#bullseye six | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

withwritersblock · 2 months ago

Text

Third Time's The Charm

~Third Time's The Charm by Megan Moroney~

Author's note: requested! I am in love with this song! thank you anon!! Summary: After getting her heart broken two times before a stranger in a bar steals her heart Word Count: 4,662 Warnings: maybe swears? Luke Hughes x fm!reader

She was done with relationships. She swore them off after her last ex. He wasn’t the first guy to break her heart. The first one felt the worst, but it was probably because she was so young, yet she’s still young.

The first guy cheated on her several times, he was maybe loyal to her for the first two weeks in the relationship and the remaining year, he probably slept with majority of the girls in their grade. Which no one decided to tell her was happening and it made everything worse.

She didn’t date until college, the embarrassment alone was too much to bare. She was over five hundred miles away from her hometown, to New York University. She’s always loved the idea of New York, the city life, it was her dream. It wasn’t easy being so far from her family in Michigan, but it was her dream and she had to follow it.

That’s where she met her most recent ex. He was quite awful. All of her friends were convinced he wasn’t cute. Which didn’t help that he wasn’t a good boyfriend for a single second.

After he forgot her birthday or lacked any ability to care that it was her birthday, she broke up with him. Then she spent most of her time just going to classes and returning to her room to be sad.

It took well over a year for her friends to convince her to leave her dorm room and explore the city and be young.

The only way she would go was if she promised to keep every guy she met at a distance or a one time thing. It worked for a year and it was safe to say she had a blast.

She was never planning on dating again at least for the rest of college.

She went into tonight with the same plan, a hook up. That’s all she wanted.

There she was, standing in the middle of the bar playing darts with her friends. It was safe to say, that she was winning by a long shot. It was either because she was closest to sober or because she was actually good. It was hard to tell.

The music was loud, the beat was vibrating her chest. The bar was crowded, full of guys of all ages. It was unusually full but she didn’t mind. It was more options.

She walked towards her table, reaching excitingly towards her drink. She brought it towards her lips. Her gaze lifted as she met his eye. He was standing awkwardly near the bartop. His lips curled upward slightly before he shifted his gaze towards the shorter guy beside him. Her heart began to quicken, smacking hard against her chest. She forced herself to turn around, look towards her friends drunkenly stumble around each other. Probably not the smartest idea to be throwing darts when they couldn’t even stand up straight, but they were trying their best.

The butterflies in her stomach was a first. It was the first in a long time but he was just some random guy. Random guy who was tall and had curly brown hair that was peaking beneath the baseball hat that was on backwards on his head. She found herself looking towards him, craving his gaze on hers.

She watched him pull the drink towards his lips, his gaze slowly making it’s way towards her. She took in a sharp breath as she forced her gaze back towards the dart board, she watched her friend Andrea throw the dart and get twenty points.

“Y/N, come on it’s your turn,” Andrea’s boyfriend Harrison said loudly. She nodded as she walked towards the dart board to grab the two darts. “Lets’s see it girl,” he let out teasingly. She rolled her eyes playfully as she lined up getting ready to take her shot. She held the dart up as she shifted her gaze over towards the boy she saw earlier. He was no longer standing where she saw him at first.

Holding her breath she tosses the dart at first only getting six points, the second one hit perfectly on a bullseye. She smirks to herself as she walks towards the board to retrieve the darts.

“Nice shot,” she heard from behind her. She spun around to see the guy with the backwards hat behind her. Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. His lips were curled upward slightly as he scanned her features.

“Thank you,” she muttered as she held her hand out with the darts towards Harrison. He gladly took them as he stepped away from the pair towards Andrea, a smirk to his lips. “Wanna join us? You and-” she paused as she saw four guys staring towards their direction, “Your friends?”

The guy switched his gaze towards the collection of friends, he shook his head towards them. “They’re not gonna join us,” he let out as he shifted his gaze towards her, he slowly began to smile wider. “I’m Luke by the way,” he mumbled as he scanned her features, focusing on the shine of her lips.

“I’m Y/N,” she offered as she tilted her head to the side, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Wanna join us?” she asked as she pointed behind her. He pressed his lips together as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Why not,” he muttered as he walked towards the table, seeing Harrison, Andrea, and Erik.

“Girl, you did not invite the tall drink of water to our table,” Erik said as he was eying Luke up and down, a grin to his lips. Erik and Y/N were known for having the same type in guys. Luke started laughing as he shook his head as he met Y/N’s gaze.

“Okay new game, no teams, whoever wins gets free drinks for the rest of the night, okay?” Harrison interrupted as he pointed his finger towards each person in the small gorup, even Luke.

The game started quickly, it was obvious that Harrison and Luke were quite good at the game while Y/N wasn’t too far behind.

Y/N hit the small red under the twenty to get sixty points to push her ahead of the group. She threw her hands into the air, “Get owned, bitches!” she let out excitedly as she happily took quick steps towards the dart boad.

~~~

The rest of her night was hazy. She was taking advantage of the free drinks and the tall curly haired guy giving her attention. It was safe to say she was content with where she was at.

She was expecting to wake up to him in bed beside her but to her surprise it was Andrea instead. She slowly rubbed her eyes, convinced makeup was smudging all over her eyelids. Slowly sitting up, she notices the boys asleep on the air mattress beside her bed. Without hesitation she slowly stepped over the boys and began stumbling towards the kitchen. Remnants of the pre-game was still evident all over her apartment as she walked towards the kitchen, specifically towards her new coffee maker.

She walked past a small piece of paper on the counter that wasn’t there before they left. Furrowing her eyebrows she took a hold of the paper and opened it.

Hey,

Made sure you and your friends made it back safely. You were the only one that was able to give me an address, so I had the Uber guy take us all here. Made sure everyone was safe before I left. Here’s my number, can’t remember if I gave it to you before.

Luke from the bar ;)

She rolled her eyes playfully as she delicately placed the note back on the counter as she beelined towards the coffee maker. Her phone was plugged in right beside it, not it’s normal spot but she’ll take the win.

After she started the pot, she wandered towards the note that Luke left. This time with her phone in hand and intention to give him a call. She saved the contact name with Luke from the bar and quickly gave him a call.

It only took three rings for him to answer, “Hello?” he let out.

“Hey Luke from the bar, thank you for making sure my friends and I didn’t end up in a dumpster,” she teased. He barked out a laugh on his end of the phone.

“Sounds like that’s something that happened before,”

“Erik and Harrison have had their moments, I, on the other hand, always make sure I end the night back in a bed,” she expressed as she watched the hot coffee form in the giant pot. She was convinced all of her friends were going to need it.

“I see, well-uh Y/N from the bar how about you let me take you to dinner tonight,” Luke said, suddenly feeling nervous.

She clenched her jaw as she felt her smile slowly slip from her lips. “I tend to keep the guys I meet at bars a one time thing, I don’t do the whole dating thing,” she explained.

Without missing a beat, “Okay, how about you buy me dinner for making sure your friends didn’t end up in a dumpster,”

“Luke,” she let out softly a chuckle climbing into her throat.

“It’s not a date because you’re gonna pick up the check because if it was a date I would pick up the check because I’m a gentleman,”

“Oh of course, right,” she shot back. She took in a deep breath, “Alright, fine.”

“Perfect, I’ll pick you up at seven?” he offered.

“Yeah, that’ll be perfect,” she mumbled as her stomach started doing flips.

“See you then, Y/N from the bar,” he expressed.

“Bye Luke from the bar,” she mumbled as she pulled the phone away from her ear.

It was a date. She knew that and everything in her wanted nothing more than to run away, ghost him and let him be a guy that she played darts with one time. But the way his voice said her name or the way he looked at her.

She couldn’t remember much after the darts game started but she could remember the way his eyes scanned her frame. It wasn’t just attraction, it was admiration. She can’t remember the last time a boyfriend looked at her that way, let alone a stranger.

How can someone look at someone else like that after only knowing them a few minutes?

“This isn’t my apartment,” she over heard Andrea say as she stumbled into the living room. Y/N chuckled while shaking her head. “What happened last night?”

“Tequila and darts,” she said simply as she began to pour two cups of coffee. Black coffee was always an instant cure for hangovers for them.

“Why is it always those two that get us fucked up,” she muttered as she gladly took a hold of the mug. She brought the hot drink towards her lips, not caring about the burning sensation on her lips. “What’s this?” she asked as she reached towards the scratch piece of paper on the counter.

“N-nothing!” Y/N tried to hide it but it was already in Andrea’s hands, her eyes scanning the words.

“Wait did you have sex with a guy while I was asle-”

“No! Oh my god, Andrea, no. Seriously, have some faith in me will you,” Y/N let out while laughing. “He just made sure we made it back safe,”

“I don’t remember you meeting anyone last night,” she let out, her eyes squinting slightly as she stared past the paper, trying to visualize the night in her mind.

“Tequila and darts will do that to you,” Y/N offered as she finally took a sip of the coffee she’s been craving since she opened her eyes. “I may be going out with him tonight,” she muttered softly before she took a sip.

Andrea’s eyes went wide as her whole body straightened, delicately placing the mug onto the counter. “You?” she questioned. Y/N nodded encouragingly. “The curse is broken!” she said as she raised her hands in the air theatrically.

“Oh shut up!” Y/N let out laughing, shoving Andrea’s arm. “It’s not really a date,” she muttered. Andrea tilted her head to the side, squinting her eyes slightly. “I’m technically buying him dinner for making sure my friends survived the night.”

“Totally not a date,” Andrea said sarcastically before she brought the mug back towards her lips.

~~~

She changed her dress three times. The first one was too tight, too sexy for something like this. The second one was too flowy, almost like she was going on a picnic. The third one was almost a combination of both, perfect for a not-date.

She also redid her wing eyeliner three times, still didn’t feel right. She took a deep breath as she heard the door bell ring three times. Her eyes widened, “Cannot believe I’m doing this,” she muttered.

She picked up her perfume bottle and quickly sprayed it all over her body. “Fuck this,” she stared towards her reflection for a moment before she walked out of the bathroom. She took a hold of her small clutch purse before she wandered towards the front door. Pulling it open to see Luke standing outside the door with a soft smile on his lips.

He was wearing a black polo with dark wash jeans, his hair was perfectly styled. “You look totally gorgeous for our not-date,” he muttered as he quickly scanned her frame. She walked away from the door towards the black heels sitting near the door. Luke took that opportunity to enter the apartment.

“You are look very cute for our not-date,” she found herself saying as she slowly slipped on the heels. Luke dropped his gaze towards the floor, his lips curled upward in a grin.

“I was a thinking that dinner place a few streets over would be a good spot,” he explained as he nervously clapped his hads together.

“Wait, why do you get to pick the dinner spot if I’m paying,” she offered as she brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. He smirked before he ran his tongue across his bottom lip.

“You were never going to be paying, but you can pick the place if you insist,” he let out while tilting his head back.

Rolling her eyes playfully she began to walk towards the door, making eye contact with him for a moment, she shyly dropped her gaze towards the floor. Luke tilted his head back as he held his breath for moment. God, she was stunning.

“You know,” Luke started as he followed her outside, “You can still pay, depending on how our evening goes,”

“Oh really?” she let out teasingly as she locked the apartment behind her. She leaned her body against the door for a moment as she scanned his features.

“Oh yeah, I mean if our non-date ends poorly then absolutely you’ll be paying,” he muttered as he slowly started walking backwards towards the elevator further down the hall. She huffed teasingly as she followed towards him.

“Right well, let’s see how this goes then,” she expressed.

They continued their banter, slowly learning things about one another as they walked towards the restaurant that was only a couple blocks away from her apartment. She explained how she was in college to be an elementary school teacher, a career she’s wanted for majority of her life. He listened excitedly as he explained how he was from all over the world.

As they turned towards the restaurant, three girls excitedly walked towards them, one of them was holding a phone tightly to her chest. Luke forced a smile to his lips. “Oh my god, you’re Luke Hughes can we get a photo please?” she asked excitedly.

He nodded, “How are you guys tonight?” he asked as he glanced towards Y/N, who was watching the interaction suspiciously. She crossed her arms over her chest as she shifted her gaze towards the concrete below her.

Y/N awkwardly stepped towards the wall beside them, pulling herself from the situation. She clenched her jaw as she heard the girls rant excitedly towards Luke. He gladly took the photo with the girls and engaged in the conversation. He kept shifting his gaze towards Y/N, practically apologizing with each glance.

He was always open to taking photos with fans, but this was definitely an awkward moment. Especially since he didn’t tell her his career yet.

The girls scattered away from them. Luke shoved his hands into his pocket as he met Y/N’s gaze, he pressed his lips together as he tried not to laugh. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as her lips curled up into a smile.

“You secretly a famous country singer or something?” she let out as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh hell no,” he tilted his head to the side as he began stepping back towards the direction of the restaurant. She followed him, suddenly her body felt cold as her heart began to race. “I-uh-I play for the Devils,” he let out shyly.

She squinted her eyes as she met his gaze. “Really?” she muttered.

“Yep,” he said simply, almost embarrassed.

“I feel like that’s something you should tell a girl before you take her out,” she said shifting her gaze towards the ground.

“The very limited amount of girls that I’ve told about my career they tend to only care about being a WAG or whatever it’s called, I didn’t want to ruin this-I guess,” he explained shyly.

She nodded as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“So does that stuff happen to you often?” she asked, her heart began to beat faster and faster. Its a lot of attention, a lot of unwanted attention. She hated attention.

“It happens a couple times a week,” he said.

“So you’ll be like traveling a lot,”

“Yeah, I actually have to leave for a game tomorrow,” he said as he met her gaze. She nodded.

“This is a lot to process for a girl who you’re not technically even taking on a date,”

“I usually get a oh my god that’s so hot,” he let out jokingly.

“Really?” she let out laughing.

“I’m mostly joking but it tends to be a plus, but doesn’t seem like it for you,” he let out as they walked up towards the restaurant door. Luke took the door and opened it for her. She smiled towards him as she stepped inside.

“I mean it is definitely oh my god that’s so hot but also it’s a lot,” she mumbled. He nodded as he took in a sharp breath.

The hostess greeted them excitedly as she gladly took them to a table near the back of the restaurant.

“So you think it’s hot?” he let out teasingly.

“Oh shut it,” she let out while giggling.

~three weeks later~

She would be lying if she said things with Luke weren’t going good. She wanted nothing more than to not like him. She wished the feelings she was getting for him weren’t real. He went on a roadie for the first week but he was constantly texting and flirting on the phone.

She even watched the games he played, Y/N can’t remember a time where she actually wanted to watch a hockey game. She kept getting herself confused since his brother was also playing. Andrea loved teasing her about it since it’s been a year since the last time she’s considered dating someone.

Yet, she wasn’t even sure if what they were doing was dating. Especially since they haven’t kissed yet or even attempted it. It was starting to get to her, what was he so afraid of?

Luke rang the doorbell multiple times and she excitedly jumped up from the couch. She jogged towards the door. She excitedly pulled the door open to see him holding a large iced coffee from Dunkin. Luke had a wide grin on his lips. Her eyes widened as she happily reached for it.

“Thank you!” she said as she happily brought the coffee towards her lips, she danced as she walked towards the kitchen. He chuckled as she shut the door behind him. “This is exactly what I needed,” she let out as she leaned against the counter as she met his gaze.

“Good,” he let out as he walked up towards her, keeping a small distance between them. “You said classes were kicking your ass so I thought you would want that,” he let out as he scanned her features.

“It’s very sweet,” she said as she delicately rested the coffee down on the counter. “You didn’t get anything?” she questioned, staring towards his empty hands. He shrugged, stepping towards her.

“Not a coffee guy,” he mumbled.

“That’s tragic,” she teased as she continued to meet his gaze. He hummed as he continued to look into her eyes. “Luke,” she let out softly as she scanned his features. He hummed again as his gaze lowered towards her lips for a second. “Do you want to watch a movie?” she asked. His eyes widened softly as he nodded, stepping back slightly.

“What are you thinking?” he asked as he stumbled back towards her bedroom. She smiled towards him as she took a hold of the iced coffee.

She began to list all of her favorite movies and he just listened to her ramble on. He finally agreed on the last one and she happily took the remote and started to turn on the movie. Luke was excitedly laying beside her as he rested his hands behind his head. She sat up excitedly as she turned on the TV.

“I cannot believe you haven’t seen Scary Movie it’s so good,” she offered as she pressed play on the movie. He smirked as she laid back beside him, neither of them touching one another.

“I don’t like horror movies, I thought it was scary,” he muttered as he shyly stared towards his hands.

Y/N rotated onto her side, her eyes widened as a smirk formed to her lips. “You’re telling me you thought a movie called Scary Movie was actually scary? Luke come on,” she teased. He tilted his head to meet her gaze, his cheeks flushing slightly. His gaze lowered towards her lips, instead of quickly flicking upwards towards her eyes, his gaze remained on her glossed lips.

“The movie is literally called Scary Movie!” he let out with a chuckle.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered as she watched his gaze slowly climb up to meet her gaze, he cleared his throat as he shifted his gaze toward the screen. She clenched her jaw as she slowly sat up and shifted her gaze towards the screen. Luke followed her movements. “So you’re going on the road again tomorrow,” she asked as she brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. He hummed as he continued to watch her.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked softly. She chuckled softly as she shifted her gaze towards him, looking into his eyes deeply.

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” she let out without fully thinking it through. Luke sat up slightly, his face growing pinker and pinker by the second. “I mean I know it’s been only a couple of weeks but I just thought we would’ve done something by now,” she let out shyly. He smirked as he squinted his eyes slightly.

“I was nervous since you’ve got history of-yeah sorry. I just didn’t want to pressure you or push or yeah,”

She smiled a toothy grin, “Don’t ever apologize for that,” she mumbled as she met his gaze.

“Well then come ‘ere,” he muttered as he excitedly reached for her thigh, pulling her onto his lap. She giggled as she rested her hands onto the base of his neck. His hands were resting on her thighs as she ran her thumbs across his jawline.

He leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. It felt like a weight being lifted off of their shoulders. It felt like a magnet was pulling them towards one another. His hands were slowly gliding up and down her thighs as her fingers ran through his hair. Her fingers slowly tugged at the curls.

She leaned her forehead against his as she caught her breath, “Oh,” she muttered as she slowly opened her eyes. He tilted his head back to meet her gaze, his lips already starting to swell.

“Oh?” he let out, slightly nervous.

“Sorry-just been a long time since kissing felt like this,” she mumbled as his hands rested on her waist, squeezing her body slightly.

“Like what?” he asked as he scanned her features.

It was difficult to form any words, all she kept thinking about was kissing him again. She leaned towards him, pressing her lips against his urgently. Luke tightened his grip along her waist. Her hands continued to run through his hair.

“Like it matters,” she mumbled against his lips. He smiled before he leaned towards her kissing her again.

~three months later~

It was New Years Eve and she used to hate it. Every year without someone to kiss, every year false hope of a better year ahead. Yet, she had real hope for a better year ahead. Four months ago, Luke took her by surprise and every day since she’s finding herself falling for him harder and harder.

It was too early to say she was in love but there was something different this time. He was gentle and patient and sweet. He was everything she’s ever wanted.

Luke was already at her apartment, it was ten o’clock and they were waiting for their friends to arrive for the night. “Luke,” she let out from the kitchen.

“Yeah?” he let out as he sat up from the couch, he ran his fingers through his hair as he wandered towards her. She stared towards the counter that was filled with alcohol.

“Is this enough, you think?” she asked as she stared towards the overwhelming amount of seltzers on the countertop. Luke chuckled as he stumbled towards her.

“Darling, we could open up a liquor store with all of this. We’ll be fine,” he let out as he walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned back against his chest. Her eyes shut as she felt her lips curl up in a soft grin. “We’re not having a party right, it’s just the usual people right?” he asked before he pressed his lips to the side of her head.

“Yeah, but I think Erik said he was inviting a few of his other friends. So I don’t want to run out,” she explained as she opened her eyes, tilting her head back she met his gaze.

“I’ll think we’ll be okay,” he whispered into her ear before he pressed his lips against the side of her head again. “Are you alright?”

She spun around, leaning against the countertop as she met his gaze. He rested his hands onto her lowerback as she rested her hands onto his chest. “I’ve never been better,” she let out.

He squinted his eyes suspiciously as he pursed his lips forward, “That sounded very sarcastic,” he let out teasingly.

“Not sarcastic,” she muttered. He hummed as he leaned towards her, kissing her urgently.

“Yeah, right,” he mumbled against her lips as the doorbell rang. “Come on, my love,” he let out as he slowly slipped away from her, taking a hold of her hand.

“I can’t believe I agreed to host this party,” she mumbled as she delicately tugged him back.

“It’ll be fun,” he mumbled as he rested his hands onto her waist, kissing her cheek reassuringly. “And if it’s not, we’ll sneak away to your room,” he whispered before he guided them towards the door.

475 notes · View notes

recareels · 6 months ago

Text

take it slow just as fast as i can

character: boothill notes: i just rly, genuinely think boothill would be obsessed with feeling every fucking inch of you, that’s all c: | title credit: body like a back road by sam hunt warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem reader, thinly veiled body worship, mentions of scars + implied stretch marks and cellulite, marking (biting and bruising), implied multiple orgasms, tiny bit of angst right at the end words: 830

boothill knows your body better than he knows anything else in the cosmos.

boothill knows your body better than he knows his own—better than he knows his scorched, excavated homeland, better than he knows the smooth metal ripples and ridges, cold curves and contours of his own so called ‘body’, better than he knows his cherished 9mm revolver—the ivory grip, pretty pearlescent nacre shimmering up at him delicately from between the gaps of mechanized fingers, stamped with that gilded eagle sigil; the artfully notched cylinder, embossed with decorative arrows—six, one for each chamber—and the angular hammer, piped with shimmering aureate; the golden barrel, intricate inclinations carved to sharp, exquisite perfection.

boothill knows every curve, every dip, every edge of your form—all of your lines and dimples and scars, and could map them out with his eyes closed and recite each corresponding story: a single metallic fingertip tracing along the jagged strikes of silver etched into your skin; his hard thumbprint pressing into the dents peppering your thighs, a cool knuckle skimming over that scar on your knee.

and boothill loves appreciating them, appreciating you, appreciating how it all comes together to create one of the most magnificent masterpieces he’s ever had the pleasure of touching, the privilege of loving.

it’s become somewhat of a ritual now to take his sweet time admiring your figure before he fucks it, feeling every part of you plush and pliant beneath his grooved palms, revelling in the soft gasps that stutter your chest and dainty shivers that ripple your flesh as he kneads it.

he fills his touch with it, grabs healthy handfuls and squeezes—so soft, so supple—alternating between harsh groping, iron fingers sinking into your thighs, your hips, your tits, and gentle caressing, bullseye gaze watching with sheer wonderment as his palms glide over your silhouette, slick lips parted and damp with panted breath.

sometimes he’ll just let his hand rest on your ribs, observing the way it rises and falls with each of your quiet breaths, feeling oxygen expand your lungs as it flows in, then feeling your chest depress with every exhale pushed up your throat.

he loves to experience the thrum of your pulse beneath his fingertips—nothing more than a faint fluttering pressure against his receptors, but present nonetheless—an undeniable confirmation that you are indeed here, alive, his.

so beautiful, he murmurs from between your thighs, one large hand pressed flush against your heart, his chin resting on your stomach. a work of fudgin’ art, baby, I swear to the stars.

it all gets him going so goddamn easily, instils a hunger in him so ferocious that it chews on his wires, zipping through the cables in sparks of desire until it devours his brain, gorges every thought and notion until all he can conceive, all he needs, is you.

he can’t help but lick and kiss and bite and suck, desperate to leave his own impermanent marks on this gorgeous canvas. bruises blossom in the shapes of his fingerprints, sprouted in clusters of five across your form. engravings of razored teeth litter your thighs and hips, his gnawing just a hint shy of too strong, leaving behind wide crescents of thirty-two little crimson pinpricks. petals of thick saliva dry hard and stiff on your stomach and neck and collarbone, planted into your skin by puckered lips and chaste kisses.

it’s customary that he murmur sweet nothings into every claim he creates, knowing that his words will seep into your tissues in the form of gentle vibrations, knowing that they will stay, even after his marks fade.

your body is art, too, you tell him softly, after he’s made you cum several times on his cock, iron shimmering with a thick coat of your arousal, slick he refuses to clean off. a tender finger traces along the tears laden across his torso, rough and saw-toothed—scars he refuses to let heal.

no, he murmurs, rubbing his mouth into your shoulder as he speaks, eyes closing briefly with a slow, deep inhale. not the way yours is.

your body is a storybook of your life, inscribed with tales and memories—the way your body developed as you entered womanhood, too quick for your delicate skin to keep up with, procuring shimmering streaks across your breasts and bum; the time you flipped your childhood bicycle, kneecaps scraping concrete, bloody and raw; that dark dash seared along your inner arm, a constant reminder of an earnest mistake, when you accidentally nudged the rim of a pot filled with boiling water.

his body was carved in a lab, too precise to be real, too perfect to be human, constantly torn apart and put back together; rearranged, scrambled, chock full of modifications he never asked for, never agreed to. a true horror story—a weapon of death and destruction, a film of inevitable demise clinging to the metal.

he fears that’s all it ever will be.

#boothill x reader #boothill x you #boothill smut #boothill angst #boothill x y/n #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #if you saw me post this to my main blog just a second ago no u didn't #inky.boothill

520 notes · View notes

lulunothulu · 5 months ago

Text

“A Bullseye to the Heart” (Ch. 1)

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Latina Reader

Blurb: You were once the best female pilot at Top Gun. That was until a mission ended very badly. Now, 3 years later, you're somewhat healed and dating a man who takes advantage of your trauma. Now, you work at Hard Deck, the closest you could allow yourself to Top Gun, when your old friends come back... including a new guy you don't know; and to say he's intrigued by you is an understatement. But when your boyfriend decides to lay hands on you in front of him and your friends, all hell breaks loose.

Contents: Domestic Abuse, Swearing, bar fight, some fluff(??)

Word count: 3,160

I hope you all enjoy! I'll try to update it as much as I can.

Chapter 1

You never thought you would step foot in Hard Deck after everything that happened two years ago, never mind work there. It was oddly comforting and your therapist said it could help with the trauma you endured. So when Penny gave you a job as a bartender and server, you jumped at the opportunity.

Anything to be close to something you once loved.

You’re in the middle of cleaning out the dirty dishes bin when you hear the creaking of someone walking into the bar.

“We’re closed,” you say. “Come back at 8.”

“Oh, I’m not here for a drink,” a man’s voice says. “I’m here to see Penny. Is she in?”

You turn toward the voice to see a man in a leather jacket with multiple patches usually worn by naval aviators. His dark hair is perfectly styled and when he takes off a pair of aviator glasses, he exposes his hazel eyes.

“You must be Pete,” you said with a smile. “She told me you’d be coming around. She’s in the her office if you wanna go back there.”

He nods and makes his way toward the back of the bar. He stops at the entrance before turning to face you with a soft smile. “I’m glad you’re back, Y/L/N.”

Startled, you ask, “How do you know my name?”

“I work at Top Gun. I’ve heard stories and seen your pictures all over the place.” Pete smiles before turning serious and adding, “I really am glad you’re back. Admiral Simpson told me a lot of great things when he was your instructor.”

You take a deep but shaky breath before nodding, lips pulled tight before you say, “Thank you.”

You eye his jacket to see his rank and frown. “Captain?”

“Yeah, Captain.” Pete nods. When your brow lifts, he adds, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing it,” you smile.

“I have a new class starting up today, maybe you’ll see some of my guys,” he says. “You may see some familiar faces.”

And with that, Pete walks into Penny’s office, leaving you reeling and wondering who you’ll see later.

* * *

Later that night, Hard Deck is packed with Naval Aviators and civilians. It’s loud, chaotic, and joyful for the most part. People are playing pool, throwing darts, and having a great time getting drunk.

It reminds you of the good old days, back when you weren’t traumatized and living with an abusive man.

You’ve just finished putting a couple of beers in front of a group of civilians when you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N!”

You turn just in time to see Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, smiling ear to ear with his signature mustache sitting on his top lip.

“Rooster!” You exclaim. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Yeah, I’ve been assigned here for the next couple of months, some sort of mission. You know how that is,” he drawls, smiling to himself. He looks you up and down before saying, “You look good, y/n.”

You’re wearing a simple black, V-neck shirt with a pair of jeans and Converse. The compliment makes you smile and wave his comment off. “I’m sure you tell all the girls that.”

“Nope,” he smiles. “Just you.”

“So what’re you having, and how many?” you ask.

“I’ll have seven of your lovely beers,” he chuckles. “You should come over to the pool tables, Phoenix would love to see you.”

“My girl is here?” You ask excitedly.

“Of course. I’ll send her over for the next round,” Rooster says, watching as you expertly open all six of the beers quickly. “What time are you off?”

You check your AppleWatch before saying, “In about two hours.”

“Come meet us over there when you’re off,” Rooster smiles, pointing at the pool table across the way. “And Y/N, I’m glad you’re back in some way. We’ve missed you.”

“Thanks, Roo. I guess I’ve missed you.”

You watch as he walks off, noting the people he approaches. Phoenix practically breaks her neck looking in your direction, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback, and Bob smile and wave; and there’s another guy there you don’t recognize. He has sandy blonde hair, tanned skin, and an award-winning smile. From the bar, you can see his green eyes sliding over your body, checking you out. You cross your arms over your chest and cock a brow in question. When he waves at you with a cocky grin, you have to fight a smile from forming on your face.

It was cute but you’re taken.

Unfortunately.

You’ve been dating Nick Abernathy for the past year or two and while it was very fun and loving in the beginning, now you can’t stand to look him in the eye.

Not after what happened the last time you were at Top Gun. And especially not after how he reacted and treated you everyday after.

Speaking of the devil, you hear your boyfriend, call out your name to the left. “Y/N!”

You turn to see Nick, the man you once loved so much, smiling down at you. He’s all blonde hair and dark brown eyes, broad shouldered, and muscules; a naval pilot.

Your type. Again, unfortunately.

“What’s my favortie lady doing looking at those aviators?” he asks. To the untrained ear, it sounds like he’s being playful. But you know the truth, and you know you’ll hear–and feel–it later.

“Just some old buddies of mine,” you tell him.

“Right,” he says, eyes narrowing. He moves a hand, reaching out to grip your wrist. “I’ll be waiting to take you home after your shift.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him, smiling sweetly to hide the growing dread in your chest.

“What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t drive my girlfriend home?” Nick seethes, looking beyond you. “Besides, I don’t like the way those aviators are looking at you.”

You turn your head toward where you know Rooster and the rest of the aviator group watch the interaction. Their faces are all hard, ready to defend at your ‘okay’. You send them a small wave and reassuring smile before turning back to Nick who is now practically red in anger.

“They’re just friends,” You tell him, fear begins to prickle all over your body. “I met them when I was at Top Gun.”

Before Nick can say anything, Penny comes into view, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, can you stay another couple of hours? Pete wants to take me out and I can’t close early tonight.”

Relief fills you immediately when you reply, “Yeah, I can stay until closing.”

“Good,” Penny smiles. Then, as if seeing Nick for the first time, says to him, “Don’t worry about picking her up. I saw her drive here.”

Nick’s jaw clentches before he smiles, drops your arm, and responds, “Oh, I must’ve gotten confused.”

He turns to you before saying, “I’ll see you at home.”

Penny stays by your side until Nick finally leaves before turning you to face her and saying, “Go clock out. I’ll take it from here.”

“I thought you were–”

“I told him that so he would leave you alone,” Penny states, rubbing your shoulder. “Go catch up with Rooster and the gang. Just stay until closing so I can follow you home.”

“Thanks, Penny.”

You turn to leave, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground, when you feel someone’s eyes on you again. You glance in the direction of where Rooster and the rest of them are to find the green-eyed aviator that was checking you out before, staring.

Creep.

You clock out before grabbing a beer from Penny and making your way toward the group.

“Hey!” Phoenix exclaims at the sight of you walking closer. Then, pulling you into a bear hug, says, “Come here, Bullseye! I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Nat.” You smile, smoothing her hair when she pulls away.

“Bullseye?” the green-eyed aviator asks, Texan accent drawling and sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re looking at the most badass female aviator I’ve ever met,” Phoenix tells him. “The best at shooting too.”

“Is that why your call-sign is Bullseye?” he asks you.

You square your shoulders before smirking and replying, “Yes.”

“I’ll spoil it for you,” Rooster laughs. “She’s terrible at darts.”

“First of all, I was drunk!” you exclaim with a laugh. “I would’ve gotten that bullseye if you hadn’t bumped into me!”

“Mhmm, blame the alcohol,” Rooster teases.

“So, Y/N, who was that guy you were talking to?” Coyote asks.

“Yeah, didn’t look like a good conversation,” Bob adds.

“Um, my boyfriend, Nick,” you respond, feeling Green Eyes stare at you. “Soon-to-be ex.”

“Why soon-to-be?” Fanbooy asks.

“Just,” you trail off. “We fell apart.”

“Didn’t look that way from our angle,” Green Eyes mutters.

“I’m sorry,” You say, turning toward him. “Who are you?”

Green Eyes grins before outstretching a hand and saying, “Jake Seresin, Hangman. You can choose what you call me.”

“Hangman?” you ask, quirking a brow. “Like the game?”

“The one and only,” he responds coyly.

“You’re looking at the only naval aviator with one confirmed air-to-air kill,” Phoenix tells you. “He’s also a dickhead.”

“Oh, stop. You’re being too sweet,” Hangman grins. He turns toward the bar and frowns. “Isn’t that your soon-to-be ex?”

Your spine stiffens. You don’t have to turn to know that Nick is standing at the bar, eyeing you from one of the barstools. Your eyes widen when you see him throw back a shot of what you know is whiskey. He turns aggressive when he drinks so this should be fun.

“You okay there, Y/L/N?” Phoenix asks.

“I have to go,” You say, starting to walk toward him. However, you feel a hand on your arm and turn to see Rooster looking down at you, concern written all over his face.

“You’re not going over there alone,” he tells you. Turning to the group, he tells them, “We’re with her, I don’t like the way he grabbed her the last time he was in here.”

The group give affirming nods, all except Hangman.

“I’ve got this,” you tell Rooster. “He’s harmless.”

You knew it was a lie as soon as it left your lips and so did Rooster. His dark brown eyes narrow on you before he takes a swig of his beer and says, “We’ll be close by.”

You curtly nod before cracking your neck and handing Phoenix your beer. So much for relaxing.

You make the short walk to where Nick sits at the bar, feeling Penny’s eyes half on you and on another customer. Behind, you can feel the gaze of your friends as they watch you stand before Nick.

“What’re you doing?” You ask.

“I was about to ask the same thing,” he says. “See, I called the Hard Deck line and they told me you had clocked out. But I remember Penny telling me that you were staying until closing.”

“Nick–”

“Don’t,” he orders. “We’re going home. Now.”

“I don’t think so,” You boldly announce.

You’re just as surprised as Nick by the looks of it, so when he aggressively grabs your jaw and brings you close, you lock up completely.

“That wasn’t a request, Y/N,” Nick tells you darkly. His face is hard, you glance down at his hand by his hips and see that it’s clenched tightly.

“Nick,” You start. “Let’s just go. Let’s not do this here.”

“Why not? You don't want your buddies to see how much of a cunt you are?” he spits. “Let them see what happens when you try to act like you’re single.”

“You’re hurting me,” You softly say. Nick scoffs before frowning at something behind you.

Not something, but a couple of somethings.

“Let her go,” you hear Hangman say. His Texan charm all the way off and threatening.

“This has nothing of concern to you,” Nick spits.

“How about you let her go, and we won’t beat the shit out of you,” Phoenix says, her hand on your lower back in comfort.

Nick obeys, pushing you to the left and into the bar top harshly before taking a few steps toward Phoenix. You turn, watching as Phoenix stands her ground, not flinching when Nick tries too scare her by flinching forward. Rooster comes between the two of them, almost touching Nick’s nose with his own. The bar falls silent, all eyes on the interaction.

“Roos,” You start. “It’s fine. I’ll go home with him.”

“No,” Rooster says to you, eyes glued on Nick. “You’re staying with Phoenix until he leaves your apartment.”

“Rooster, I can–”

“That wasn’t a request, Y/n,” he booms. To Nick, he says, “Here’s whats gonna happen. You’re gonna leave and start packing your shit. When she comes home tomorrow, and we’ll be there to confirm, you’ll be out of there and her life for god. Got it?”

Nick smiles before tapping Rooster’s chest, hard. “So you were the one she used to fuck when she was an aviator. Tell me, Rooster, do you think she’ll open her pretty legs for you again?”

Rooster only smiles back before turning to his left where Fanboy and Coyote stand near you. “Get Y/N to the pool tables.”

Before they can grab you, Nick reaches out and squeezes your wrist tight before pulling you close to him. “You’ll have to peel her off me.”

“Let her go, I’ve called the police to remove you,” Penny says from behind the bar. “Your Captain won’t be happy to receive a call from jail.”

Nick clenches his jaw before slowly letting your wrist go and pushing you an arms length away. Before you have time to run into Coyote’s arms, Nick’s fist is flying toward your face in slow motion. When it finally makes contact with your cheek, you stumble, falling into someone’s arms and being dragged back before all hell breaks loose.

The bar is filled with shouting and the sound of glass shattering. And yet, all you can focus on is the way Rooster, Coyote, and Payback block Nick from rushing toward you. You’re so engrained on the commotion before you, you don’t hear when Hangman calls out your name.

Jake was a lot of things, but a hero was not on his roster. As soon as he saw Nick hit you, he went into full-on hero mode, pulling you into him and rushing you both to the pool tables. The look of shock paints your face as he watches you stare at the commotion before you.

I’m in deep shit if she wants to go over there because I’m not letting her out of my arms.

“Hey,” Hangman soothes. “Y/N, was it?”

You snap your head toward him and he has to fight to keep from sucking in a breath. Up close, you were gorgeous, even with that shiner growing on your left eye.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” You say, realizing who you’re sitting on and then standing from his lap. “I have to get over there.”

Hangman knew you’d say that so he stands with you, and shakes his head. “No, I don’t think Rooster would like that very much.”

“Well, it’s a good thing Rooster isn’t here,” You tease before breaking for a sprint. Only, you don’t go far because Hangman has his arms around your waist in seconds.

“You’re a slippery one aren’t you?”

“I just want to get Nick out of here,” You whisper.

Hangman searches your eyes, sensing every ounce of truth radiating from them. Matching you, he whispers, “Rooster’s got it handled.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” You both hear Rooster say it but you don’t dare turn your heads toward him. Hangman’s eyes search yours again, wanting you to say something.

“I can take you to my apartment if you’d like,” Phoenix says to you.

You finally turn away from Hangman’s intense gaze and push away lightly. “Yeah, I think that would be best.”

“Penny said to leave your car here by the way,” Bob says, looking between you and Hangman.

“Sounds good,” you respond, turning to walk away with Natasha, arms linked. Before you both completely walk out of Hard Deck, you turn around to see Jake already staring with longing eyes.

Something about it makes you shiver and pull Nat closer.

* * *

Jake watches as you turn back around and smile at something Phoenix said, wondering what it was that made you smile. He turns to Rooster, who’s givinghim the most sly grin he’d ever seen.

“You like, Y/N,” Rooster states.

“You’re not wrong,” he admits. “She seems so familiar. Have I met her before this?”

“You’ve probably seen her picture all over Top Gun,” Coyote tells him.

“Wait where?”

“Oh, you know, the main entrance,” Bob says. “Literally in the classrooms… do you not pay attention to the walls?”

“She’s been through a lot,” Fanboy mutters before taking a sip of his beer.

“What do you mean by that?” Hangman asks. When he sees the others give warning looks, he adds, “What happened?”

Rooster sighs before taking a swig of his beer. “You remember that aviator that went missing a few years back?”

“The one they found half dead?” Jake asks. “Yeah?”

“That was Bullseye,” Bob quietly tells him.

“She was–” Jake had to stop himself from speaking. Anger and sadness filled is chest at the thought of what may or may not have happened to you.

“Yeah man,” Payback says, clapping Jake’s shoulder. “That anger you feel right now? That was us when we found out it was her.”

“She’s never told us what happened, not even Nat.” Rooster tells them. “It’s like she just shut that out. What we do know is that she never stepped foot on a tarmac ever again.”

“She couldn’t bear to sit in the box again either,” Coyote adds. “She had a full panic attack as soon as the glass went down. Rooster here had to carry her out.”

Rooster nods. “So whatever you’re thinking of doing with her, don’t.”

At that, Jake recoiled and frowned. “What makes you think I wanted to–”

“C’mon, Jake. I saw the way you look at her when she and Phoenix walked out,” Rooster drawls. “Y/N is the closest thing I have to a sister, so just please. If you do try to get with her, don’t. And if you manage to actually succeed, don’t push her. She’s strong but she can only take so much.”

Jake only nods.

His mind is swirling with questions he’s too afraid to ask.

What happened to you that made you so terrified to be in the box? Why were you with that asshole if you had so much trauma? Was Nick just a coping mechanism of sorts?

When was he going to see you again? And why does the though of seeing you again make his heart warm?

Hangman didn't know the answers, but he damn sure wanted to find out.

Next part

#glen powell #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman x latina reader #latina reader #glen powell x reader #fanfic

338 notes · View notes

rayshippouuchiha · 2 months ago

Note

Team shisui au: shisui just has a fuckin dartboard of different, very impossible techniques that he's gonna try and convince his students is possible hung up in the jonin breakroom, becoming the new sage of six paths is in the bullseye and he keeps on "missing" it, and every other jonin is more and more nervous whenever shisui walks in with a kunai in hand

Shisui's Board Of Impossible Bullshit starts off being super fucking funny to the other jonin.

But then,,,

Well then Shisui and Itachi come back to the rest station crowing about something called Flame Walking and everyone kind of pauses.

Then it gets worse when they come back from a mission out in Wave with Naruto wide-eyed and vibrating with excitement, Sasuke looking even more unhinged than usual, Sakura cackling maniacally in the background, and Shisui hung over and muttering about how proud he is while Itachi is grumbling about having to file EVEN MORE kinjutsu paperwork so that The Crimson Hurricane, whatever that is, never happens again unless they're actively at war.

After that it's a whole lot less funny.

#Team Shisui AU #Naruto #RayRambles

280 notes · View notes

woso-dreamzzz · 11 months ago

Text

Shot Through The Heart IV

Alexia Putellas x Archer!Reader

Summary: Your last final

You smiled at your girls. At nearly ten years old, they were growing like weeds.

Alexia had hung up her boots nearly six months ago and now it was your turn. It was your last world championship ever. It had been a good few years for you but you knew it was time to retire.

Your medals were getting a bit cluttered and Alexia was adamant that you didn't need as many bows as you had.

You knew it was time.

Your girls were forging their own paths. Maya loved football like Alexia loved football and Elena had scratched herself on one of your arrows once and had been hooked ever since.

It was time to move away from your sport and focus on your daughters.

Alexia had moved on to coaching at Barca and you had your own coaching planned. You'd received offers from your old team in Korea but had benched the idea with a simple 'maybe in a few years' as you wanted to focus on your girls first.

You rolled your shoulders as Alexia stood behind you, adjusting your shoulder brace.

"Not too tight?" She asked.

"It's good," You confirmed," I'm ready."

Alexia smiled at you fondly, cupping your cheek. "Girls!" She called," Your mum is about to head out! Wish her luck!"

Elena barrelled into you quickly, her arms moving to hug you tight. "You need to win!" She said," You have to win!"

"I'll try my best," You laughed," But you and your sister have got to be super quiet during the shots, alright? Do you remember why?"

"Because it's respectful."

"It's boring," Maya muttered as she approached. She usually had football practice today but Alexia had taken her out of it because today was the last final of your life. Maya hadn't really taken it well, perhaps not really understanding how important this was.

"Maya," Alexia said in warning," Enough."

Your girls may not have been teenagers yet but Maya certainly acted like one.

"I'm just saying!"

"This is your mum's last tournament ever," Alexia chided," And you will support her in it because we are a family. How would you like it if me and your mum didn't come to your games? Huh?"

"Sorry, mum." Maya moved to give you a hug and you held her nice and tight, opening your arms to welcome Elena back in as well.

"Good luck," Alexia said as you moved to head out, shouldering your bow as the tournament staff waited outside for you," Not that you'll need it."

"I'll take it anyway," You said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

Unlike football games, crowds at archery tournaments sat in silence. The target sat seventy metres away from you and you closed your eyes briefly to focus on the wind. It was barely there and you smiled. If there was one thing you hated, it was shooting in the wind.

You shook hands with your opponent, smiling at her in recognition. You used to play on the same team when you played in Korea. She was a few years younger than you so you never really interacted but it was nice to see her.

You weren't going to let her win though.

Archery had always been easy for you. It was repetitive and calming.

Notch.

Draw.

Release.

Repeat.

You matched it to your breathing, one eye closing to line up your shot. You drew on the inhale and released on the exhale.

Ten.

Your opponent was nearly as good as you but there was a reason you had been world number one for years.

You rarely missed the ten.

Sometimes it wasn't a proper bullseye but you knew how to aim your shots so there was another space in the circle for the rest of your arrows.

Your opponent consistently hit tens too but dotted inside her shots were a few nines and a disastrous six in her last set that let you know you had cinched the victory.

But, still, this was going to be your last competitive shot.

You made sure to make it memorable.

A bullseye.

You smiled, shaking her hand and the rest of her team's before looking up at the stands to see your wife and children. Elena looked ecstatic. You weren't surprised. She'd loved coming to practice with you ever since she could walk.

Maya was equally excited, jumping up and down even though her heart was firmly settled on football.

Alexia blew you a kiss as you began to get ushered away for the medal ceremony.

You accepted it happily, pretending to bite it for the cameras before excusing yourself as soon as you could.

"I'm so proud of you, amor!" Alexia came out of nowhere. She leapt into your arms and you had to drop your bow to catch her.

You spun her around with a laugh that got muffled against her lips against yours.

"Did you enjoy the match, girls?" You were talking to your children but didn't look away from Alexia, who was pressing soft, fluttering kisses all over your face.

"You're so cool, mum!" Elena said," Can you teach me how to shoot like that?"

"Let's wait until you're strong enough to draw a proper bow, Elena, but after that, definitely."

"Maya?" Alexia said, still refusing to leave your arms," What about you? Do you have something to say?"

Maya huffed like a moody teenager. "I guess archery isn't as boring as I thought."

You laughed. "Thanks, kid. High praise."

She puffed out her cheeks. "You know what I mean."

"I do." You hefted Alexia up higher and grinned. "Come on, you lot. I'm starving."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

546 notes · View notes

strange0-0storm · 3 months ago

Text

What's this- MORE LOST FRIEND AU?!?!?!? Yes SIRRRR

This is a drawing of me and my friends @erii-com AU Fiddleford's like meeting (SPOILER THEY WOULD HATE EACHOTHERS GUTS.... Also peep the energy blasterr hehehehhe)

I'll prob make a version of just Bill cause like YES

He hates bro he wants him DEAD KILL THE TRIANGLE.

Guys.. Fidds is so not okay with Ford just hope yall know that

I LOVE THIS AU ME WHEN I MAKE SOMETHING COOL AAAH

111 notes · View notes

beenoeila · 10 months ago

Text

A list of underrated fics I adore.

▪️this don’t feel anything like sinking by

@dontcallmebree

A little over six weeks and his knee heals only for his breathing to act up. It may have been a handful of decades—coming up on a century, even—but he never did forget how it felt to wheeze through the night.

Steve sees it coming when Dr. Youssef tells him his lungs are taking a turn.

The year 2032 brings about the Summer Olympics, the coldest winter of the decade, and an end to Project Rebirth.

🔹 Learning to want by @luna-rainbow

Bucky is still trying to piece together his memories, but at least he now had Steve with him.

When Steve asks him if he wanted to meet with his sister, Becca, his response was, "I don't know about wants...I'll start with the shoulds."

Steve and Bucky goes for lunch with Becca. Steve and Bucky dealing with memory loss. Steve and Bucky being mutually pining idiots.

▪️better to speak or die by emilywithoutY (@between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place)

Summers in C. are as endless and hazy as when they were kids. All James wants is to play his part well enough that his mother stops looking at him with that twist of regret in her smile.

The only thing to break the sun-soaked monotony is the arrival of the new summer intern. While the rest of the household—and half the village—fawn over Steve Roger’s movie star looks and understated charm, James finds him aloof and his polite interest near unbearable.

But as they collide in vulnerable moments, the sparks of frustration ignite something neither has the power to stop.

Do you think Jonathan understood what happened that day David first stepped into his father’s court?

🔹The weapon remembers by pushdragon

The Winter Soldier finds old fantasies of Steve in his memory, and takes them for reality.

He's got two days to sort out all his mixed-up history, before he puts himself back in cryo freeze. Harder still, he's got to convince Steve to let him do it.

▪️Preberseeschießen by Ginny_Potter (@hipsterdiva)

Bucky takes his time, ignoring his comrades’ cheering and Gaiswinkler and Mariandl’s teasing. From his position, Steve only has an oblique view of Bucky’s face, which is mostly in the dark anyway – the strong line of his jaw, a smudge of grease on his cheekbone, a sweaty lock of hair curling on his forehead, his mouth pouting in concentration. Steve itches to draw him, to take out his battered sketchbook and reproduce that instant of perfect imperfection. Steve itches to touch him, push back his unruly curls, wipe away the smudge on his cheekbone, cup his face in his hands and…

Bucky breathes out and shoots. The bullet hits water… and there it is, the zapping sound of paper tearing.

The light turns on and off three times. Third circle. Just a lick out of bullseye.

The Howlies explode in cheers.

Or, the Howling Commandos play a shooting game with the Austrian Resistance and Steve has lots of unresolved feelings about himself, his new body, and his changing relationship with Bucky. In other words, comrades are comrades, angst looms, and Steve feels.

🔹Till there were no more wolves in the West

by @dharmasharks

“I’m afraid of a lot of things, Steve,” Bucky says softly.

“But this thing sticking in my heart—the part of me that’s yours? It is the best part of me. Maybe the only good part.” His rueful smile wavers. He makes a pained expression.

“What if it’s the only good part?” he asks.

Two Brooklyn boys find themselves aboard an orphan train headed west in 1854. Across farmland, war, and the lawless frontier, a childhood promise helps them find each other again.

(A Western SteveBucky retelling.)

▪️Hiraeth by ixalit

Hiraeth

noun /ˈhɪraɨ̯θ/

[Welsh] A homesickness or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret. The feeling of longing for a home that never was.

🔹Undone by justanotherStonyfan

You’d think, given everything, that if one of them were going to regress, that if one of them were going to break down, it would be Bucky.

(Set mostly after Endgame - canon deaths remain but Steve doesn't leave)

▪️But You Can Hold Me (Only 'Cause It's a Cold Night in Brooklyn) by Voylitscope_speed (@voylitscope)

This should just be two friends getting off after the burlesque show. This should just be two pals both thinking about the girl. That would probably be okay, Bucky thinks.

But then he ruins it all when he says,

"Come here," and puts a hand out to tug on Steve's shoulder.

(Or: Sometimes, Bucky and Steve lend each other a hand, literally. Bucky tries not to be weird about it, but he's always been bad at controlling his thoughts about Steve.)

🔹Midlife Crisis by profoundalpacakitten

Steve isn’t expecting much of anything from life, he’s content to coast by, letting life flow past. Get up, get dressed, get to work, get home, get to sleep, rinse and repeat.

▪️ The Magic Touch by @broodybuck

The soldier is finally free but he has one big problem, he can't finish. Until he meets a man called Steve who apparently has the magic touch.

#stucky #stevebucky #fic recs #stucky fic

235 notes · View notes

maldaptivedreamer · 3 months ago

Text

A NEW SIDE

You discover a new side to Tyler.

content: Errors and mistakes, not entirely accurate to alien universe, maybe ooc, guns (idk anything about them), military (idk anything about it), and fighting (only ever fought my brother)

wc: ~2.6

a/n: This may be the only thing I write for Tyler. With that being said, there are theories about Tyler having been in the military or Weyand-Yutani security. That theory inspired me to write this story so… petitioning for more fics about Tyler in military or something.

The room is stark and sterile, lacking any trace of warmth or life. The blinding white walls seem to amplify the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, creating an almost unbearable brightness. The lack of color or character only adds to the feeling of emptiness and isolation.

Outside, the dreary browns and dark oranges of Jackson’s star and its’ crumbling buildings are a stark contrast to this clinical environment. The air here is heavy with the scent of cleaning chemicals, masking any natural scents that might have existed before. It's suffocating, as if all living organisms have been wiped clean from this space.

The weight of the gun in your hands is a constant reminder of your purpose here. The cold metal seems to bite into your skin, grounding you in this sterile reality.

Despite the assistance of modern technology, there's a certain satisfaction in manually aiming at a target. You anchor the gun to your shoulder, feeling the weight and balance of it as you line up your sights with the distant bullseye. With steady focus, you release a few rounds, feeling the satisfying kickback of the powerful weapon.

The recoil of the gun jolts through your body, causing it to dig into your shoulder. As you release a breath and lower the gun, you hear the gruff voice of the old general calling out for everyone to return their firearms and check them in. After that, he instructs everyone to meet in Room A-5 for sparring with their assigned partners.

Letting out a sigh, you glance to your side and spot your partner, Tyler.

He fits the cliché description of tall, dark, and handsome perfectly. Standing at least six feet tall, his broad shoulders and lean muscles are evident even beneath the layers of Weyland-Yutani uniform.

Your eyes linger on Tyler for a moment, taking in his imposing figure as he stands a few lanes from you. His gaze is focused and alert, scanning the area with practiced precision.

As if sensing your attention, Tyler's eyes flick to meet yours. He nods slightly, acknowledging your presence before returning his gaze to scan the others as they move to check in their firearms.

Rolling your shoulder to ease the ache from the recoil, you follow the others and can sense Tyler falling into step behind you.

His deep accented voice breaks through the sound of shuffling feet and hushed conversations, "You're a good shot."

You scoff lightly and raise an eyebrow at him in amusement, “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. But I s’pose that doesn’t mean much when aiming is automatic.”

Tyler chuckles softly at your response.

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both continue progressing in line.

As the silence stretches on, Tyler finally breaks it with a playful tone. "Looking at each of their targets, seems like they paired together the best of the class."

The comment catches you off guard. Tyler is not known for being talkative, to you at least, instead preferring to stay professional and quiet. Any attempts at humor or conversation from you are usually met with a few polite chuckles.

Biting your lip, you steal a glance at him and quietly reply, "Ah yes, because we are the best of the best. The rest of ‘em don’t stand a chance."

Tyler's lips quirk up in a rare smile at your response. "Modest."

You shrug, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Just stating facts. Though I suppose we'll see who's really the best once we get to sparring."

"Is that a challenge?" Tyler asks, his voice low and teasing.

You quickly shoot back, "Only if you're up for it."

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich. "Oh, I'm always up for a challenge."

As you reach the front of the line, you hand over your firearm to be checked in. Tyler does the same, his movements efficient and practiced. Tyler's fingers brush against yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt of electricity through your arm. You quickly pull your hand away, hoping he didn't notice your reaction.

The two of you make your way towards Room A-5, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

Carefully unzipping your bulky coat, you remove it and your shoes before stepping onto the mat. Tyler does the same, his movements smooth and practiced.

Both of you settle into fighting stances, playfully swiping at each other as you warm up on the mat. A sense of friendly competition fills the air between you.

Circling each other with fluid movements, Tyler lets out a playful click of his tongue before speaking with teasing undertones, “Y’know, heard someone say the general’s got a hard-on for you."

You can't help but scoff in amusement, firing back with a smile, "Really? Well, I've always been a sucker for mean old men. Guess that explains why he feels the need to torture me so often… What about you? Anyone caught your eye?"

A grin creeps into his voice as he answers, "I don't know, I've had my eye on that sandwich in the lunchroom."

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of food, and you can't help but let out a quiet groan. Absentmindedly shuffling your feet, you comment, "I am starving. Maybe I'll have to actually fight you for that sandwich."

Tyler chuckles in a low voice. "I'd like to see you try."

Rolling your eyes with a smirk, you speak, "Don't underestimate me. I'm scrappy when I'm hungry."

"Is that so?" There's a hint of challenge in his voice now. "Maybe we should test that. Or I could be persuaded to share."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by this playful side of Tyler you've never seen. "Oh? And what exactly would that persuasion entail?"

Your eyes lock with Tyler's, a charged moment of tension hanging between you. His gaze is intense, a mix of challenge and something else you can't quite place. He’s about to respond when the general's gruff voice cuts through the air.

"Alright, lovebirds. Less talking, more sparring."

You feel heat rise to your cheeks at the general's words, but quickly push the embarrassment aside. Refocusing on Tyler, you see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Grinning, he raises his eyebrows and silently mouths the word jealous.

Releasing a giggle, you watch as his expression turns serious.

Without warning, Tyler lunges forward, aiming a swift jab at your stomach. You dodge just in time, pivoting on your heel to avoid the blow. Your training kicks in as you counter with a quick strike of your own, which Tyler easily deflects.

The two of you fall into a fierce rhythm, trading powerful hits back and forth. The sound of fists connecting with flesh echoes off the bare walls, creating a cacophony of grunts and thuds.

Drawing back with raised arms, you gasp for air as sweat rolls down your face. Tyler takes this opportunity to catch his own breath, but he recovers much quicker than you do. He advances towards you, his movements fluid and calculated.

In one swift motion, he lunges at you and twists your body around. With your back pressed against his chest, he wraps an arm tightly around your neck while attempting to wrap the other around your head. You struggle against him, trying to break free from his hold.

You throw your head back, stunning him, and swing your legs up. Using every ounce of strength in your body, you plant them firmly into the ground and shove him over your shoulder. His body slams into the ground with a loud thud that reverberates through the room.

Everyone turns to watch as Tyler groans on the ground, clearly winded from the impact. You wince at the sight, feeling slightly guilty for using such force. With a hint of amusement in your voice, you apologize to Tyler, "Sorry, didn't mean to hit you that hard."

Your intense training session comes to a brief pause as Tyler struggles. He forces himself to sit up, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. You extend a hand to help him up, and he gratefully accepts it. You both groan with effort as he gets to his feet.

As he wipes a finger across his lip, you notice a few drops of blood staining his skin. His face contorts in pain, and you speak in a hushed voice, “You okay?”

Tyler nods, grimacing as he licks his split lip. His voice is strained as he responds with a small groan, “Remind me to never get in the way of your food.”

You release a light laugh before taking your positions on opposite sides of the mat once again. With renewed energy, you resume sparring with each other.

The spar continues without any more incidents until the general calls for a break and dismisses everyone.

As you make your way to the cafeteria, you sneak a few glances at Tyler, silently admiring him. His muscular frame radiates heat, and a thin sheen of sweat glistens on his tanned skin.

The cafeteria is just as uninviting as the rest of the facility. The stark white walls and fluorescent lights mimicking the rest of the sterile facility. The smell of strong disinfectant lingers in the air, mixing with the low hum of chatter from other trainees. You grab your trays and fall into line behind Tyler, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours as you shuffle forward.

"So," Tyler says, his voice pitched low so only you can hear, "about that sandwich..."

You pause briefly to meet his gaze, noticing how his brown eyes seem to dance with mischief. Smirking, you reply in an equally hushed tone. "If you think that those puppy eyes of yours are gonna work, you’re wrong."

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes his lips. You can't help but shiver as he clicks his tongue and speaks in a sarcastic tone. "Damn. Figured you could throw me a bone after kicking my ass."

As you approach the front of the line, your eyes catch sight of the last sandwich sitting on the counter.

With a groan, you roll your head back and curse under your breath. From the corner of your eye, you can see Tyler's brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

Silently, you grab the sandwich and wait for him to join you, balancing the tray in your hands.

Tyler motions towards an empty table tucked away in the corner, a playful smile tugging at his lips. You nod and follow him through the bustling crowd.

As you take your seats, you lean in close to him with a playful scowl adorning your face. Raising one finger for emphasis, you speak sternly. "Once. I'm only going to do this once. So don't expect any more favors from me. I don't like sharing… Being an only child, I never had to."

Squinting playfully at him as he grins back at you, you add, “Also… I stand by what I said. Those puppy eyes of yours… useless.”

Tyler's eyes light up with amusement as you slide half the sandwich across the table to him. "I'll take it," he says, his voice warm with gratitude.

As he takes a bite, his lips curve into a small smile. "And for the record," he continues, "I wasn't trying to use puppy eyes. That's just my face."

You snort, taking a bite of your half. "Sure, it is. I bet that face gets you out of a lot of trouble."

He shrugs casually, but there's a hint of playfulness in his gesture. "Maybe. But it clearly doesn't work on you." His tone is very obviously sarcastic.

Taking another mouthful, you give him a small glare. You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile tugging at your lips. "Don't let it go to your head. This is a one-time deal, remember?"

"Of course," he nods solemnly, but there's a glint in his eye that suggests he doesn't believe you for a second. "I'll treasure this moment forever."

You snort, taking a bite of your half. The sandwich isn't anything special - standard cafeteria fare - but after the intense sparring session, it tastes like heaven. You both eat in companionable silence for a few moments, the buzz of conversation from the other tables washing over you.

He breaks the silence after swallowing a mouthful. "Only child, huh? That explains a lot," he teases.

Humming past a mouthful, you ignore his teasing and curiously ask, “What about you? You give off the vibe of protective brother. In a healthy and very not weird, incesty, misogynistic way… If that makes sense.”

Letting out a confused and shocked laugh, he runs a hand through his hair and nods. His voice is soft, “Yeah, got ‘a kid sister. Her name’s Kay.”

As he talks about her, you can see the fondness and love in his expression. A small grin forms on his face at the thought of her. Tilting your head, you speak past a cheekful of food, “What’s she like? What’s having a sister like?”

Tyler's eyes soften as he thinks about his sister. "Kay's... she's something else. She’s kind. Smarter than me, stubborn as hell. Accidently finding trouble, and somehow fumbling her way out of it." He chuckles, shaking his head fondly. "Having a sister is... it's complicated. One minute you're fighting, the next you're schemin' together. We always watch out for each other, whether we’re fightin' or not."

You nod as he finishes. Part of you can't help but feel envious of the bond they share. It's clear that having a sister has been a source of joy and strength for him. "Sounds nice," you muse. "Though I can't imagine sharing my stuff all the time."

"Oh, sharing isn't optional," Tyler laughs. "It's more like... strategic borrowing without permission."

You raise an eyebrow. "You mean stealing?"

"I prefer liberating," he grins.

Giggling, you lightly tap his foot under the table with your own, “I’m so fucking glad I didn’t have to deal with that. That sounds annoying.”

He shrugs and takes a final bite of his sandwich, finishing it off quickly. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he rubs his hands together. Without saying a word, he points silently to it, and you realize you don’t have much time left. Time isn’t exactly something that Weyland-Yutani is generous with.

Standing up quickly, you shove the rest of your sandwich into your mouth in a rush. Ignoring his surprised and slightly amused expression, you brush crumbs off of your clothes.

As you both stand to leave, Tyler's eyes linger on you for a moment. There's a softness in his gaze that wasn't there before, a warmth that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Thanks for the sandwich," he says, his voice low. "And for not completely destroying me during sparring."

You grin, playfully bumping his shoulder with yours. "Don't get used to it. Next time, kiddie gloves are off."

He chuckles, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "I look forward to it."

As you walk back to the training area, a sense of unease settles in your stomach. There's a subtle shift between you and Tyler - the usual professional distance has dissolved into something more personal. The easy banter and shared meal have created a new dynamic, one that both excites and unnerves you.

Despite the physically demanding drills and exercises, your mind feels light and carefree. The glances and looks exchanged between you and Tyler throughout the day make your heart race with anticipation.

When you lay down in your bed, exhaustion finally catching up to you, your mind buzzes with thoughts of him. The fluttering sensation in your gut is a mix of nervousness and excitement.

#tyler harrison #tyler harrison x reader #tyler alien romulus x reader #tyler alien romulus #archie renaux #alien romulus #alien: romulus #alien franchise #only child propaganda #im not british

92 notes · View notes

frozenjokes · 8 months ago

Text

Put Me In Perspective, Or At Least In My Place (Another Retrospective On Aromantic Love)

“Above your head like this. Both hands, look at me. Both hands, Grian. It doesn’t take a lot of strength, just step forward and release around eye level.” Cleo demonstrated, holding the axe at the end of its handle and releasing the weapon. It flew in what had to be a perfect arc before burying itself in the wood, a bullseye of course. She threw the axe like she’d done it a thousand times, and honestly, she probably had.

“Don’t people throw them with one hand, too?”

“Yes. It’s just harder. Try this first.”

Grian pursed his lips, stepping forward, throwing, then squeaking when the axe bounced terrifyingly off the wood, hitting the wall before rolling and bumping the curb that separated the stall and his feet. Ah. That was frightening.

“Nearly took out our ankles there,” Cleo said, not sounding all too concerned.”

“It- Can it bounce over that?”

“Not easily. But not uncommonly either. Try not to do that.” Cleo strode forward, plucking the axe off the ground and handing it to Grian. “Don’t throw it while I’m in there.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

“Maybe you won’t, but some people need to be told,” Cleo grunted, ripping the axe she’d thrown from the wall and spinning it thoughtlessly in her hand before burying it in the stump that split their twin alleys. “Try again. Keep your wrists straighter, release at eye level.”

Grian shifted his weight, frowning, “Surely you brought me here to talk about something else other than axe throwing. ‘Cancel your plans, I’m picking you up,’ is an extremely ominous message to receive from a stranger at 8:00 at night. How did you get my number again?”

“Pearl. And we aren’t strangers, we’ve met at least once at that big friend get-together thing, you know. That awful pizza place? Regardless, I’m friends with runners, so force is necessary 90% of the time. If you want to skip to the talking, we can talk, but I don’t know if you want to hear what I have to say.”

“I probably don’t.”

��Then start throwing and I’ll do the work. You’ll get it to stick, just give her a few tries.”

“You seem to have a lot of faith in me.”

“Everyone gets it eventually.” Cleo looked relaxed, unconcerned, and Grian tried to match the energy, but he couldn’t quite shake his anxiety. Well. He was here, so he might as well make the most of it.

It took six more tries before he got an axe to stick. Wow that was satisfying- but the air seemed a little too heavy to celebrate more than Cleo’s tasteful clapping. Maybe he should come back here with Pearl and Impulse.. Jimmy maybe? He’d kill to see Jimmy try this actually, even if he’d likely crush Grian in the end. When Grian went to collect the two axes from the stall, Cleo finally spoke.

“I’d like to know what’s going on between you and Scar. Properly. It’s been a particularly shitty week for our friend group and Scar’s been in a foul mood for more reason than one, so we haven’t talked. And I’m not just here to interrogate you about Scar either, I’d really like to know what’s going through your head as well. Have you seen each other this week? Have you talked at all?” Cleo was firm, but nothing about their voice was hostile. There was a worried longing there, the kind of urging that came from a deep concern for a good friend.

Grian took a deep breath. “Not much. I saw him a couple days ago when I was getting lunch with Pearl at the zoo. He only texted me one other time to tell me he wouldn’t be.. we have this mutual place we hang out, and he just told me he wouldn’t be around this week. Too much going on. I’m really sorry about Etho by the way, I hope you guys find him.”

“Thank you. Bdubs got in contact with him yesterday, so we know he’s alright. We still don’t know where he is or when he’s coming home, but from what I’ve heard, he’s keeping frequent contact. Hasn’t called me or Scar, but that’s typical. With any luck he’ll be back safely soon. That’s what Etho said anyway. Still all sorts of concerning, but we’ll take what we can get.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.” Grian tried not to be hurt that Scar hadn’t updated him, but failed miserably despite the fact it probably wasn’t any of his business. He just would’ve liked to know, that’s all.

“It is. So how did that clusterfuck of a night happen between you and Scar? How did that start?”

“Oh,” Grian mumbled, fidgeting with the axe still in his hands. Cleo took the other from the stump, throwing it almost lazily, like the question didn’t matter to her much at all. Grian decided to do the same, focusing on the secondary activity instead. “Well.. he invited me over. That was a couple hours after our first spat, and I was still feeling weird about it all. Wasn’t well.”

“I figured. He reached out to you first?”

“Yeah. We weren’t supposed to do anything though, just.. get it out of our systems. I was so mad at him- I’m still so angry, and not even for any reason in particular. I’m just mad.”

“Then how’d you end up in his bed?”

“Oh. I kissed him. He was pissing me off.”

“Right.”

Grian scoffed, snagging his axe off the floor of the alley after a failed throw. “How did you think this all went down? He told you the jist, basically. Not nicely, but he told you.”

Cleo shrugged. “I just wanted to know a few more details. Place my judgment a bit more accurately. From where I’m standing, you’re both idiots self destructing in the dumbest way possible. I would like it very much if this didn’t happen again, not only because it’s bad for both of you, but quite frankly, it’s embarrassing.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion.”

“Come on.”

Grian curled his lip. “Listen, I don’t understand why it’s such a huge problem for Scar and I to work out our differences with a little violence. We're consenting adults and the sex was kinda nuts, so if we’re both having fun there’s no issue. In any case, I’m pretty sure this is solving all of our problems.”

“Oh? Do explain.”

Grian rolled his shoulders, throwing his axe and getting it to stick for the second time, “We’re just letting off steam, Cleo. Two months of awkward tension does a lot to a man, it does a lot, nothing good. This is like a shortcut to the whole ‘tiMe hEaLs aLL’ bullshit, we’re like- getting it out of our system.”

“Uh huh. And this is going to resolve your unrequited feelings for Scar how..?”

“I’m getting it out of my system, Cleo.”

“Ah, so having really good sex with a man who isn’t looking for the same things in a relationship as you is going to fix you.”

“You got it.”

“That’s the dumbest load of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” For the first time, Cleo’s axe bounced off the board. She strode to pick it up wordlessly.

“Alright.” Grian landed another axe, just inches from the bullseye.

“Grian,” Cleo sighed harshly, and Grian avoided her eye, uninterested in her scrutiny, “Listen. As dysfunctional as the both of you two are, I don’t actually believe this couldn’t work. You two have been as thick as thieves for ages, and as much as you’re scrapping now, I don’t think that’s indicative of how you actually feel about each other. You’re just hurt people hurting each other, and you don’t have to be. For goodness’s sake, Scar would have been happy to be in some sort of relationship with you, he just didn’t want to lose you altogether. Somewhere I think that got lost in translation.”

“Scar doesn’t want to date me. He only offered to appease me, it was as obvious as anything.”

“I don’t doubt there’s truth to that. He doesn’t do well under the pressure of a love confession, and that’s no one’s fault. But his feelings on romance are a lot more complicated than ‘wanting’ or ‘not wanting.’ You did the right thing to refuse him, Grian, he wasn’t ready. But I think it’s worth talking to him again. Laying everything out on the table. And I can’t speak for what Scar wants, his brain is a mess of tangled wires and sparks, but he’s obviously had plenty of time to think about this, and he might surprise you. If there’s one thing I do know about Scar, it’s that he loves to give things like this a try. And I mean that. He does love it.”

“But Scar won’t love me. Not like I want to love him.”

Cleo hummed, thoughtful as they considered the ceiling, “You know, I don’t know if that’s true.”

Grian huffed, “Unless I’m misunderstanding what ‘aromantic’ means, I don’t see what you mean.”

Cleo shrugged. “Scar loves everyone in big sweeping gestures. That doesn’t change from person to person, whether they’re family, close friends, lovers.. it doesn’t change. But there are still levels, right? There’s still loyalty. You’re thinking of Scar as loving you like a friend, but I think that’s the wrong approach. Making that distinction makes it seem like his love would be less intense, like he wouldn’t still give you everything he has. Try.. a scale, 1 through 10, maybe. For you, you’re looking to give Scar your 10 on the scale, right? A 9 or 10, whatever it is, that’s the kind of love you want to give, the kind of love you’re looking to receive. In Scar’s brain, he’s been giving you that 10 for months, and if you asked to spend the rest of your life with him, he’d probably go ahead and accept without hesitation. That’s just how he feels about the people he’s close with.”

Grian didn’t speak, still working out how to process those words, but Cleo did not mind continuing in his absence. “If you’re worried about not being #1, then I’m afraid you’re fighting a losing battle, friend. With anyone. You’re contending with mothers, brothers, sisters, friends that go back to high school, grade school, diapers. Being intimate doesn’t outweigh those bonds, not for most people. And this isn’t to say that a relationship with Scar would be exactly the same as it would be with anyone else, it won’t, and if you’re the type of guy that gets insecure when your partner is physically friendly with other people, then forget it, but in my truest of hearts, if you’re looking for someone to love, I believe Scar would be more than good for you. He would treat you well,” Cleo paused, thoughtful before continuing, “And honestly, things literally can not get any messier between you two. There are zero stakes to giving this a shot. You’ll either feel a lot better about yourselves or you’ll go your separate ways, both of which are a huge improvement to whatever the fuck is happening between you two now. Maybe you’ll even stay friends after talking all this shit out. Who knows.”

Grian returned his axe to the stump, needing to sit down. To think. He was quiet for a long time just sitting there, the only sound being the bustle of other customers and Cleo’s own axe hitting its mark time and time again.

“You really think he’d want to give it a shot?”

Cleo shrugged and shook her head noncommittally, “Who knows. But it wouldn’t surprise me. So long as you two actually talk this all out, I think anything could happen. And Christ, if you two decide to get together and still want to ‘fall down the stairs’ then have nasty sex afterward, that’s your prerogative, but for crissakes, at least wear some sort of padding or a helmet or something, don’t actually kill each other.”

Well. He had gotten Scar that helmet, hadn’t he.

“I’ll think about it,” Grian mumbled, eyes lidded. And he was. He was thinking quite hard about it.

#suggestive #hermitshipping #scarian #hermitcraft #hermitfic #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #zombiecleo #I forgot to post this lol #mumbomaid au

185 notes · View notes

lilgoblinbitch · 10 months ago

Note

saw your post about rick and daryl, do you think you could write a rick TOWL smut with him angry that you left your post and got yourself injured and he takes out his frustration on you? idk why just had that idea after the recent episode😫

Grimes' Dominion 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

a/n: ahhh omg yes i actually had time to think abt this for a few nights. i added a bit of plot to this because i love me some backstory & descriptions. but anyway i made this pretty lengthy so if u wanna skip to the smut part just look for the '💋'. here is your plotty smut! lmk your thoughts ₊˚⊹♡

warnings: smut 18+, PinV, unprotected sex, oral/face fucking (male receiving), slight bondage, fingering, ass slapping, hair pulling, orgasm denial, degradation (use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’), language, mentions of blood and injury, angsty angsty angst!, reader is a mother, overall Rick is very rough so you have been warned

wc: 6k

MDNI

It was training day at your post. You had recently graduated from consignee and signed up to become a CRM soldier. It took you six whole years to get to this point. While your agility and militia knowledge were already unprecedented, the CRM didn't fuck around when it came to producing the world's most unrivalled soldiers. It was serious business.

Nearly eight years ago, you trekked a long journey down from your small community in southern New Jersey. You lost everything: your husband, your friends, and the people you lived with and grew stronger with through the grisly and dilapidated post-apocalyptic world. Terrible people – which were apparently becoming more and more common – destroyed your community, leaving very few survivors. It was you and your newborn child who managed to escape safely; you weren't able to go back to see if others had made it out. For almost two years you were alone, and your only hope left was keeping your baby boy alive...

Fast forward two years after the traumatic fallout you managed to escape, you discovered, or rather you were found by, a giant military in Pennsylvania, called the CRM. A military that bordered and protected a whole city of people – 200,000 of them. Out of desperation and maternal instinct, you bargained with the militia in hopes to give your two-year-old son a stable future. The CRM agreed to place your son in a 'nurturing fostering service' within the safe confines of the protected city – known as the Civic Republic of Philadelphia – so long as you swore to abide by the military's code and regulations by becoming a consignee.

Of course you agreed, because you were nonetheless terrified of what would happen to your baby boy if you didn't play it safe with this strong force. But for a while you lost it, you couldn't bear not seeing your child – they took him from you. You became defensive of your child, throwing yourself into dilemmas with whoever refused to listen to you. Except no one ever took notice of an angry and hurt mother because the CRM showed little mercy about their policies. And no matter how much force you put into finding hope about getting to your son, you'd always end up falling right back where you left off.

Soon enough you learned from acquiring an acquaintance that not only did the CRM take the only family you had left away from you, they were the ones responsible for destroying your home in the first place.

But now, six years later, you were predisposed to fight whoever and whatever got in your way in order to see your son again. You were a force to be reckoned with.

"No, you're doing it wrong. You gotta follow through, like this—" your sweaty hand maneuvered the heavy spear, sending it soaring through the air at high speed and finally piercing the bullseye of the target. You turned to the soldier beside you, who, to say the least, looked perplexed.

"What?" You huffed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of your face. "Ya give up? Need a break?"

"’Ey! Rogers, I'mma need ya to head back inside. We're gonna start sizing you all up for your new gear."

A brooding and strict man, Sergeant Major Rick Grimes, commanded the young man beside you. "Uh, yes sir," he saluted, then jogged toward the dome-shaped building.

Rick Grimes used to be a consignee like you were, and you even heard stories where he tried escaping at least four times. No one ever fled, or even attempted to, without failing. Escaping the hellhole was like trying to fit your right shoe on your left foot, it was entirely fruitless. But you heard all the stories about Rick, and how he got to become a leader. After the death of Lieutenant Colonel Donald Okafor, Rick was trained to replace his position by virtue of General Beale taking note of his loyalty to the military. Now, Rick was scaling further up the ranks. He was Sergeant Major, and in charge of the post you currently resided in.

You looked up to him, though, not because he was your leader, but because he understood you. He recognized how it felt to have your family ripped from your hands and not be able to do anything about it. You were able to bond with him. Most nights he would invite you to his apartment and the two of you'd spill your guts to one another over a glass or two of bourbon. That is how he got to know you, and see through your clouded demeanor that you kept in check. You were fierce and obstinate, because the place you were trapped in forced you to be that way, and truthfully Rick admired that about you. He was never able to relate with someone as well as he did with you.

Feedback echoed from Rick's receiver and he lifted it to his masked face, stating his position and whatnot. You crossed your arms, waiting for him to give you an order. "Well?"

He turned his attention to you, finally. "We need to talk." His one good hand snagged a hold of your arm and guided you toward a smaller brick-designed building, which you recognized to be the building that housed the high ranking officials like Rick himself.

"What do we need to talk about? And why is Rogers getting his gear but I'm not?" You struggled against his grip, a decision that ended with futility as his clutch tightened when you tried pulling away from him. You furrowed your brows and grunted in annoyance.

"Relax, sweetheart, you're not in trouble. Actually it's quite the opposite." Once again he faced you, stopping in his tracks as you both had reached the air-conditioned building. His grasp on your arm loosened and then reached for his matte black helmet detailed with red outlining. Your eyes darted across the room, taking in the essence of prestige and momentarily locking in on the various framed photos on the walls, which depicted a few recognizable CRM authoritative figures. One particular photo caught your attention, and you carefully examined it, discerning it to be Rick himself with a shiny black name plate decorating the bottom of the frame.

Your gaze finally diverted back to Rick, whose helmet popped off in a swift motion, freeing his slightly disheveled brown and gray curls, and his stern blue eyes – the spellbinding reflections to his enigmatic soul. And this man was undoubtedly a sight for sore eyes.

The silence was disrupted by the shuffling of Rick’s boots, his curt footsteps leading him across the room. He pulled out a chair from the corner and without any trouble picked it up with one hand and set it down across from a dark wooden desk. “Sit.” He motioned to the chair, and then found a seat in the larger, more cushioned chair adjacent to it. Without a peep you sauntered over to the wooden chair and sat, folding your hands on the desk in front of you.

“You gonna keep me on edge or are you gonna tell me why I’m here and not at training and getting my gear?”

His serious eyes bored into yours now, hinting that he wasn’t in the mood for your cynicism. “I brought you in here to tell you that you’re going to become Colonel under my order.”

You scoffed comically and dropped your hands to your sides, gripping the chair with force. “That’s ridiculous. Me – Colonel? Why?”

Rick’s focus never left your unserious face – one that was twisted with amusement. With a slight tilt of his head, he spoke, “Because you’re one of the best fighters and you’re fit to start leading, I know it. And I trust you, so does Major General Beale. We both expect your habitual commitment from now on.”

While you were still preoccupied with processing this information, Rick reached into one of his sleeve pockets and pulled out a silver badge, decorated with ‘Col.’ followed by your full name. He slid it across the desk toward you and you scrutinized it before giving him a look of disapproval and sliding the badge back to him. You shook your head in defiance.

“No thanks.”

He frowned and once again his frigid stare taunted you, something you’d undoubtedly gotten used to very much over the past few years that you'd known him. He leaned forward and for a second you could feel the steam emitting from his nose as he exhaled, eyes scanning your face for any signs of possible sarcasm. You were dead serious now, though.

“This isn’t an offer you can refuse. It’s an order,” the sergeant commanded, grabbing the badge reiteratively and this time placing it firmly into your hand. “So take it, and don’t lose it.”

You remained perched in your spot, not stirring any muscle, just studying his face with the badge dancing across your fingertips. Rick was not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Now do as I say, and meet me in that meeting room over there, in 10 minutes.”

You snarled and swiftly rose, shoving the badge into your zipper pocket. Without even giving Rick another look you booked it out the door full tilt.

All throughout meeting with Grimes and Command Sergeant Major Thorne and overlooking your shared brigade of soldiers, your mind couldn’t escape the worry you had about your son, and how you were going to escape and find him. Your mind raced as you tried to recollect what the map of your base looked like, so that you could pinpoint which weak spots there were around the perimeter.

You recall a little while back which security took which shifts at each area of the southwest perimeter where your complex was, but it wasn’t all that simple since sometimes they’d switch shifts around. However, security officers periodically switched their attention to different areas at a time out along the walls, so you could use that as leverage to sneak your way around and cut a hole in one of the fences–

Nah. That would be too obvious, and dangerously stupid. You needed to really think this through – come up with a strategic plan. So that’s what you were prepared to do after your first night of training as Colonel.

Sweaty and disheveled, you entered your sleeping quarters and kicked the door shut, immediately peeling off your bulky armor and tossing your heavy combat boots across the floor. With a satisfactory sigh, you trotted over to the shower and flipped the handle all the way to the left – you needed a steamy shower to filter out all the stress your body had been loaded with that day. Not only that, the steam would help you think, and you needed your head clear if you were going to figure out how to leave successfully that night.

If you were going to escape – if. You needed to keep that thought in mind, because it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a piece of cake.

Frantically you shoved a handful of essentials into a black backpack – a lighter, duct tape, a pocket knife, flashlight, and a small glock you 'borrowed' from your trip with rick to the armory earlier. After zipping up the bag you threw on your combat boots and your gloves. You checked your watch for the time; 11:48 it read. The moon was scintillating in the sky and beaming with conviction. You took one last glimpse around the room to check if you had forgotten any extra tools or gadgets, and before you confirmed that you were ready to head out, you spotted something on the rusty gunmetal colored nightstand.

Inquisitively you wandered over to the table and examined a small, white folded paper. You unfolded it and inside it read, in urgent script:

“Meet me at my place at 11:30 tonight. Need to talk again.

-R.G.”

Too late now. Not happening. Besides, you were sure it was another booty call because for one, on busy task days like tonight, Rick often had a knack for ‘letting off steam,’ which meant fucking your brains out. Sorry, Rick, but my child is more important to me than easing your sexual frustration. And two, it was already reaching midnight…why else would he want to “talk” to you so late at night? Rick was just too obvious.

Speaking of Rick…

The man who shared his bourbon with you for the first time two years ago. That very night he had spilled to you CRM’s legacy and the nightmares behind it. The two of you bonded over your mutual grievance toward the antagonizing militia. Rick spurred hope in you finally leaving and finding your son; if anyone could help you escape it was him. But he changed – his interest in leaving the CRM no longer seemed to exist. After all, he was already climbing his way up the military rank. He was gaining power and respect, and that seemed to be more crucial to him then getting back to his own children.

So, screw him. He had his chance to leave with you, and it already passed – because now you were tiptoeing out your apartment and being welcomed into the darkness of the night.

You were cautious of your surroundings, turning a few corners and eluding one or two officers. You noticed the southwest wall, which didn't look impossible to climb. You discovered a hefty pile of broken shipment container parts – bingo. And that's what you used to climb the wall. unfortunately your endeavor led to you stumbling and hitting both your knee and your arm against the metal object, then landing with your hands scraping against the unforgiving concrete. Fuck. What an idiot you were. Surely someone within about twenty feet of you heard you basically eat shit.

Gritting your teeth and whimpering from the twinge that shot through your knees and hands, you managed to put every fiber of your being to use and push yourself off the ground, only to end up on your ass with a humph. You winced as you peeked at your hands, using the flashlight from your bag to examine how badly cut they were. Blood leaked from multiple crevices in your palms, and you didn’t even bother paying much mind to your bruised knee or elbows because there was no time to dawdle.

“Shit. You need to get up now!” You scolded yourself, but as you tried standing up completely, your knees buckled. Well, at least behind this building it was dark enough for no one to see you, unless they heard you already…

Your alert ears picked up the sound of shoes marching upon the solid ground, and you cursed to yourself; someone was coming, but there was nothing you could do because they had already heard you most likely. “Just play dead, or pretend you passed out!”

You heard your name being called out from somewhere behind you.

The pace of your heartbeat quickened drastically, causing your head to spin toward the voice. Well, shit. It was Rick Grimes himself. This time his helmet wasn’t on and he seemed to have abandoned his uniform. He was instead dressed in jeans and that black tee that always hugged his muscles so perfectly–

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice boomed in your ears as he knelt down to your level, and you shivered.

You wheezed and resumed your pursuit of getting your ass off the wretched ground, to which you failed. Rick noticed the cuts and bruises decorating your injured body and his face softened. He sighed, gathering your belongings, and then in one swift motion he lifted you up off your feet, holding you bridal-style. You bit your lip to stop the tears forming in your eyes; your plan backfired, you got caught, and now everything was out of your control. You felt so stupid and useless.

Rick shifted around with you in his arms, taking one last glance at your injured figure. “Oh, honey. Let’s get ya cleaned up now.”

He had carried you all the way to his room without any hindrances, and the whole time you honestly thought about kicking out of his tight grasp, nailing him where the sun doesn't shine, and booking it out of there. But the way his strong arms cradled you made you melt into him.

Rick lay you onto his large – well, larger than your own – neatly made bed and pulled your shoes and socks off. Before he could reach your pant zipper to pull them down and examine your knee, you slapped his hand away, scowling at him.

“I can do it,” you promised, although of course your trembling hands reaching for the zipper illustrated a paradoxical story.

Not to mention, the stained blood and soreness reminded you that you needed to ease up on any further use of them. It felt like carpal tunnel. Damn, that concrete did some numbers on you. Your exasperated grunts caught Rick’s attention and he ignored your misleading comment, zipping your pants down and peeling them off himself. The look you gave him could have been detected as either annoyed or demoralized. Either way, your body was weary and your mind still raced with unrelenting thoughts.

Rick brought back a wet cloth and a first aid kit he kept under his sink. Gingerly, he brushed the cloth over your battered hands and then bandaged them up. You let out a few pained huffs while he went to work on your scraped hands and busted knee with his doctor abilities. When finished, his eyes scanned your body, being certain he didn’t miss any other wounds or minor cuts.

You, however, were busy ogling him; his beautifully sculpted figure that was outlined by the black t-shirt he wore, and the scruff that layered his defined jaw, and the way his pink lips pursed as his rough hand prodded your exposed flesh – it sent you into a trance.

He adjusted his gaze back to your face, and you snapped out of your trance promptly, painting that stern cast back on your expressive face. You recalled why you were irritated with him in the first place – he prevented you from escaping.

“Y’alright now? Gonna tell me why you were scurrying around past midnight with this bag on you?”

Your hard stare didn’t falter. He tsked at you and grabbed the backpack off the ground, unzipping it, and dumping its contents onto the bed. When he recognized the gun to be one from the armory, it was his turn to scowl at you.

“You better start talking before I get angry, sweetheart.” His body flexed as he folded his arms across his chest, eyes cornering you and making you feel small.

“I was–” you cleared your throat and sat up with your hands on your bare thighs, “I was going to escape, Rick. I… I need to see him…”

Rick lowered his head to the floor in disappointment, rubbing the bridge of his nose while his other arm rested on his hip. He paced the room. “You knew this was going to happen. We even planned it together, for fuck’s sake!” You pleaded with him, emotion spilling from your lips. You stared at his back, watching the way his muscles tensed. “I have a child I haven’t seen in years and I–”

“Yeah, so do I!” He interrupted, “But that life is over, there is no more escape plan pipe dream. Don’t you get it?!”

His pacing ceased, and he waited for your focus to meet him. When it did, he inched toward you daringly, almost wanting you to test his patience.

“I got you that ranking because I trusted you and expected you to be cooperative with me in this mission. I was planning on trying to convince Beale to let you visit your boy but that won’t be for a while. I need your trust in this,” Rick’s footsteps approached the bed, his towering figure intimidating you. “Do you understand? Look at me—” his rough hand pinched the sides of your chin to tilt your head up at him.

Your lips cracked open to speak but truthfully nothing could be said in that moment. The tension in the air was heavy and laced with despondency. You choked trying to enunciate words as you felt your shoulders drop, and your heart chugging on. Soon you gathered yourself from breaking down in front of him, masking the persistent commotion going on inside the walls of your skull, and the unabated sense of dread pouring over your body. You nodded your head in compliance and Rick released your chin.

This was a confirmation that Rick was never going to let you get away. And if he did end up finding a way for you to see your boy, living under an unlawful and controlling military organization was not something you stood for. With or without Rick, you needed to escape with your son, using any proper chance that swung your way. But if it was going to be without Rick, you needed to be secretive.

You batted your eyes at him, aiming to give him a reason to believe that you were officially yielding to him. The way you looked under him, all battered and desperate, made a spark ignite in his brain. You belonged in this position – underneath him, following his lead, and obeying his orders. He was going to need to show you how insistent he really was.

Your attention remained undivided. Rick stepped backwards a foot and took in the sight of you – your whole body and the way your thighs begged to be kissed and touched.

“I’m assuming you saw the note I left you, right?” His tone dripping with vehemence and his southern drawl rasping, relaying a yearning to your eager core, which you attempted to ease by clenching your thighs. He certainly did not miss that.

“So you were planning on not only ignoring my note, but being reckless and trying to leave this post and then, what? Risk getting caught and dying and never getting to see your son ever? You need to get your head on right, and I’m telling you this from experience, because it’s never going to work out the way you want it to, no matter how perfectly you think your plan will go.”

You gulped and studied your hands, which were thankfully stinging much less. You fiddled with the bandage, until Rick demanded your attention with his authoritative tone.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you to cooperate with me. Keep that in mind,” he warned.

Your front teeth bit into your pouty bottom lip as you struggled to make yourself look uncritical of his “plan.” Rick’s eyes targeted your every move as you, this time successfully, propped yourself up and off the bed, bending down to grab your pants which were sprawled out next to your feet.

💋

“What were you gonna talk to me about, y’know….if I ended up showing up earlier?” You flipped the pant legs so that they were no longer inside out.

“I was gonna do this—” Your heart quickened as he neared you rapidly, his arms finding themselves exploring your body and causing goosebumps to multiply across your vulnerable skin. He dexterously greeted his lips to yours, catching you by surprise. The man was quick with it.

You melted into the kiss while his hands continued to trace your curves, eliciting longing whimpers from your throat. You craved his touch.

Breaking away from the kiss, the Sergeant gave you no time to protest, spinning you around so that your back was facing him. Taking your jaw prisoner in the tight clutch of his hand, his hot breath fanned against your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck come alive. “Originally I was going to fuck you gently, make you relax from your big day—” His hand slid to the middle of your back and he forcefully bent you over on the bed, scoring a small grunt from you. He took your pulled back hair into his hand and with a tantalizing tug of it, he pushed his clothed hips against your bare ass. “But now I’m not gonna be so easy on you, because you decided to go and put yourself in danger. Well, I’m gonna have to punish you instead of reporting you, hm? For your own sake…”

Your heat practically leaked through your panties and down the inner part of your thighs. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you loved when he was rough with you. It stirred you up with the perfect concoction of salaciousness and angst.

Still, your alacrity temporarily repressed your aroused state and you barked back at him, “All I want is to see my son…you have no goddamn right to take that from me, Rick,” you cried, with your trembling hands supporting your upper body as he gripped your hips.

Rick delivered a firm slap to your ass cheek, then promptly straightened you up and turned you around to meet his sifting stare. You gulped, feeling submissive under his touch. You watched the way he contorted his face in vexation and you abruptly felt overpowered by him.

“In case you’ve forgotten you are under my command, and if you disobey me I have every right to correct you where I see fit,” he eyed your pout, huffing, “and I fucking told you already – you have to be patient, it’s gonna take a while.”

The hope you had was dwindling slowly, even though you really wanted to trust him. It almost felt like putting your full trust in him was equivalent to playing with fire. You couldn’t tell the difference between the two anymore. But ultimately Rick was right, you were under his command and the very least you could do at this moment was take his word.

His leer intensified. “Get on your knees.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and felt the command jolt through your body with a cogent nudge. You conformed to his request and scrunched your face in slight discomfort from your bruised knee making contact with the floor, but it was still tolerable. With urgency he unbuckled his belt and wasted no time in freeing his thick, throbbing length. The sight of his cock was not something foreign, as you’d slept with him many times; but the way he was so much more ambitious in getting his cock inside your mouth and feeling you gag around him, made you squirm.

The restless man bucked his hips forward, enjoying the way your soft pouty lips hugged his shaft so magnificently. You moaned softly, the vibration inciting a groan from Rick as he grabbed at your hair. “Gotta do more than tha’. I know you know how to be a good slut f’me.”

You took his whole length in your throat, feeling spit drip down your chin as you choked. You started to bob your head back and forth, becoming accustomed to the size of his dick and how it collided with the back of your throat incessantly. He took it upon himself to grasp your head and guide you up and down as his hips pushed against your needy mouth. Your tongue traced the veins that protruded across his length, as your head quickened its pace. His grunts echoed in your ears and you prepared for his sweet release when you apperceived the twitch of his cock against your tongue.

“Fuck, yes…good slut,” Rick sung out as he thrusted thrice more, shooting his thick warm seed down your throat and riding out the remainder of his orgasm. He pulled out and stared intently at your lips licking up the remnants of his juices while panting. His hand patted your head in approval.

“You think you deserve to cum tonight?” He taunted, his hold on your hair taut.

You didn’t respond, but instead observed the way his muscles flexed when he lifted his shirt off his back, and how he flattened his hair back with the palm of his hand. You were getting wetter by the second, shifting your thighs in anticipation.

You stood up, tracing your hand over his bicep and fluttering your lashes at him enticingly. He smirked, recognizing that look to be your calling for him to fuck your brains out. Your hands reached down to lift your own shirt off, but he swatted them away in protest, throwing the shirt across the room hastily. All you desired was for him to make love to you, to comfort you and promise you that everything was going to work out, and frankly your sore muscles from training could use as much appreciation as they could obtain. But love-making wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.

Rick flopped you onto the bed, and effortlessly your panties were torn off and thrown next to your shirt. He kneaded your tits with his hand then bent over top of you to hungrily kiss your lips. Your fidgety hands stretched up to tussle through his hair but he broke from the kiss to pin both your hands above your head, rousing a dissatisfied whimper from you. The carnal man bent down diligently to grab his belt and release your hands for a moment, before grabbing your wrists and securing the belt around them.

Bondage wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar to you but you had never expected Rick to ever want to partake in it with you. Nonetheless, your core ached further for his touch. His hand went back to pinching your sensitive nipples, while keeping his ferocious eyes locked onto yours, and lowering his head down to your throbbing heat. The lewd mewls escaping your parted lips sent Rick into a frenzy. You bucked your hips up in an attempt to get him to do something, to give your desperate parts the treatment you longed for, except he just remained concentrated on the way you jerked and crumbled beneath him – he wasn’t even touching you anymore, and yet he had you folding already. How pathetic you looked.

“Rick, please do something!” Your pleas left him unphased. The only thought in his mind at that moment was how rough he was eventually going to fuck you.

Finally, his finger swiped up your soaking folds and came into contact with your swollen clit, giving it a soft pinch, stimulating a ribald whimper from you and inducing your back to arch off the bed. “What d’you want, sweetheart?” His husky tone intimidated you.

“Need you, please. ‘M lonely,” You sniffed, overworked from all the teasing. He cooed in a mocking manner, and with two fingers he plunged into you, sending you into the clouds.

“This sweet pussy needs attention, dun’it?” He curled his fingers upward, activating that sweet spot inside your squelching sex. With his thumb he circled around your sensitive bud, accelerating the speed of his thick fingers inside your tight, wet hole. Bliss clouded over you, and your head lulled to the side.

Rick hissed, dissenting your lack of eye contact. He yanked his fingers out all the way, giving a slight tap to your voracious cunt.

“Nuh-uh, eyes on me.” The glazed-over look you gave him was enough for him to give in and slide his digits back into your heat, this time being merciless by the way he finger fucked you with racking momentum.

Your walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers, legs syncing with the rhythm of your swirling hips. Rick sensed your orgasm approaching – he ascertained that you didn't get to reach its peak by ceasing his thumb's labor and plucking his drenched digits out of your weeping center.

Your sensual clamors didn't go unnoticed; instead he hushed you, and bringing his mouth near your ear he rasped, "I decided that you don't get to cum yet. Not till I feel like it."

Rick really loved tossing you around, especially tonight. He arose, untying the belt around your wrists – almost as if he was showing mercy, but that thought was surpassed as he effortlessly flipped you around so your bandaged hands were gripping desperately onto the sheets, as if that'd prevent you from losing your grip on reality from what was about to go down.

Your begging hole cried for his further attention, causing you to become more agitated by the second. That is, until you felt his hard cock slap against your ass cheek, and his hips striking the back of your shaking thighs. The grumpy commander pressed his leather-sling gloved fist slightly against your upper neck, just enough pressure to ensure you stayed where he wanted you. You didn't plan on leaving, though – not until he fucked you to your heart's content.

He could take a picture right now, the way your ass pushed against his solid member so hysterically, as if your pussy lived to be stuffed by his cock. In that moment, it did. Rick grabbed his cock and lined it up with your welcoming entrance, collecting the condensation on his tip.

"God, just fuck me–"

One rigid thrust was all it took for you to fully engulf him. Your eyes rolled to the ceiling, stars eclipsing your vision while his thrust followed another one, this time much deeper.

Your whines bounced off the pale room's walls, alerting Rick, who hushed you with a growl, "Shutch'er mouth, the whole building's gonna hear ya."

A third thrust ensued, with the sound of his pelvic bone smacking against your backside and the echoing of your sodden cunt being governed by his greedy shaft. The wet squishy insides of your walls hugged Rick so magnetically, he almost gave in right there.

His pace picked up with each ram of his hips, and his assault to your clit. Your grip on the sheets tightened, bandages likely slipping off but that wasn't a concern. Shy whimpers were trapped inside your mouth as you gave it your all at keeping your lewd blubbers and cusses at bay. Your soft, muffled cries continued as he pounded into you strenuously and tirelessly.

"You're not gonna try to leave again, not ever." The thumping of his hips on your ass and him fucking you into the mattress was all too much for your brain. "I won't fucking let you."

You felt fuzzy. The dauntless rebel attitude you once had vanished, and now your were a blubbering hot mess under a relentless leader. His bulging biceps flexed as his leather arm continued pushing on your neck, the other hand groping your hip and then going back to flicking your clit as his cock rutted into your core. He fit you like a puzzle piece.

Your walls were pulsating and you sensed your climax approaching quickly. "Oh, fuck, Rick!"

"Don't you even think about it. So help me god, if you do..."

Rick's demands only filled you closer to the brim with pleasure, and you weren't assured how much longer you could hold it. His thrusts became sloppier and sloppier, indicating that he was probably close too.

"Mmmph–" You focused on grasping desperately at the sheets again, trying to fixate on the way the soft fabric felt against your hands and your face which was pushed into the bed.

Rick groaned out, whispering filthy affirmations as his pounding became more jagged and his grunts more urgent. "Wanna fill ya up, but you don'need another baby, not yet."

One last press against your clit and the band finally snapped, your juices releasing all over his cock, and his orgasm causing him to grasp your hips roughly as he used your dripping hole to help him ride out his own orgasm. He pulled out, releasing onto your back with a few strokes of his slippery member.

The bottom half of your body gave in finally, collapsing and being suffocated by the plush mattress. Your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. He truly fucked the energy out of you.

"You gonna try that shit again with me?"

With half-lidded eyes you simpered and muttered, "Not without you."

248 notes · View notes