#as every time i take one step forward it’s fucking five back

[angelstrawbabie420]

how i m feeling lately

[vifilms]

KNUCKLE VELVET, TORN ON MY TEETH

❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞

pairing. pitfighter!vi x bartender!reader

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: arcane season two spoilers, soft angst, smut, bartender!reader, crashout!vi mends her cold heart, inexperienced!vi, switch!reader + vi, fem coded reader, coded alcohol addiction, slight spit kink, strap use.

KNUCKLE VELVET TORN ON MY TEETH, there's something charming about the pitfighter who doesn't stop drinking until she reaches the bottom of the barrel and the bartender who keeps walking her home.

wc. 7k+

rayray yaps. popping my vi!oneshot cherry, hehe, and i'm happy to do so. the vi brainrot has been real as fuck lately. i fear it's not going away anytime soon. but i wanted to give a special shoutout to @hypnagogics for proofreading this fic, means sm to me ily + my sweet bubba, @absfawn for the title name, i could kiss you until my lips fall off. the best people ever, i love them so much. okay, now i have yapped enough! happy reading, hope you enjoy.

Trapped in the abyss, just when everything had been taken from her life seems to sacrifice another offering on a silver platter. Something else that she thought could be hers, but wasn’t. In the end, all of it was the same. Life is the same. She takes three steps forward, circumstances out of her control take her apart like enforcers imposing their will on Zaun, and she’s forced to move five steps back. It’s all she feels, powerless. 

Wanting nothing more than to drown her sorrows, forget all that she's lost. For everything that’s been taken, Vi feels an overpowering loss, threatening to take over everything she’s trying to build. But Vi thinks of none of it now, she can’t afford to think of one more thing. So, she doesn’t. All of her mind forgets. She forces herself to. 

Zaun, Piltover, Jinx, Vander, Silco, and Cait. 

She drowns in blood, sweat, and liquor for nights to come. She forgets everything and you are just the cherry top on this one shitty sundae. Anytime she’s here, Vi manages to get herself into a fight. Each time. Every time she tries to apologize or hold an ounce of guilt in her eyes, you see right through her crystal blues. From the very first night, you called her bullshit. Even if Vi didn’t give in, it was hard to hide her small smirk. 

She lets herself think it’s because you’re a bartender. You practically get paid to read people, listen to them vent about shit you probably don’t give two shits about and break up the fights that erupt every thirty minutes. Overinflated egos and drunken assholes weren’t a great mix. The jury was still out if you though Vi was one. She could have both, she didn’t really talk much. Vi fought, drank until she couldn’t see straight, and you helped her up to her small apartment right across the street and up the steps into her said apartment. 

No matter how hard she tries, it always ends the same. Vi looking like an imbecile and you, the pretty bartender who shuts down every advance she throws your way. Vi wonders who had a stronger shell, what you’re hiding in order to protect yourself. 

Maybe she is just an asshole. 

“You don’t have to walk me up here. I-I can make it just fine on my own.” 

As soon as your fingertips let go of her fragile frame, Vi’s inebriated body collapses on the concrete steps, grabbing onto the metal framing as if her life depends on it. 

“Really? Now you wanna prove a point?” 

“For your information, I’m always in it to prove a point.” 

Even if your words are harsh, with a soft smile and a hand open, Vi takes it as you let her lean on your weight as you assist her up the steps. There’s little shame to be had once the two of you make it in. It isn’t like the first time and when she noticed the scrunch of your nose in taking the smell, tequila and grease. Vi thought it was cute but she halts any further thought. 

Quickly, Vi disposed of her leather jacket and pants she’s left in boxers and the wrap protecting her chest. The part of her life that seems to be kept together. She doesn’t really mind it though, you. Seeing her like this. Even more so, she enjoys it. You’re always so dismissive at the bar, hardly holding eye contact, turning down any flirting she hurls your way. Just like the vomit Vi had nearly thrown up on your shoes but made a quick diversion for the bush to the right of her instead. 

This is truly the only time she knows you want her. Not so subtly, your eyes trace her like each pinpoint of your gaze is painting her on a clean canvas, one Vi wonders if she’ll like or not. When she’s been around you, she’s been wondering about a lot of things — thoughts she quite literally can’t afford. 

It’s her, nothing ever ends well when her feelings can get crushed on the other side. 

Everything she touches burns to ash before she can even hold it for a moment, a second of symphony retaliates with years of misery. How could you be any different? She wishes you would burn her underneath your gaze, put her out of the misery she feels growing every day, but you don’t. You’re always pulling her out of trouble when you truly don’t have to. It’s not your job to take care of her or hell, even look after her. 

But you do and she can’t seem to figure out why. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Just shut the fuck up and let me help you. Not everyone has a motive. Some people just like to help when someone is so clearly struggling.” 

“I’m not—” 

You give her a glare that seems to shut her up. You draw a bath for her. It’s easy to find her towels in the only cabinet. It’s an acute studio apartment. More so of a small room with a stove stop, minimal counter space, and one bathroom enough to bathe and brush her teeth in. There isn’t much left of it but it’s hers. Grabbing the first aid kit, you kneel between her legs, the mattress sits on the floor, her legs spread and stretching out in front of you. 

“Let me help you. Alright?” Vi grumbles, a incoherent complaint, but she lets you tend to her wounds. 

It’s mainly just cleaning off her dry blood as she still complains in the process, but there’s a few cuts on her face and her cheeks are already beginning to bruise. It’s not a secret, she bruises like a peach but she always makes sure her opponent is leaving a lot more with just a few cuts and a bruise the size of a plum. 

It’s then, when you’re concentrating on the cuts on her face, the busted lip she’s sporting; she looks at you. Maybe it’s the first time she has, but without even realizing it, she gets lost. Not in the way Vi doesn’t know who she is, that she’s completely lost on, but Vi sees you. 

Bright-eyed, optimistic, helpful, kind — all attributes she couldn’t claim but wears like a badge of honor. As if helping others instills you with a sense of purpose, something that’s always been a lost cause to her. Fight until the next fight, and the next, and the next. That’s what she’s done, she's always been a fighter. She’s fallen back on it when needed. It’s clear to her. Like a vision she could see, crystal clear through some stupid ball, it’s always been about survival. 

But how much longer does she want to fight and how much more does she have in her? 

“Thanks.” Vi speaks softly. 

Not knowing where to place her palms, she settles for her thigh. Silent as she watches, nearly analyzing every moment, every glance, every little thing you’re doing. It’s sobering to say the least. You don’t need to be delicate but you are. It’s more kindness than she deserves, nearly leaving a bitter taste on her tongue but when you offer a small smile and a soft whisper, you’re welcome. 

It’s the sweetest thing Vi has ever seen. 

There’s something different in the way you look at her. The soft omission exposes how sweet on Vi you may be. Definitely more than you’d let on, which was well…none. Up until tonight, she thought you hated her. With each word uttered in your direction, Vi assumed you’d rather swallow bile than stomach her slurred, flirty speech. 

“Why do you want to help? It’s not like I’ve exactly been—” 

“Kind?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

This time Vi lets the smile reach her eyes and your smile gets even sweeter. She can practically feel the sweetness rotting her teeth as she speaks. It’s the first time she feels something new, something as bright as the light radiating through your eyes. 

“You just seem different. Even if you do try to hide it.” 

With a flush of crimson coating the apple of her cheeks, she’s never been quite as exposed as this. The next few weeks are spent with less drinking, but Vi frequents the bar just as much as she did before. She orders a few pints just to talk to you. She’s learning more about you, slowly but surely, you’re opening up more. Divulging information you wouldn’t have before, trust is earned. It’s something you told her the first night you met and to this day, Vi still remembers it. 

Regardless of how drunk she’d been when you said it. 

It’s a typical night. Vi flirted with you but you aren’t being dismissive tonight but you’re careful enough to not let her know exactly how you feel. Everything you say is guarded enough you keep her on her toes, for a moment she thinks she might have to become a ballerina. It’s a slow night, Wednesday. Go figure Vi thinks. There was a woman who’d also been flirting with you all night. Vi thought she was beautiful, sweet, funny…certainly was making you laugh all night. 

Part of Vi wanted to feel jealous but it feels too good hearing you laugh, she says nothing. Maybe you just don’t like women. Vi was known for reading into things too much, thinking everyone thought with their heart first just like she did, and assuming every hot and attractive woman was into other women — just like she is. 

But the brunette left before closing, leaving Vi and a few other regulars paying their tab as they stumbled home with a belly full of liquor of their choosing. 

“Alright Vi, don’t you have somewhere to be? Maybe getting some sleep for the night?” 

“I don’t sleep much, it’s better if I don’t.” 

“Keeps the nightmares away.” 

All Vi does is nod. 

“Story of the century.” You take Vi’s empty pint before washing it dispersing in the sink before cleaning up the remainder of the bar top. “Everyone’s got one around here and the new one is usually even more depressing than the last.” 

“What about yours?” 

“If you wanna hear that, I’ll have to be the one doing the drinking.” You smile but it’s the first one Vi recognizes as insincere. 

“Yeah, seems to be the stone cold requirement for a heart to heart.” 

Vi’s silent as you vent to her about the customer who refused to pay up tonight until you threatened to kick his ass and that wasn't enough, you threatened Letty on him. Vi found herself only slightly entranced as you spoke with such color, your animated voice doing impressions of the stubborn patreon, moving your hands as you speak, eyebrows furrowed as you finished the story. 

You’re done cleaning and are ready to close by the time you finish, locking the door as Vi stuffs her hands in her pockets, “Can I ask you something?” 

You cling to your bag like a lifeline. Vi notices how tight your grip is on the strap, almost as if you’re afraid. Of what? She has a craving to find out. “Why’d you turn her away? She seemed plenty interested. Not your type?” 

You take a step forward, just as close as the last time you were in her apartment, tending to wounds she wouldn’t have really cared about but still she let you clean them. 

You didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway. 

“No, not really. I like my women a little rough around the edges, stumbling out of bars so wasted they can’t even walk home by themselves.” You smirk, grabbing the lapel of her leather jacket as you tug her closer to you. “Or is that what you want me to say?” 

“Is it true?” 

You both know the hope in her eyes is dangerous. 

Hope. 

A foreign concept in Zaun. If you get too close to the flame, you’ll get burned, dusting into ash as if you never existed. It’s what shimmer did to people, wipe them off the map until they reformed into a shell of what they used to be. You didn’t just get out of a place like this, not without some help. Vi could barely even help herself. 

The both of you know it’s a bad idea. A terrible, god awful idea, but you still move in closer to her. Vi notices and she wipes the smirk off her face, your warm hands finding purchase on her exposed hips, drawing soft circles on her hip bones. She likes it, even when her heart feels torn from being blown to bits by a certain blue-eyed beauty. 

Vi likes you. 

“Your skin is softer than I thought it would be, smooth like pure silk. Not that I’ve ever touched it before but I’ve got to believe it would feel a lot like this.” 

Vi feels a tingle up her spin, your touch is overwhelming, more than she bargained for really. A stumbling, messy kiss is all she really expected if anything. Not this. Clearly, you knew what to do. Leaving Vi a little clueless in that department, she’s knocked off her feet once again but this time in a way she wants to be. But actually bringing something this special to anything more than a few flirty quips? It never seems to be her strong suit. 

So, she puts her best foot forward. Her big stupid mouth, one she can never quite fully silence. “I can guarantee my lips feel a lot softer.” 

“Vi—” You speak her name like a warning, an unspoken law you’re breaking by entertaining your feelings and the bubbling sentiments you hold for her close to your heart. You know better than to keep it so close, but the halo in her eyes blinds you to reason and you let it. 

“It’s Violet but you can call me whatever you want, sweets.” 

You chuckle at the pet name. 

“Just one night. That’s it. Just to get it out of our system.” 

“One night, sweets. It’s all I need.” 

— 

It’s how you ended up here, the third night in a row since the first, trapped under the web of Vi and her eager mouth. Slender, perfectly sculpted fingers feel like a hex to your cunt, every moment causing you to fall further into her spell. To say she has a certain talent would be considered an understatement. It’s clear Vi’s enjoying herself, fuck, damn near suffocates herself in your weeping cunt. Last night wasn’t nearly enough, she needs to have you, again. Not that you were complaining. 

As much as you hate to admit it, there has been no one as generous as her. As good as her, as sweet, as kind, and she did whatever the hell you asked for. Nothing has beaten the first night, her thumping clit nudging against your as she hiked one of your legs over her toned shoulders. 

It’s not a secret how built she is, far from it, but it’s another thing entirely to watch her flexed bicep ripple with every grind of her hips. Each movement seems to be calculated with precision, focused on doing more than just making herself feel good. With pure determination, glazed over crystal blue eyes, and a pouty scarred lip, she makes sure you’re enjoying this as much as her. With each moan you let slip, her confidence only grows until she’s commanded full control over you. She takes what she wants from you and in return you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, constellations created in the shape of her name as you come. 

“That’s it pretty girl, just for me, yeah?” Vi talks you through  as she works you through your orgasm with her strong hips, not stopping even after you’ve cum. She wants more and Vi pulls three more orgasms out of you before she’s done for the night. You expected her to be good. There was no shocker there but you didn’t expect her to be so sweet afterwards. Vi is a drunk, an addict, whether she wants to accept it or not. You could be just another object she’s addicted to. Somehow, you convince yourself it’s just a one time thing. It doesn’t mean anything, it won’t. 

Truthfully it feels much more than just a one night stand, more than an itch being scratched — the blossoming ache in your soul feels tethered to your heart every time Vi makes you feel an ounce of love — even when she tries to hide it behind a wall. Whether you’re aware, the wall can’t seem to stop crumbling. Brick by brick, it’s coming undone just as you have. Weak-willed and with purpose, you fall into her. 

There isn’t an inch of your body Vi didn’t kiss. Her lips tattooing every inch of your skin with marked affection, almost as if she’s mending your skin with the burn of her lips. When she claims your soft lips, haunting you with the salvation of perfection as her velvet tongue invades your mouth, the taste of you melting from her tongue to yours. The silent declaration you didn’t ask for but craved, the carnal moan leaving her mouth as she chuckles when your hips pathetically grind into hers. 

Vi enjoys your company, that much is clear, but this time you bring her to your place. It’s more or less the same. Both of you coming down from the highest of highs, you feel sticky, dirty, and damn right heavenly. Vi disappears into your bathroom, grabbing a wash rag before dampening the material underneath a warm faucet. Carefully, she kneels by your hips, legs twitching softly as her skilled fingers find your slit before Vi’s sucking the digit in your mouth. 

“I just wanted one last taste before I clean you up.” 

As she has before, Vi makes good on her promise and cleans you up. She enjoys when the pad of her thumb grazes against your clit, terribly overstimulated, your stomach twitches. All Vi can do is chuckle. 

“I’m just a little—” 

“Sensitive?” Vi smirks as you hide your face in the palm of her hands, the pad of her thumb gently caressing your skin.  

It’s the lightest she’s felt in weeks. Almost as if she’s floating on a cloud, she wants to stay up there in the cloudiest of nines. Just you and her and an aging mattress as she offers you everything she can give. Albeit, it isn’t much but she’ll still freely give. 

Like a dog with a bone, Vi corners you on the third night when it’s just you and her in the bar. Closing time has long since arrived and vanished into the crisp air of the night but Vi has you bent over the bar, desperation clawing at the weathered countertop of the bar as Vi’s fingers fucks your pretty little hole while her tongue laps at the slick that’s dripping out of you. Your pretty little skirt pushed up, your panties pushed to the side as she laps and sucks at your juices. She can feel you dripping onto her chin and it only makes her that much more eager to swallow every bit you have to offer. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—” Fuck. Vi starts doing tricks with her tongue, sliding in another finger, pushing against the soft spot buried deep as she toys with you in the way knows best. “We, um, Vi we said just one night.” 

“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl. Or did you forget?” Vi moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to shake under her mouth. “It’s not like you were complaining last night.” 

Vi silences you as her pace picks up, her fingers fucking you at such a pretty pace, feeling the build grow in the pit of your stomach edging to come to a full bloom. 

All of you begging for it to be released. Vi uses her free hand to slap your ass, sending you moaning and lurching forward. You push yourself back grinding against her tongue, before she removes her divine mouth as she kisses up your spine, her fingers stuffed inside you not faltering for a moment. 

Vi continues to kiss up your spine until she reaches the nape of your neck, her breath kissing your skin, your body shivers into her touch. Full lips ghost over your ear before whispering quietly, “Are you sure you want me to stop? I will if you want me to. I just thought you might wanna, you know, take my cock tonight. Give it a good ride.” 

The moan you let out would put Aphrodite’s to shame, needy and choked sobs escape you as her fingers thrust inside you faster than they have before. 

“Oh? Do you like the sound of that, babygirl? Want to show me how good you can be for me?” Vi doubled down on her efforts, enjoying how much you arched into her body, your hips pushing back as you grind into quick fingers. She’s fucking you better than well…anyone. 

“Vi, please.” Your voice catches in your throat, hoarse and full of need. An insatiable craving; one you fear only she can provide. A few mindless days and careless flirting to land in her sheets, her in yours, the details didn’t truly matter. A vampire out for blood, almost more venomous than precious canines breaking the skin, you yearned to suck on every last drop. But she didn’t seem to be in a mind frame to relinquish control. 

“Please what? I’m not sure if I understand you.” 

All of it, so tantalizing, so fucking infuriating. Three fingers inside you, effectively making you silent, shutting you up as she brings you closer to the edge. That’s the thing, truthfully, Vi has you right where she wants. Only a few thrusts away until you come undone around her. The black haired succubus increases the pace, thumb playing with your clit, her calloused fingers increasing your high as she applies more pressure on the thousands of nerve endings on your precious pearl. 

“Shit. You’re gonna pay for this.” 

“What? For making you come? I hardly constitute that as a crime.” 

Your hands reach for the counter top, you’re not sure what exactly you want, but Vi makes you come for the first time that night. It’s a game, the push and pull. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Some disposition falling far from your fingertips, a game to her and a downward hill spiral for you. Addiction festering next to an open wound and the only antidote can be found on her tongue. Tasting the devil’s mouth is one thing but swallowing the sensation of the woman you’re beginning to love is something else entirely. 

Vi, despite her best efforts not to, makes you fall over the edge. It’s more than her eager tongue and expectant mouth slurping at the vindication of your taste. The craving builds like an exposed vein. Her confidence irrevocably soars like a raven through the midnight sky. Even if Vi acts like she’s done this before, you could pull the curiosity intertwined with naivety a mile away. Violet has never done this before, not with a woman at least, you’re sure of it. She’s a fast learner and such a great accomplishment should replenish such a reward. 

With the energy you have left, you push your skirt down first, as Vi puts your underwear back in place. She doesn’t stop touching you. She can’t. There isn’t much she feels she has control over, this arrangement being one of them. She’s good at this and Vi enjoys it. Every other part of her life, failure surrounds her, her ability not to please anyone in her life. 

In a constant loop, she finds herself caught in the crossfire. Tugged between sister and lover, family and righteousness. Her enemy becomes her lover and lover becomes enemy — all of it poisons her blood and cures her core — and all of it makes her hear a voice she doesn’t recognize but it’s just as true as the four walls surrounding her. 

Oil and water. 

Collecting like scars on her porcelain skin, Vi feels herself sink like an obliterating star. There’s a wonder settled in her chest, it feels heavy and weak, two incapable fists unable to surround her heart with anything but loss, betrayal even. She can’t punch her way out of this one.

All of it wakes a fire in her chest, a dagger being punctured in her heart by the one Vi thought she could trust the most. She doesn’t want to admit it so she doesn’t. 

But this? It feels easy. 

She needs easy, light, even good. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it. 

Vi definitely doesn’t, the sentence flows like a never-ending stream of waterfall continuously drowning her. The blood on her hands stains her perception of all things pure, she wonders how she even sees you at all. How you see her more vividly than anyone, possibly even Cait. There’s no judgment, no snarky remark of where she comes from. Even if she thought there had once been love, Vi questions it now. 

When you come, it feels like a breath of fresh air, a golden wave washing over her sinful hands. Each stroke of gold, your grit and blind hopefulness soaks Vi’s entity. This is what she wants. There’s nothing more than this, someone she could love, who loves her. It’s uncomplicated but the feeling flees as you come to it. Vi can’t help but feel regretful as you cover your ass, it’s such a pretty sight. She can’t stop that she’s greedy, you’ve fed her for the first time in her life and now Vi feels full but she’s only human. 

A sinner always craves more. 

She lets her touch linger on the gold between your thighs, pushing the white substance back into you before Vi lets you feel how wet you are, the dripping slick feels uncomfortable caged into cotton underwear and she wants you to feel it. The breath Vi hears are still heavy, impossibly heavy, and there’s pride in hearing you center yourself, back pressed against her chest as Vi keeps you in place. 

The pleasure within your body begins to slither away as you come back into the angel you are and not the sexual deviant bent over the woman who never pulls her punches. 

“Felt good, yeah?” Vi says. Her angelic, sweeter than the cotton candy stick in your teeth, voice penetrates through. You like it too much. It shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. Desperately, you want to keep this casual but you’re even losing your footing. 

You pride yourself on the lack of attachment; you don’t need it. Never really had. But then with her it seems to change even faster than the seasons, your wall breaks somehow in between from spring to summer. With intent, you move around, her bright eyes have darken a bit but the fading light looks brighter than you’ve ever seen it. 

Fuck, Vi is making this difficult. 

“You could say that.” You speak softly, a tremble in your voice occurs but Vi says nothing but she does smirk. “Can I ask you something?” 

You turn around and suddenly Vi is staring at your exposed cleavage, the one you use to draw in patreons and to fill your pockets with as many tips as one can muster. Vi had been one, a faithful one trying to drink her away to the bottom of every bottle until she found something else for her. Something that didn’t leave a burn in her throat. 

“What is it?” 

“Was it your first time? The first night?” 

Sheepishly, Vi blushes. For a second, she contemplates lying but you’d see right through it. Right through her. It would only take one look in her blues and you would know. 

“That obvious?” Vi struggles with her words next but she manages to murmur a lame excuse. “Stillwater didn’t leave much time for this.” 

“And after?” You tease but the sincerity in your eyes soothes her. 

“There could have been but there wasn’t. Some things just don’t fit.” Oil and water is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue. 

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have been so, I don’t know, selfish?” 

“There’s nothing selfish about it. I wanted to make you feel good. Did you enjoy yourself?” This time she makes your skin feel hot. Fuck. 

“Yeah, I did enjoy myself,” you pressed against her as your arms loop around Vi’s necks to bring her closer “but I think it’s officially my turn to offer my services. Don’t you think so?” 

It’s how Vi ends up here, in your place, in your bed — soaked. 

If there was one thing you knew, it was how to please someone. You managed to pull whimpers out of her she didn’t even know existed. The desperate plea coming from her shivering body as she spilled in your mouth the first time sent a shiver down her spine, the band in her stomach snapping as you sloppily spit on her cunt, constant circles of pressure on her clit seeing nothing but your eyes look up at her. 

Not letting a single drop go to waste, you fucked Vi through it, swallowing her completely. Vi shed the wrap covering her chest next. Her body bruised from the pit fights but you couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than her. You paid attention to her collarbones, neck, and her tits. Sucking on her nipples as Vi tries to come down from the high you placed her on, she doesn’t think she ever will. 

She tries not to think that she wanted these things with Caitlyn. Cait. Cupcake. 

Vi only allows herself to think of her when she’s dreaming, visions of what that could have been, what she used to be. All of it so trivial, so senseless when she thinks of you. How you make her feel is different and she tries not to think of what it all means. 

One night. 

Then two. 

Now three. 

In another life, maybe she was stronger, and didn't need to be wanted. Hell, even needed. She could wait for someone who she thought loves her but the other part of her doesn’t want to think, she wants to feel. Vi likes feeling the softness of your skin, the light in your laughter, the swell of your exposed chest, the way your greedy eyes take in her abs, your soft lips kissing every part of her skin. The smooth, the scarred, the unworthy — you take it all in such stride. 

“Do you want to stop? I think I lost you for a second.” You inquire to the pretty girl beneath you, her hands find your waist, creating makeshift circles on your hip bones. 

“No, that’s the last thing I want.” Vi brings you to her lips, capturing your bottom lip, tongue invading your mouth. She tastes herself as your tongue melts with hers and the rest of her worries melt away. It’s just you and her. “I want to keep going.” 

“Then tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s yours if you want it.” 

It’s spoken as a reminder. All of this is her decision. Vi decides when she wants this, how she wants it, and you’re letting her take all of it in the way she needs. Vi tried not to think the first couple times, she never wanted her first time to be a big deal. Maybe with Caitlyn it could have been, but then she changed. 

Vi thought maybe she could too. So, she did. 

“Can you—” Vi stutters. Yet again her attention gets pulled to your tits, the softness of your stomach, she can’t stop looking at you. As if she’s trying to remember everything about you. She’s committed to it. Vi wants to remember the soft curves of your hips, the way you moan when she comes on your tongue. 

The sight of you looking down at her makes she lose every rational thought, she wants to commit to memory forever. It won’t be something she easily forgets. 

“Gotta speak up, babygirl. Especially if you want me to keep my attention focused on this pretty cunt of yours.” 

You sit between her legs, tilting your head, you look at her glistening pussy, the way it shines with her cum and your sloppy spit. It would look even more exquisite with a little more. Taking a beat as you take your time, you gather enough in your mouth before spitting slowly, Vi whimpering as your spit makes contact with her lower pair of lips. She couldn’t stop it, it slips and you’re grinning, hips desperately bucking to feel more of it. 

“F-Fuck, need your cock. Please? I need it more than anything.” Vi confesses. There’s no need for dignity, especially if she keeps it and you won’t give her what she’s itching for. 

“Yeah? Are you sure about it? Don’t want you backing out just in case you can’t be a good girl and take it.” 

She can take it but she can’t take the countless teasing, trapped underneath the images drowning in her mind. This is what she wants, someone to dissolve into her, make her forget everything that has happened, just a pretty girl with some pretty tits who knows how to fuck. Right? That’s all this is. It’s all it can be tonight. Her lip is busted from the fight tonight, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but you don’t seem to mind all that much. It’s all the same to you. Vi is all the same, that’s been clear from the start. 

Then, she decides to let her mind get shut off, let herself fall into you. You did know how to take care of her and tonight she would let you. 

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” 

“I promise.” 

Once the harness is on, you wedge yourself in between her thighs, tattooed and toned, brave and brawny but she transforms into someone else entirely once you’re sinking inside her warm walls. You think about what it would feel like to feel her. Is she clenching around your cock? Would you feel the throbbing heartbreak of her clit? What you can hear is the whimper, uncontrollable and breathtaking, you slip further into her as you make home in her beautiful cunt. 

She’s made it yours to take. You’d do anything and everything for her, the thought alone scares so you do what you do best, you grind your hips slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her too quickly, it’s the first time she’s taking penetration and you want it to be good for her. 

“You’re so perfect. Doing so good for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.” You whisper out, taking too much enjoyment in her getting lost in your soft thrusts. Vi’s chest starts to heave as her hips roll into yours. Vi never even imagined wanting this, or that she could really have it with someone else. It’s not like she’s experienced, she has nothing to compare it to, but it feels incredibly intimate. 

She likes how you’re being with her. Soft, gentle, delicate. Vi thought she’d never want to feel that way, but maybe it’s just under the right circumstance in the right light. 

“Shit, shit, shit” Vi chants as your hand grabs the headboard, giving her one particular powerful thrust. Perky tits spring to life, jolting against the sudden movement, her moan so fucking load, as you continue your movements. This time not as hard, but you pick up your pace, wanting to see if she would have any arguments against it but Vi doesn’t. Profanities and whimpers leave her mouth as you split her on your cock. Face half-smashed into the pillow, trying to muffle her moans and you offer this one mercy. 

She’s still shy. 

Now is a good time as any to fuck it out of her. 

“Do you want more Vi? Want me to go…faster?” Placing a hand on her abdomen, the abs defined and clenching as you halt your thrust for a moment. “Do you wanna feel me in your stomach, baby?” 

“Can you even do that? I’m not so sure you’re even capable. Looks like the rookie knows more moves than the veteran.” Vi bites back. But it doesn’t last for long. Vi thinks she must have said the wrong thing, pushed you too far, you slipped off her but only to move her body to the edge of the bed, placing her on all fours right in front of a very convenient mirror. 

“Fine. Thought I’d be sweet but that isn’t what you really want. If you want to get treated like a whore, I’ll fuck you like one.” You take a beat to appreciate her wonderfully sculpted back, the artwork is truly exquisite. It feels so much like her but the foolish girl is smirking at you through the mirror. 

You know you’ve been caught ogling at her body, checking out every inch of her exposed body, you slap her ass in retaliation but she just grinds her ass back onto you. 

“I’m waiting.” Teasingly, Vi arches her spine more. “Where’s the whore fucking you’re muling about?” 

In one move, you’re inside her, fucking her beautiful face into the mattress. Never in her life has she felt so full, so good, so sweet. You grab her by the meat of her hips, bringing you back on her repeatedly. Vi wonders what she would give to have this, have you, and the thought scares her just as badly. She instead focused on you. 

Tits bouncing as you thrust into her at a punishing pace. Divinely and so perfectly you, making her see stars, she feels trapped. Not in a punishing way, but in a way that has her never wanting to leave the entrapments of your coaxing cock. At this moment, this is where she’s meant to be, just a toy for you to use. 

But it’s more than what meets the eye. If Vi was just a toy, you’d be done after the first night. Tonight, you weren’t using her for your own pleasure. You seemed perfectly content to give. The shine in her eyes gave you something only she could, edging you even further, a constant wave hitting Vi like a tidal wave making home on the shore. 

“God, you’re just too perfect. Fuck, just like that, take what’s yours.” Bouncing back on the strap, the words fall from her lips before she can’t stop them. Overflowing like a water fountain, it’s before she really even realizes what she’s saying, it just feels right. 

“Mommy, please.” 

Vi has had those words on the tip of her tongue but not that you’re fucking her into a different dimension, she lets the aching plea slip from sinful lips. It’s only once but it’s enough to set you off. You pull Vi up, her gorgeous back pressed against your chest, sitting on your thighs as you fuck up into her. Brutally, she takes everything you have to give. 

Sweat glistening across her body, accentuating her chest as she tries to compose herself  but you don’t give her the option. No. It would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“I want you to watch, Violet. Watch yourself when you cum, be a good girl and show me how pretty you look, hm? Wouldn’t wanna disappoint, Mommy, now would you?” 

Vi sucks on your middle digit, tongues swirling as she feels the tight band in her stomach, threatening to snap. She’s close. When the sensationally soft pad of your thumb applies pressure on her clit, Vi’s done for. 

“Shit, oh my fucking god, baby baby babbyyyyy.” Incoherent murmurs and moans come in abundance as Vi bounces herself your cock, falling right apart as you toy with her clit, fucking her through the impending high. Your other arm tweaks around and up, fingers squeezing her tits, over stimulating her as she slumps against you. 

It’s the easiest task ever done. Submit to you, your skilled fingers, the power of your sinfully sensational thrusts, she comes all over you. The powerful demeanor weakens before your very eyes. When you gently move her back on the bed, slipping out of her, Vi’s eyes begin to water from the loss. 

The first time getting strapped down is always a lot to handle, you’d still taken it easier on her, too afraid you would push her too far but by the blissed out eyes, she’d enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed herself and you couldn’t really ask for much more. 

When the both of you are cleaned up, Vi cuddles into your frame and you let her. Even if your first instinct is to push her away, saying something you know that’ll hurt her, none of it finds any merit on your tongue. For the first time, you find it difficult to turn away a pretty girl, her lips kissing your collarbones, up your neck until she finds home on your own lips, sloppily invading your mouth with your tongue. 

Hitting you where it hurts, she moans your name in her mouth, unable to contain the neediness she feels around you. It’s worse than Cait. This is pure addiction entangled with something carnal. Vi knows if she doesn’t get to fuck you again, you fucking her cunt again, she might as well give up on life now. 

“I could go again.” 

You chuckle. Of course she could. 

“Don’t know rookie, that might be all you can handle for the night.” 

It’s a challenge and you know she’ll bite the bait. 

With ease she gets on top of you, and just as if she’s done it a hundred times, Vi sinks on your cock, “I think I can handle another ride, don’t you?” 

[boypied]

STUFFING [thanksgiving special]

pairings: henry cavill x male reader x chris evans.

summary: his father’s best friends; chris and henry, visit for thanksgiving dinner, and at the end, the readers' fathers get drunk and passes out. Leaving the reader, Chris, and Henry to get down and dirty.

requested by: @dangerousstrawberryshark

word count: 1,081

warnings: threesome, anal sex, double penetration, dirty talk, praising.

It's that time of year again, the time of year when your dad invites all of his hot dilf-y friends round for Thanksgiving. You try to make small talk, but the majority of them just kind of ignore you or actually just don't hear you because of how quiet and timid your voice is when they're round. Except something is different this year. Your dad only invited two of his friends round, and they've never been round for Thanksgiving before, which is strange because they get invited pretty much every year.

"Henry! Chris! Come in, come in" your hear your dad shout out from upstairs as you see two cars park in your driveway, you slowly make your way downstairs and you turn the corner to be met by two greek fucking gods. Perfectly chiselled jawlines, your mouth gaped open practically drooling over them right before their very eyes. You slowly wipes your mouth and walk closer to them "H-Hey" you say quiet and timidly as you face them both, "This is my son" your dad says introducing you to them.

"Don't worry he does have a life even though he still lives at home at twenty-five" you dad's snarky comment causes you to roll your eyes as you smile softly at them as you walk past them and into the dining room where all the food is set up. You keep mumbling things under your breath as your dad embarrassed you in front of the two hot dilfs, "so what if I still live at home at twenty-five" you mumble to yourself as you place the knives and forks down at the table.

"You guys didn't need to dress up" you hear your dad's loud booming voice echo from the hallway all the way into the dining room, after them chatting in the hallway for about ten minutes they all finally make there way into the dining room taking their seats. Your dad is at the head of the table and your next to him whereas Chris and Henry are on the opposite side to you, "I'll be back, I need to go serve up dinner" your dad says as he places his napkin down and he walks out of the dining room leaving you alone with the two hot men.

The awkward silence was deafening, but you couldn't take your eyes off of them. You wanted them. The way their suits clung onto their bodies was proof of how they must be muscular, and you wanted to see their sexy body's as they pounded into you. Fuck..you could dream. Your dad strutted in with plates of food, placing them all down, and you started to eat. Even though you were eating, you were watching Chris and Henry, the way the forks filled with food were placed into their wet mouths.

After dinner and a couple of games and a lot of alcohol at least on your dad's part, the day was coming to an end. Your dad passed out from the amount of alcohol he had drank, Chris and Henry helped you carry your dad upstairs to his bedroom, covering him up to keep him warm so he doesn't freeze. You slowly close his bedroom door, and you come face to face with the two men, "I guess that's it for tonight" you say in a soft nervous tone as you look up at the two men but they both just smirk down at you.

Henry steps forward and grips the back of your neck, pushing his face against yours and pressing his lips against your soft ones, your eyes widen in shock but slowly close as you enjoy this touch of passion. Henry and you both stumble to the side, pushing your bedroom door open, and you both land on the bed bouncing slightly but not breaking the kiss. Chris slowly walks in as he watches this unfold, your body laying on top of Henry's as you both passionately make out, Chris slowly pulls down your smart trousers and your underwear just enough so that your tight pink hairless pucker is on display.

Chris leans in and begins lapping up your hole, rimming you to the best of his ability. His tongue slowly pushed inside you, curling and flicking against your soft, warm walls. Once your hole is all soaking wet and slowly opening up with Chris' hot breath against it, he leans away and strips off naked and presses his pre-cum soaked tip against your hole slowly pushing it in. You throw your head back breaking the kiss, you gasp out in shock and pleasure as your feel his cock completely fill your hole.

Henry manages to unbutton his shirt opening it up exposing his hairy chest and ripped abs, your eyes dart down and you gasp out at his reveal. Chris grips onto your hips as he continues to slowly pound into you faster and faster, whereas Henry's hands travel down to unbuckle his belt and he manages to get his thick uncut cock out. Chris stops pumping into you for a moment and helps you both strip off fully naked and you get back into the position you were just in.

Chris slips his cock back into your gaping hole and with the help of Chris' hand, Henry's cock slips into your tight hole. You gasp out in slight pain that eases away in pure sultry bliss as your hole accommodates to the size of both their cocks. Henry bucks his hips up into you and Chris digs his nails into your hips as he pumps himself back and forth into you his cock rubbing up against Henry's thick member. Your eyes roll back as they pound away into you relentlessly as your cock spurts out cum as they both stretch your hole to an orgasmic size.

Your hole tightens against Henry and Chris' cocks as they stop pounding into you and both feel your muscle ring tighten around them, their cocks can't take it anymore and they spurt out cum inside your asshole giving you the ultimate cream pie. "I think I know what I'm thankful for this year" you say in a soft tone as you feel both their cocks slip out of your hole and they pull you under the duvet to warm you up. "Happy Thanksgiving" Henry and Chris say in unison and they both place a kiss on either side of your cheek as your naked bodies rub against eachother.

Happy Thanksgiving. 🦃

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold

[ssahotchnerr]

Hello, I have a request. How about Aaron going costume shopping and Aaron loses her FOR A MINUTE before he finds her where all the princess and fairy costumes are. Like she is completely mesmerized by costumes that she doesn’t notice Aaron picking her up and saying “I’m reconsidering making you a leash kid, you know” but he doesn’t really mean it and she’s just pointing at a costume “I want this one, daddy!”

jumpscares

i changed this up a tiny bit but the overall concept is still there <33 cw; fem!reader, protective girl dad!aaron (small angst), jack calls reader mom, references to your usual cm violence, halloween and fluff!! wc; 1k

"Dad, c'mon." Jack whined in slight impatience and excitement, prying the door open and hanging back slightly on the handle.

"We can only move so fast bud." Aaron responded, maintaining his current pace. We as in Ellie. Her tiny legs limited her speed, she was practically skipping to keep up with just him. "The costumes aren't going anywhere."

With the holiday quickly approaching and Jack's insistent worries the cool costumes will be gone soon - while you ran necessary errands of your own, he had been tasked with taking the kids to the Halloween store.

Upon entering, Aaron lost Ellie's hand almost immediately as she halted, causing it to slip abruptly from his grasp.

She was frozen in place with her gaze directed forward, keeping a generous distance from the frightful animatronics greeting the three of them at the entrance.

A scowl was on her face; it didn't appear she wasn't necessarily scared, but a mix of disgust and worry were vividly present instead.

"They're not real sweetheart." Aaron tried to reassure, his gaze softening. "They're just decorations."

"I don't like that one." Ellie grabbed his hand, using her other to point at the menacing, horrific clown. "He looks mean."

"He does, doesn't he?" Aaron agreed, his mouth drawing into a pensive line as he played along. "But that's okay. They're meant to be for fun."

"They're not very fun."

The three began wandering through the display of frightful animatronics, led by Jack, a good idea in theory. Jack disciplinarily left Aaron's mouth a few times, as he attempted to get his sister to step on the sensors in order to get spooked.

Ellie ended up in his hold, gripping onto the collar of his t-shirt while Jack indulged himself in getting delightfully jumpscared. She merely watched, each burst of sound causing her to scoot closer into her father, more like her shield.

"Alright, let's find what we came here for." Aaron placed Ellie down, Jack beginning to browse as they reached the costumes. "It is a school night. We can't be out too late."

Selecting a costume, or even brainstorming an idea was bound to a lengthy task, the two of them utterly indecisive. Ellie adored every costume they passed, had to stop, look and point it out. Jack, on the other hand, was pursuing a more silent, observational strategy.

"Anything sticking out?"

"Maybe Spiderman?"

"You never stick to Spiderman." Aaron reminded him with a small smile, the fond memory of when Jack dressed up as him coming to mind - easily within his top five Dad moments of all time.

"Yeah... so maybe not that." Jack breathed out a huff, his eyes continuing to peer around. "Or we can all be superheroes." He poked an adult Batman costume, causing it to sway. "You can be this, and then Mom can be Wonder Woman or something."

Aaron nodded slowly, although he personally didn't plan on dressing up. But could he be persuaded by you and the kids? Maybe. "That could be fun."

"And then Ellie could be Spidergirl-"

Speaking of Ellie, she had grown suspiciously quiet - her chatter stopping altogether. Aaron's eyes shot down, only to find Ellie not besides him.

Jack was the one who verbalized it, his eyebrows crinkling in confusion. "Where'd Ellie go?"

Panic immediately swept through him, his heart rate heightening and his body succumbing to a numbing freeze. Fuck.

Suddenly, he didn't know whether or not his knowledge of child abductions were an advantage or disadvantage; knowing how to act quickly, but also the unfortunate outcomes.

his mind instantly shot to the conversations he had with victim's familiies with what felt like daily. The scenario had turned- he was in their shoes. And just as they all stated in their interviews: He should've been paying closer attention. He only looked away for a minute. He knew these things - why did he look away?

Attempting to push the statistics in the back of his mind, he was on the move, Jack following right at his heels.

"Ellie?"

Luckily the fear was short lived; she was two aisles over, captivated by the girliest costumes one could imagine, very Ellie-esque.

"Eleanor." Aaron breathed out in relief as he saw his piggytail-headed daughter, sweeping her right off her feet again. "You know better than to wander off."

"I wanna be this." Ellie pried a princess costume off the rack, Aaron paused as he lifted her so she could remove it successfully. "Can I Daddy? I really wanna."

"Well, let's make sure it's your size." He took it, doublechecking and allowing his heart rate to calm down. Upon confirmation, his eyebrows furrowed. "Are you sure you want to be this? Or do you want to be a superhero with Jack?"

"I wanna be a princess." Ellie insisted, a pleading tone within her voice. "Pretty please?"

"Sure, if that's what you want. We'll have to find you a crown too, or use one from home, it doesn't seem to be included." She nodded as Aaron tucked the packaging under his elbow, allowing him to hold both it and her. However, his demeanor switched over to one more serious. "But hey, look at me please."

Her adjacent brown eyes met his own; a touch of fault, and sincereness. She knew she had disobeyed in one way or another. And whenever she did, it was written all over on her face.

"No running off, okay?" He instructed sternly, but gently. "It's really important I can always see you, and you can always see me. We don't want you getting lost, yeah?"

She shook her head. "That would be bad."

"Very bad. Mom would not be happy with me if I came home without you." Aaron affirmed, eyebrows raised. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes we do." She replied cheerily, oblivious to the heart attack she had just given her father. "No running away."

"Thank you." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, exhaling and the tension in his shoulders alleviating. Ellie was fine. No need for further panicking. Everything was fine.

And Jack, ever the dear, comically inputted, a witty grin plastered on his face. "Maybe Ellie should be the Flash instead."

[kvroomi]

artist!reader and skater!suna who you first meet in college one morning when you’re running late for class, carrying a comedically large portfolio across the campus square. your head is buried deep in your phone, checking for last-minute updates on the class. that’s when an abrupt gust of wind shoots across your face and forces your head up instantly, only to see a skater soaring past with hardly an inch of space between you. 

“what the hell, watch it!” you yell, immediately stepping backward and using both hands to grasp your portfolio tightly. 

the skater remains undisrupted, gazing forward and only casually waving a hand back to call, “my bad!” 

artist!reader with skater!suna who you see again, a week after almost knocking you over. coincidentally enough, he's sat at the exit steps to the art building, tying his shoelaces with his skateboard next to him.

"fucking prick." you walk straight past, muttering under your breath.

he must have heard you because, within seconds, he's walking by your side. "no way! you're the girl from last week. don't tell me you're still mad about the other morning! it was an accident." he throws his hands up in disbelief.

you ignore him and continue walking.

artist!reader with skater!suna who is determined to befriend you after your brief interaction. he waits at the same steps of the art building until your classes finish, skating up to you when he spots your familiar figure. he attempts to strike up a conversation by commenting on how "serious" you always look, and it's then that you bite back with a witty retort and he grins.

"took you long enough to talk to me."

artist!reader and skater!suna who both hang out at the skatepark together one afternoon. you're practicing your motion sketches, discreetly observing suna skate and using him as a reference for your drawings. 

suna walks over to you, leaning on his board. “whatcha drawing, picasso?”

“you,” you say without looking up. his heart skips and he can feel his face grow warm.

“oh yeah?” he peers over your shoulder. “do i look cool?”

“you’d look cooler if you didn’t wipe out every five minutes,” you deadpan, flipping to another page.

“alright, picasso,” he says, with a roll of his eyes. “let’s see you try then.”

and that’s how you find yourself on top of suna’s skateboard, gripping his shoulders for dear life.

“relax, you’ll be fine,” he says, holding your hands to steady you.

“easy for you to say,” you grumble, eyes wide as he starts to slowly push the board.

you don’t even make it five feet before you’re losing your balance and falling. suna doubles over laughing, pulling out his phone with a sinister grin. “hold still, i need a picture of this for the archives.”

“don’t you dare,” you warn, scrambling to your feet. but it’s too late—he’s already posting it on his story with the caption: skating > art

artist!reader who gives skater!suna the nickname deckhead, after a particularly grueling painting session. 

“can you please just focus for once?” standing up from your desk and tossing your paintbrush aside, you continue angrily. “i’m trying to get this done, and you’re just—”

“distracting?” suna interrupts, raising an eyebrow. “you’re the one acting like the world’s ending because you can’t paint a perfect line.”

there’s a sharp jab of irritation. "it’s not just about the line! i’ve been working nonstop on this, and all you’re doing is—"

he cuts you off again, this time with a half-smile. “i know, i’m sorry.”

you close your eyes to take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. but the words slip out before you can stop them. “god, you’re such a dickhead.”

the moment it slips past your lips, you feel the tension rise in the room. it’s silent but as if the universe had a sense of humor, you glare at his skateboard propped against the wall.

“no.” you scoff, shaking your head, your frustration turning into something more mocking. “you’re not even a real dickhead, you’re just a… deckhead.”

suna blinks, frozen for a second. “deckhead?”

you cross your arms, mouth curling into a sinister grin. “yeah, a deckhead—wandering around with that stupid board like it’s your whole personality. you just can’t be serious about anything!”

a beat.

and then he laughs. suna laughs. he laughs so hard that tears are forming in the corners of his eyes. he laughs so hard that you begin laughing too. 

suna sighs slowly, dropping his gaze to meet yours. “i didn’t realize you were genuinely getting upset. i promise i didn’t mean to make you feel worse.”

you let your head rest against your desk. “i know. i’m just frustrated because i’ve been at this for hours and it feels like i’m getting nowhere.” 

there’s a long pause before suna steps closer. “i’ll stop being a deckhead.” 

he grins and ruffles your hair. “... but only because i care.”

artist!reader who invites an incredibly eager skater!suna to one of your artsy gallery showcases. he surprises you by showing up in an actual button-down instead of his usual baggy jeans and shirts, bringing along his skater friends who also happen to be equally fond of you. upon seeing your work, they all begin hyping you up loudly, drawing eyes from surrounding exhibitions and sticking out like sore thumbs.

at one point suna leans in and whispers, "i'm pretty sure that guy over there is trying to steal your vibe."

confused, you turn to see a very serious art critic examining your painting and it takes all your effort to not burst out laughing.

skater!suna who shows up unannounced at artist!reader's studio with a blank skate deck and a set of paint markers.

"what's going on?" you'd just woken up from a nap and suna thought you looked absolutely adorable.

"empty canvas," he breathlessly replies, distracted by his newfound urge to just shrink you and keep you in his pocket. "i thought you could make it cooler." 

and he’s right because you do. 

“dude, where’d you get that?” atsumu asks, pointing at the board the next time suna is at the skatepark. 

“custom-made by that genius over there,” and suna proudly nods towards you, sat on the concrete of the park and deeply concentrated on a sketch.

artist!reader and skater!suna begin dating not through a grand confession, but just a subtle shift.

it happens when suna walks you to your class, a daily ritual that you've both become accustomed to, so it's almost instinctual the way he leans down and leaves a soft kiss on your cheek. you both pause, realizing what just happened, but instead of freaking out, you're clutching onto one another from outside your classroom laughing.

from then on, there's no formal conversation about it--just a mutual understanding. 

skater!suna who asks artist!reader to paint his nails black for him because he saw someone at the skate park with painted nails and thought they looked cool. you nod excitedly and oblige. by the end, suna’s nails are decorated perfectly in black, except for his ring finger which you sneakily managed to paint pink. 

when he notices, he glares at you, “really?”

“you wear it well,” you shrug in response.

artist!reader who stumbles across a notebook in skater!suna’s backpack when he asks you to grab his phone for him. you’re curious and can’t help but flip through it to find… doodles? 

you bring it back for him, his phone long forgotten. “are these supposed to be me?” 

“woah, what the fuck! where’d you find this?!” suna snatches the notebook, immediately shutting it closed before offering you a sheepish grin. “art is hard, okay? not all of us are picasso reincarnated.”

you’re flattered he’s been doodling you in his spare time. 

skater!suna who gets oddly competitive when other skaters are present at the skate park while you’re there. he pulls off more tricks than usual (which is already a lot because he’s always trying to impress you), but looks for your approval after every single one. 

he may have gotten a little too carried away because the next second he’s slipping from his board and now he’s landed flat on his back. he groans, embarrassed while you laugh. he watches you from the ground and wonders if he should make a fool of himself more often just to hear you laugh. he doesn’t let this show and instead rolls his eyes, getting up from the ground. 

“glad you’re entertained, y/n.”

skater!suna who loves to blast his music when practicing tricks vs. artist!reader who needs the quiet to focus. 

“riiiiin! can you turn it down, please? i’m trying to concentrate.” you yell at him.

“i’m literally landing this trick for you.” he replies teasingly, turning the music up even louder. 

you end up compromising with a pair of suna’s noise-cancelling headphones and he begrudgingly lowers the volume—slightly.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[wonderjanga]

even though the bad parent captain marvel thing is resolved, i'd still love some more scenarios from the JL's pov of marvel's 'bad' parenting. ONLY if you WANT to do it, if you dont then just ignore this request lol

like him telling freddy or mary to 'fuck off' or swear at them in general and threaten to steal their stuff or blackmail them (like normal siblings do -coming from a middle child with two siblings)

or maybe they hear freddy and mary ranting about marvel and they JL misinterprets their sibling rivalry as abuse

Marvel is a terrible parent. The JL knows it. It just flabbergasts them every time they see or hear about it because Marvel is literally the nicest person ever so why does he hate his kids?

Junior and Mary: *walking down a hallway in the Watchtower while complaining about Marvel*

Mary: “Says you. He was chasing me around with a darn stick trying to beat me yesterday.”

Junior: “You don’t have the right to complain. At least you could run.”

Mary: “I guess but Pedro was carrying you so you could get away too. So I think I have to right to complain.”

Flash: *had the unfortunate displeasure of hearing that*

Now why was a grown man running around after his kids and trying to beat them with a stick? Also what did Cap do to make it so that Junior couldn’t run away?? Flash knew he was magic, so he was hoping he just used some magic to bind his legs or something. Speaking of Junior…

Junior: *annoying Marvel*

Marvel: *looking more increasingly annoyed* “Junior. Please take five steps back from me before I decide to slap the shit out of you.”

Supes: *immediately looks over to them*

Junior: “No you won’t. You’re chicken-”

Marvel: *literally raises his hand to do it*

Supes: *looks extremely concerned*

Junior: *immediately shuts up*

Marvel: “Yeah that’s what I thought.”

Junior: “Bastard.”

Marvel: “You’re a bastard too. Anyways, want lunch?”

Junior: “Yeah, tacos.”

Clark got a little whiplash from the quick change of topic. Though, that entire interaction really does enforce that he does not care for these kids. It’s so unfortunately obvious. Another example of him not caring was when Marvel and the silver one were sent to go examine a cave on a deserted planet.

Marvel and Eugene: *staring at the ominous cave*

Marvel: *walks behind Eugene* “Well… go on.” *pushes him forward to the cave*

Eugene: “What do you mean go on?! I’m not gonna sacrifice myself for you!”

Marvel: “But we’re family.”

Eugene: “So? I’m not fighting a dang Xenomorph if one pops out.”

Marvel: “Don’t worry. We’ll fight it together.” *continued to push him, but is thankfully walking with him*

Batman saw this entire interaction when he was reviewing to body cams he forced the two to wear. Who just pushes their son into danger like that? He needed to have a talk with Marvel about his parenting.

Pedro: “Hey, which of us is your favorite?”

Marvel: *almost immediately* “Mary and Darla.”

Pedro: “Mary and Darla- why them?? Darla was eating crayons just the other day, and Mary is Mary.”

Marvel: “Okay and…? They’re still my favorites?”

GL: “Wait, who’s Darla?”

Marvel: “The purple one.”

At least he likes the purple one, Darla? They haven’t seen a negative interaction between her and Cap yet. Emphasis on yet.

[authorhjk1]

Does this light blue-ish outfit on Yuna considered as dress? If yes, hopefully you can make something based on this, sorry for the back to back asks too author😅. Keep up the great work and take care👋

Sky Blue

(Shin Yuna X Male Reader)

Yuna is easy. In more ways than one. But one of them is definitely the one you thought of first. She is fun, easygoing, a sunshine. But whenever you even look at her the wrong way, Yuna is already on her knees, her mouth wide open.

You're not her her husband, or boyfriend, or even friend for that matter. And you doubt that Yuna sees anything in you. Well, except for your ability to make her scream.

That's why she is now standing in front of your apartment, wearing some sort of blue dress and white over knee boots. You don't know if she just finished performing or not. Itzy isn't your favorite girl group. And you don't follow Yuna. But you still see almost just as many stage outfits of hers than her fans.

"Are you going to let me stand here all night?"

Yuna can sometimes, on rare occasions, turn a little bratty. When she is needy and she can't get off immediately is one of them.

"Get in. You know where it is."

Yuna quickly steps inside and you close the door.

Five minutes later, Yuna is on your bed on all fours. She arches her back like she always does, slightly elevating her ass. She probably had safety shorts on during her performance, but they're already gone. Her skirt barely covers her ass.

Your cock is still wet from the blowjob she just gave you, but it won't be enough for what the two of you have in mind. The small bottle is almost empty, even before you start pouring the clear liquid onto your cock.

You kneel behind Yuna and push her skirt up. Her beautiful ass is right in front of you. You caress her cheeks, before letting some of the cold liquid drop between them. You catch it with your finger, right at her rear entrance. It slips inside, making Yuna let out a deep moan. Soon, a second finger joins. You finger her ass, making Yuna whine.

"Please, I need it. Please."

Yuna begs for you to fuck her. You align yourself with her entrance and push past the ring of muscles. You both groan in union as you both feel something different, but still the same. Pleasure washes through both of your bodies as you start to fuck Yuna's ass.

It has become much easier, compared to the first time. While her tight grip has stayed the same, her ability to let loose makes it so much better.

You take a fistful of her red hair, making her raise her head, which was hanging between her shoulders just moments ago.

"Please. Be as rough me with me as you want. I need it."

Yuna whines more the harder you fuck her. She can't get enough of your cock inside her ass. How she feels so full. How you stretch out her hole. How your length glides along her inner walls.

As you keep thrusting into her, the lube makes it easier to slide in and out. It was just a liquid at first, but you probably poured too much. Some of it is now sticking to Yuna's delicious cheeks and your hips. Whenever you move back, long silver strings connect the both of you. And when you push forward, it sounds wetter, her cheeks jiggling with every thrust.

"Fuck, Yuna. How are you still this tight?"

"It's just for you."

Yuna moans, her response leaving her mouth in small portions, interrupted by her lewd whines.

"I'm so tight only for your cock."

You start to lean over her and Yuna's upper body leans closer towards the bed. Eventually, her face is buried in your sheets. Her arms have moved to her side and you can see how her hands are holding onto her heels. Yuna's ass is at an even better angle than before.

Instead of thrusting forward, you're almost thrusting downward now. Her tight ass is just a hole for you to fuck. It feels like her whole body is made for sex. It's made to please you. And that's the only thing Yuna wants. She doesn't just get off by you fucking her ass. It's the fact that you use her ass like a cheap cumdump. That's what turns her on the most.

And you're about to fill her up again.

"Fuck, Yuna!"

Your hands have moved to her waist, but her moans are still muffled by your sheets. She can feel your cock throbbing inside of her. She can feel how you use all the power that's left inside of you, to ruin her ass. She can feel how your thrusts go deeper than before.

"Yes, breed my ass! Please!"

You climax, when Yuna begs you to cum inside. Your cum quickly fills up her asshole. It's warmth spreads through her body. Since she is in a downward position, she can feel how your seed flows deeper into her body.

"Stay like this."

After collecting yourself from this intense orgasm, you slowly pull out of her. You watch how Yuna's asshole opens and closes and opens again. Her body longs for your cock, even after you just filled her with your cum.

As always, Yuna lifts one of her hands and covers her ass, making sure her body isn't pushing anything of your precious cum out of her. You reach for your nightstand and pull out a butt plug. You have so many of them, since Yuna comes by so often. She either already wears them, or the two of you play around a little on days where you have more time.

But every single session ends like this. You take out one of the glass ones. It has pink sparkles on it, which reflect the light of your lamp. You usually like to go for something with writing on it, but Yuna took the last one home two days ago.

You kneel behind her once more and start to push the glass object inside her ass. Expect for an initial whimper, Yuna takes the butt plug with practiced ease.

Now your cum is secured. Deep inside her ass.

[bkgml]

pro hero kats having to do an interview when he’s sick because he signed a contract.

i just know he’s so baby when he gets sick because of that only child syndrome he’s been stuck with. he gets really needy and just wants to be around you. give him love pls.

maybe it’s one of those interviews with the boards that have the peel off stickies on them where he answers questions about himself and his life.

idk whatever u guys think!

he doesn’t want to go.

“baby?” you ask gently and only get a grumble in response.

your hands drift over to trace the muscles on his back. you’re sat up against the headboard on your phone and he’s laying on his stomach with his head on your lap and he’s got his arms wrapped around you.

when you guys woke up this morning you’d planned to walk around the city you’re in, grab lunch and maybe do some shopping before going in for his interview.

but katsuki unexpectedly woke up with a fever and a stuffy nose.

so instead, your day has been filled with tylenol and naps.

“i know you don’t feel well but it’s time to get up.” you say gently, caressing his back while you speak and finishing with a tap on his shoulder to signal him to sit up.

“i don’t want to fucking go to this shitty interview.” he bites. it’s not directed at you and it’s clear from the way he nestles himself deeper into your plush thighs as he speaks.

you lean forward to press kisses to his warm forehead.

“i know,” you coo.

“but you have to. i’ll get you some more medicine before you go, okay?” you murmur against his temple.

he huffs but peels his eyes open anyway, shifting to rest his chin on your thigh while looking up at you.

“you’re not coming with me?” he replies with an unknown quietness, a hint of desperation slipping through.

you smile and kiss his forehead again.

“do you want me to?” you ask and he nods gently before shifting to press kisses along your bare thigh.

“okay.” you whisper.

“we need to get up now though.” you say and he grumbles but stands with you anyway.

the two of you get ready together-slowly but surely, and head out the door.

when the two of you arrive it’s obvious to everyone on set that katsuki’s more annoyed then usual.

his brows are furrowed so deep they practically cover his eyes, and he’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

you explain the situation and the crew agrees to keep this as quick as possible for him.

he puts on his brave face for the camera, goes through about one board in between each cut where he gets a five minute break.

“cut! thanks dynamite, take a five minute break.” the director calls out and you walk to where he’s slumped in his chair, pout on his face.

“hi, handsome.” you smile.

“what do you need? tylenol?” you ask and he shakes his head.

“water?” another shake of his head.

“do you want me to get you a cool towel for your head?” and he shakes his head once more.

“what do you need?” he ask gently.

his hand reaches out for you, misses once and after seeing his brows furrow in frustration you step forward.

the second time he reaches for you he gets a hold on your elbow and drags you forward until your thighs are touching his knees.

he sighs and allows himself to fall forward until his forehead is planted on your shoulder.

you breathe out a laugh and his arms come up to hold you around the waist.

you just stand there and let him do his thing.

every once in while you let your hand travel up and down his back. sometimes you’ll let it slip into his hair, scratching gently.

he lets out sighs and little grunts in reply when you ask him questions. he’s just breathing and hoping the director never yells action again.

“alright everyone, breaks over!” the director shouts and katsuki’s arms tighten around you because he was honestly starting to drift off, but he lets you go anyway so this can be over with.

he does two more boards where he answers questions about pro hero life and the rare question about his childhood and some about you.

there’s a 45 minute dinner break and katsuki spends it in his dressing room.

there’s a couch in there and he wants his half hour power nap.

“here take a tylenol before going to bed.” you say and he pops the pill before laying down and attempting to drag you with him.

“i’m going to get you a cold towel, i’ll be back.”

he groans when you leave but if he’s being honest a cold towel does sound really good.

“hi, i’m back!” you announce while walking back into the room.

when you get close enough his big hands snatch you by the waist and lifts you to straddle him while he lays on the couch.

you giggle and place the towel over his forehead.

“god, your makeup team is going to kill me.” you sigh.

he shuts his eyes and drags his hands up and down your thighs.

“don’t care. i’ll tell them i asked for it.” he mumbles, already drifting off.

“okay.” you whisper.

his power nap did not help him much and in fact probably made him a bit worse.

but you just reminded him that the quicker he got through this, the quicker you guys could go back to the hotel and sleep until morning.

he got through it. had to have little breaks for water and hugs, but he still did it.

when the two of you get home from the trip there’s edits popping up everywhere of the two of you on set.

“katsuki bakugou needing cuddles while he’s sick.”

“pro hero dynamite being in love with his girl for ten minutes straight.”

and all of the comments are filled with shit like,

katsufan118: can he look at me like that?

dynamiteloverrr836: why is he so cute with her

ynnkats4life: my fav relationship

katsuki frowns like his reputation has been completely ruined.

“kats they’re not wrong.” you smile and he grumbles but secretly agrees with you.

“who the fuck filmed us? ‘m getting them fired.” he says.

you slap his chest lightly.

“katsuki! don’t. they’re doing gods work here. i get a compilation of you being all needy.” you smile brightly.

he argues with you playfully but he can agree it’s not all bad.

[pedge-page]

Hiii the breastfeeding question that can be used as a question or to a fic I was just curious because I love the sexual ones but I was like would u do one just a sweet one Joel had stressful day at work or Joel can’t sleep and needs the boob to help him and then it comes into a routine every night before and when he wakes up has milk and I’m also loving the mommy fics too. But don’t worry on the response time 💓

Routine

Joel Miller x F!Reader

warnings: breastfeeding, somewhat sub!Joel, not sexual but still mature content

`18+ ONLY

- - - -

He doesn’t even have the energy to slam his truck door. The frame is bent at the top, making it close unevenly. Two, three, sometimes four or five tries before it actually clicks close. He’s been meaning to get it fixed, hell, even just take a hammer and knock it somewhat back into shape, but he’s just too fucking exhausted today.

He lays his head back against the headrest, wrinkled eyes closed upwards. His nose involuntarily wrinkles: the cushions smell like smoke too. Tommy borrowed the truck yesterday and lit up his packs. The little fucker. 

He doesn’t get weekends off. He doesn’t get 8 hour shifts. He gets whatever shovel, hammer, nail and mud that needs dished out. He bears it, grunts it, heaves and shovels until his bones are cracking. 

He needs home.

When Joel gets through the garage door, he sees the living room lamp light on. The girls must already be asleep. You were probably staying up awake for him. Suffering, because of him.

Fuck. He shouldn’t think about it like that. He’s grateful for you. For many reasons.

He feels shy, hesitating at the door, pretending he’s dropped something because he’s a little too embarrassed to ask this one thing of you. 

“Joel?” You call out softly. It’s like swan-song to his ears, delicate and sweet. 

He steps into the room. “Hey.” You tilt your head to the side with a warm, tired smile. 

“You okay?”

He swallows, looking away and rubbing the back of his head as nonchalantly as possible. 

You tsk him with a bemused smile. “C’mere,” you whisper, patting the open cushion next to you for his invitation.

He shuffles towards you, his hole-ridden socks gliding along the shag carpet like a toddler dragging his feet. Joel kisses your forehead, his scruffy chin brushing against your lashes briefly before you grasp his cheeks and urge him to lie next to you. He tosses his jean-clad legs up on the length of the couch, propping his elbow on the seat so that he can face you.

“Bad day?” You hum, kissing his eyelids one at a time. He breathes you in, momentarily feeling lost in your embrace. You nuzzle his nose with yours, his eyes flickering open to meet your gaze again.

“Mmm,” he grunts. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it.

But his eyes drift a bit lower, fingers fiddling with the spaghetti straps of your silk night-top. His pointer traces over its path, knuckles grazing your collarbone as he pulls the strap slowly, exposing a bit more of your chest. He plays with it, like he’s telling you something without words, but still waiting for your say-so.

He glances back up at you through his brows. 

“Will it help you sleep?” You coo.

He nods with big round eyes, his lips leaning forward to press a kiss to your breastbone. 

You stroke his face lovingly, giving him the answer he needed as you and he both reach to pull the edge of your top down, revealing your ample breasts.

He huffs his hot breath over your nipple before blowing cool air like a whistle, loving the way it tenses from the temperature change.  He brushes his thumb over your other as his lips find your nub, kissing it repeatedly. His plush lips wrap so delicately around them, baby kisses spoiling your skin.

“Five minutes. And then to bed, okay?”

He doesn’t want to waste time then.

Joel re-situates himself over you, his forearm holding himself between your thighs. He latches on to your tit, humming around your areola and starting to gently suck. Closing his eyes, he breathes steadily through his nose. Nothing audible yet, but quickly the room fills with the sound of his swallowing as his mouth is filled with your warm breastmilk.

You close your eyes, still twirling his hair with your fingers. He’s not inching for anything more. No quickened case. The two of you fall into an almost hypnotic trance of sleepiness.

His warm tongue massages your breast muscles as he works more milk out of you. He takes almost exactly 2 and a half minutes from one breast, before pulling off with a slight kiss, a droplet of white balancing off his lower lip. He eyes your other breast before putting his mouth on it, eyes closing and repeating his steady sucking. 

It fills his belly so contently. Warm and sweet, traveling from your heated body directly onto his taste buds, down his throat and safely nourishing his stomach. There’s no rush. He knows you’re here, your hand gently yet tenderly placed behind his head, cupping him close so even if he loses himself in you, he knows you’re here to catch him.

If it weren’t for you to let him know its time to get to bed, he’d fall asleep right in your lap, titty still hanging from his mouth with milk pouring over the sides of his cheeks.

It’s been weeks since he’s had such a fulfilling slumber.

The next few days weren’t any easier on his body or mind. But you were never complaining. 

The two of you started settling up right in bed for your nightly routine. Joel resting his head in your lap, letting the milk just fall right onto his tongue thanks to gravity. He’d drink until he was practically snoring. Then you’d stroke his face soothingly, letting him sleep like that for hours until the morning. 

All the guys talked about going home to their wives or girlfriends to unwind. Have dinner. Cuddle. 

He’d wake, shifting your sleeping body into a more comfortable position, laid back while he hungrily undoes your shirt again and starts drinking his breakfast straight from your boobs.

When he’s halfway through the day, he sits in his trailer at the site, wishing you could visit him for lunch. He’d lock everyone out, pull the shades, set you on his lap, and suckle your breasts for his midday snack. He wouldn’t be able to let you go though, grumbling into your chest and wrapping his arms protectively around you like a child unwilling to let go of his mommy.

He does all three with you at the same time, putting him at ease and helping him sleep like the beautiful, caring, nurturing wife you’ve always been.

He hopes he can put another baby in you soon so that people don’t keep wondering why your breasts are still so plump full of milk despite both your kids already being well off breastfeeding… 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

[saphiccarma]

Heyyy may I request Rio x reader who are exes and reunite when Rio shows up at the road? Angst that turns into fluff and obv happy ending? Thank you🥺

- Wherever you go I'll follow

Relationships - Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - Rio had abadoned you after she had to take Agatha's son. It left you with a simmering anger, but you think you would see her again until she, and in turn you, was summoned to the witches road.

Warnings: Some angst

A/N: All the requests I've gotten make me so happy, so I hope I did this one justice. Hope y'all enjoy.

The first thing you heard when you clawed your way out of the ground was surprised shrieks and yells, followed by an amused, slightly psychotic, but familiar laugh. Dread pooled in your stomach. You tore yourself out of the ground with a gasp and brushed the dirt away from your face. Nearly instantly, your eyes locked with a certain witches. Rio had an insane smile on her face, her lips spread wide as she fiddled with her knife.

"Well look who it is," she cooed, her voice taunting and insufferable.

You were not doing this. With a huff, you spun around and started walking away from them. You had seen at least five other people there, but you really could not deal with Rio. Faintly, you heard her gasp in fake shock, her footsteps trailing after you. It wasn't long before she was walking alongside you, her breath warm in her ear as she breathed down your neck.

You could hear her lick her lips, "I've missed you."

Shoving at her, you curled your lips into a snarl, "Fuck off." All that did was draw a laugh out of her, maniacal and insane.

"Only if you watch," she teased, taking absolute pleasure in the way your cheeks heated and you spluttered, "There's the flustered girl I remember, the one who brought me pretty flowers and greeted me with kisses and kept me warm at night."

You scoffed, crossing your arms and continuing to walk forward. Fire crackled inside of you at her words, the small spark igniting after so long. Heart beating frantically in your chest, you tried to gather your thoughts, even as you heard Rio trailing after you with a huff. In all honestly, you had no idea where this place was, with its dark surroundings, looming trees, and vibrant night sky. What a shitty time to be a familiar. The likely scenario was that Rio was summoned, with a formal incantation, and that meant you you were summoned as well. The curses of being a familiar tied to her.

"Sweetheart," she sang song, "We're on the Road. You can't leave."

That made you stop in your tracks, spinning around to face her with furrowed brows. The Road had always been fake, you both knew that.

"We both know that's fake."

The Road was made up by Agatha, a con she created to steal other witches’ powers. Rio let a sly smile cross her face, tongue poking into the side of her cheek. She took a step closer, so her hands were grazing against yours.

"Apparently not," she whispered, linking her fingers with yours. Every fiber of your being wanted to pull back, but for some reason you let Rio pull you closer, her breath ghosting on your lips. Your eyes fluttered as she licked her lips.

A throat was cleared and the two of you sprang apart, your hands burning as if they were on fire. A warm heat spread through your cheeks as you saw Agatha standing there, an unamused eyebrow raised as she stared at the two of you. The rest of what you assumed was her coven stood behind her, with perplexed faces. You cleared your own throat, taking several steps away from Rio.

"We're supposed to walk this thing?" Rio asked, gesturing at the Road. She took off with a skip in her step, knife twirling in her hand. You watched as Agatha scoffed, her coat swishing as she followed, quickly taking lead with her little...pet following.

You hung in the back, your thoughts swirling with so many emotions. Mainly anger. Angry at Rio for abandoning you. All those years ago, ditching you as if you meant nothing, as if you were just a piece of trash. You were born for her, a being created to serve and stand by her side for eternity, tethered to her until the end. But then she left one day, leaving you standing in your small cottage with a bouquet of flowers in your hand with a longing look in your eyes. Rio never came back after that.

Before that you knew she had something going on with Agatha, and you were fine with that, you had to be. You were just her familiar, it's not like the two of you were really anything. You were just born to serve her however she pleased. That didn't stop the sting when she created a child and then left you. Faintly, you heard the rest of the witches muttering about her in front of you. Rio was always the center of attraction.

The teenager pulled back, walking with you, his steps unsure and his eyes curious. You raised a brow and cleared your throat, urging him to speak.

“How come you were summoned? I thought we only summoned a green witch.” he asked, his fingers fiddling with a leather book he held in his hands.

“True,” you agreed, “Have you heard of familiars?” You watched as Rio skipped closer to Agatha, whose anger was so strong you could feel it from here.

He paused for a moment, biting his lip, before he shook his head, “No.”

“They’re people, or creatures, it really depends on the witch, that are tethered to a witch. In my case, I’m tethered to Rio – she’s basically my owner.” The term made a faint blush paint your cheeks.

“Oh.” He said, his hands still fiddling with his book, “So since she was summoned, you were too?

You sighed, “Unfortunately.”

^____________^

The coven sat around a fire, the flames crackling in your face and their warmth spreading around the small circle, sharing battle wounds and stories. It felt familiar, comforting even as you sat the closet, absorbing the warmth it gave off. Agatha had joined not long after the conversation had started, reporting that Teen would be fine after all. Rio twirled a flower in her hand as she side-eyed Agatha who sat next to her. A pang of jealousy hit you at Agatha's proximity to Rio.

"I have a scar." Rio said suddenly, her gaze focused on the fire.

"No, you don't," Agatha scoffed.

"Yes. I do." Rio insisted, her gaze flickering towards Agatha, "A long time ago, I loved someone," and even though her eyes meant yours, you knew she wasn't talking about you, "and I had to do something I did not want to do. Even though it was my job." She cast a pointed look at Agatha and swallowed thickly, her hands stilling from their fidgeting with the flower, "She is my scar."

You felt jealousy boil in your stomach as Agatha stood, Rio following her. Rio was meant to be yours; you were born for her. The rest of the coven sat awkwardly around the fire, their eyes following Agatha and Rio. The pain cut deep at the sight of them walking off together. Clenching your hands, you sucked in a sharp breath as you watched them disappear around a bend, Rio's hands reaching for Agatha.

I've missed you. Did she really miss you though? Based on her apparent attraction to Agatha, she didn't miss you at all, her heart lied elsewhere. It no longer lied with you and you wondered if it ever did. Rio could have just stuck with you because she was obligated to. You were nothing more than a pawn, a tool to make her job easier. Guiding angered souls, the ones who were so reluctant to go they managed to stay with their body, was your job. It took one more thing off of Rio's plate.

"Do you have any scars Y/N?" Alice asked, dabbing some of Jen's homemade perfume on her wrists.

You thought for a moment, trying to think of one, before a very specific one popped into your mind. It was probably your only one. You rolled the sleeve of your shirt up to your elbow, revealing your forearm to the group, the fire illuminating it. A fading R was carved into your skin. Despite what some might believe, Rio didn't carve it into you, even if she wished she did.

"I was born with it," you said quietly, "A symbol of who I belong to."

Your statement was meant with a stunned silence, the rest unsure of what to say to that. Rolling your sleeve back down, you awkwardly stood, mumbling some excuse about needing to stretch your legs. You walked off in the opposite direction that Agatha and Rio went. The forest provided some sort of comfort, with its dark atmosphere and large trees. You settled beneath one, your back pressing against the harsh bark, and you made a little flame come alive in your hand.

You weren't a fire witch, per say, but you could control fire. Some people say fire as danger, something to be avoided lest you get burned. And you agreed, fire was dangerous and shouldn't be played with. However, if treated right, it could provide warmth, a light in the darkness. Rio had learned how to treat fire like that, but she always played. Rio always played. Her words would be taunting and teasing, making the fire inside you flare up, but other days, she was soft. That's when the fire crackled with content inside.

Playing with the fire, you let it hop from hand to hand, the little ball burning with passion. It was a struggle to keep a small with all the emotions swirling inside of you, but the fear of burning down the forest was stronger. There was a certain comfort to playing with the fire, the warmth on your fingertips. Being away from Rio had dimmed your powers, draining them slowly, but now that you had returned, they were becoming stronger again. That was one thing you had always hated about this gift. It became a curse when you were tethered to someone you hated.

"Playing with fire again I see."

Your head snapped up at the teasing tone, your faint smile being replaced by a scowl. Rio was twirling her flower in one hand, the pink, a vibrant contrast against the dark forest, her other hand settled on the hilt of her knife that was strapped to her thigh. The fire in your hand flared up, the flames licking your face before you put it out with a flick of your wrist. Skipping over, Rio plopped down right next to you, her front facing you. Ever so slowly, Rio slid the flower into your hair, disregarding your flinch and sharp inhale. She smiled happily once it was settled into your hair.

"There's my pretty pet," she whispered, and you searched for the usual teasing tilt in her voice, but there was none. Just pure adoration, which had to be a trick because Rio never adored you. She only used you.

You flinched at the nickname, "I'm not your pet," you spat.

"The mark on your arm says otherwise," The Green Witch rolled her eyes, "You've always been my pet."

The words cut deep inside you, reminding you that you had always belonged to her. Even when she left you. You were meant to be hers, whether you liked it or not - you were tethered to Death for eternity. If you somehow died, Rio would still be able to keep you.

"You left me," you snarled, "I'm not your pet."

Rio blinked harshly, pulling back a little. It was only then that you noticed how close she had gotten.

"I never wanted to leave my love," she said softly, in a tone that was only ever reserved for you, "But duty called and I had no choice."

You scoffed, "What duty? You mean fucking Agatha?"

Rio laughed at your bold statement, throwing her head back with a maniacal cackle. It did nothing to soothe your worries and the growing fire inside you. But it did give you a view of her neck, the one you would bury yourself in after long days, the one you would kiss and bite and love.

"I did fuck her," Rio agreed, "But that's the past. You've always been my favorite, darling. I never wanted to leave you, never."

You flinched away when her hand came close, wrapping around the back of your neck. She pulled you close, her touch rough and soft. Her lips were inches away from yours and you smell her earthly smell.

"I hate you."

Rio smiled, "I know."

She crashed her lips onto yours, she tasted like flowers and the earth. A part of you wanted to pull away, but the feeling of her lips on yours, her hand pulling at your hair, and her tongue entering your mouth, it made the fire in your stomach flare with pleasure. You whimpered softly as her tongue explored your mouth for the first time in centuries.

You pulled away from her, panting ever so slightly, "You can't kiss your way out of this."

"Can't I?" Rio smirked, moving to crash her lips back onto yours.

"No," you pushed her away, "I'm still mad at you."

Rio laughed, throwing her head back before leaning in close, her breath ghosting against your earlobe as she whispered, "Are you?"

When she first kissed you, you thought that was what you had wanted, even if you wanted to pull away, but you know that's not it. You want to be close to her, but not in a sexual way. You wanted to hold her like you used to - for it to be like it used to.

"I want to hold you," you whispered, "I've missed you."

Death's lips pursed, her eyes flickering away before she softly muttered, "Alright."

The two of you shuffled to lay beneath the tree, your arms spooning Rio as she curled into you, her back pressed against your front. You made your entire body warm to contrast the cold of her skin and the air. Rio let out a content hum, burrowing even further into you. You held her tight and pressed a soft kiss on her temple.

"I missed you," you whispered.

"I missed you too," Rio twisted her head and planted a soft kiss on your lips, her touch gentle and sweet.

You let sleep take you away with Deaht wrapped tight in your arms.

[w2soneshots]

Two becomes three -George clarkey

words: 2.4k+

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, sickness, worrying, birth.

summary: you and your husband George’s journey to unexpectedly becoming parents along with your social media posts during your pregnancy.

notes: hello my loves! Here’s the request. I love writing fluffy fics like this🥹. I hope you all enjoy this extra long one shot!!🧸🎀🤍 (please lmk what you think!)

Liked by wroetoshaw, mollymae and 934,125 others

y/username: baby has entered the chat @georgeclarkeey

-comments-

chrismd10: congratulations guys❤️

faithloisak: how cute!! So happy for you two🥹✨

max_balegdae: ahhhhhhhhh

y/nfanpage21: there's no fucking way!!🙊

user27549810: the random George jump-scare at the end lol

user60286430: didn't they just get married like five seconds ago?😅

I met my now husband George four years ago. He followed me on instagram, I followed him back and not long after that we were dating. Last year he proposed and just under a month ago we had our wedding, which was beautiful and only had our closet friends and family.

An hour ago I took a pregnancy test. I was only a day late on my period but I took it just in case. I could hardly believe it when I saw two lines and it was so faint that I convinced myself I was seeing things so I decided to sleep on it and then tell George when I knew for sure.

But I just couldn't keep it a secret. I blurted out, "George, I think pregnant." As soon as he walked through the front door after his shoot with Arthur tv. He was baffled. "You- woah- you think?" I nodded. He took a moment to process what I just said. "And you took a test?" He finally asked. "Yeah, the lines were really faint though. I was gonna wait until tomorrow to tell you but- it just came out."

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I let out a soft sigh of relief. "If you are then I'll be so happy," he whispered into my hair. I smiled, though he couldn't see me. "I'm so overwhelmed," I mumbled. His hand made its way up to my hair and he gently ran it over my scalp, silently reassuring me.

That night everything felt so strange. You're supposed to take the tests in the morning anyway for the most accurate results so we were just waiting and trying not to get our hopes up in case it wasn't positive.

The next morning I woke to an empty bed. I reached for my phone and then read the text George had sent me just ten minutes ago; "gone to buy more tests, hopefully I'll be back before you're awake x" I sighed softly then got up.

As I was brushing my teeth the front door clicked open and soon George was walking into the ensuite. He smiled softly as he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, looking at me through the mirror. "Ready, love?"

"You look. I can't." I quickly passed the upside down test to George as we sat on the end of our bed. Just seconds before, the alarm on my phone rung but I couldn't bring myself to look at the test.

He took it and flipped it over. A wide smile spread across his face as an excited chuckle escaped his mouth. "Seriously?" I asked, shocked. "Y- yeah, you're pregnant!" He shot up of the bed. I giggled. "I'm gonna be a dad!" He pulled me up and into a bone crushing hug.

The next two months weren't very fun. At the beginning we were both so ecstatic. Then the morning sickness hit. I could barely eat, sleep and it was becoming impossible to make up excuses for why I couldn't go out.

George was like my rock through the entire ordeal. He was by my side every time I had to run to the bathroom, he held me and gently stroked my back as I tried to get some sleep, he pleaded with the doctor when we went for my first appointment hoping there was something, anything they could do and he let me ramble on about how I just wanted to feel normal again.

Slowly our friends figured it out and offered their help. The girls put together a basket and Faith made sure to include everything that helped her through her first trimester, Chris came round to keep me company while George had to go and film something for a brand deal and George's sister sat with me as we online shopped since I couldn't really go out.

When the sickness slowly started to ease off everyone was so relieved, George especially because he hated seeing me constantly upset. I was finally able to enjoy pregnancy, announce it on instagram and suddenly the last few months were erased from my mind.

Liked by faithloisak, arthurtv and 513,290 others

y/username: love, hate relationship with the heat

-comments-

taliamar: you're glowing babe!!💞

-> y/username: 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

georgeclarkeey: 🐊

y/nfanpage21: the puppy🥹

user85299106: this is adorable

At twenty two weeks we went on our little baby moon. I spent twelve days relaxing in the sun while George fussed about suncream and making sure I was in the shade. Since becoming pregnant he's been much more protective, which I don't mind since it's never overbearing. He's just trying to help in anyway possible.

"Good morning sleepy head." George greeted me quietly, sitting on the side of the bed next to my sleepy form and gently pushing the messy hair from my face. "Mornin'" I mumbled, shuffling slightly. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead before asking if I wanted some breakfast, to which I immediately nodded.

We left our little apartment after getting ready and walked hand in hand down the street towards the cute little outdoor café we'd spent quite a few mornings in the past week and a half.

"Thank you." I smiled at the young girl handing me my pancakes. "Will that be all?" She asked politely after placing George's breakfast in front of him. I nodded and she walked away.

"Mmm, I'm so glad I can actually enjoy food again," I said after swallowing a mouthful of food. George just stared at me. "What?" "I just love watching you." I chuckled. "That sounds a bit creepy babe."

When the day came that our baby moon was over I was sad to be leaving such a beautiful place that I'd made life long memories in but I was secretly very excited to be going home and getting back into normal life.

Liked by chrismd10, taliamar and 623,309 others

y/username: clearing out my camera roll✨

-comments-

arthurtv: fifth slide?😭

-> georgeclarkeey:🫃🏼🤰

faithloisak: stunning!!!

y/nfanpage21: you, the bump, the flowers, all so cute💝

user10479624: you're both going to be the best parents

The next few months were spent relaxing and preparing for the arrival of our baby, who we found out the sex of just after our baby moon. We had a little gender reveal at our apartment with our families and a few special friends. We decided on a cake, classic, cute and delicious.

"I can't tell!" George announced. I stood next to him, my hand holding the knife that was cutting through the cake. Both of us were trying to peek at the sponge but it wasn't until I pulled the slice out that we spotted the pink.

Immediately the room erupted into cheers. I placed it down on a plate along with the knife and I turned to my husband. Tears welled in my eyes and when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body off of the ground the commotion around us seemed to disappear and all I could focus on was us.

"We're having a girl," I whispered, as though I was trying to convince myself that this was actually real. He gently placed me down, his hands landing on my hips. "I knew it. Dad intuition goes crazy." I giggled before pushing onto my tip toes and placing a loving kiss to his lips.

After that day I was suddenly obsessed with buying baby clothes, what the nursery was going to look like and the realisation hit me that I was actually going to have to push a human being out of my body, though George was quick to reassure me about that.

"Baby's the size of a small pineapple this week," I informed George as we sat on the couch, my feet resting on his lap as he slowly massaged them through my socks. I turned my phone around so he could see the app that keeps track of the baby.

"That's huge." He muttered, eyes widening slightly. I chuckled. "When she's done cooking she'll be the size of a pumpkin." "Oh god, I'm sorry." My brows furrowed, an amused look on my face. "What are you apologising for?"

"You're gonna have to lug around a pumpkin sized baby," he replied, deadly serious. I just laughed, though I wasn't particularly looking forward to that.

The months flew by and suddenly I was actually carrying a pumpkin sized baby in my stomach. At thirty seven weeks my back constantly ached, I needed to pee every five minutes, I wasn't sleeping properly since I had a future gymnast kicking around in my stomach and all in all I was just uncomfortable.

Since I could now go into labour at any second George was watching me like a hawk. Every grimace when I felt an extra strong kick, every sigh and every time my hand touched my stomach he would sit upright and just wait for me to say something.

"I'm fine, George," I'd say. "Just checking," he'd reply and that interaction would repeat itself another one hundred times before the day ended.

"I won't go if you don't want me to, Chris can find someone else last minute," George whispered as we lay in bed, my back pressed against his chest as he gently drew circles on the side of my bump. "No, I'll be okay. It's only a few hours," I mumbled back, half asleep. "Okay, just promise you'll call me if anything happens?" "Promise."

He left early the next morning to film the football video for Chris' channel, meaning I woke up alone. I went about my routine like normal though it felt like it was taking me longer to do my usual things, like I was moving at snail pace, which was slightly strange but I brushed it off.

An hour later I lay on the couch scrolling through instagram when I felt a twinge in my lower stomach. My brows furrowed slightly. "That was weird," I thought but I continued to scroll.

Until I felt it again. This time I decided to keep my promise to George and phone him. It ring a few times before he picked up. "Everything okay? Is it the baby?" He said immediately in a rushed tone. "I'm not sure, I just feel... weird."

He took in a shaky breath. "I knew I shouldn't have come today! I'm coming home." "It's fine, I'm- we're fine. Calm down-" "no no, I'll be there in twenty minutes, love you." And with that he ended the call. I sighed, feeling slightly bad that he'd had to leave the shoot but also a little relieved.

Just under twenty minutes later he burst through our apartment door. I stood in the kitchen, hands on the countertop as I took a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut. I heard his bags drop then the sound of his feet racing towards me.

"You said you just felt weird!" He placed his hand on the small of my back. I looked up at him as the pain subsided. "I did! It started getting worse after I called you."

George collected himself. "Okay okay, you're having contractions?" "Mhm, think so," I responded quietly. "How far apart?" "Like five minutes." He thought back to the birthing class we'd gone to last month. "I think we've got some time and the woman said the first kid always takes a while so let's not stress," he tried to reassure me and himself.

"I'll go get the bag, you just- uh... breathe." I chuckled softly, already calmer now that he was here. He emerged from our bedroom minutes later with the small suitcase in hand.

It took half a hour to get out of the door, drive to the hospital and get checked into a room. After that we could both relax.

The contractions weren't unbearable but I wanted the epidural as soon as possible. "Hmf-" I squeezed George's hand. "Another one?" He asked softly. All I could do was nod. "You're doing amazing sweetheart, so so good. I'm so proud of you."

Once I got the injection I felt like a million bucks. I couldn't feel the contractions, just a little bit of pressure. I sat in the bed happily as I ate my ice chips. Before I knew it, it was time to push.

Liked by sidemen, prettylittlething and 1,004,586 others

y/username: we've been in our little baby bubble this week but I wanted to officially introduce you to Maddie Clarke🤍👼🏼💫

-comments-

georgeclarkeey: my girls❤️

max_balegdae: yasss mother

taliamar: congratulations🥺💓

y/nfanpage21: I'M CRYING

user02781643: they're literally living the dream life omg!!

"She looks just like you," I said as I watched George's eyes fill with tears, his arms secured around his daughter, just ten minutes after she'd entered the world. He glanced down at me. "I love you so much, this is officially the best day of my life," he whispered. I smiled fondly and somehow I fell in love with George all over again, in a completely different way.

We spent a day and a half in the hospital before being discharged. It had been just me, George and the baby in a little room so it felt amazing to go home. I waddled after my husband as I watched him carry our newborn -who slept soundly in her car seat- out and toward the car. He strapped her in then helped me into the backseat.

"I get what people were taking about now," I said as he stared the engine. "Huh?" "I saw a video about the 'hot dad walk' out of the hospital and I totally get them." He chuckled, though he was cautious of the sleeping baby.

After a few days and once we were in somewhat of a routine his family came over to visit. His slightly younger sister was so excited and could barely keep quiet. "She's adorable. Oh my goodness, look at her little feet!" "Okay everyone, no touching until you've washed your hands!" He announced, pointing towards the kitchen sink.

I watched with a smile on my face as he fussed over whether Maddie's head was supported, it was extremely sweet how much he cared for and loved our daughter. I couldn't wait to watch as he became the best dad ever.

[silverwarewolf]

DUNGEON MESHI EPISODE 24 THOUGHTS

Oh, I had asked to see what the party's thoughts regarding the changeling situation were, especially when it came to their lifespans, but I didn't think it would turn out like this!

GOOD FUCKING JOB, CHILCHUCK. YOU'VE TRAUMATIZED MARCILLE EVEN FURTHER. Oh but I do so love the horrors of this situation of theirs. Marcille babygirl I would like to hug you and have a nice chat.

Anywya, on we go to think about Falin and any solutions that might help us here. Which is great! I love how much foreshadowing there is (in terms of what I've been vaguely told about the manga).

Laios Touden's problem solving skills, everyone.

That's honestly the SICKEST weapon design, I'm so on board with you Laios. This could be Kensuke's Halloween makeover. BUT DONT JUST TAKE THOSE MUSHROOMS WITH YOU OH MY GOD

... was this the opening sequence foreshadowing everyone was freaking out about? was that it? (don't actually tell me, though. if it was it, say yes. if it wasn't, don't say anything)

no comment here I just love them.

I just will never get used to elfshi's hands being Like That. But it's also kinda nice to see him and Izutsumi working along so nicely! Like, don't even get me started on how Izu is presented as the pickiest eater of the party (Marcille has been dethroned severely) and usually you'd see that presented as a Hassle, but here in DM, Senshi doesn't even bat an eye. He knows and respects Izutsumi's tastes and preferences and works his meals out around it! That's such a based thing for him to do. <3

This is a renaissance painting. (I love it when they adapt Ryoko Kui's visual gags and I LOVE when she does zoomed in faces like this. Truly one of the artists ever)

I did not have "Laios gets Pissed On" on my bingo card but every day I grow more and more convinced that the animators KNOW what they're doing and - OH MY GOD IS THAT SENSHI'S DWUSSY. ELFSHI ALTERNATIVE TO PANTY SHOT.

Ah, yes, Izutsumi sprawls all over them when sleeping, we been knew, again it's a little unexpected to see it front and center but I guess it works to demonstrate them returning to - THAT WAS LAIOS??? AND CHILCHUCK IS JUST LIFTING HIS LEG LIKE THAT?? OKAY THEN. SURE.

(and then there's a few more seconds of laiosfoot and laios bedhead)

BUT HEY THEY'RE BACK TO NORMAL

1) Yep, they're back to normal.

2) Laios I love you and I love Gothsuke but someone needs to be careful about biohazards and it's not going to be you.

3) Add this to the "Marcille Donato gets threateningly close to you in three steps" folder.

4) Truly only they can match each other's freak. When the NECROMANCER is telling you not to do something, don't do it! I know last time you smuggled a "normal" sword, it turned out to be useful, but I'm sure that's not the case here!

5) Poor Laios tho. I'll learn to blacksmith just to give you a cool sword. <3

I'm so glad they kept this. One of the silliest touden siblings moments. 10/10 no notes. Also, Falin is never beating the blunt force trauma allegations.

IS THAT CHILCHUCK'S WIFE. ARE YOU - MA'AM. HELLO?

"Why aren't you a twink like I thought you'd be?!" gets adapted! (I'm pretty sure that's the scene meant to be here, anyways)

I get it, girl.

Oh dear, they're going to eat Falin. And SENSHI was the one to suggest it! For a guy who was just fighting the doubts of accidental cannibalism a week ago, you're taking bold steps forward.

(I do love how it mirrors Laios' kindness back then, in truth. Even if it's an idea so shocking and dire at first, it comes from a place of reason and logic and love)

Marcille "I said I wanted to eat her OUT, not eat HER" Donato Izutsumi "That's going to taste gross as fuck" Izutsumi Chilchuck "If it brings her back..." Tims Laios Touden, the man with a thousand things on his head right now, two of which I reckon are "I don't want to eat my sister" and "Dragon-Chicken... what might it taste like?"

Yes, well. Valid as your concerns are, Laios, because how the fuck would five people eat THAT much meat, you can't just ramble on about what dishes you're going to make out of your sister.

(...I get it, though. I mean if you're going to eat, might as well make it good, right? I know no one wants to grill one of Faligon's ribs but I'll go ahead and say it would be worse to tell them to eat her raw)

FUCK! we DID lose those scenes about the twin bell that toshiro kept!! forever sad about that.

oh my godddd they're going back into the dungeonnn we're going to reunite with themmm

I know they're really fucking competent, I mean, Namari and Toshiro are already described as pretty formidable warriors (and we've seen it), and Kabru is... admittedly much more geared to fight humans but he's a decent fighter either way. And a good leader!

Speaking of, where the fuck is everyone else.

I know they're meant to be scary (and I suppose they are! If we have the reference that, firstly, marcille is an excellent spellcaster so these elves could be just as good in their own areas of expertise, yes?, and secondly, the canaries are Well Known)

... plus, Namari, Toshiro and Kabru are wary of them. Namari, Toshiro and Kabru are wary of them.

BUT damn it Lycion, I need to- (gets dragged off stage)

Anyway, while we wait for the next season (WHICH HAS BEEN GREENLIT! WOHOO!), have these wonderful images of chicken falin being a cathedral painting (...if cathedrals ever added dragons, i guess) and my beloveds, who have finally returned!

[wintrwinchestr]

obedience | part 1

summary: you decide to act out after feeling neglected by joel for over a week. it doesn’t go quite according to plan, but his punishment does help you unlock a new kink or two.

warnings: 18+, smut, no outbreak au, daddy kink, d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, brat tamer joel, degradation/humiliation (use of slut, whore, 1 use of bitch), orgasm denial/edging, boot riding, pet names (baby, babygirl, darlin’, sugar, sweetheart, honey, puppy), entering petplay territory??, finger sucking, one face slap but she likes it (and so do i), taking/sending nudes at work, subspace, hair pulling, joel cums on reader’s face, cum eating, two idiots who finally communicate and apologize to each other, gets soft at the end bc i’m a woman of many interests, reader can be carried by joel but no other physical descriptions, winter’s limited knowledge of what contractors do, pic of girl in the moodboard is for bra imagery only, reader looks just like you!! :)

word count: 4.1k

a/n: this is extremely self indulgent so please don’t look at me!!! lil shoutout to @pascalisbaby for inspiring me to write something just so i can use “puppy” bc their love’s gonna get you killed series has fucked me up extremely bad.

divider by @saradika

(read part 2 here)

It’s coming up on nearly a week and a half of Joel working long days and late nights at the latest suburban McMansion he’s been contracted out to. Each and every time he creeps into his side of the bed after you’ve already gone to sleep, never failing to wake you up in the process, he always has a different excuse. “My concrete guy was out sick today”, “the vendor gave us the wrong size rebar”, “the landscapers were in our way all damn day”, and other similar eye roll-inducing anecdotes that were followed up with sleepy apologies.

Tonight, you’re almost certain, will be just the same.

Slogging through yet another slow and uneventful day at your corporate nine-to-five, you’re practically counting down the seconds until you’ll be able to escape your drab little cubicle for the day. You aren’t exactly looking forward to going home, though, either. You know that all you have waiting for you will be another lonely night of heating up a frozen dinner, watching reality TV reruns until the ten o’clock news comes on, and then tucking yourself into a cold bed.

While you’re waiting around for a coworker to message you back about something painfully unimportant, you decide to get up to kill some time in the bathroom on your phone and stretch your legs a bit. You stand up from your rolling chair, grabbing your phone in the process, and head down the hall to the one single-person bathroom in the building that you know of.

You step inside and click the lock shut behind you, looking forward to having a rare few minutes to yourself without the threat of your manager lurking over your shoulder. You inspect your makeup in the mirror and address some flyaway hairs before leaning back against the sink and swiping your home screen into view. Your heart soars at the discovery of a text notification from Joel, but settles just as quickly when you read the words across your screen.

A couple of my dumbass guys fucked up some measurements again. Gonna be another late one. Sorry baby. 

You let out an exasperated sigh and turn around to face your reflection again, bracing yourself on the edge of the sink and trying not to cry. How much fucking longer are you going to have to put up with this? You'd been getting through it alright so far, but his sterile text had ignited a raging fire deep in your stomach that made a scorching heat climb its way up the back of your neck.

You’re determined to get his attention tonight, one way or another. Even if it means pushing some of his buttons, riling him up, making him feel a few licks of that very same inferno. You’re feeling fucking bratty.

You undo the top few buttons of your blouse and shimmy it off your shoulders, exposing the blushing lace of the bra you had chosen when you were getting dressed this morning. Using one arm to hold your phone up to the mirror with the camera app open, you use the other one to prop yourself up against the sink and assist in pushing your tits together. As a final touch, you pull down one of the delicate cups along with its accompanying strap, exposing an already peaked nipple. Meeting your own eyes in the reflection and forming your glossy lips into a faux pout, you snap the picture and attach it to your text conversation with Joel. You type out a coy little message to go along with it and send it off.

that’s okay daddy. just sad i wore a rly cute bra today for nothing :(

While you anxiously wait for his response, you take a few more lewd photos to tease him with later, and make your way back to your desk after you button yourself up again and smooth out your skirt.

Sitting back down at your cubicle, you check your notifications to find a response from Joel, sent just a few seconds ago.

What’d I tell you about sendin me shit like that when I’m at work? Put your fuckin tits away babygirl. Not in the mood today.

Despite his harsh words, you know your plan is already working in your favor. You can’t help but giggle to yourself as you attach another one of the photos you had taken in the bathroom, this one of your matching lace panties pulled aside to expose your bare pussy to the front camera. You type out another flirtatious message and tap the button to send it.

idk what u mean daddy :( just miss u is all. she misses u too :((

You promptly turn off your phone and place it screen-down next to your mousepad, resigning yourself to a mere ten minutes of work before you can’t resist temptation anymore and pick it back up again to check for a reply.

Last warning babygirl. I got enough shit to deal with today, don’t need your slutty pictures distractin me. I’ll see ya tonight.

whatever. u don’t pay attention to me anymore anyway :/

You begin to regret your message as soon as you send it, worrying you might have taken things too far. But it was true; you’re upset, in a bratty mood, and feeling neglected. And, maybe you did want to work him up enough for him to take it all out on you, to fuck the attitude out of you the way you know he likes to do every so often.

A few seconds after you power off your screen to do a few more minutes of work, it illuminates again.

Oh I don't? When I get home tonight you better be kneelin in front of the door waitin for me undressed like a good girl. Not like the fuckin brat you’re actin like. And we’ll see about payin you some attention. Now pull your fuckin panties up and get back to work.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you read his text, now feeling exhilarated that your plan is officially in motion. After you’ve read his words through a couple of times, squeezing your thighs together and stifling a whimper as you did so, your trembling fingers type out a simple reply:

yes daddy <3

The remainder of your work day seems to pass by in slow motion, every minute feeling more like five. You can hardly bring yourself to focus on any of your mundane tasks, your mind constantly drifting to what you might be in for tonight. Will he spank you and leave red handprints on your ass for days? Will he fuck your face while you sputter and gasp around him? Will he work you over with his tongue until all you know how to say is “I’m sorry, Daddy”? As you shake yourself from your trance and try to focus your eyes again, you wonder why you hadn’t thought to act up like this earlier in the week. You keep your eye on the little digital clock in the corner of your monitor for the last five consecutive minutes of your work day, and as soon as 4:59 flashes to 5:00, you practically sprint out to your car in your hurry to get home.

–

You’re cuddled up on the couch underneath your favorite fleece blanket, already stripped down to your peony-colored underwear set like Joel had requested. The past couple of hours have been spent cycling between all of your streaming services and social media apps, trying desperately to find something to occupy yourself with until he gets home. You’re half-tempted to get up and walk some laps around the house, but around 10:30, you finally see the scanning headlights of Joel’s pickup as it turns into the driveway.

You immediately spring up from your little nest on the couch and prance over to the front door, kneeling a few feet in front of it just like he ordered.

In your excited anticipation to see him, you tune your ears to pick up every little sound you hear as he makes his way to you: the slam of the truck’s driver’s side door, the dull thud of his work boots heading up the walkway, the prolonged jingling of his keys as he fumbles with them to unlock the door. You’re sure he’s fidgeting with them for a few seconds longer than usual, just to tease you and keep you waiting. A shiver runs up your spine and you can feel your heart pounding against the walls of your chest as he finally turns the lock.

He calmly steps inside and closes the door behind him, dropping his dusty work bag onto the floor and stripping himself of his canvas tool belt. He stalks over to where you’re knelt on the hardwood, wrapped in your dainty lace for him like a little doll. There’s something arousing about the contrast between your barely-there feminine attire and his dark, practical clothing.

“Well, whaddya know, she can be good after all… Waitin’ for me all nice and pretty just like I asked. All it takes is an order from your Daddy to get you actin’ right again, ain’t that right, babygirl? Obedient lil’ thing…” He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he speaks, keeping your eyes trained on his. You nod up at him, doe-eyed and dazed, already feeling yourself beginning to slip into that familiar saccharine headspace.

Every time you had previously tried your hand at bratting, it never lasted very long, and tonight was already proving to be no different. He was right, after all, it doesn’t take more than a command, a look, a gentle grasp of your chin, to remind you of your desire to be good for him.

“What, Daddy doesn’t get a proper greetin’ after a long day o’ work? You already that far gone f’ me, can’t use your words proper like a big girl?” 

“H-hi, Daddy… Missed you today,” you half-whisper, your voice sounding a little higher and further away than it did earlier in the day.

“Yeah, I know y’ did… I’ll bet your lil’ panties are ‘bout soaked through already, bet you left a wet spot on your fuckin’ desk chair just from daydreamin’ about what I was gonna do to you tonight, hm?”

Another silent nod accompanied by a pitiful little whimper. The blazing fire in your gut from this afternoon is quickly being replaced by something much more easily tamed, something more akin to a flickering candle flame than a wildfire. You struggle to keep your eyelids open as they begin to feel heavier with submission.

A stern look and a ticked jaw is enough for you to correct your wordless response.

“Y-yes, Daddy…”

“And what is it that you think I’m gonna do with you tonight, babygirl? Speak up, now…”

You rack your brain for a moment, suddenly unable to remember any of the depraved fantasies you had been conjuring up all day instead of replying to emails. You eventually land on a relatively straightforward answer.

“I th-think you’re gonna… gonna fuck the attitude outta me, t-teach me a lesson… right, Daddy?”

He lets out a dark chuckle, releasing your chin from his hold to give your cheek a couple of condescending pats instead.

“Aww, dumb lil’ thing… you thought Daddy was gonna touch you at all tonight, make that pathetic lil’ pussy cum after the stunts you were pullin’ today? Nah, I don’t think so… Open that slutty fuckin’ mouth.”

You’re reeling, taken aback by his harsh words, words that were certainly not in any of the countless scenarios you had been imagining at work. There’s a long beat of silence as you struggle to process his command.

You hear the smack across your face before you feel the heated sting of it, and it prompts a debauched mewl to spill from your parted lips.

“I said open your fuckin’ mouth…”

Your jaw falls slack in an instant, your pulsing cunt releasing an ashamed wave of wetness at the degrading slap. Joel shoves his thumb inside your waiting mouth, and you wrap your lips around it obediently as you swirl your tongue along its calloused landscape. It tastes salty, a little dirty, and you like it.

“Good girl, suck on Daddy’s thumb, tha’s it… dumb whore’ll suck on anything Daddy puts in her mouth, won’t she? Desperate lil’ thing… Bet you wish it was this fat cock instead, don’t you baby?”

You whine and nod around him, your hole squeezing around nothing as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Well… that’s just too fuckin’ bad, ain’t it? Tonight’s not about what you want, you can gimme that sad puppy look all you like, sugar, not gonna change anythin’...”

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, and your slick lips try to chase after it until he wipes it clean on the side of your face. His hands make quick work of opening his stained work jeans and freeing his stiff cock from his briefs, taking it into one hand and beginning to pump it with languid strokes. He grabs a fistful of hair at the base of your skull with his free hand and taps the leaking head of his length against your cheek, adding to the dampness there from your own saliva.

“This what you want?” Tap tap tap. “You want Daddy’s cock? Hm? This what you been thinkin’ about all day, dirty girl?” He rocks his hips back and forth as he speaks, smearing his arousal along your skin.

You can’t help but squirm as a humiliated heat begins to pool in your tummy.

“Yes, Daddy, please let me have it, wan’ it so bad…” you beg.

He releases your hair and pulls his cock away from your face, making a show of massaging it and taunting you with what he won’t let you have.

“Nah, you ain’t gettin’ any of Daddy’s cock tonight, baby… In fact, I’m gonna stand right here and take care of m’self, and you’re gonna find somethin’ to rub that soakin’ cunt on while I watch…”

As the last of his words leave his lips, he steps one foot forward and nudges it between your thighs, looking at you expectantly. You lower your head to face his steel-toed work boot, covered in dust and dirt from his day at the construction site. Your mind still too deep in the clouds to understand what he’s asking of you, you lift your eyes back up to him for guidance. He juts his chin out in a silent “go on, then”, and you return your confused gaze back to his boot, the toe of which is positioned just in front of your aching heat. Your breath hitches and your eyes go wide as you finally realize: he wants to pleasure himself to the sight of you getting yourself off on his boot.

All at once, it falls into place how he wants the night to unfold. He wants to deny you. Deny you of his touch, his cock, even the privilege of making him feel good yourself… all because you acted out, disobeyed him, tested his limits.

“We understand each other, darlin’?”

“Y-yes, Daddy…” You meet his eyes as you speak, voice coming out a little unsteady. Any confidence you had while you were teasing him this afternoon is long gone, fully submitting to him now and completely at his mercy. He didn’t need to fuck you in order to put you in your place, he knew plenty of other much more degrading ways to rid you of your bratty attitude, to remind you of who you belong to.

You position your cunt over the filthy toe of his boot, the gusset of your lacy panties now completely saturated with your wetness. Your hands planted on either side of his leg, you try an experimental grind onto the leather-covered steel. A bolt of electricity shoots from your swollen clit to your fevered cheeks, burning with the eroticism of being made to humiliate yourself like this. He allows you to wrap your arms around his calf, using his sturdy form as leverage to rub yourself harder and faster against the solid material. 

“Look at you, humpin’ my boot like a fuckin’ dog… that’s just what y’ are, ain’t it? Daddy’s lil’ puppy…” he teases, spurring you on with his words and the indecent sounds of his wet fist working along his thick cock.

You let out an involuntary yelp at the new pet name, which he’s quick to catch with a huff through his nose.

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she? Y’ like that, sweetheart, bein’ Daddy’s good girl, his obedient lil’ puppy? Yeah, I know y’ do… I got you trained good, don’t I? Do just about anything I want, won’t you? Got you rubbin’ that slutty pussy on my fuckin’ boot, for Christ’s sake, barely even had to ask… fuckin’ pathetic.”

The degradation makes your stomach swirl with a cocktail of embarrassment and pleasure. Your cunt flutters as you continue your frantic movements, releasing broken whimpers that sound something like uh huh and yes, Daddy. You’re sure that your slick has to be dripping down his boot by now, soaking straight through the leather and pooling onto the hardwood. You wonder if he might punish you for that, too, for making a mess of him and your freshly mopped floors. Just the thought of it has your hips picking up the pace, desperate to reach your high.

Your eyes are shut tightly as you pursue your orgasm, but you can still hear the shallow pumps of Joel’s fist and his stuttering breaths that indicate he’s close to his own release.

“Yeah, grind that sloppy fuckin’ puppy cunt on Daddy’s boot, there ya go… lookin’ like a goddamn bitch in heat… desperate whore… c’mon, puppy, make a fuckin’ mess for me…”

“I’m gonna cum, Daddy, gonna–”

Just as you feel yourself about to crest the wave of your climax, he pulls his foot out from under you and yanks your head back by another fistful of hair.

“Open up, puppy,” he groans as he splashes his hot release all over your face, aiming most of it around your mouth as you cry out from the denial of your own pleasure.

“Look at you, filthy girl… So pretty for Daddy, all covered in me,” he coos as the last few milky drops land on your cheek. Before any of it can start to drip, he scoops it up with his thumb and feeds it to you a bit at a time, and you continue to suck his finger into your eager mouth once again.

When your face is fully cleaned of his spend, he pulls his thumb from between your lips for a final time with a pop, and you stick out your tongue to show him you’ve swallowed everything he’s given you. 

“Good girl,” he praises, petting the side of your hair in soothing strokes. “What do you say to Daddy, hm?”

“Th-thank you…” you choke out, still trying to steady your voice.

“And what else?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “And… I’m sorry, Daddy,” you relent.

“For what, sweet girl?”

This was always your least favorite part, the part you struggled with the most: admitting that you were wrong. 

“For being a brat today, for not listening and disrespecting you…” Your posture deflates, wondering if you should continue your confession. You remember one of the ground rules that was laid out when you first entered this dynamic with him, the one about how important communication is, and decide to keep going. “I jus’ feel like you’ve hardly paid any attention to me the past few days…” You start to sniffle as you speak, the overwhelm of it all finally catching up with you.

“Oh…” he breathes sympathetically. “Here, can you stand up, babygirl? C’mon, come sit on Daddy’s lap for a minute.”

He offers you his hands, and you use them to push yourself up onto shaky legs, feeling like a newborn foal. You wrap your arms around his neck and he scoops you up, carrying you bridal-style back to your cozy spot on the couch. He situates you in his lap, wrapping you up in your blanket again, and you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between his shoulder and neck. You inhale through your nose, smiling to yourself and sighing contentedly when your senses are flooded with his natural comforting smell.

“I know I’ve been workin’ some real late nights recently… I’m sorry about that, honey,” he apologizes, rubbing comforting circles around your upper back. 

“‘S okay, Daddy, ‘s not your fault,” you say into his skin.

“But I shoulda made more of an effort to give you some lovin’ anyway, I shouldn’t have had to wait for you to brat on me… Look at me, baby.” You lift your head and meet his sincere gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry too, Daddy.”

“I know y’ are, sweet girl, I know…”

You exchange warm smiles, and he curls his pointer finger under your chin to pull your face toward his, placing a delicate kiss to your lips. He settles both of his large hands on either side of your face before breaking the kiss to press your foreheads together. You close your eyes and try to match his breathing, enjoying this moment with him.

After a minute or so, you break the silence. “So… puppy, huh? That’s a new one,” you giggle.

He laughs and releases your face from his hold, meeting your eyes again. “Jus’ wanted to try somethin’ new, I guess…” He snakes a hand under the blanket, thumbing over the damp crotch of your panties. “And judgin’ by this lil’ mess down here, I take it you liked it. Hm, pretty girl?”

Still sensitive from your earlier denial, you let out a high pitched little whine and an involuntary buck of your hips into his hand.

“See? Even sound like a lil’ puppy… Daddy’s good girl. You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

“Uh huh, yes, Daddy, please…” Your face is buried in his chest as you rut into his hand, squeezing it between your thighs, back to the same place you were just before he pulled his boot out from underneath you.

“Daddy was so mean earlier, wasn’t he? Not lettin’ you cum, punishin’ you for actin’ up… But I think you’ve learned your lesson now, huh puppy? C’mon, sweet girl, let go, soak Daddy’s hand…”

And you do. With his permission, you cry out, muscles spasming and cunt twitching as you finally ride out the climax you’ve been chasing all night. You’re panting by the time you start to come down after what feels like several minutes, exhaustion hitting you hard all at once. When some of your awareness has come back to you, you realize that Joel is gently rocking you back and forth on his lap, petting the back of your head and gently shushing in your ear.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright, babygirl, I gotcha, Daddy’s gotcha… So good for me, baby, my precious girl…”

When your breathing evens out once more, you muster the strength to lift your head from its place against his heart, and he chuckles at the sleepy and sated look on your face as you blink slowly at him.

“My lil’ puppy’s all tuckered out, huh? Let’s get you up to bed, darlin’, Daddy’ll tuck you in.”

He stands up with a groan, cradling you in his muscled arms, and carries you into the bedroom. You’re already drifting off to sleep when he sits you on the bed, carefully stripping you of your ruined underwear and helping you into a clean, sensible pair of cotton undies. He retrieves one of his oversized “Miller Contracting” shirts from his drawer and slips it over your head, helping your weak arms through the sleeves. Brushing your hair away from your face, he places a scruffy kiss to your hairline and helps you lay down onto the cool sheets. He pulls the covers up all the way over your shoulders, the way he knows you like, and smiles to himself when you burrow yourself into the sheets.

He takes a quick shower to rid himself of the grime and grit he collected on his skin during the day, and slips into bed beside you. Another private smile and a small shake of his head when you instinctually turn to face him and snuggle into his warm body, wrapping your arms around the breadth of his upper arm and inhaling the masculine cologne of his body wash.

He reaches across his chest to gently scratch at the top of your head, prompting a dreamy little noise from you. “Just like I said,” he whispers to himself, “a lil’ puppy.”

He wouldn’t have you any other way.

not really sure who to tag for this one, gonna use the same list from my last fic if that's okay!! anyone else please let me know if you'd like to be tagged on my future fics!!

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @gracieispunk @iamasaddie @rebel-held

[short-honey-badger]

Favor of the Gods

Summary: Your village sacrifices a human offering to the god of War and Booze, Shanks, every five years. This year, it's your turn.

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, drinking, cunnilingus, blow jobs, rough sex, aftercare, dirty talk. Shanks is so greedy.

Masterlist

“Oh, you're prettier than the others that your elders have given me before.”

Shanks smirks down at you, dark eyes raking over your body, covered only by a cream, sheer fabric. It wrapped around your breasts and thighs just enough to cover your indecency, but the god would much rather see you bare before his eyes. He watches you twitch, your eyes round in awe and fear.

“What? Cat got your tongue, little one? Am I just too much for you to gaze upon?” He coos with a prideful grin. He crouches in front of you, reaching out to grab you by the jaw, tilting your face this way and that. You are rather beautiful, all smooth, soft skin that the god plans to ruin.

“Mhm. Well, if you don't want to talk, then how about we put that mouth of yours to use?” Shanks sneers, and his hand drops from your face to grab his trousers and shove them down enough that his cock and balls spring free. He laughs when he sees your eyes widen, cheeks flushing and that fear spreading.

“Don't be frightened, sweet thing. It's easy. Just open your mouth, and I'll do all the work.”

It takes a second, but Shanks isn't so impatient as to rush you too much, but then your jaw drops and the god groans in appreciation when you lean forward to give the tip of his dick a kitten lick. Shanks strokes the base of his cock, precum already leaking from the tip in his excitement, before he takes a half step forward and shoves his cock down your throat.

The god hisses when you gag around him, your throat like a vice around his cock, milking him for all your worth. He feels you choke and sputter, tears sliding down your face to mix with the spit that leaks sluggishly down your chin.

“Fuck, you're even better than I thought you'd be, love. I bet you love sucking my cock, huh? Worshiping your god the only way you need to, on your knees.”

His pace is brutal, cockhead bruising your throat, and making your fight for each breath of fresh air. Shanks drops his hand to your head, fingers tangling in your hair to better hold you still as he pushes his hips forward. He laughs again when you whine and whimper, your nose pressed flush against his crotch and buried in the wiry red hair dusted around his cock.

“Gonna keep you like this forever. Maybe even give you a little of my magic, huh? Make sure that you'll never be able to leave me. Ugh- fuck, you'd love that wouldn't you? Being my personal cum slut forever?”

He is close, that hot tension twisting into a knot in his lower belly, his balls tightening as his pace stutters. Shanks grits his teeth, thrusting forward once, and then twice more before he cums down your throat with a snarl.

You look even better when he pulls away, cock slipping from your throat with an obscene noise. You look up at him, breathing harshly through your nose to try and calm yourself from the sudden assault. Your god grins down at you, hand catching your jaw and stroking your soft cheek with his thumb.

“Such a good, sweet girl. It's a wonder I hadn't just stolen you for myself.”

He leans in, dark eyes narrowing down at you, “Where have you been hiding?”

Once more, Shanks doesn't give you enough time to try and even formulate an answer. Instead, the god releases your jaw and offers you his hand.

“Meh. I guess it doesn't really matter now that you belong to me. Come along, little one. I want to see how devoted you are to me.”

~~~

Your moans and sweet whines are like music to the god's ears. His cock pistons in and out of you, dark eyes locked onto the apex of your thighs where he watches his cock disappear into your leaking cunt. Shanks lays on his back, heavy lidded as he watches you bounce on his dick. You face away from him, giving the god an excellent view of your plush ass and the way your pussy lips quiver each time he hits that spongy spot deep inside of you.

Shanks trails his hand up your thigh and then around the globe of your ass where he rubs the smooth flesh gently before pulling away and striking down. The smack is just enough that your hips jump forward, head hanging forward as your hand clenches in the sheets of the massive bed the two of you lay on.

Your god does it again, this time a bit harder, and he smirks when he sees the red hand print left behind. He rubs your abused cheek, thumb drifting down to play with your folds, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth before he sneaks his hand down. His fingers find your clit, and a hiss leaves him when you tighten around him at the touch.

“So tight around me, baby. Made just for me,” Shanks murmurs, and then he shifts up. His arm curls around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest so that he can hook his chin over your shoulder and kiss your cheek. He sees you crack your eyes open and grins when he catches your gaze.

“Do you love me, little one? How long have you prayed to me? Worshiped me?” Shanks whispers, and the thought of you in his temple, head bowed as you prayed to him, made his cock twitch. The thought is a heady one, and the god would see to it that he would get what he desired.

You jerk your head in a nod, words stolen from you when Shanks snaps his hips up, cock shoving against your cervix and making you see stars. His hand goes up, fingers pinching a nipple before they find a home by wrapping them around your neck. He squeezes just enough to have you gasp, eyes going wide as you look at him in fear.

Shanks kisses your cheek again, the action sweet compared to how roughly he begins to fuck into you. He's felt you come at least three times, but he wants one more out of you before he fills you up.

“Come for your god, little one. Let me feel it.”

His words seem to do this trick, for you cry his name and tighten around him to the point of discomfort. Creamy slick floods around his cock, leaning down your thighs to stain the sheets below. The god curses and follows you over the edge, hot cum filling you to the brim to leak out and join the mess between your thighs.

~~~

Shanks watches you sip from the shallow saucer, a groan leaving you at the taste of warmed saki sliding down your throat to settle in your stomach. His head is pillowed on your thigh, face so close to your cunt that he could lick your sticky folds if he so chose too. Your pussy tasted better than any drink, and Shanks had found himself drunk off your slick.

Thinking about it makes him want it, so Shanks tips his head to the side and opens his mouth. You shudder in pleasure when his tongue slides along your lower lips, pressing past then to lap at your leaking hole. Your hand falls to his red hair, urging him closer to your pussy.

Shanks loses himself, face buried between your legs as he eats his fill from your cunt. You shake and shiver under him, eyes glazed over with lust and the approaching buzz from the saki. Your body had relaxed even further with the alcohol, leaving you warm and pliant to whatever Shanks wanted from you.

His lips seal over your clit, the god gently suckling the throbbing bud. A look of contentment spreads across his face, and your slick covers the lower half of his face when you come a couple seconds later with a soft cry of his name. He sucks just a little longer, until you beg him to stop, and only then, does he pull away from between your legs.

Shanks sits himself up, and you open your arms for your god to rest against your bosom. He snuggles against your chest, arm draped around your waist as he gazes up at you with dark, possessive eyes. You smile down at your god and offer him your cup. While Shanks sips from the offering, he can't but think about how much he likes the thought of worshiping you instead.

[cameronspecial]

Rafe and reader - enemies to lovers

Protective!rafe with innocent!reader

She asks her best friends brother for help when she’s in trouble!

Safe In The Arms Of The Enemy

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Fear of Being Followed and Walking Home Drunk Alone

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Sarah have been best friends for as long as she can remember. Even though Y/N is three years older, they met when she was nine and Sarah was six. The two of them just clicked and they have been thick as thieves ever since. This led to their families growing close together. The Camerons were always so nice to Y/N; everyone except for Rafe. For some reason, he has always been bothered by Y/N and she reciprocates that feeling because his hate provokes her.

The music in Sarah’s room blares through the speakers while Y/N stands in front of the mirror, singing along to “Stressed Out” by Twenty One Pilots. She is sleeping over at the Camerons' house to keep Sarah company. Ward, Rose and Wheezie are on the mainland for Wheezie’s spelling bee and Rafe is who knows where. The girls had grown peckish, so Sarah offered to get some pizza, leaving behind her best friend at Tannyhill by herself. “Wish we could turn back time. To the good old days. When our mama sang us to sleep, But now we're stressed out.” Her right hand forms an o as she uses it as a microphone. Her focus is on her own reflection, so she doesn’t notice Rafe’s appearance behind her. He leans against the door frame with his arm above his head. “Wow, you would think with how rich your parents are that they would pay for singing lessons for you after hearing you screech like a banshee,” he teases. 

Her eyes roll in their socket and she turns to face him. She fires back, “Like I care about your opinion. I’ve seen your tastes and I’m glad that I’m not up to your standards.” “Whatever,” he grumbles. “Obviously you are blind because I have amazing tastes.” 

“Nah, I’m not the problem. You are,” she pushes to infuriate him. She steps forward and they are face to face. He crouches down so their eyes meet, “I wish I was the one with the problem because then I wouldn’t have to deal with you. I swear every time I see you at my house, which is all the time, I wonder when you are going to get the fuck out of my life because I hate that you are in it.” 

His words don’t meet his eyes, but she doesn’t notice. Instead, her mind takes the words to heart. A poke attacks her heart and it causes a tsunami of blood to come out. She can’t explain why she takes the word to heart; she returns the sentiment. Nevertheless, maybe she doesn’t feel as strongly as he does because as much as she loathes him, she couldn’t imagine her life without their quipful exchanges. He sees her tight lips and her silent demeanour; guilt flashes through him.

Before he can try to resolve the situation, Sarah passes behind him with a steaming pizza in her hand. “Ugh. Rafe, leave her alone. I would like to eat in peace,” she complains, setting the flat box on her desk. His hand runs over his lips as he thinks. “Fine, I don’t care. Later losers.” 

———

The ending of summer means Rafe and Y/N have to return back to UNC. When she found out he was going to the same university as her (she should’ve seen it coming because Ward is an alumnus), she hesitated to accept her position; however, she figured uni was a big place and the chances of running into him were slim. It has been true for the most part. They’ve only run into each other five times in the two years they have been at university.

She stumbles through the dark street with her head pounding. It wasn’t the best idea to be walking home alone while drunk, except she didn’t want to make her friends go home early. She lied to them and told them another friend was picking her up. Her feet catch on the pavement and a rock skips across the ground. A car passing beside her causes her to jump away from the road. Her inebriated state makes her more paranoid. She lets out a breath when the taillights fade into the distance. Laughter coming from behind her causes her to spin around. She spots men walking in her direction and even though they don’t appear to be looking at her, panic sets through her. She begins to walk faster as her breathing starts to get faster and she decides to run into an alley to hide. Her first thought is to call to help, so she pulls out her phone and dials the first number that comes to mind. “What do you want?” he grunts through the phone. “Rafe, I’m scared. I don’t know what to d-” She hears footsteps coming closer to her and hangs up. A trash can seems like the perfect cover, so she drops behind it against the wall. 

Rafe sits up straight from the couch and stares at the phone. The screen showing that the call has been ended makes him grow anxious. He begins to pace as he tries her phone again. His hand runs through his hair while he replays the fear in her mind. He is sent to voicemail and wants to through his phone against the wall. Another thought comes to mind and he decides against it. 

———

She doesn’t know how long she has been behind the garbage with her head pressed against her legs. She is honestly too scared to move in case those men are still around. It didn’t look like they were following her, but it is better safe than sorry. The alcohol in her system starts to affect her state of consciousness and she struggles to keep her eyes open. A hand on her back causes her to scream and jump back. Her head hits against the brick wall. She grimaces as she brings her hand up to rub the back of her head. “It’s okay, Sweetheart. It’s me, Rafe.” The familiar voice makes her look up to verify his identity. 

She sees his mop of dirty blonde hair and his stunning blue eyes stare back at her. She has never been so happy to see him. Her arms wrap around him to pull him against her, “I was so scared. Are they still out there?” She surveys the street once they separate. His hand cups her cheek to check her for injuries; he isn’t concerned about their surroundings. “Sweetheart, there is no one around. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you?” He frowns at the last part, following her search with a hard expression to find the person he has to defend her against. She doesn’t find anyone and her shoulder drops in his hold. Her head rests against his chest. Tears begin staining his shirt. His hand laces between the hair at the nape of her neck and he gently scratches her scalp. He knows it soothes her. He kisses her forehead, “I’ve got you. You are safe.” For the first time tonight, Y/N feels safe and she is in the arms of her enemy.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[vienssunshine]

You Taste Sweeter Than Revenge

pairing: Josh Washington x fem reader nsfw word count: 4.2k content warning: non-con elements (voyeurism) author's note: I think Josh having a love interest would get in the way of his "prank"

Finally, finally, you get a moment to yourself. You lean your head back against the wooden door of the guest room, basking in your long-awaited solitude.

The process of getting everyone up and settled at the Washingtons’ lodge was draining: Chris wouldn’t shut up about how he caught Sam snooping on his phone, Emily and Jess were at each other's throats over Mike, and Mike and Matt kept competing to be the alpha of the group. 

And then there was Josh. Though not as much of a headache as the others, he stirred up some feelings in you that are…more intense than you expected. 

Compared to the strong personalities of your friend group, Josh is someone you can relax around; he’s a little peculiar, but sweet and charming in his own way. You two have a strong friendship, however, due to his tendency to be a flirt, you sometimes question the nature of your bond. His teasing affects you more than you’re willing to admit, especially since you find him easy to look at. Thankfully, the comforting knowledge that he says that kind of stuff to everyone allows you to maintain the friendship and keep your attraction as low-key as possible. 

Except, you’re having a difficult time with that right now. You can only blame yourself, you’ve been suppressing your feelings towards Josh for so long that it makes sense they’d bubble back up at some point. You just didn’t expect it to be tonight, or to be this bad—every cell in your body is pulsing with desire. 

You make your way over to the bed, lying down on it and staring at the ceiling.

Fuck, how does he do this to you?

It started simple, totally harmless. Sam wanted hot water to take a bath, so Josh brought you down to the basement to help him out.

"Hey, it worked!" you exclaimed after hearing the low rumble of the boiler firing up.

“Attagirl,” Josh said, giving you a high-five.

His praise caused a shy smile to break out across your face before you could stop it, making you pray he didn't notice. He did.

"Seems like you're really into high-fives," Josh remarked, "Or, is it the person you're high-fiving?"

He's like this with everyone, you reminded yourself, any flirty banter was nothing special.

"Just love a good high-five," you said, avoiding his eyes by looking down to the basement’s cracked cement.

“Floor that interesting?” he teased, taking a step forward.

His movement prompted you to step back, but you stumbled when your heel hit the shelving unit full of boxes behind you.

Josh’s hands landed on your shoulders, steadying you, but even after you recovered, they stayed there, unmoving. With your eyes now adjusted to the dim basement light, you could note that he had moved much closer than what was necessary to help you. One small lean forward would press his chest to yours. 

“Josh?” you said, searching for an explanation for the sudden but—though it makes you feel guilty thinking it—welcome closeness. 

A mischievous grin lit up his face and he returned your question with one of his own: “Scared?”

You let your hand fall down onto his chest, fingers fiddling with a button on his flannel. “Not at all,” you responded. You attempted to make eye contact with him after answering, but it felt too intimate with him so close, so you turned your gaze away, yet no matter where you cast it, you’d still see him, his body was enveloping yours.

“Ah, I see, so you’re scared and a liar,” Josh retorts with a smirk. His hand came up to your jaw, holding your face still so you couldn’t avoid looking at him anymore, “What’re you so afraid of, little kitten?” 

“Don’t call me that,” you deflected, rolling your eyes. Even though you were trying to come off as unaffected, little sparks flickered and fizzed in your body like summertime fireworks. Was this how a friend should make you feel?

“Oh? Is there something better I should call you instead?” Josh said, tracing his thumb along your jaw. “I can come up with something. Let’s see…honey?” He shook his head, “Nah, too marital. Hmmm, baby? That’s pretty basic, isn’t it?” 

“You done yet?” you huffed, shifting your weight and continuing to pretend that hearing him call you pet names wasn’t making your stomach flip. He was being more persistent than usual, it made you wonder what was going on with him tonight.

“I guess I’m not good at this whole romantic nickname thing.” He released your jaw from his hold so his fingers could travel up and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “What if I just told you how pretty you are instead?” 

Usually you could fend off his flirty comments by retorting with a somewhat decent response, but you were entirely at a loss for what to say. It didn’t help that your body was working against you, fully responding to Josh’s advances in a distractingly enthusiastic way. It’s hard to figure out why he’s being so aggressive with his flirting when your heart is thundering in your ears.

You try to move back, only to be reminded of the shelves of storage keeping you in place, sandwiching you between them and Josh’s large frame. Since retreat wasn’t an option, you tried to diffuse the situation as best you could. 

“Slow down there,” you said with a nervous laugh, “A girl could get the wrong idea.” 

With your palm on his chest, you felt his heart begin to pound. Josh’s hands moved down to your waist, traveling more hesitantly than his brusque teasing suggested they would. You forced yourself to keep your expression unchanging when they rested on the curve of your torso, sending scattered bolts of electricity up your sides. There was anxious authenticity in his tone as Josh said, “Maybe I’ve been wanting you to get that idea for some time now.”

You weren’t sure what to think, was he trying to say he was into you? But, that couldn’t be it, he flirts with everyone, not just you. A conversation he had with Chris that was particularly homoerotic came to mind. It was clear you weren’t special. However, there have been multiple times his attention towards you felt heavy-handed, though you tried to not overthink it, not wanting to be wrong about his intentions. Regardless, as he spoke to you, there was an undeniable charge in the air, the anticipation of what his possible confession meant buzzing around the two of you. If he was saying what you thought he was, this could be your chance to tell him how you’ve felt all this time.

His eyes flicked over your face and just as you opened your mouth to respond, a loud noise made both of you jump.

It was a metallic, dull sound filling the basement with its unsettlingly rhythmic beat. Both of you turned your heads to one of the hallways in the basement where the sound was coming from. 

“Uh, sorry to interrupt this, but, and I really don’t want to, I think we should check that out,” you told Josh.

He blinked, reorienting himself, and then said, “Yeah, uh…sure, let’s go.”

You both began to walk deeper into the basement, closing in on the origin of the unnatural noise. It bellowed through the basement’s cement walls, consuming the hallway with its ominous tone. You followed a few paces behind Josh, but as you got further down the hall, you brought your hand forward and wrapped your fingers around his forearm. Being able to feel him made you feel safer. He paused for a second, but didn’t say anything, so you kept your hand on him as you advanced.

You were about to turn the corner and follow the noise further down into the basement when a shadowy figure jumped out at you. Your heart stopped beating for a second, only resuming its rapid pounding after you had turned and begun to run from the intruder. 

Sprinting down the hallway, you yelled for Josh to run, the next and only thought in your brain being the escape that was the basement door. The masked figure followed in hot pursuit, just a few strides behind you. 

You jumped up the basement stairs three at a time until you reached and nearly collided with the door, needing to step back before trying to pull it open. You yanked and you pulled, but the door was unyielding. You were screaming nonsense at Josh, and he was responding to you as best he could, telling you that everything was going to be okay. His arm hovered around you protectively, separating you from the approaching intruder. 

The masked figure reached the top of the stairs and Josh stepped toward him, taking on a defensive stance. Then, the man draped in black held his arms up above his head and let out a ghostly wail that sounded…stupid. 

Your eyebrows pressed together, and you choked out a “Huh?”, looking over to Josh, who had cracked a smile. 

Your eyes darted between the two men, trying to work out what was going on. The intruder pulled off his mask, revealing Chris underneath, cracking up at the ingenious of his own prank. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you said, face burning up. 

“Good one, Cochise,” Josh congratulated.

You punched Chris in the shoulder, huffing how his prank wasn’t as funny as he thought it was, which only made him laugh harder.

“Were you in on this?” You turned to Josh, trying to mask your feeling of betrayal.

“Nope,” Josh chuckled, patting Chris on the back, “But I wish I had been.” 

“Whatever, you two,” you said, grabbing the basement’s key from Chris and storming out of there.

“Hey, wait up!” Josh called after you.

“Let her go, Josh,” Chris said, “C’mon, I finally found the Ouija board.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Josh responded, hurrying to follow you into the guest room hallway. 

You had your hand on the doorknob of your room when you felt his fingers around your other wrist, tugging you back. 

“Not in the mood, Josh,” you said, pulling your hand away. Though, you didn’t attempt to open the wooden door again, instead turning to face him. 

“Hey, it was just a prank, right? You know Chris, he was just kidding around. No harm, no foul,” Josh said. If he were intending to make you feel better, it would be helpful if he said that like he fully believed it.

You sighed, exasperated. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal. I just-I probably looked so stupid.”

Josh stepped closer. “You were scared, I was too,” he said, his hand landing on the side of your arm, squeezing it, “No shame in that.” He let out a small chuckle, “I’m taking notes, Chris did a damn good job.”

“I guess,” you shrugged. 

Josh stared back at you, puzzled, before breaking out into a small grin, “I know there was one part that I really liked.” 

You looked away, appearing to find the sight of the doors lining the shadowy hall more interesting than him, but still took the bait, “And what part was that?”

Josh’s hand traveled down your arm, not once separating from it, to encircle your wrist. You shifted your gaze back to watch him place your hand on his forearm, the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel allowing direct contact with his warm skin. “I like that, when you’re scared, you hold onto me,” he confessed. 

The air of indifference is hard to maintain now, but you still try. “I didn’t know you were so observant, Josh.” 

He rested his hand on top of yours. “Just with you.”

You cursed yourself for how easy it was for him to win you over with a stupid, corny comment. Any embarrassment from the prank was superseded by the new tingly sensation in your stomach. Though, the adrenaline must have remained because you want to do something about the fact that, for all the time you’ve known Josh, you’ve never once tried flirting back.

Your fingers tightened around his forearm, noting the musculature present underneath his tan skin. You hadn’t realized how strong he had gotten. “Y’know, Josh,” you started.

“Yeah?” he breathed. He can feel your hand flex underneath his palm as you stroke your thumb along his arm with gentle swipes.

It was scary to even hint at how much you were feeling him right then, but you pushed through. “Maybe, I just like touching you,” you offered, “Scared or not.”

He exhaled unevenly, seemingly going to great lengths to keep himself still. It was new, to feel like your words had weight, for them to be the reason his gaze felt so heavy as he raked it over your body. The interaction felt dangerous but exciting; you didn’t want to shy away anymore.

“Josh!” Chris’ voice reverberated through the lodge.

“I really am gonna kill him,” you muttered. Josh let his arm drop back to its place by his side. 

“Get in line,” he said, which earned a giggle from you.

Another call from Chris, “Where are you, bro? Ashley’s here. C’mon, it’s Ouija board time!”

Josh shook his head, “I…I should go, I can’t leave them hanging.”

“You sure you don't want to stay?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes. It’s funny, how you were just running away from him and were now trying to keep him from leaving.

He stiffened, seemingly weighing his options in his mind. His hesitation made you smile, you liked having an influence over him. 

But it was not enough, because he relaxed into his typical playful energy, saying, “Unfortunately, I’m already tied up. I’ve got big plans for those two tonight.” 

You frown, “Yeah, I bet the Ouija board madness will be one for the books.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he replied. Then he continued more earnestly, “But maybe we can hang out later? Finish our conversation?” 

You pressed your lips together; you didn’t want to wait. However, it was probably for the better, if you were to have Josh, you would want it without interruptions.

“Okay, let’s talk later,” you agreed. He nodded, stepping back to go join Chris, but, before he could, you grabbed his shoulder and pushed yourself up on your toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It was quick and impulsive, but for some reason, you felt that if you hadn’t done it then, you wouldn’t get the chance in the future. 

“Later, then,” he said, a soft smile spreading across his face. He turned and walked back to find Chris, leaving you standing all alone in the long hallway, longing for more.

So now you lie spread out on a quilt atop the guest room bed, head spinning as you relive your conversations with Josh. You should’ve invited him in; the want pulsing through the veins in your body wouldn’t be so hard to manage if you did. But to deal with Chris and the teasing that would have ensued from your ruthless friend group wouldn’t be much fun either.

Your arms wrap around your sides, hugging yourself as you think about being down in the basement with him, how his voice lowered when he spoke more seriously about his feelings, how you could feel the waves of heat radiating off his body despite the area’s chilled atmosphere. You’ve never had him that close to you before; the closest you’ve ever been was when he dared you to go on the Ferris wheel at a local fair with him, claiming you were too chicken to do it, and the small cart forced you to sit hip-to-hip as he laughed and you bit back your terror.

The memory makes you realize how long you’ve wanted this for. How long you’ve stifled your feelings, your attraction, your desire. Now that it’s happening, knowing that he feels the same way, it’s hard to hold back. 

The cold winter storm outside does little to hinder the warmth dripping down your stomach like honey as, for the first time, you let yourself wonder what would have happened if it went further, wish it went further. 

Your hands travel down to the waistband of your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them. You’re aching right now; you just want to feel better.

Only, though you don’t know it, there’s a camera in your room. And through its lens, there’s someone who’s watching.

Josh removes his skull-like mask so he can get a better look at the footage in front of him. He had come down to his hide-out in the basement, intending to electronically lock the gates around the lodge so he can continue enacting his revenge, but something on one of the multiple television screens stacked atop his desk drew his attention.

Even if the recording is black and white and somewhat obscured by pixelation, there’s no doubt that it’s you, sprawled out over one of the guest beds, pulling off your pants and bringing your hands down between your thighs. 

Josh looks behind him, feeling like he shouldn’t be seeing this, but returns his gaze to the screen anyway, eyes widening as you begin to touch yourself, running your fingertips atop the soaked gusset of your underwear. Your head falls back onto one of the pillows lined up along the bed’s wooden headboard, eyes shut in bliss at long-awaited contact. 

Josh steps forward, locks whatever gate he no longer really cares for, and turns his full attention to the glowing screen. He had the strength to refuse you earlier, though not without difficulty, especially after you kissed him, but that resource has since been depleted as he’s unable tear himself away from the tv, completely entranced. He has other things he should be doing, things he’s been planning for a year now, but he just can’t. 

Your eyebrows are pressed together and your mouth slightly ajar as you begin to enjoy the feeling of your fingers, falling into a sensual, pleasurable rhythm. A slight rush of air escapes Josh’s lips as his body heats up, reminiscent of when he was pushed up against you in the basement. He found it hard to focus on his words with the way your body felt so soft underneath his hands. He can only imagine what it would be like if he were with you now, feeling your hot skin against his. He wonders if you’re imagining the same, wonders if that’s what’s getting you off, the fantasy of it being his fingers stroking the wet fabric of your underwear, making you jolt and twitch under his touch.

Josh isn’t sure when he got hard, maybe he has been this whole time, but what he knows now is that his erection is starting to ache. His gaze doesn’t falter from your body and its movements as his gloved hand travels downwards so he can palm himself through his overalls, desperate to relieve even just a fraction of the desire thrumming through his body.

He groans when you tug off your underwear, exposing yourself fully. You bring your hands to your soaked folds, touch now unobstructed by cloth, and start to draw slow circles on your clit.

Oh, you really like that. Josh drinks in every detail, intent on knowing how you like to be touched so he can burn into his memory. It’s an intimate moment, that you and Josh are both pleasuring yourselves together, even if you don’t know you’re sharing it. 

You twist and turn on the bed, your free hand gripping the sheets beneath you as your fingers pick up in speed, applying more pressure to your sensitive clit. Though, that hand only stays tangled in the sheets for a moment, finding a better use pressed against your open mouth in a half-hearted attempt to muffle your sweet pants and moans. 

Josh wonders if you’re hoping he’ll hear you and come in to catch you in the act; the thought has his hips bucking into the surface of his gloved hand, finding just friction to be unsatisfactory. 

Then you break him, because as you’re running your fingertips along your glistening folds, you mouth his name. Josh. It’s undeniable now, you’re touching yourself while thinking of him.

He should be focusing on the prank, his revenge, everything he’s worked so hard to do, but all he can feel is the urge to fuck his fist at the sight of you purring his name. 

He peels off his overalls, letting them fall by his boots, and unzips his dark jeans so he can pull out his dick, wrapping his hand around it. It’s hot to the touch and leaking pre-cum, no doubt a product of the strenuous sexual tension underlying your conversations. He begins to run his hand along his length, the extent of his own arousal making him shudder from the movement. 

His forearm is covered in veins that travel underneath his skin like lightning, and as he pumps his needy cock, they stretch and bulge with his movements. Not so long ago, your hand rested on the same forearm that flexes as Josh fucks himself. He can feel it now, phantom grazes of your delicate fingers tracing his veins as he drives his dick through the tight grasp of his hand. Oh, how he wants you to be there, for you to be the one touching him.

He crumples forward, a single arm pressed against the table’s edge as his only means of support. God, the desire is eating him alive.

He should have just taken you when you were down in the basement. Pulled you into him and pressed his lips to yours, creepy sound be damned.

You’d be flustered of course, and probably try to act like you didn’t know what happened, all despite the fact that he knows you’d kiss him back with equal passion. You try to act tough, but he can tell that his little comments get you hot. Josh knew you were going to crack at some point, and the way you’re writhing around on a bed in his lodge proves him right.

If only you weren’t so damn stubborn about hiding your feelings. It’s been so obvious that you’re into him, with your bashful smiles or secret glances you don’t think he catches, but, at every opportunity he’s tried to give you, you shy away.

He should teach you a lesson for your coy attitude, you need to learn that being direct with him is what’s best. He contemplates going to find you in the guest room and fucking your brains out, it would show you how much you’ve been missing by being shy. 

Though, Josh likes the idea of punishing you more. He’d like to get his revenge on you for prolonging his frustrating and tortuous weeks of pining after you, trying to get it into your head how much he liked you. 

If he were to have his way, he would edge you, get you so close that you’re whining his name, pleading for your release, and then watch your expression turn when he withholds it from you. Maybe he’d earn a cute pout, or even better, you’d beg for him to continue. Josh curls into himself, his movements faster and sloppier, desire running rampant through his body.

He watches you sink a finger into your soaked entrance, seeking to relieve the painful emptiness of your canal. Josh wonders if it’s enough. The desperate roll of your hips as you try to push your finger deeper tells him it’s not, that you need more—that you need him. He watches you pause for a second, a cute frown on your lips, as you come to the same realization he has: it’ll never be enough if it’s not him. Josh exhales sharply, exalted.

You still try your hardest, though you can’t be blamed for the fruitless effort with your head so dizzy from lust. You push your finger in and out of your wet vagina as your other hand stimulates your clit, though awkwardly. It would be so much easier—feel so much better—if he were with you.

Josh sees no need to punish you for the heartache you put him through anymore, you’re doing it yourself right now, working so hard despite the fact that you’re unable to get yourself over the edge. He likes that you’re probably longing for him right now, wishing he were there to make you feel good.

It might be his sadistic side, or the fact that he feels needed, that does it for him, but your struggle gets Josh to his limit, his hand gripping onto the side of the table as he bucks his hips into his dripping hand. With a sloppy pump, he comes, white ropes shooting out as he presses his eyes shut in utter bliss. He seriously considers that you could turn into an obsession of his, if you haven’t already. 

Josh takes a deep breath, trying to calm his uneven breathing, and realizes you’ve given up on getting yourself off, redressing yourself while dissatisfaction mars your pretty face. He feels bad for a second, wanting to make you feel better, but his eyes flick to another screen to realize Chris is waking up from the sleeping gas, meaning Josh is short on time if he wants to fake his own death. 

He cleans himself off, redresses, and after one last look at the screen, he leaves.

He’ll deal with you later.