a line across his lips. His eyes turn dark, âLet me fuck you again.â he whispers against your lips, hand coming up to hold your face, thumb and pointer finger digging into each of your cheeks softly.
âI think you can do better than that.â You bite your lip when he rolls his eyes quickly, a smile tugging his lips up, âI can feel you dripping through the sheets, and you want me to beg?â he huffs out a chuckle, and you gasp in faux offense. You turn to look away from him teasingly but he tilts your head back to him with a tut.
You shake off his hold on your face, and in turn take both his cheeks in your palms, eyes dancing across his. Rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip, you lean in to whisper against his ear, âWant to fuck me in them?â
Satisfaction pools inside your belly when you see his adam's apple bob as he swallows harshly, and he groans, dropping his head to bite down at your shoulder teasingly. âYes. Please.â
You grin, moving to stand up, not before Bruce swats your ass playfully. You shoot him an unconvincing glare, and he just shrugs, leaning back with his palms supporting his weight, eyes never trailing up and down your form. âDon't rip them this time.â
Bruce smiles. âI won't.â
Later, when you find yourself panting against the floor-to-ceiling window of his room, the glass foggy as you press your cheek against it to look at Bruce over your shoulder, whimpering when he pulls out of you, his hand pulling the cheek of your ass taut to watch his cum drip out of your pussy, your eyes catch sight of your ripped tights, your pussy and most of your ass free from the material in a perfect circle. You swallow down your whimper when he shoves two fingers inside your puffy cunt, pushing his cum back inside you, âYou lied,â you somehow manage to utter.
Bruce's eyes snap up to yours, his eyebrows furrowing momentarily, sweat dripping down his temple, but then he notices. Sees where you're looking. His eyes glint devilishly, and he gives you the most shit eating grin you've ever seen, âGuess I did.â
2024 Š l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne smut#bruce wayne drabble#batman x reader#batman x you#dc x reader#dc smut#batman smut#dc#dc drabble#bruce wayne
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Logan would probably moan like heâs having the best sex of his life from just a shoulder massage. Do you think heâd deny he needs one? Or would you catch him off guard while heâs asleep?
18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: friends to lovers, unexpected mutual pining, logan realises heâs touch-starved after you offer to give him a backrub, and you both get turned on by it.
divider credit: div1nepetal
what if youâre, like⌠his friend, whoâs grown to care deeply about him over the years and wants nothing else but to help him out a little from time to time in simpler, more âhumanlyâ ways because of said caring?
i mean, heâs got super fast healing and all that jazz, sure, however that doesnât mean that he doesnât get sore and thus â unbearably â cranky about it⌠and since youâve known each other for so long, youâve also gotten quite comfortable in each otherâs company! so it wouldnât be that odd if you were to offer to relieve the pain in your friendâs back when he swings by your place one random evening⌠right?
itâs really just to make him feel better, nothing else! because as soon as he flings himself onto his favoured spot on your worn out couch (a dent that he fucking made with the help of his heavy adamantium ass), you catch him repetitively stretching his neck from side to side and rolling his shoulders every so often with a furrowed brow and a tight-lipped expression that somehow manages to appear even grumpier than his usual neutral.
you steal glances because of it. listen intently to the laboured sighs he keeps letting out. and after leering at him and his struggles from the corner of your eye for a little while, not at all paying attention to the movie that youâre supposed to be watching with him, you finally succumb. you turn to the side and propose your offer whilst wiggling your magic fingers, as you like to call them, right in front of his face, and logan, as is expected, denies it by gently swatting your hand away.
taking over pretty much the entire space on the couch from how heâs manspreading, he doesnât even peel his eyes from the television that â unlike you â heâs actually watching when he tells you that, âyou donât gotta worry about itâ and that itâs not that bad, then. for some reason, he even feels the need to add that he can handle himself just fine.
it all makes your eyes roll.
and instead of listening, you rather choose to persist. heâs a wall whenever he makes up his mind on something, you know this, but you also know that if you nag him and scold him for long enough, prodding and picking at the cracks between phantom bricks, heâll have no choice but to give in and give you what you want just to make you stop⌠though not without adding a snide comment or two himself during it because he canât help but act like a dick sometimes around the people heâs fond of, itâs just the way he is!
as you tell him to scooch over and lay on his stomach, you feel just a little bit bad that you had to resort to annoying him in order to being allowed to help him. however, the guilt isnât nearly as strong as is the sense of victory that youâve just achieved, so you allow it to curl the corners of your lips into a satisfied, cat-like smile while you busy yourself by straddling the small of his back. he canât see your face anyway, so whatâs the issue?
meanwhile, logan lets out a tired exhale, smushing one cheek against the decorative pillow that heâs folded his arms under so that he can still watch the tv while you work your supposed magic. he listens to your sheepish apology and request to tell you if youâre too heavy, to which he responds by calling it nonsense and that youâre insulting him by thinking youâre heavy whilst sitting on top of a guy whoâs literally filled with metal.
and filled with metal he is, indeed! itâs not long before you realize just how much freaking pressure you have to apply to his shoulders and back in order to make him feel something. how much physical strength you have to put into it, to the point that youâre nearly sweating because of it. popping a bone in order to ease some of the tension is literally impossible, so you aim your focus onto the taut cords of muscle instead.
you can see them even through the thin white shirt that heâs wearing â theyâre that profound. flexed and attractive, attained with hard work. but they become even more visible when he reluctantly lets you roll the hem of his shirt up towards the collar, unfolding his arms just so that he can lift the upper half of his body, and you right along with him, with no visible effort whatsoever.
the air in the room shifts a little after that; it gets kind of tense. because all of a sudden, youâre skin to skin. his should be covered in scars, but heâs lucky enough to have them all healed and smoothed away by his power. and while he may not be able to feel relief in his adamantium-covered bones, he sure as hell can feel the warmth of your palms running down the slopes of his broad shoulders, the grazing of your nails that nearly makes him shiver when they reach a particularly ticklish part on the nape of his neck, the heat between your legs as you continue to sit on him, dressed in nothing else but a pair of comfortable and tiny shortsâŚ
forcing himself to be a loner, logan isnât used to being touched like this all that much, and it makes him sensitive. and as a result, he canât help but squeeze his eyes shut and groan in absolute pleasure when you readjust by wiggling your hips on top of him and lean in super close to really dig your fingers into his strong back.
you pause at the sound; he can hear your breathing hitch a little before it continues to fan his shoulder blade. heâs already halfway on opening his mouth to say something in order to avoid things from getting too awkward even if heâs not the kind of man who minds if they do, when all of a sudden it hits him.
itâs barely there, just the faintest whiff of something sticky and sweet. it would be impossible to catch by a normal human, but he isnât a normal human, now is he? no, heâs a mutant â a primal one, at that â and because of it, his nose is more than capable of catching a scent like this.
youâre⌠aroused. have gotten turned on by the sound he just made. are getting wetter between the legs by the second. and he can smell it.
fuck.
logan chooses not to say anything even if the pheromones that heâs steadily inhaling now are making his blood grow feverish to dangerous levels. meanwhile, you choose to remain quiet as well, simply continuing your ministrations as if nothing has happened.
something that does change, however, is the way you touch him. from that hiccup onward, you get more, should you say, intimate with it; even daring to comb your fingers through his rich, dark hair at some point and experimentally tugging at the roots, making him actually shiver this time.
he doesnât just shiver, though. the action is so freaking good that it also causes his eyes to roll into the back of his head â he silently prays that heâs managed to squeeze them shut for a second time before you could catch it.
and thatâs not all there is to it either. by now, his cock has become painfully hard in his pants. thick, hot and leaking pre-cum from how excited heâs getting. it makes laying down on his stomach extremely uncomfortable, but he thinks itâs better to suffer through it than enabling you to see what youâre doing to him both physically and mentally.
mind fogged by a mixture of your and now his own lust, heâs getting so horny that all he wants to do is rut into the couch while you continue to touch him. he doesnât, of course, heâs been around for over two centuries so heâs pretty good at restraining himself, however that doesnât mean that he likes doing it.
so he remains decent⌠well, somewhat. he pants a little bit, and he grunts and curses under his breath in a way that makes him sound like heâs balls deep in your cunt, folding you in a mating press and pounding away until youâre nothing but a whiny mess and his cum is trickling down your thighs, but he still tries his very best.
by the time you pat him on the shoulders and tell him youâve finished, he fears he did, too.
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[Touchy feely] [tf141 headcanons]
(Romantic impied Task force 141 boys x gender neutral!reader headcanons :))
Summary: Being the sweetheart of the task force means the boys are not shy about the fact that they're all simps and always want some sort of contact with you at all times.
Consists of romantic/suggestive headcanons for each of the guys and little things they do with you <3
Words: about 1.5k (this was supposed to be short, whoops)
Warnings/Info: Can be read separately but it is intended that they all harbor feelings for you at the same time, possibly out of character for everyone, some swearing, the guys manhandle you, as always, let me know if I miss something!
Thinking about how each of the boys is so touchy with you, it doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, they're shameless.
Other units and teams who will sometimes share the base with 141 know better than to ask questions or directly say anything to one of the guys or you for that matter. Not that they could anyway, seeing as you always have at least one of them attached to your hip.
Price:
Anyone who walks into Price's office late at night to turn something in is used to seeing you next to the Captain on the little dingy loveseat he has in there.
John is usually smoking a cigar, taking care to not blow smoke your way while your head is resting on his shoulder. Your eyes closed as you hum at his words. It's terribly domestic for a military base.
John likes to gently play with your hair while he speaks about missions he's been on, always somehow trying to braid despite not knowing how to for jack shit, whether it because it's you or just the mindless motion, he's not willing to say.
John will usually walk you back to your room after dinner or time in his office unless he's swamped with work.
A small hand on the small of your back while he leads you. It's always a respectable touch, though he tucks you into his side, nodding at everyone you may pass.
If you're comfortable with it, he likes to press a kiss to your head, smiling that goofy ass smile, and tells you to get a good night's rest.
He lets you help him trim up his beard, he won't let you do all of it but he likes the closeness of it, him sitting down while you gently shape it up, tilting his head up and he tries his best to not stare directly at your chest.
The fact that he's letting you this close to his neck with a razor is a sign of trust, maybe small for others but for a man that doesn't drop his guard and doesn't truly trust others, it speaks volumes.
The first time he let you, you were barely putting any pressure and he grabbed your hand in his and showed you. "You're not gonna hurt me, put more force into it, yeah?"
Don't get me started on going out on walks in London with Price, he wraps you up in his beanie and some big leather jacket he has that dwarves you, helping you move through crowds by once again holding the small of your back, or taking your smaller hand in his. (He doesn't correct anyone if they mistake you as married)
He likes to kiss the back of your hand and laughs when it makes you blush and sputter out that his beard is scratchy.
Ghost:
Ghost is a subtle one, he won't actively reach for you or your hand but he does have some part of him against you most times.
Whether it be his leg, arm, or thigh, anything works. A normal place yall will be seen together is in the dining hall, you've both learned to ignore the stares from everyone else.
Simon never eats there, just sits with you until you're finished and then you both move on to either his quarters or somewhere else so he can peel his mask up to eat a bit.
However, while you're eating and telling him about anything under the sun, he'll lean over and wipe some crumbs off of your mouth with his thumb softly, which again, you're used to so okay whatever but Recruits always are taken aback in their seats.
Ghost's reflexes kick into overdrive with you. His hand going to cover a corner of a table 9/10 times before you completely wreck your shit, but when he does miss (sometimes on purpose).
He'll bring a hand up to rub at your head for you, chuckling under his breath before cooing down at you "That hurt pretty? Sure look like it did."
Whenever you two specifically are paired onto a mission, doesn't matter if any of the guys complain, he will share a cot/tent with you. He claims he runs the hottest (he doesn't, it's Johnny but he will not lose on this) and can keep your body the warmest.
He pretty much lugs you on top of him and wraps his arms around your waist, he'll press a hand against your head if you keep fidgeting, rasping at you to go to sleep. He takes great pride in the fact that you're usually out like a light very shortly.
I've said it once and I'll say it again, Ghost likes to hook a finger into your body straps and pull it really hard and let it smack you to get your attention if you're not actively paying attention to him, he'll soothe the area but he's smirking behind that fucking mask.
On that note, he definitely does the "You got something right here." And points at your chest and immediately pull up to flick your nose hard as fuck, he KNOWS his own strength but sometimes your eyes water and he immediately feels bad.
Ghost rests his head on your chest a lot, he finds your heartbeat to be soothing and reassuring, also grunts if you don't wrap your arms around him in return, bro literally shoves his head into you and groans
This is a grown man but it's cute so you let it slide bc he'll never ask for it outright, he just assumes you'll cradle his head.
Soap:
Johnny is the most shameless motherfucker here, I'm talking about draping himself over you, grabbing at your cheeks, ruffling your hair, kissing you dangerously close to your lips (it drives the others mad), he's the most unapologetic about it and will gloat to the others.
Manhandler #1, isn't above grabbing you by your hips and picking you up to move you somewhere, he's literally gone and grabbed you from some rookies side to come stand next to him with a smile and you're just so used to it that you just shrug and go along with it. (He gets slightly jealous, why would you stand next to some random ass dude and not him??)
Throws you over his shoulder, or likes you to cling to his front or his back and just carries you, he says it's a comfortable weight. If you ever dare say you're too heavy, he's gonna go to the gym and work out even more to PROVE to you that he simply doesn't care, he will carry you.
Extremely bad habit of sneaking into your room to fall asleep with you, Price has come into your room many times to see Soap sprawled on top of you, he's drooling and snoring and you're knocked the fuck out (he's like a glorified weighted blanket).
I've touched on this before but he only wants you to cut his hair for him, yeah he can go to the barber on base but he much prefers you and loves it when you scratch at his scalp. He also likes to just have his head in between your thighs but that's something else for another time-
Soap specifically slings you over his shoulder a lot, especially off base where he truly doesn't have any fucks to give.
You're not going to bed because you have other work?? Too bad, shoulder time you go. You're not willing to get up and make yourself food? Good thing he's here, either pick what you want from the kitchen or throw some clothes on bc he IS dragging you out of the house.
Johnny likes to draw on you a lot, it ranges from scribbles, to sometimes his name if he's feeling cheeky (he's drawn it on your thigh before and you didn't notice until Gaz shot you a look), to intricate drawings of whatever he can think whether it be a landscape or an animal.
He always holds you steady and it isn't uncommon for your limbs to fall asleep but it's worth it, if only to see him smile.
Gaz:
Gaz is probably the most secretly clingy person out of the four, he CAN function without your touch but does he PREFER to? No.
His first instinct in any situation is to grab you and shield you, he's the fastest of the four so his body moves without thinking and it's saved you more times than any of you would like to count.
The one mission where you both fell out of a moving truck, he tucked your body into his despite it costing him his shoulder popping out of the socket, you couldn't help but freak out while Ghost moved to pop it back into place.
"Why the fuck would you do that? Look at your arm!" "It's nothing." "Garrick what the fuck-"
When you're out anywhere off base, he's holding your hand, good luck trying to pull away bc he is not letting go. Too bad so sad, resign to your fate.
I think Gaz is definitely good at dancing, at least with you and when the right music is on, you cannot tell me this man wouldn't twirl you around and shit-fight me on it. He'll even lift you off your feet, laughing when you scramble to grab at his shoulders.
He goes stark still if you rest your head on his shoulder, not because he's nervous but because he's worried about waking you up when he knows you deserve a rest.
He'll usually wrap his arm around your shoulder to hold you in place so the heli ride doesn't jostle you so much, gentleness rubbing his knuckles along your arm to soothe you.
Gaz is the one who holds you when you have nightmares, on rare occasions when Soap isn't in your room and you just need to be held with no talking, you always without thinking find yourself in Kyle's room, his arms wrapped around your waist as he tucks your head under his chin, no questions asked.
He'll maybe hum a tune to help you relax but other than that, he lets you lead the way.
#im so tired oh my god#i hope yall enjoy kissing yall on the forehead#ghost <3#soap <3#price <3#gaz <3#kayla writes <3#call of duty#call of duty x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#john price x reader#john mactavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#john price#gender neutral reader#john soap mactavish#john mactavish#call of duty headcanons
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Skin Deep
Tattoo artist!Simon x fem!reader. Reader, looking to expand her horizons, gets her first tattoo from Simon. 8.4k. Features: soft!Simon who is bad at people-ing, vaginal sex, lots of nipples, like at least three nipples, poor writing, abrupt transitions, shy and awkward reader. Based on this post.
Sequel here.
-
âI bit the bullet!â you shout over the music, hand cupped around your friendâs ear to be better heard. She shrieks in delight at the sound of your voice, turning to wrap her arms around your waist and pull you close to her swaying body. Many eyes in the club follow her movements. She has always been the wild child to your wallflower, attracting attention wherever she goes.
âYou bit what?â she shouts back, her breath like a mint julep.Â
âThe bullet,â you laugh. âI called that guy you recommended and set up an appointment. For the tattoo I wanted!âÂ
She stares at you blankly. Her silky little tank top is drooping off of one shoulder, so you reach out and tuck it back into place. The longer she stares, the more nervous you grow. Sheâd been so encouraging after your last boyfriend dumped youâencouraging you to step outside your comfort zone, to âmake more mistakesâ, to live life more fully. Now sheâs staring at you like youâve grown a second head and itâs the one doing the talking.Â
âWhat guy I recommended?â she asks.Â
âKevin!â
âOh no. No, no, no. Not Kevin. Not Kevin. Why, Kevin?âÂ
You frown. âYou said you went to Kevin.âÂ
âIt wasnât a recommendation, sweetie, if anything it was to caution you away from him! Heâs a creep; thereâs a reason why I never went back.âÂ
You deflate like a balloon, going limp and letting her drag you to the nearby free seats at the bar where you sit heavily. Itâs not just the tattoo. Itâs the icing on a shitcake of a day.Â
A new song seamlessly starts, and the dancers nearby go wild with excitement. Your mood is the antithesis of the event; everyone seems to be having a great time except for you. Story of your life.Â
âYou conveniently left that out. Ugh. Iâll cancel it. What am I even fucking doingâthank youââ you accept the cup of ice water the bartender slides in front of you with a shy smile, sipping at it and keeping your hand curled over the top of it protectively. âânone of this is like me.âÂ
Your friend frowns. She steals your drink and sips at it. âYou were the one who said youâd always wanted a tattoo. Youâre an adult. These are exactly the kinds of decisions youâre old enough to make. Look, fuck Kevin. All my friends hate Kevin. I know another guy, and heâs highly recommended. Let me give you his number. Alright?âÂ
âAlright,â you sigh. You make a silent promise to yourself though: if it doesnât work out with this next tattoo artist, then you wonât be getting one at all. Youâll take it as a sign from the universe to get back in your comfort zone and stay there, once and for all.Â
-
What kind of a moniker is Ghost? you wonder to yourself as you skim the Instagram of the shop this Ghost owns. The profile picture is one of the building itself, and all of the pictures are of various inked body parts. Beautiful ones, admittedly. But no hint of the mysterious figure who owns the shop. There is a personal instagram linked @GHOST89 but it is private when you try to click on it.Â
The phone number your friend gave you rings straight through to voicemail. You let out a shaky breath. Fuck, you hate voicemail. Talking to people was difficult enough; talking to peopleâs disembodied machines was even worse somehow. It isnât until youâve hung up after leaving your message that you realize you forgot to tell him your fucking name (genius!). Groaning, you contemplate dialing him back when the phone in your hand ringsâand itâs him.Â
âHello?âÂ
âIâm free Wednesdays for consultations,â says a baritone voice from the other end of the line.Â
Nice to talk to you too, you think dryly. Maybe this guy is as bad at the phone as you are. âI work Wednesdays. Are you free in the evenings?âÂ
He sighs, like this is going to be very strenuous for him.Â
âName a time. Iâll pencil you in. Half is due at the end of the consultation upon booking an appointment. Cash only,â he says.Â
Jesus Christ, could he be anymore abrupt? While a tiny part of you is grateful that he isnât trying to make small talk, a larger part is terrified that youâve already made an impression so foul that itâs incurred his wrath. What other reason could he have for being so stilted?Â
âAlright,â you answer cautiously. âHowâs five?âÂ
âFive. Donât be late.âÂ
He hangs up on you, leaving you wondering why every step outside your comfort zone must be so bloody far.
-
You arrive early to the consultation, only to find that the building itselfâa tidy little brick two-floor, adorned with a sign that dubbed it SKIN DEEP tattoos & artisan piercings, which you recognize from Instagramâis locked. A note written in neat handwriting taped to the door declares NO WALK INS. Your palms are sweaty. You wipe them on your work slacks, but it doesnât help. How are you supposed to get in?Â
All at once a shadow appears on the other side of the door. The shadow is enormous: well above six feet tall, and broad shouldered. A black surgical mask is tucked up over his mouth and nose, which only adds to his intimidating aura. Judging by the impressive sleeve of tattoos he has, you imagine that this is the guy.Â
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And Ghost.Â
Dark brown eyes stare down at you when he opens the door, cocking a hip against the frame, staring at you. Waiting.Â
Waiting for you to explain your presence, you realize.Â
âI have a consultation,â you blurt out. âAtâŚfive?â
He opens the door wider to let you pass without a word. Heâs so broad that you can smell him as you pass him: clean and masculine. The inside of the tattoo shop is bigger than it looks on the outside. There is a reception area with a desk and a computer and printer. The glossy wooden floors are polished to shine, leading to an open floor plan. There is a small sitting area with armchairs, a wide sofa, and a table on which rests two bottles of water, a notebook, and a steaming mug of liquid.
âSit,â he says, his voice the same deep rumble you recognize from the phone. He chooses the chair beside the mug. His body is so goddamn long, his legs lean and thick all at once where he stretches them out in front of him. He reaches for the mug and takes a sipâof tea, judging by the smell. âName?â
You tell him, perching yourself anxiously on the other chair. He glances up at you, eyes raking over your posture. Suddenly he tugs the mask down to rest beneath his chin, revealing a full, pale mouth. A straight, noble nose. A pink scar stretches across his lips and up towards his cheek.Â
âThe water is for you,â he says.Â
âOh!â You reach forward and take one bottle, breaking the seal. âThank you.â
âThis is your first tattoo.âÂ
âWhat gave me away?â you ask with a weak laugh.Â
He doesnât laugh. âEverything. Is someone putting you up to this? This smells like Soap.âÂ
âWhat? No, of course not. I want this, Iâm just, Iâm an anxious personality. I promise.â You hesitate and then add: âI probably smell like soap because I showered this morning.âÂ
His mouth twitches. He leans back in his seat and sucks on his teeth, and you get the distinct feeling that he is trying very hard not to laugh at you. Why had you mentioned to him that you showered? What was wrong with you? Just as youâre comprising a list of things, he picks up the pencil and the notebook, opening to a fresh page.
 He asks what you want and God, thatâs a harder question.Â
You do your best to express your idea, but your words feel halting and silly. His pencil scratches rapidly at the paper as he listens in total silenceâpausing only once, when you say that you want this to be a sternum piece. Only then does his pencil seem to hover over the paper, his dark eyes seeking you out and pinning you in place on the armchair.Â
He reaches for his tea to take a generous sip and then continues writing.Â
He asks a few pointed, concise questions (and youâre just thrilled he was actually listening), following your answers up with more scribbling in his notebook. At length, he shuts the book.Â
âI think I see the vision. Give me thirty to sketch something and weâll see if you want to book an appointment. Something this size, on your sternum could take more than one session, depending on how well you sit. How do you take pain?âÂ
âI mean, it hurts?â you offer.Â
He stares. âTwo sessions. Let me sketch something. Drink your water.âÂ
You think that maybe heâll move to another room to sketch, but he just flips to a clean page and begins to work right there (drawing the mask up over his nose and mouth again). With nothing else to do, you canât help but watch him.Â
Heâs handsome, in an odd sort of way. His brow is a little too low, his gaze a little too intimidating to be considered conventionally attractive, but you find him fascinating to look at, especially when he is so clearly in the throes of something he enjoys doing. Itâs almost like watching someone have sex. The thought makes your face go warm. You pick up your phone, determined not to look at him again.Â
âHere.âÂ
You glance up from your mindless scrolling. What he shows you is a beautiful rendition of what you had expressed wanting. There are a few key differences, and he patiently explains why he made the decisions he did. He didnât make the changes because he thought your idea was stupid. He made them so the image would better fit the contours of your body. He made them because the ink will spread over time, and he wants the look to stay clean.Â
His thoughtfulness touches you.Â
âI love it. I want it,â you say, enthusiasm getting the better of you.Â
âThis is just a first sketch,â he says dryly, making that warmth return to your face. âIâll text you a few variations this week, and we can nail down the final piece. You want to book?âÂ
âYes,â you say, nearly buzzing. âI really want to book.â
Heâs expensiveâbut judging by the book of his artwork that is available for you to flip through at the front desk while he quotes you a price and writes you up a receipt, he is more than worth the money. Fuck, heâs got skill. You thought that maybe his art style was too dark for what you wanted, but you found that he was able to adapt styles nicely. You just hoped this tattoo wouldnât bore him to death.Â
âThanks again for meeting with me,â you say as he sees you out. âIâll be waiting for your text.âÂ
âYouâll get it.â He glances past you out the window. Itâs dark. âDid you walk?âÂ
âNo, my car is just there.â
âIâll wait.âÂ
And he does. His figure darkens the doorway until you have shut your car and locked the doors, temporary insanity making you give him a short wave. He raises two fingers and then disappears.Â
-
You didnât tell me this guy was cute, you text to your friend.Â
GHOST? Cute? Iâve never even seen his face lol. Heâs always wearing one of his masks.Â
You chew over this information. Yes heâd been wearing a mask, but heâd lowered it for you. Did that mean something? Did it mean something that you wanted it to mean something? Â
Masks are cute, you say.Â
Fuck the tattoo artist!!!! she says. Maybe heâll ink you for free.Â
Youâre terrible.Â
YouâreâŚthinking about it.Â
-
Two days later, you squint blearily into the darkness at your phone after it vibrates on your nightstand. The time reads twelve past one in the morning. Itâs from GHOST.Â
The two images he sends are beautiful; enough to rouse you straight from sleep into wakefulness.Â
I love them both, you tell him. But the second one is amazing. I think thatâs the one.Â
Keep your appointment. Ten minutes later (after you have already fallen back to sleep) he sends: wear something appropriate. Â
And fuck, you didnât even think of that.Â
-
âYouâre being ridiculous,â you mutter to yourself in the mirror, turning sideways to assess yourself. On the bed behind you are a series of button up shirts, all of which you have tried on at one point or another.Â
âYou are,â your friend agrees from where she lounges on your bed, scrolling on her phone. âYour tits are cute. Let Ghost see them.âÂ
The look you give her is the one the phrase âif looks could killâ was modeled after, surely. She doesnât even see it, so the effect is lost entirely. You turn your gaze back to the silicone nipple adhesive covers again, still stuck to their adhesive backing. Youâve already used one set of the pack of three, and they covered your nipple and areolas nicely, but still left you feeling so exposed.Â
âBe glad youâre not going to creepy Kevin anymore,â your friend says.
âVery glad of it.âÂ
You felt reasonably safe with Ghost, but still a degree of embarrassment about your own body. Or perhaps that was too strong a wordâit didnât embarrass you, but it felt private. Baring your breasts to a near stranger (especially one you had a grudging attraction to) made your anxiety reach epic level proportions.Â
âYou should text him about it, see if he has any advice for you. Heâs been doing this for years. Iâm sure heâs seen it all,â she saysâthe first good idea sheâs had all night, miles ahead of âJust let Ghost see your cute titsâ.Â
That night, you take her advice and text him, hoping you arenât overstepping some weird artist-client boundary.Â
Iâm a little nervous.
You can cancel, is all he says. Iâll refund your money.
Itâs not that.Â
What is it?Â
Not really accustomed to the nakedness tbh. There. You said it. Let him think you some prim priss; it was true.Â
But all he said back was: how can I help? Â
I donât know, you admit. Then; sorry. Iâm probably bothering you with this while youâre working.Â
Iâm not working. Five minutes later, when it seems as if you arenât going to message back: I keep the shop closed to the public. One customer at a time: you. Iâll let my piercer know Iâm with a client and not to walk in. Iâll keep you covered every moment I can. Better?Â
Relief, warm and sweet curling low in your belly, you let him know: much better.Â
-
You bring the pasties anyway.Â
-
The day of your appointment, you are so nervous you are shaking. Now you know the truth behind the phrase âknees knocking togetherâ, as you stand outside SKIN DEEP waiting for Ghostâs hulking figure to appear on the other side of the glass.Â
When it does, heâs like a little punch to the gut. That black surgical mask is in placeâtypical for him, if your friendâs words are to be trustedâbut his blond hair, cropped short to his scalp is riotous in a way that is adorably charming, like he hasnât been able to keep his hands out of it. His black t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, and his jeans fit him nicely around his thick thighs.Â
Youâre horrified to find that your attraction to him has grown. Exponentially. Your friendâs words echo in your mindâfuck the tattoo artist, maybe heâll ink you for free.Â
âHi,â you squeak.Â
Ghost raises both his brows. He opens the door wider for you to slip past him. Fuck he still smells good.
âIâm still nervous,â you blurt out, hoping that speaking the truth out loud will help you feel better. It doesnât.Â
âThatâs normal. You can back out at any time, but the earlier the better. Come look at the image and tell me if itâs still what you want.â
Itâs exactly what you want, and more.Â
âItâs perfect. Youâre very talented.âÂ
He huffs a little, like you shouldnât have said such a thing.Â
The chair is a great leather contraption which reclines comfortably once heâs gotten you in it (after making you use the restroom first, during which you took the time to splash water on your burning face and double check that your pasties were in place covering all the cutest bits according to your friend). Simon moves around you, making preparations with the ease of someone who has done this work for many years.Â
You fight the arousal that blooms in your belly at the sight of him doing such benign things as washing his hands, putting on gloves, opening fresh needles, preparing little wells of ink and sticking them to the movable cart with Vaseline. Thereâs just something about a person who knows exactly what theyâre doing and who is able to do it with efficacy.
âReady?â he asks at length.Â
You nod, hoping your nerves donât show on your face. Steeling yourself, you unbutton the shirt youâre wearing. His eyes follow your hands, but there is a detached, clinical sort of expression in them. Heâs not watching a strip tease, heâs looking at a canvas.Â
Finally, you sit in front of him in only the pasties, the shirt lax around your shoulders, and your sweatpants, socked toes curling in anxiety in your shoes. Without missing a beat, he leans the chair all the way back. Then he opens a fresh disposable razor and shaves you.Â
âAm I hairy?â you ask, resting your hands oh-so-casually over your breasts to keep them out of his way.Â
âYes,â he says. Then his eyes flicker to yours. âEveryone is. Everywhere. Itâs normal.â
âIâm just teasing you.âÂ
âDidnât think you had the breath in your body left to tease me,â he mutters, voice nearly lost behind his mask as he carefully works the razor across your skin removing the baby-fine hairs from beneath your breasts and across your sternum. âYouâre nervous, I mean.âÂ
âWould you take the mask off?â you ask on a whim. It had helped last time, to see his face.Â
âNo,â he says. He adds: âSorry. Itâs more sanitary fâyou if I keep it on.âÂ
You get the feeling that he really is sorryâand thatâs well enough. Some of the anxiety in your belly fades away. He would take it off if he could. The most anxious part of the process (baring yourself to a stranger) has already passed. Maybe now you can begin to relax.Â
After cleaning your skin, he carefully lays the stencil and has you stand up to look at it in the mirror and make sure the placement is correct and holy fucking shit. Itâs sexy. Youâve always been attracted to tattoos, and fancied the idea of getting one on your sternum for far longer than youâd ever admitted to anyone, but seeing it come to life gives you a rush you hadnât expected. You feel soâŚbadass.Â
âGood?â He asks.Â
âVery good,â you answer, sitting back down, hoping he ignores the way your breasts bounce a little as you do. He leans you back again and this time breaks out the needle gun.
But before he uses it on you, he carefully takes a clean towel and lays it over your left breast, covering the parts of you that are not nearest to his eyes. His gentleness and thoughtfulness go straight to your cunt.Â
âThank you,â you say softly.Â
He just nods. The gun buzzes to life. âIâll make a line and see how you feel. Last chance to back out without any souvenirs.âÂ
âIâm not backing out.âÂ
He clicks his tongue as if to say, Itâs your funeral. Then he lays his hand on your sternum above your breasts, pinning you in place, and makes a gentle line.Â
It burns more than you expected it to. Thereâs a sandpaper quality to it, almost like the rasping of a catâs tongue. The pain is sharp and bright, but it isnât overwhelming. In factâŚa strange part of you sort of enjoys it. Maybe itâs the rush of endorphins.Â
âGood?â He asks.Â
âGood,â you squeak.Â
You hear his quiet laugh, no more than an exhale of breath.
âLet me know when you need to break.âÂ
You donât know how you feel about the way he phrases that: when you need to break. He adjusts his mask a little, leans over you, and gets to work. Sometimes the needles pass over a place that is more sensitive than the others, making you flinch. He pauses when this happens, eyes flickering up to your own, making sure you are alright even though he can likely feel the pounding of your heart beneath his hand. That hand on your chest, wrist just brushing the top of your breast, is a solid warm weight that seems to tether you back down to the earth as he lines you. He is very careful not to brush against your breast when he wipes away the excess ink and traces of blood, but you feel hyper-attuned to how easy it would be for him if he wanted to. How huge his hand is compared to your tit. Beneath the pasties, your nipples ache with tension, a tension that is mirrored between your legs.Â
âAlright. Break,â he says, abruptly turning the gun off. He covers your exposed breast with another towel. âTake ten.â
He disposes of his gloves and disappears behind a curtain in the back, leaving you throbbing between the legs. Worming your phone free from your pocket, you scroll aimlessly, hoping to calm your raging hormones. He returns right at the ten minute mark, just as his cellphone rings. He glances toward where it rests on the table, but makes no move to answer it.Â
âDo you need to get that?â you ask, offering him an out.
âNo,â he says. âI make everyone leave a message. Weeds out the cowards.â
It had almost weeded out you, you think about telling him, but in the end you decide against it. He gloves back up.Â
âGood for more?â
And so it repeats.Â
At one point, he runs into a patch of sensitive skin on your ribs just overlaying the bone. It has you sucking in a breath through your teeth, eyes squeezing shut. Itâs too late to turn back now you tell yourself; the only way out is through.Â
His thumb gently strokes your sternum.Â
âItâs rough. You can take it,â he says, quiet and focused. The buzzing of the gun never ceases as he tries to make his work as quick as possible, his words a little distant and distracted. âJust keep breathing. Thatâs it. Good girl.â
Jesus. Did he not have any idea what those words could do to a girl? A groan escapes your lips, and he clearly mistakes it for pain, because his thumb strokes again the soft skin over your heart, just above the curve of your breast.Â
âYou can do it. Just a little longer for me, and weâll break.â
âHurts,â you breathe, flinching again.Â
He hushes you, surprisingly tender.Â
âThis is the worst of it.â This time, his thumb does brush the edge of your breast, making you suck in a gasp. He recoils, hand lifting away from you and curling into a fist. He rests that against you instead, taking away any further hope that he might brush his fingertips against you. You make it through the rough patch with tears in your eyes but no worse for wear. Â
âBreak. Ten minutes,â he says again, already shredding his gloves and moving to disappear behind the curtain.Â
You call out: âHey, waitâIâd rather just get through it in one go if I can. If this really is the worst of it.âÂ
âI need breaks too,â he says stonily.
You duck your head, feeling silly. âRight. Sorry.â
âDonât be.â He vanishes again.Â
He is late to return to you. Only by five minutes or so, but noticeably for a man so usually punctual and so demanding of punctuality in you. His face is stoicâwhat bits of it you can see from behind the maskâas he washes his hands thoroughly and preps his work station again.Â
This time his hand keeps a very respectable distance from your breastsâa fact which you both lament and appreciate all in one. He works with single-minded efficiency, giving you his entire focus. You break once more, but this time he breaks in the room with you, stretching out his back and neck (giving you a generous glimpse of his belly when his shirt rides up, exposing cut abs and a happy trail youâd give your life to follow).Â
âI think we could do this in one sitting, if you have nowhere else to be,â he mutters at length.Â
âEager to be done?â you wonder.Â
He stares at you, expression flat, and says nothing. Nothing needs to be said.Â
âI donât have anywhere to be,â you murmur, staring up at the bright adjustable light that he has positioned over you. You hope he mistakes that for the reason behind any mistiness in your eyes, his rudeness cutting you deeply.Â
So the two of you push through later into the evening, until you are sweating at your temples and the base of your neck from the continuous pain for so long. At last he lays the last gradient for the shading, sprays you down, and wipes you clean so very gently.Â
âGo take a look. Iâm going to cover it up.âÂ
Itâs beautiful. Stunning, even. You let your shirt gape closed and cover the pasties, revealing a broad glimpse of the sternum tattoo, and it is the sexiest you have ever felt. It almost makes your eyes burn anew.
âI love it,â you choke out. âThank you.â
âCan I take a picture of it?â he asks. âFor Instagram.âÂ
âSure!â It will feel a little like being famous, you think, judging by how much notice each of the photos on his Instagram garners. He crouches down on the floor to be at the perfect height, reaches out and gently adjusts your shirt. Parts of the tattoo are coveredâthe very far edgesâbut you canât deny how sexy it is. Maybe he feels the same way.Â
After he takes the photo, he posts it and asks for your handle to tag you in it. Then he says: âLet me cover it up. Keep it covered overnight, but tomorrow let it breathe. Keep it clean. Donât do anything stupid to it. Understand?âÂ
âI understand.â
âAnd if you have any questionsâtext me.âÂ
-
You get home to find that Ghostâs personal account has requested to follow you. Thrumming with nerves and excitement, you accept the request and send one of your own, spending the night scrolling through his Instagram (so, so carefully to avoid any incidental âlikesâ). Plenty of the photos are of his artwork, still. But there are ones of his dog: a German Shepherd that is thankfully much more photogenic than her surly owner. There are three or four photos featuring Ghost himself, and only one has his full face in the picture. You find yourself staring at his fixated expression for longer than is respectable.Â
-
Three days later when you find yourself panicking, you donât text him like he asked you to. You call.Â
Your skin is peeling off. Peeling. Off. The sight of it makes your stomach roll. The entire tattoo is hot to the touch, and the skin around it feels warm as well. Flushed. Is it supposed to hurt this much?Â
The internet doesnât help. The peeling is normal, sure. But everything else is suggesting that your tattoo could be infected. What sort of ink did Ghost use? Was it reputable? What if the infection reaches your bloodstream? You were too young to die! Your anxiety spirals like a plane with one wing, trailing smoke as it soars straight down, determined to take you with it.  Â
With shaking hands, you donât even think about texting Ghost. You go straight to calling him, tapping his number in your phone and pressing it to your ear, listening to the ring.Â
Heâs going to send you to voicemail, just like he does to everyone elseâexcept he doesnât. All the sudden there is glorious feedback from the other end: a cacophony of voices and laughter, clearly some sort of gathering.Â
âYes?â Ghost says into the phone, as if thatâs a decent hello.Â
âThereâs something wrong with my tattoo!â you cry.Â
âWaitâget out of my goddamn way.â There is rustling, and then the noise decreases substantially. You can almost see him standing outside whatever bar his friends have brought him to, mask down around his chin, hand over his other ear as he strains to listen to you. âSay it again. Now I can fucking hear you.â
âThereâs. Something. Wrong,â you say through your teeth. âWith my tattoo!â
âWell? What is it?â
âItâs falling off, for one!â
He snorts. âThatâs normal. That's why you called?âÂ
âItâs all swollen and hot. And it hurts.âÂ
Now that shuts him up. He sighs a little, switches the phone from one ear to the other. âHurts how bad?â
âWorse than getting it.âÂ
âFuck me. Alright. Meet me at the shop inâŚtwenty?âÂ
âTwenty minutes from now?âÂ
âFrom when else?â He hangs up. Man doesnât know the meaning of the word goodbye.Â
-
The night is cool. You donât bother with a bra, not when it irritates your tattoo so much. Pulling your jacket closed more tightly around yourself, you walk from your parking spot along the street to the tattoo shop.Â
Ghost stands outside at the curb. His figure is unmistakable. He is smoking, mask down, the lit end of his cigarette a burning ember that flares bright in the darkness. When he sees you coming, he crushes the cigarette beneath his boot and opens the door to the shop, which is still and dark. He flicks on a light switch as he goes, casting the place in a warm glow.Â
Heâs dressed in his usual dark jeans and an obscenely tight t-shirt, his sleeve of tattoos on display. He leaves the mask down. His eyes are on your titsâor resting where your tattoo is beneath your clothes.Â
âWell. Sit. Show me.â
You sit in one of the armchairs, your shoulders rising in defensiveness. âWhat, just flash you?â
âNothing Iâve never seen before.âÂ
Gritting your teeth, you begin unbuttoning your shirt until it gapes open. You cup your breasts with your hands, maintaining your modesty while putting the tattoo on full display. He narrows his eyes, leaning down. His fingers reach out, but then he thinks twice and washes his hands.Â
âI was smoking,â he says when you roll your eyes in exasperation.Â
âYouâre worried about getting the chemicals on my skin but not in your lungs?â
âFuck my lungs,â he mutters. His fingers hover over your tattoo. âCan I?â
You nod. His fingers are cool when they gently prod and ghost along the edges of the tattoo, feeling for the signature warmth of an infection. âAny fever?â he asks.Â
âNot that Iâve noticed.âÂ
âYou feel warm, but Iâve felt warmer. I donât think itâs infected. Have you tried icing it?â
âNo,â you admit.Â
âIce will help. Just use something clean, for fuckâs sake.â As he speaks, his breath fans across your chest, making you shiver. He sees this, his eyes darkening. âWhen you called, I thought it was for me.â
âIt was for you,â you say, brow furrowing. âWho else?â
He snorts, lips quirking. It tugs on the scar across his lips. âForget it.âÂ
âForget what?âÂ
âTalking about it goes against forgetting it.â
You groan, tossing up your hands. âYouâre impossible.âÂ
He reaches out and jerks your shirt closed, hastily doing up a button. Your face burns as you do up the rest of the buttonsâyou end up having to backtrack and redo them because he was off by one.Â
âThank you for meeting me. Iâm sorry it was for nothing.â
âIt wasnât for nothing,â he says. âAnd I wasnât doing much.â
âYou were with friends,â you insist.
His eyes narrow. âWho told you that?âÂ
âI saw it on your Instagram tonight.âÂ
âNosey.âÂ
âI could buy you a drink sometime,â you offer after a lengthy pause, your heart pounding loud enough to fill the silence between you. Are you really doing this? Are you really asking him out? âMake up for the ones I lost you tonight.âÂ
âMaybe.â
God, itâs like heâs not getting it. Maybe you need to be bolder. Fortune favors the bold, doesnât it? Your hands are shaking when they fall back to the buttons on your shirt.Â
âWould you take one more look at my tattoo? Just to beâŚpositive?â
He sighs and makes an impatient hand gesture. Your fingers fumble through the buttons again. You donât cover yourself with your hands this time; just keep the halves of your shirt over your nipples. He dutifully exams the tattoo again, prodding gently, laying the flat of his fingers against it to feel the warmth it lets off.Â
âMaybe you should look closer.âÂ
His eyes flicker up to yours. âCloser.â
Your mouth is dry. âYeah.â
âCanât get much closer than I am.âÂ
âYou couldâif you wanted to.âÂ
âIf Iââ it hits him then. You can see it in the fractional widening of his eyes, the way his mouth parts softly in blatant surprise before he shuts it, dark eyes returning to your sternum. He says: âCloser.â
âMhm.â
The back of his hand brushes against your breast, causing your breath to hitch. His thumb traces softly along the outline of the tattoo, following the path just beneath your shirt, nudging the fabric aside slowly, so slowly, until your breast is bare, nipple puckered and aching.Â
âFucking hell,â he mutters. His eyes flicker to yours as if to see if you really want thisâand whatever he sees must reassure him, because then he is sweeping his fingertips along the bottom curve of your breast and taking it into his hand, his palm rasping gently over your nipple. All the breath rushes out of you. Your thighs clench together. Already youâre achingâhave been since you saw his mouth around that cigarette on the streetâbut he moves with determined caution. His thumb finds your nipple and teases it, pulling a desperate little sound from the back of your throat.Â
âPretty little tits,â he says, his voice a warm, smoky rumble that goes straight to your core. He captures your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching softly.Â
âFuck,â you gasp, one hand reaching out to brace yourself against his shoulder. He is solid and firm beneath your touch, unmoving and unmalleable. Your breasts have always been sensitive, but it feels like every touch is directly related to the feelings in your cunt. You find your back arching, hips searching for friction against the seat of the chair.Â
âBe still,â he says firmly. Another pitiful sound slips past your throat. âLet me play with you.âÂ
âPlease,â you gasp. âPlay with meâeven if thatâs all you wantâjust donât stop, please.âÂ
His mouth parts as he listens to you, his eyes so, so dark. The pupils have nearly swallowed his irises whole, until you can see yourself bare from the waist up in the reflection. He shakes his head a little. âYou donât even know what youâre saying.â
âI do. Iââ your words are cut off with a gasp as he hauls you out of the chair by your wrist and onto his lap. Heâs so thick thighed that it stretches you obscenely to have him between your legs. His hands tear the button-up off your shoulders and down your arms until it flutters to the floor, leaving you half naked. Dipping his head, he presses a heated kiss to the place on your sternum where he had rested his hand during the tattooâand then trails wet kisses towards your left breast, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking with a decided softness.Â
You let out an unflattering, choked groan, resting your weight heavily against him until you can feel the prominent bulge in his tight jeans. His hands find your ass and grip you tightly, working you back and forth, rubbing that bulge against your clothed sex.Â
âDriving me fucking crazy,â he mutters against your skin, opening his mouth to drag the sharp line of his teeth against the curve of one breast before switching to the other and flicking his tongue over your nipple.Â
You gape at his admission. Had you been? Heâd been so closed off and coolâŚthough now that you thought back, maybe that was just his way of hiding it. Suddenly he grips the back of your neck, where your hairline ends, and pulls you to his mouth. He tastes faintly of smoke, even fainter of the drinks he had had earlier in the night, but it is an intoxicating mixture. Your tongues find a rhythm as your hips do the same, both of you fucking in every sense of the word except the literal kind.Â
He takes one of your thighs and wedges it between his own, until youâre no longer grinding against his cock but instead his denim-clad thigh. âYou the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?âÂ
âUh-huh,â you promise, head bobbing.Â
He buries his face in your neck. âGood. I wonât last when Iâve got my cock in you. Iâd like you to cum at least once before then.â
âOh god,â you groan, gripping his shoulders fiercely as you begin a halting, stilted rhythm against his thigh. The denim is rough against your leggings. He feels all around you: his scent, his taste, his touch. When his hands find your hips to help you work yourself against him more smoothly, a sigh of gratitude fans from your lips.Â
âWhat else do you need?â he asks.Â
âMyâtouch meââ He abandons your hips once you find a suitable rhythm. He finds your nipples again, teasing them with clever fingers. The stimulation has your peak approaching faster, building like a storm in your lower belly.Â
Ghost leans back to look at you, eyes trailing over you from head to toe: your face burning with warmth, your breasts with peaked little nipples, your leggings nearly soaked through at the crotch with how wet you are. He shakes his head, like he canât believe what heâs seeing.Â
âFucking perfect.â You bury your face in his neck, feeling a warmth inside your chest. He grips you by the neck again and tugs you back. âLook at me. Look at me.âÂ
You look at him for as long as you can, but when the band in your belly finally snaps, your eyes roll up and slip shut, your mouth drops open in a choked gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as you shudder and shake in the throes of your pleasure.Â
He leans down to kiss you through it, tongue teasing at your slack mouth.Â
When he stands, he takes you with him, hauling you up until you wrap your shaking legs around his waist. Itâs probably a good thing too. You arenât sure you could walk otherwise. He carries you the few steps to the couch and lays you down, curling his fingers in the waistband of your leggings. You nod. He strips them off you, along with your flats, and your panties until you are naked as the day you were born.
Your thighs clamp together shyly. He lets them, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt off. Something catches your eye in the streetlights streaming in through the window: Ghost has one of his nipples pierced, a neat little barbell through the sensitive flesh.Â
Fingers enter your visionâyour ownâreaching out on instinct. You hesitate, unsure if he is receptive, and a little afraid to hurt him. Heâs so bloody tall, tooâŚbut he takes care of that himself by kneeling down by your side, his eyes cautious. Closer, you can see the scars: silvery in the moonlight, crisscrossing over his torso.Â
âDoes it hurt?â You ask, softly stroking your fingers beneath the pale pink skin of his areola.Â
âNo,â he says. You can feel the timber of his warm voice vibrating through his chest, up your fingers, straight to your pussy. âYou can play with it.â
You shyly run your thumb over it the way he had yours. He sighs, breath fanning across your arm. His eyes go heavy-lidded, tongue flashing as he wets his lips. After a moment, you grow insecure and move your hands away from his nipple down to a scar that crosses his sternum. He lets you, very patient, like a dangerous creature withholding its bite.Â
âYouâre soââ the words are whispered dreamily before you have any idea how you plan to finish the sentence. Flushing with embarrassed heat under his wary stare, you finish: ââhot.âÂ
He physically turns away, expression inscrutable. You canât help but feel like you have said the wrong thing. He puts a hand on your belly, stroking the softness. âYou broken, or can you take more?âÂ
âI want more.â
âWant my cock?âÂ
You nod, feeling like a bobble head.Â
âI want to hear you say it.âÂ
âI want your cock.â
His hand reaches for his belt, unbuckling it. Your eyes track the movement with hungry nerves. His hands put butterflies in your belly: thick palms with long, slender fingers, veins criss-crossing along the backs. An artistâs hands. He works his belt free with nimble grace and shucks down his jeans and underwear in one smooth movement, revealing his cock to your gaze and the light from the street lamps.Â
He is huge here to match. Downright intimidating in length and girth, uncut with a nice curve toward his belly. He grips himself and gives a series of smooth strokes, the muscles in his abdomen flexing into sharp relief.Â
âOh my god,â you mutter.Â
âNo gods here,â he says, kneeling up on the couch. His hands part your thighs, and for a long time he just looks at you, that sensitive, swollen place between your legs. He stares so long that you nearly cover your face, embarrassed by whatever he is thinking. Then he touches you, and when he does, he touches you with surprising reverence. He touches you like you are art.Â
âCanât believe you let me ink you,â he mutters, stroking your vulva with his warm palm. His eyes are on the sternum piece now. âPractically let me carve my name into your skin. Anybody around here who sees it will know who did it. Theyâll know who touched you.âÂ
âGood,â you breathe.Â
His sigh is shaky. Youâre learning his reactions, his very breaths. That shaky sigh means heâs pleased with you. Youâve said something right.Â
He reaches down to his jeans on the floor and works a hand into his pocket, pulling free a condom. He hands it to youâfor inspection, you realize, though youâve had so few one night stands (try zero) that youâve never had the need to inspect a condom before. The package is intact at least. There appears to be an expiration date which you squint at. All looks well. You hand it back to him and he tears it open, rolling it down his considerable length.Â
Then he goes back to touching you. One hand braces himself against the back of the sofa so he can lean down to kiss you, tasting your mouth deeply. The other hand finds your entrance, circling it with a finger before slipping inside you all the way to the last knuckle. You are wet enough and relaxed enough that he slips in easily.Â
âRelaxâŚthere you go. Let me in,â he says under his breath, working a second finger in beside the first. It is a bit of a stretchâheâs thick everywhere goddamn itâbut itâs a good stretch, a much needed one. The third finger has you stiffening, whining at the pinch of pain. He slows his fingers and lets his thumb find your clit, muting the pain with little jolts of pleasure.Â
âGhost,â you groan, toes curling against the leather of the couch.
âI think you can take it,â he says, thumb so soft and insistent against that aching pearl of nerves. âBut what do you think?âÂ
âYour cockâwant itâpleaseââ
âAlright,â he laughs, pulling his fingers free and wiping the wetness on his cock. âNo need to beg.âÂ
He notches his cock against your entrance and slips inside you. Both of you inhale together, like on cue. Just the first few inches have you feeling full beyond your comfort zone, but he seems to understand in his silent, all-knowing way. He stills, working that free hand between you both to play with your clit until youâre clenching around him, body trying to pull him deeper. He slips further in and then reaches the end of what your body can take. You feel fucking stuffed, your hands shaking where you have gripped his naked shoulders, nails digging into his skin.Â
His own breathing is ragged, pecs brushing your nipples with every inhale. The little bursts of pleasure help, until you find that your hips have grown restless, working back and forth as much as his substantial weight will allow when youâre pinned beneath it.Â
âStay still,â he mutters into the juncture of your neck. âStay still or Iâll cum and this is all over.â
âCanât,â you gasp, his revelation electrifying you. âHave to move, âm so fullââ
âFucking hell,â he groans. He pulls out, leaving you feeling gaped. âRoll onto your side.âÂ
He gives you instruction but isnât shy about reaching out and physically arranging you until you are both spooning, your back to his chest. This time when he enters you, it is more shallow, and easier for him to reach around and play with your clit.Â
You arch your back, seeking more of him, pressing your breast into his free palm. He plucks at the nipple, teeth nibbling at your throat.Â
âWant you to cum again,â he says, stilling your movements so that you canât fuck your self back against him. âGive me one more. Then itâs my turn.â
âGhostâI canâtââ youâve never cum twice before. Not even with your favorite toys have you been able to scrounge together more than one illustrious orgasm. This knowledge and your expectation of his disappointment has you stiffening in his arms.Â
âIf you canât, then donât,â he says simply, like itâs the easiest thing in the world. He keeps his fingers soft and insistent against you, and only after a few lengthy moments does he feel confident enough to work his hips against you too. He pulls out too far and his length drags across your labia, the head brushing where his fingers play with your clit.Â
You give a sighing little moan. His head cocks; you arenât the only one listening to sighs. Now when he gives those lazy, lackadaisical thrusts, his entire length just strokes the outside of your sex.Â
âOh fuck,â you whine, feeling that band in your belly begin pulling tight again.Â
He hums behind you, a smug sound.Â
âNot sure I want you to cum now,â he says. âHold it. Iâm thinking it over.âÂ
âGhost!â
He laughs, honest to God laughs at you. Tears prick your eyes from the sheer need (and a bit from embarrassment) but his hips never cease nor slow their tireless thrusts against you, not even when you grow close enough to beg, close enough to plead.Â
He loops his arm around your waist and pins you against him when you cum to keep you from rolling right off the couch, your body wracked with shivers and spasms. The warmth of your release washes over you from head to toe, and you are still basking in it when his cock finds your entrance again and enters you.Â
The position keeps the penetration blissfully shallow (otherwise he might give your cervix a painful beating), but he still reaches new lengths inside you, filling spaces you didnât know were empty. The shop is eerily quiet except for the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and the frequent breathy sounds his cock punches out of your lungs.Â
He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a series of sounds that are toe-curling: deep groans and raspy curses, whispered praise and hisses through his teeth. His hand grips your hip tightly, leaving shadows the shape of his fingerprints on your skin as he fucks you.Â
Sooner than youâd likeâbut heâd warned you, hadnât he?âhis thrusts grow sloppy, the sounds messy thanks to your wetness as he finds his release and moans it into the skin of your throat.Â
âFuck,â he whispers. And again: âFuck, fuck. You broken?âÂ
âYes.âÂ
He snorts. Then it turns into that laughter, warm and rumbling against your back. You smile where he canât see.Â
-
âSorry about this,â he says as he ties the condom off and throws it away, naked as the day he was born. Youâre still naked too, though much more shy, legs crossed demurely and arms wrapped around yourself.Â
âRegretting it already?âÂ
âYes,â he says. Then, when he sees the stricken look on your face, he adds: âShould have at least taken you to dinner first.âÂ
âDinner?â
âYou owe me drinks. I owe you dinner.â He finds his boxers in the darkness and slips back into them. Then, because the expression on your face still hasnât relaxed, he says: âI donât regret the sex. Do you?â
You shake your head.Â
He scoffs a little.Â
âI mean it,â you insist. You touch your tattoo. âI wanted itâŚthe day you didâthis.âÂ
He raises both brows at you, silently calling your bluff.
âI didnât think you were interested,â you admitted sheepishly.Â
âI jerked off in the back just from seeing half your tits,â he admits, slipping into his jeans now too. His mouth curls a little at the corner when he sees the way you gape at this news. âI was interested.âÂ
You laugh; you canât help it. âDinner, then? Or drinks?âÂ
âYeah,â he says. âAlright. Get dressed.â
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*ŕŠâ§âŕźş âA MINUTE ON YOUR LIPS,â
â kissing practice with your boyfriend <3
characters: itoshi sae, itoshi rin (bllk) x fem!reader (separate) contents: fluff !! some biting, rinâs takes place after the u20 match + implied short!reader (mb iâm highly projecting), one(1) hint of suggestiveness & established rs in saeâs, a bit of soft!sae ?? a/n: not proofread âźď¸âźď¸ both are requested 𪽠| đŚ
⯠â rin .á â
ârin? rinâ wait, hold on!â
you tug on your wrist, securely held in a gentle yet firm hold as you try your best to catch up with the long strides of your boyfriendâs very much taller figure.
the hallways of the stadiumâs inner building are almost void of people, with most of them already on their way to return home as itâs been quite a while after the match against japanâs u20 team ended.
rin turns corner after corner, pulling you along with him until he stops, and you realise heâs taken you to a secluded part of the building. youâre suddenly aware of how quiet the place has gotten, chatters from the passerby becoming muted in your ears.
you dart your eyes around as rin gently pushes you against wall, planting a hand on the surface beside your head as he crowds into your space. âh-hey, whatâs going onâŚ?â your fingers twitch slightly at your side, nose almost brushing his hair from where he has his head slightly bowed beside yours, hiding away his face.
your relationship with rin is fairly new, and youâve never seen him being this forward, ever. something tingles inside you then, nerves alighting at the close proximity. still clad in his blue jersey, the heat emanating from him sends goosebumps down your arms as you fix your eyes on the yellow piece of his captain armband.
rin finally lifts his head. teal orbs clash with yours, and you resist the urge to look away from the intensity of his gaze.
you watch as his eyes harden just a tad bit, a silent war waging in his mind. the crease on his forehead deepens, and youâre about to ask when suddenly all you can seeâ no, all you can feel is him.
the way rin kisses you is so out of the blue, and your surprised gasp is muffled against him, knees almost buckling from the contact. you scramble to reciprocate, your hand trembling and tugging at the sleeve on his bicep.
itâs messy, and clumsy, and very much your first kiss with him, but it feels right, somehow.
ârin - wait, whatâs wrâ mmhââ you try to get the words out in-between the clashing of lips, but he doesnât let you.
the picture doesnât leave rinâs head. itâs stuck there, ever since he first saw it, and itâs been following him all the way until he got you in this little corner.
that goddamn sight of itoshi sae kissing his partner right after the match. itâs sickening, an eyesore that has been plaguing his mind.
so what if that shitty brother can kiss his partner well? rin can do much better. he is better. he can confirm that with how youâre humming contentedly against his lips, standing on your tip-toes and slinging your arms around his neck to pull him closer as he has you putty in his arms.
high on adrenaline from the match, rin greedily takes his newfound source of dopamine from your lips; all your taste, your very essence. he takes, and takes, and takes, until all youâve ever known is the shape of his plush lips slotting perfectly against yours.
⯠â sae .á â
âyou need to stop doing that,â
you pull back, pouting a little at his statement. âbut i love doing it. especially to you,â you cheekily say, leaning in once again but his palm stops you.
âsomeoneâs gonna think iâm dating an animal with how much biting youâve been doing lately,â sae deadpans, and from where youâre comfortably perched on his lap, the redhead can see your eyes gleaming in the warm light of the bed lamp.
âoh, iâm an animal, all right. especially in beââ
your boyfriend cuts you off immediately. âyou should be taught a lesson, woman,â he grumbles. you perk up instantly, both amused and interested at his insinuation. âoh? what type of lesson?â you wiggle your eyebrows playfully at him.
sae squints at you, the prominent lashes underneath his eyes crinkling along his smooth skin as he rests his hands on your hips. âone where you learn to resist your animalistic urge to bite, obviously.â you roll your eyes at that, groaning lightheartedly, âsassy and no fun.â
wrapping your arms around his waist, youâre about to lay your head on his chest when he reaches out a hand, holding your face in his deft fingers.
âseriously though. you need to start using less teeth,â he murmurs. ââŚand more lips,â
you blink once before the corner of your mouth tugs upwards. âyeah? i donât think i know anything about that. wanna teach me how?â you mutter, breath mingling with his as you close the distance between you two. âgladly,â he rasps lowly.
before you know it, sae has you tight in his grasp, drawing out sigh upon sigh from you as your lips move against his in a familiar rhythm. he digs his fingertips in your thighs, a warning to not let those teeth come out to play.
he relishes the way you keen under his touch, his hands roaming to your waist and up to the underside of your chest as you press yourself impossibly closer, deepening the kiss as if to etch the sensation of him into your very own soul.
he eventually lets you push and take the lead, the force of your kiss causing him to lean his head back against the headboard. he wants to see how far you can take it before you resort back to your habit.
and soon enough, you do.
sae expected it, but a disgruntled noise still manages to escape from him when the sharp sting of your teeth descends on his lower lip. he pulls away, looking all too bemused at your doe eyes staring up at him.
âyouâre a menace,â
you throw him a grin, smacking a wet smooch on his lips. âyou love me,â
a miniscule speck of warmth swirls in his eyes then, huffing quietly before he dives back in, âmĂĄs que cualquier otra cosa en el mundo,â
tl ; more than anything else in the world.
how do ppl come up with fic titlesđ§ iâve been depending on song lyrics lately wtf
@maruflix @pixelcafe-network @lumiambrose @17020 @bgyuus @stunies (i feel like i should open a new taglist for bllk hm)
Šđ
đ
đ´đ
đ˛đ°đżđ°đłđ´đ
. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !
#also idk spanish i took that quote from king of sloth dont @ me chat#blue lock#blue lock x reader#blue lock fic#bllk#bllk x reader#bllk x you#bllk scenarios#blue lock fluff#itoshi rin#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin fluff#itoshi rin x you#rin itoshi x reader#rin itoshi#itoshi sae#itoshi sae x reader#itoshi sae x you#sae itoshi#sae itoshi x reader#sae itoshi x you#sae itoshi fluff#rye works đĽŁ
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He has a feeling that the new girl running the front desk at the gym is going to be a problemâa distraction disguised in a gym uniform polo and khaki pants.
It starts with you smiling too brightly as he walks in one morning, all teeth and that little twinkle in your eye that feels like trouble when you scan his membership card.
âGood morning, Mr. Riley.âÂ
âItâs just Simon,â he tells you as he takes his card off the counter.Â
The following day, itâs the same, except Johnny is there to make it worse.
He nudges Simon with his elbow. âSheâs kinda pretty, huh?â
âSay it any louder, and sheâll hear you, mate,â he grumbles.
Simonâs not blind; of course, he knows youâre pretty, but he doesnât have time to commit to anything outside of workâeven if you smile at him like youâre happy to see him and how heâll think about it later: on missions, at his desk, during morning runs. His head is nothing short of woven webs with thoughts of you stuck in the middle.
Honestly, itâs that youâ
(You try to make small talk with him every morning, and Simon is starting to think itâs just for him because on the days he doesnât come alone, you merely scan his card and go back to reading the open paperback book on the desk.)
Itâs weird because itâs almost like youâ
(He bumps into you at the supermarket and makes a dumb joke about carrots that makes you laugh. It makes him a little tongue-tied and awkward afterward because he realizes he hasnât talked to a woman outside of only wanting a quick fuck in a really long time, but more importantly, he wants to hear it again.Â
Instead, he tosses potatoes in his cart and walks away.)
He tells himself it means nothing, or not how Simon wants it to.
Youâre justâŚheâs not even sure; acquaintances? Maybe more than that, but less than friends. Somewhere in that odd in-between phase where he only knows bits and pieces but not the whole picture.
Sometimes, he wishesâ
(Simon doesnât know what heâs doing the first time he invites you to meet the guys from work on a night out. Heâs dated around a few times and had his fair share of hook-ups, but this isnât like that. His palms are sweaty, more than usual, and no amount of wiping them on the thighs of his jeans keeps them dry.
Then you walk into the bar in a dress thatâs probably too light for early spring in Londonâeven though he stares appreciatively at the long expanse of your legs as you walk up to the tableâand he wishes he wasnât introducing you as his friend.)
But youâ
(A new development happens after you slip him your phone number on one of the gymâs business cardsâitâs weird that we donât have each otherâs numbers, so message me sometime or whateverâand he messages you âheyâ right before he leaves for a mission a few days later.Â
It slowly shifts and changes over time.
You start sending him texts in the morning. Never an actual good morning text, but of the dogs you take on walks, the sunrise, the new flower box in your window. Somehow, itâs better.)
You really areâ
(His house feels too hot, and heâs distracted from the movie by how close you are, how your leg drapes over his under the blanket, fingers fisting into his sweater at his stomach that clenches. An ache that grows, throbbing, spreading from his abdomen to his groin.
It feels monumentalâsomething more than the gentle touch to the elbow to squeeze by each other in his entryway earlier or giving you his jacket that night at the barâa tilt of the axis that makes the messy pieces fall neatly into place.Â
He must be staring because you glance up at him, smiling, and the sound from the TV turns into white noise in the background.
âCan IâŚwould youâfucking hell,â Simon runs a hand through his hair. âCan I kiss you?â
When your lips press against his, and his hands are pulling you onto his lap, where you settle hotly against his dick tenting in his jeans, he wonders why neither of you has done this before. Just kissingâhim licking the seam of your mouth, and you panting his name.
âIâve wanted to do that for a while,â you mumble, lips brushing his.
âMe too,â and he fists his hand into the hair at your nape and pulls you back to his mouth.)
âI knew youâd be trouble,â he tells you one day, glaring at the bloke further down the bar who tried making a swipe at your ass before Simon showed up, towering over his shoulder with your fruity cocktail in hand.
âOh, yeah?â you giggle, leaning into his side.
âYeah,â the corners of his mouth quirk, though he hides it when he presses a kiss against your temple. âA real pain in my ass, love.â
âBut yours.â
This time, he does smile. âYes, but mine.â
Masterlist
#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost imagine#simon riley fluff#cod imagine#cod x reader#cod fic#mw2 x reader#mw2 imagine#.things i write
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