#but he turned out p scuffed

[dahldahlbills]

Doodle request: ITACHI! <3

i miss him

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Chocolate Princess ♡

Willy Wonka x reader

Description - Y/n Ficklegruber can't help but become enamoured with the spectacularly peculiar man stood in the middle of the galleria.

Word count - 1.6k

warnings - fluff ♡

a/n: Watched Wonka today with my sister and my little cousins and honestly have never smiled so much during a film. Every bit of it was just pure wondourous imagination. And Timothee as Wonka was just too scrumptious! Who couldn't love him!

Masterlist

PART TWO

--♡--

I began everyday as I always did. Being ungraciously tumbled out of my pink satin sheets, poked and prodded by our various servants, squeezed into the most painstakingly prissy pink gingham dress (with a matching bow for extra faff), and hauled into my fathers car to join him on his way to work.

You see, I am the sole child of famed chocolatier Felix Ficklegruber. Since I had completed my mandatory years of studies, my days consisted of lounging about my fathers office in complete boredom. My mind practically weakened with the mundane repetitiveness of it all, and I knew it would surely combust if it was not stimulated soon. For 2 years now, I had been begging my father to allow me to study at the prestigious university at the edge of town. But each plea had been met with a scoff, an eyebrow raise and sharp “no”. Even the library was off limits.

I paced around his office, deliberately scuffing my mary janes against the carpet. I smirked at how each scrape made his face tick as if it was being flicked.

“Would you cease that infernal racket. I am trying to work, precious girl.”

“What work? All you do is sit up here eating your own chocolate.” I slumped down onto the disgustingly green couch.

“Please darling, you are giving me a headache, I must ring for my 8am mocha.” He picked up the telephone, clasping his fingers to his eyes.

I drummed my fingers against my dress and clicked my heels together. “You know,” I trailed off. “I wouldn’t be here to bother you at all if…I was at the library.”

The phone was slammed back onto the receiver which made me flinch. He rose from the desk and stalked his way towards me.

“No daughter of mine will be caught in some stuffy book prison-”

“That’s not entirely correct..”

“--That are refuge for the ugly, the untalented and the p–” He dry heaved. I winced at the possibility of another spew. “The p-” I lunged for a bowl as he spluttered.

“I know what you are going to say so maybe we should avoid any bodily functions.” I picked up his monogrammed hanky and wet it from my glass of water. I dabbed the cool liquid against his mouth. His eyes softened at my action and his hand softly clasped around my wrist.

“Sweetheart, you live in complete luxury. Have treasures other children couldn’t even dream of. Why can’t you just stay.” My gaze fell. His hands held my shoulders to turn me around and led me towards the towering window which overlooked the galleria. “Besides, one day you will inherit my pride and joy, my fortune, the very thing that ignites my soul, my–”

“Who’s that?” I interrupted, and pointed my finger to a beautifully disheveled man who had risen atop his suitcase in order to address the crowd. I quirked a smile and took in the strange man, who was truly more a boy, and his frightfully exciting appearance.

The thickness of the window meant I couldn’t hear what the boy was saying but his movements and expressions delighted me to no end. I giggled as he began to flap, mimicking a butterfly. I gasped as he produced from his shallow hat, a large jar of what appeared to be chocolate eggs. But once he took the top off, I shrieked in delight, as each little egg floated up as if carried by wings.

I felt my father stiffen before he shoved me away from the window.

“Now, now sweetheart. Do not bother looking at this man any longer. Clearly another hopeful vagrant but do not worry.” He lifted my chin with his pinky. “We shall deal with him right now.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly who was ‘we’.

--♡--

Once the three had left their respective stores, I snuck out of our own and managed to squeeze my way through the crowd so I was left behind my father and my, and I regret to say it, godfathers.

They each took a bite of the treats offered by the mysterious man who beamed at them with awe filled eyes.

Even from my limited view I could see the flickers of enjoyment cross each of their eyes as they questioned the different ingredients. But my gazing was caught by the top hatted man. His smile grew even brighter as our eyes met. I felt unsure in the presence of a man such as him and all my normal instincts failed. So I settled on a little wave. He offered a small wave back.

“--100%, the absolute WORST!”

The man jumped out of his skin in glee, mishearing Slugworth because of his focus on me.

“Did you hear that ladies and gentlemen, an endorsement by–wait did you say the worst?”

Anger bubbling in my blood, I finally made my presence known.

“You lie, Arthur. I saw your face! You haven’t enjoyed a treat that much since daddy figured out how to make marshmallow flavored chocolate milk.”

There were murmurs amongst the three in agreement and fond memory of that chocolate milk. But they snapped back and I was held firmly by my father who apologized to Slugworth for my rude behavior. A cane was held down on the hand that gripped me. I looked up and met the sweet face of its owner.

“I am terribly sorry.” With a practiced flick I was released. I looped my hand around my saviours available arm. He led me backwards in comical cautiousness. “But I don’t think she’d like to be held for what comes next.”

Suddenly, the three men began to lift into the air.

“The hoverbugs from mumbai! They love chocolate! You must have put their eggs in the treat!” I exclaimed excitedly, whilst watching the hilarious display.

“Exactly.” In my glee, I hadn’t noticed the adoring look which the chocolatier had fixed on the side of my head.

The fun was interrupted by the chief of police. I rolled my eyes. Slugworth must have phoned.

“Now Ms Ficklegruber if you’d kindly step away from the criminal.” The chief of police gestured and I was led away as they interrogated the man whose name I still didn’t know. I looked on sadly as he was forced to give up his earnings. I shoved off the policemen’s arms, I made my way back over to the man whose face was as solemn as how happy it had been just minutes before. The excitement around the galleria had dimmed as various floating consumers were returned to gravity.

“I am really sorry.” I gestured to the measly sovereign he was left with.

“Don’t be. It was a law and I broke it. These fine men were merely doing their job. But a new day shall bring new promise.” He soldiered on with a smile and once again patted his hat back upon his head. “At least I can make rent.” He flicked the sovereign up and caught it once again.

“Where are you staying?”

“Scrubbits.”

My face fell in sympathy. “You didn’t read the fine print?” I pitied the poor man and what was about to befall him. Scrubbits contract was a common warning amongst residents but as I truly took in the whimsical nature which surrounded this man, I knew he wasn't from here. And that made me smile. This place could use something new.

He sheepishly scratched the back of his head and lowered his eyeline.

“You can’t read?” I questioned but my tone couldn't help but soften.

“I always thought my mama would teach me, but eventually my pursuits became solely chocolate.” I reached out and grasped his arm. Stroking the velvet beneath my fingertips.

Before I even knew what they were, the words left my mouth. “I could teach you.”

He was surprised. “You would? But why?”

“You’re interesting.” I peered back to the shop which loomed behind me. “I need that.”

“Forgive me, I have not even introduced myself.” He took off his hat and leaned into a deep bow. “My name is Willy Wonka.”

I giggled but responded with a curtsy of my own. “Y/n Ficklegruber.”

At the mention of my last name he looked towards the ceiling where my father still hung, gesturing feebly. “Wow. You really have chocolate in your blood. No wonder you’re so sweet.” Both our eyes widened when we realized what he said. A blush spread across my heated cheeks and meeting Willy’s eyes suddenly became impossible.

“Y/N GET AWAY FROM THAT CANDY GRABBING SCOUNDREL!” My fathers voice beat down from the ceiling where he had been watching my entire interaction with Wonka.

“Meet me at the fountain, tonight, 10pm sharp. Daddy will be in a sugar crash by then. It’ll be easy to sneak out.”

Before I could rush off to avoid my father once his feet returned to earth, Willy halted my movements and placed his empty palm out in front of me.

“Before you go, I want to give you something. You shouldn’t have anything I make in bulk. You deserve something a little more…” He placed a cloth over his palm and ripped it off revealing a deep red chocolate heart decorated with tiny flakes of gold. “Bespoke.”

I placed the treat in my mouth and audibly moaned at the taste. This man was a true genius. My father is going to be so mad. I could jump for joy.

“Till tonight, Mr Wonka.”

“Please, call me Willy.” I leaned up and delicately kissed his cheek in a way of goodbye.

--♡--

That night after discovering the true horror of what being a “guest” of Scrubbits included, Willy begged and pleaded with his newest friend, Noodle, to help him sneak out for the night because, in his words, he’d seen…

“The most beautiful girl to ever exist and if I don’t get to see her again tonight, my heart might just burst out of my chest!”

--♡--

[ikinremu]

I don’t know if your still doing story rqs or not but I would love a possessive!tommy shelby x innocent!reader.

idea: thomas saw a guy flirting with reader but was to innocent to know it, or notice it—reader does know about sex and other shit, just didn’t really understand it.

Hi anon! Tysm for requesting, hope you enjoy! Also, just to let everyone know that if you have requested, I will be working on it I’m just working through a lot of requests atm so bear with me!! <3

My Property

Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

Tags: Innocence, Virgin!reader, Fingering, Unprotected sex, P in V, Multiple orgasms, Praise, Possessive/jealousy, Praise, Cream Pie

"What can I getcha, miss?" Came the low, hoarse voice of the bartender, burnt cigarette faltering in his mouth.

"An Old Fashioned, please." You smiled politely, shuffling a little atop the rickety old stood, resting your hands upon the bar's scuffed surface.

The man returned the smile, accompanied by a nod of understanding. His gaze seemed to linger on your face for a moment, fingers swiping the cigarette from between his lips. His eyes never once faltered from your own as his mouth puffed out a cloud of foggy smoke, and he stubbed it out on a nearby ashtray accordingly.

"Rough day?" He inquired, the broad span of his back facing you as he reached over the bar's vast array of contents, seizing whichever components he needed.

"Not particularly, no." You smiled.

"Just figured somethin' had to bring a beautiful woman like you 'ere." He spun to face you once more, laying all intent to the way he studied your expression. He leant forward quite the distance, pouring out your requested drink, gaze never leaving yours.

His words caught you rather off guard, making you stumble over your own slightly, "Oh- um, just fancied a drink, I suppose."

At that, he slid the glass into your open hands, "Here you are."

"Thank you." You gave a honey-like smile, raising the glass to your lips.

As you did so, the man turned once more, slotting the previously retrieved bottles back into their correct places. Glass clinked together, and one particularly large bottle slipped from the shelf, just barely saved from smashing by his splayed hands.

He let out an exhale of relief as he seized the bottle, assuring it remained firmly in place this time.

"That's not like me." He chuckled to himself, pivoting back round in your direction, "I'm usually good with my hands."

He followed the sentence with an obnoxiously bold wink, which you unknowingly ignored, allowing it to fly right by.

There was a moment of drawn out silence as you nodded politely in response, "Well I'd hope so in a job like this."

His brows creased ever so slightly, and he cleared his throat once more.

"Guess I must've been.. distracted." He accentuated the very last word, wetting his lips. You felt his eyes roam over your entirety, lingering over your chest specifically.

With a small nod, you indulged in another sip from your drink, brows furrowed slightly. You could feel his gaze trained upon your mouth as your lips met the top of the glass.

It only then became apparent that you ought to return to your table - you'd become entirely too caught up with polite conversation.

"I best get back." You smiled, hand cupping your beverage as you shuffled atop your barstool. 

His disappointment was blatant, "Leavin' so soon?"

Your gaze spun back to the table you'd been at until only recently. John and Arthur were cackling about God knows what, and Tommy sat beside, smirking, although it appeared he was a little more focused on yourself than the accompaniment of his chortling brothers.

"Ah, I see." He observed, voice a low rumble as your swivelled back toward him, "They seem like they're coping." He chuckled, "Maybe I can convince you to ditch them for the night, hm?"

"No need for that." Tommy's voice cut through like a blade from behind you, making you jump out of your skin for a brief moment. He stepped close beside you, the scrutiny of his stare channelled upon nothing but the bartender.

An obvious, frustrated exhale escaped the man, "I think the lady can make up her own mind, don't you?"

From the very corner of your eye, you observed the tight tick of his jaw.

"Listen, darlin, if you want a good time you know where to find me."  He bargained on.

Irritation painted Tommy's face - although you couldn't quite resolve the puzzle as to why he was so agitated by the man offering you company; he seemed nice enough.

He was practically glaring at the bartender by now, his eyes struggling to leave as he nodded in the loose direction away from the counter, signalling the pair of you should make your way back.

As you hopped off the rickety, wooden stool, your eyes travelled back and forth between the two men, "Uh, thank you for the company." You offered a sweet - more so polite - smile, followed shortly by yourself and Tommy heading back.

"I think we should leave." He spoke, monotone as ever, "Arthur and John will be fine."

It was as though he knew you'd ask of them.

It wasn't particularly late, however you didn't fancy bargaining and in all honesty, you had no problem with leaving early.

Tommy's hand planted suddenly upon the small of your back, guiding the pair of you to exit out into the cool evening air.

A chill whisked over your face as you walked, "I don't understand why you're so upset."

"I'm not upset." He exhaled as the both of you ambled into the familiar, locked door of the betting office.

"Well, judging by the way you're jamming that poor key into the lock, I'd say otherwise." You mumbled, stood uncomfortably beside him, watching as he forced the key over until the lock finally clicked, turning it and shoving the door open, "You looked like you wanted to throttle that bartender."

He let out a scoff,  raising a brow a little as he turned to face you specifically, shutting the door the very moment you strode inside.

"I thought he seemed nice.." You uttered, accompanied by a genuine sense of confusion, "Friendly."

Tommy's eyes flickered across your face, from feature to feature; practically drinking you in, "You weren't gonna entertain the bastard, were you?"

You simply furrowed a brow, "What do you mean?"

He wet his lips, another blatant sigh escaping him, "Clearly thinks he was in with a chance, I don't want you doin' something you'll come to regret, eh?"

Somehow, his words were rather sudden to your ears, and it was a secret to no one that you were confused.

"He was gonna use you to get off, we both know you deserve more than that, don't you?" He leaned in a little as the words floated from his lips, the heat of his breath caressing your skin.

Your breath caught in your throat, hitching at the utter proximity of it all, and his hand found your waist suddenly. You were stunned, losing a single, soft gasp upon the feeling of the possessive squeeze he offered.

"Tell me you want this." His mouth mumbled, a mere inch from your ear.

An ambush of butterflies fluttered through your stomach, and you just couldn't deny his words, "..I want this."

"That's right, my fuckin' girl." Tommy grumbled, snaking a callous hand beneath your skirt, sliding slowly up your thigh, "Mine to touch, eh?"

A shiver coursed down your spine; intoxicated by the way he looked at you with such possession. Greedily, his fingers splayed over your thigh, inching nearer and nearer to the place you were most sensitive.

Your teeth sunk into the pillow of your bottom lip as one single, gentle finger brushed over your silken underwear.

"Acting so innocent, but you're fucking soaked." Tommy chuckled, beginning to trace subtle circles around your clit through the material, "Needy, eh?"

The way his fingers moved felt unbelievable, like nothing you'd ever experienced before. It was entirely new, and you didn't want it to end.

As though reacting to the unfamiliar sensations, your back hollowed an arch from the door, drenched cunt pressing against the motions of his hand, drawing a chuckle from his lips.

"Feels good, hm?" He taunted, lips curving into a prideful smirk as his digits crept beneath your underwear, hooking the silk hand and tugging it aside quickly.

A loud, breathy sound left your mouth as his fingertips came in contact with your bare, sensitive pussy.

"You want more, love?" He raised a brow, aware and deliberate of the question he knew the answer to, the strain of his own arousal increasing as he watched the way your face twisted in pleasure.

You nodded, "Mhm."

Tommy trailed his touch down your soaked cunt, pulling yet another gasp from your lips as he slipped one finger between your folds. You cursed under your breath, unable to resist as he slid a single, skilful finger inside you.

He watched your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed and pouring heavy breaths. Your cunt twitched around him as he so slowly slipped another finger beside the first.

"That's it, fucking feel it, eh?" He whispered, voice low and raspy.

Easing in, Tommy began to move his grouped digits inside you, reaching a spot so sensitive it was made simply impossible to restrain your whine.

"Oh fuck.."

"Look at that sweet little cunt squeezing my fingers.." He breathed, "Mine."

Your arousal further soaked his hand as his fingers thrust at a tortuous pace, finally beginning to quicken, gaze focused solely on yours; the way in which you reacted.

The warm, though rough, pad of his thumb pressed itself to the swell of your clit, toying with the pressure as his digits moved faster, curling and pumping in and out in a way that had your chest heaving.

"Please.." You murmured. You weren't at all accustomed to this new feeling, rather like a knot building in your stomach.

"I know, love," Tommy encouraged, "You like the way my fingers fuck that tight little cunt, hm?" He smiled, only further fuelled by the sight of you losing composure at his touch, "Come for me."

His words snapped the tightly-wound knot in your stomach, and a wave of intense pleasure stormed  your entirety - no trace of mercy.

Tommy's hand didn't halt, maintaining his pace as you came undone, guiding you through the release.

Your thighs trembled desperately around him, the feeling dying down, an air of euphoria about you.

Slipping his fingers from the heat of your pussy, he pressed his forehead against your own, eyes flickering and locking onto yours. Finally, his mouth connected with yours, lips soft and warm - enticing your body to the feel of his as he deepened the kiss. His hands gripped at your waist, stumbling back without shattering the embrace, the pair of you shuffling into the centre of the betting office.

The kiss grew hungrier by the second, his tongue gliding between your lips, he assisted you in perching atop his - usefully - wellkept desk. His hand snaked a path between your weakened thighs, parting them.

As you moved your mouth desperately against his, you felt the movements of his dark, certainly costly trousers being unclasped, followed immediately by the sound of fabric crumpling. He tore back from the kiss, breathing ever so heavily as he wrapped his fist tightly around his cock, throbbing against his palm.

"Going to let me ruin that sweet fucking cunt, aren't you?" He grumbled, to which you gave a delicate nod.  "Ready?"

The subject of your gaze switched, roaming downward to the sight. Tommy's large, veiny hand grasping his erection. To say you couldn't quite process it would be a vast understatement.

"Yes." You nodded, fingertips digging firmly into the desk as he stood before you. He lined up the thick, pulsing head of his cock with your sopping entrance, one hand planted loosely to the small of your back.

With a low, hoarse sounding groan, he slid inside the warmth of your cunt. At a volume you hadn't yet reached, you gasped, adjusting to the feel of him inside you, a sharp moan rolling off your tongue.

"Fucking hell," He exhaled, "You feel incredible."

His cock twitched within you, your hands instinctively flying to the broad of his back for support. Tommy pulled his hips back, then forward, thrusting so very slowly into you as floods of soft whimpers fled your throat.

"You're mine, eh?" He groaned, controlling his hips at a divine pace, "And I take care of what belongs to me."

Clutching helplessly onto his waist-coat clad shoulders, your breaths grew shallower and far more frantic as he picked up the pace. The desk wavered beneath your bodies, suffering from the impact of the pair of you working with one and other.

"My property." He whispered, bare hips bucking hungrily against yours, as though a craving overcame him. "No one touches my property."

A shiver shot down your spine, pussy squeezing greedily at his length, his cock reaching perfectly deep.

"Fuck.." You practically heaved out, unable to prevent your whimpers as his tip struck repeatedly against your g-spot.

"That's it." Tommy praised, bright eyes rolling back for the span of one brief moment as he slammed his hips against yours, "You take my cock so well.."

Your cunt soaked his cock further as it stroked back and forth at a fulfilling pace, room swarmed with the sound of skin colliding and frantic breathing.

The thick, pulsing head of his cock struck repeatedly against your g-spot as his pace fell sloppier, clearly losing composure as you squeezed him.

"Fuck.." He grumbled, "So good."

Fingertips digging into his lower back, you felt Tommy tremor beneath your touch, his hips bucking with far less control. Once more, his fingers crept toward the heat of your pussy, pressing the perfect level of pressure to your clit.

A newly familiar sensation began to build in your stomach, bringing your teeth to bite down on your lower lip; overwhelmed by the combined feelings of Tommy’s thrusts working with his fingers to bring you closer to a second release.

“Shit,” He groaned, “Gonna fill up that sweet fuckin’ cunt, hm?”

“So good.. Please..” You practically babbled out, mouth falling open with a breathy moan.

Abruptly, the very same tidal wave of pleasure washed over your body, although far more intense this time. Your soaked, overstimulated cunt twitched around his deep, pulsing cock.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, jolting his hips at a divine pace as he fucked you through the release, feeling your nails push down against his waist-coat.

Eyelids fluttering over his eyes, Tommy slipped a raspy, broken groan. A spurt of warmth filled you suddenly, pooling within your drenched pussy as he breathed heavily. The pair of you struggled to catch your breath.

He stroked one warm, callous palm over your cheek ever so softly, though contrasted with possession, “Mine to ruin, eh?”

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! As I said, I’m working through a lot of requests so thank you for your patience if you’ve sent one in <3

[pupkashi]

“can i hug you? you look like you could do with it”

a/n: hi friends ! i hope u all enjoy this :] thank u for the request and sorry for taking so long :( i feel like this is slightly ooc for satoru but oh well :P

wordcount: 1,661

masterlist

you always watched gojo from a far, always a bit intimidated by the much taller sorcerer. he was carefree, always standing up to the higher ups in ways you’d only daydreamed of. he always spoke his mind, never once holding his tongue when it came to insulting those he disliked.

you’d always give him small smiles, telling him good morning and to have a good evening the times you had passed by him, not wanting to seem rude.

he would always say it back, continuing the conversation with you until you parted ways. he’d stand up for you during meetings, never allowing the higher ups to disrespect you. anytime he’d see your eyes widen a bit at the mention of a mission that seemed too difficult, he was quick to offer himself up in your place.

“don’t you geezers think i should take the mission on? y/n had something planned for the students anyway” he says, anger evident in his voice, but he’s shooting you a smile and a thumbs up as he speaks.

“fine, you can take this one gojo” one of the higher ups say, “y/n you’re free to leave.”

gojo watched you with a love struck look on his face. one you didn’t notice as you were too busy scurrying out of the room, trying your best to not get on the higher ups bad side.

after the third meeting of gojo taking on your missions you decided you should at least thank the man. you approached him shyly, giving him a small smile and saying hello, gojo smiled brightly at you, asking how you were.

the two of you clicked fairly quickly, eating lunch together when you could and making easy conversation. you’d listen to him gush about the first years and shit on the higher ups and he’s listen to you rant about your day and talk about the shows you were watching.

it’d only been a couple weeks since the two of you actually started to get to know each other, but you considered him a friend of yours, even if sometimes you did wish it was more than friendship.

you find yourself walking the empty halls on a thursday afternoon, the clocks ticking in the classrooms as you passed by them, heading towards your office to finish up some paperwork before the higher ups would get onto you for it. the setting sun causes golden rays to leak through the countless windows, shining on you as you continue down the halls.

there’s a cool breeze as you step outside, a sigh as you hold onto the papers in your hands a bit tighter, walking towards the garden area to cut through and get to your office a bit quicker.

a mess of snowy white hair catches your eye, making you slow your steps.

gojo satoru sat on one of the many benches, his elbows resting on top of his knees, chin in his hands. his uniform was a bit scuffed, you could only assume he’d gone out on a mission and only recently returned.

his eyes were covered by the familiar black blindfold, but there was a small frown on his lips. you debated not cutting through the garden today, leaving your new friend unbothered, but your body make the choice for you, already walking towards the strongest sorcerer with a small smile on your face.

“good afternoon gojo” you greeted, still a couple steps away when he turned to look at you, his entire demeanor changing to his usual cheery self.

“hey y/n! whatcha up to now?” his head titled a bit to the side, the mannerism reminding you of a puppy.

“just paperwork, how bout you?” you reply, sitting next to him on the bench, setting your papers down next to you, phone placed on top so they didn’t fly away.

“oh the usual,” he sighs, tilting his head back with a sigh, “thinking about my students, the future for the Jujutsu world and our place in the universe” he laughs dryly and you chuckle softly.

“but hey! there’s nothing gojo satoru can’t do” there’s a strained cheeriness to his tone, it’s makes your chest tighten. a tight smile paints his features, one that doesn’t even reach his eyes like it usually does. his shoulders are slumped and there’s no confident aura like there usually is.

now it’s your turn to frown, looking at him with gentle eyes before you’re speaking up, “can i hug you? you look like you could do with it” your face is burning and your heart is racing.

gojo is looking at you dumbfounded, did you really just ask him that? did someone tell you about his little crush on you?

“sorry! i didn’t mean to cross a line since we just-” you begin, your hands waving apologetically before you’re cut off with his arms around you.

the sudden contact renders you still for a second, then you’re snaking your arms around his neck, letting one of your hands find purchase on the back of his neck.

he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, you can hear a soft hiccup leave his mouth. you don’t mention it, you only squeeze him tighter to you, trying to hold him together, trying to show him you’re there for him.

“it’s okay” you whisper, “I’m right here for you.” your words seem to strike something in him, as his grip around you tightens, his arms are firm around your waist, his fingers gripping the fabric of your uniform, as if he was scared if he let go you’d disappear.

it’s only minutes later of your hushed reassurance that he’s loosening his grip on you, pulling away with a bashful smile on his face.

“if we weren’t friends before we certainly are now” you smile at him softly. the words elicit a chuckle from the sorcerer.

“who told you?” he asks suddenly, following your movements as you pick up the stack of papers next to you.

“told me what?” your brows are furrowed softly and he can’t help but think of how adorable you look.

“‘bout how i like you” he smiles, his confidence already back in full swing as he’s grinning down at you, loving the way you grew flustered at his words.

“what?! no! nobody told me anything!” you shriek, suddenly holding the papers tightly to your chest, heart pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears.

“huh, figured you would’ve noticed by now” he mumbled, “you didn’t think i was taking on all your difficult missions as a coincidence did ya?”

you’re speechless as you stare at the man infront of you, never once did the thought of the gojo satoru having feelings for you cross your mind.

“well- i mean i thought it was” you sputter out, “why would i think anything else” you laugh nervously, “i thought you were just being nice!”

satoru is just smiling at you, shaking his head and watching the way the gears turn in your head as you ramble on.

“- and so i didn’t want the entire world to just implode you know?” you look up at him, slightly out of breath and your eyes still a bit wide. “what?” you grin, taking in the way he’s looking at you, not exactly sure what he’s smiling about.

“so you do like me? or was that whole metaphor not really a metaphor and the future of the world is in the palm of your hands” his head is cocked to the side again, a cocky smile on his lips and you’re rolling your eyes.

“yeah” you breathe out, looking anywhere but him, trying to slow down your heart rate as you realize what you’ve just admitted and who you’d admitted it to.

satoru doesn’t care that your poor heart’s going a million miles an hour, he’s putting his hand under your chin and forcing you to look at him. he has a soft smile on his face, one that grows wider when he notices the way you squirm under his touch, flustered beyond belief.

“how about dinner tomorrow at 7? I’ll pick you up” there’s a reassuring calmness in his voice that makes you smile back at him, nodding and replying with an ‘okay.’

it’s quiet for a second between the two of you, but he’s quick to break the silence.

“thank you,” he clears his throat before elaborating, “for being here for me,” shifting in his seat as you look at him.

now it’s your turn to stare at him while his eyes are darting from plant to plant. you’re biting back a small smile as you reply, “course, I’ll always be here.”

satoru studies your features, only finding genuine kindness written across your face. the same kindness that made his mornings a bit brighter and his late nights less exhausting. the same smile that makes lunch breaks feel too short and missions away much too long.

the two of you sit on the bench long enough for the moon to say hello. both of yoh staring up at the sky and it’s stars, your hands rest in the space between the two of you, pinkies brushing every once in a while.

satoru is the first to make a move, linking his pinky around yours before diving in and intertwining your fingers with his.

the two of you continue talking, neither one of you daring to acknowledge your linked hands. the blush on satoru’s cheeks was a secret kept between the moon and him, and the way your stomach flipped was kept quiet between the stars and yourself.

when you finally do reach your office, it’s only to set your paperwork down on your desk, closing the door and taking satoru’s hand back in yours.

“ready?” he asks and you nod, letting him wrap an arm around you and hold you close to him, giggles leaving both of your lips as he walks you home.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @luna0713hunter @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags

[lovebugism]

Eddie x Gareths sisterrrrr????? Like Romeo and Juliet type stuff where Gareth is like my sister is NOT dating you

thanks so much for your request, anon!! i had so much fun writing it!! there isn't much conflict with gareth, but i hope you like it anyway! jealous!eddie x girly!reader (1.6k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Gareth picks you up from the mall at six o’clock sharp.

You say goodbye to your friends, all of them wearing the same tank top and pleated skirt duo you’re in, before getting into the passenger seat of his pick-up truck. You’re dressed too nicely to be sat in such a beaten-up thing. Too pretty for it, too.

“Wanna get something to eat?” the boy asks as he pulls out of the parking lot, talking over the Dio song blaring on the radio.

He’s wearing his usual flannel vest over a tattered Metallica tee. The former is riddled with various vintage pins fitting for a metalhead. Down to his skull necklace, ripped jeans, and dirty sneakers — the two of you couldn’t be more different.

You flip down the visor and use the mirror to put on a swipe of glittery lipgloss. You feel almost naked without it. “Slurpees?” you offer before smacking your mouth to spread the sparkly glaze.

“That’s so not dinner,” Gareth laughs as he shakes his sandy curls. 

You arch a manicured brow in his direction. “Got a better idea?”

“Nope,” he concedes, popping the ‘p.’

He’s got too much of a soft spot for you to deny you of anything. Perks of being the youngest sibling, you suppose.

You feel butterflies fluttering like crazy in your stomach, their wings brushing the edges of your ribcage as he pulls into the gas station — and it’s not because of the $1 Slurpees. Your stepbrother’s best friend, Eddie Munson, usually deals drugs in the back parking lot on weekends. Like the absolute dreamboat he is. 

It’s been days since you last saw him. Six of them, to be exact, but it’s not like you’re counting or anything.

While Gareth waits in line to pay for your drink and his food, you decide to quell your yearning. It’s much more like a hunger, though. Whatever innocent crush you used to have is far more salient now. You miss Eddie like a dinner you didn’t get to eat — noticeably empty, weakened without his smile to bring you back to life.

You round the corner to the back lot and find him flipping through a wad of cash. He leans against the brick wall with one dirty sneaker kicked up against it. Despite the middle of summer head, he hasn’t yet forgone his leather jacket and dark denim jeans duo. He looks killer, as usual — so you could only imagine how he’d look out of them.

When he hears the sound of footsteps scuffing against pavement, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze is halfway hidden beneath his fluffy bangs before he turns to face you wholly. 

He grins at the sight of you, and you fill whole again.

“Hi, Teddy,” you greet with a smile, stained blue from your raspberry Slurpee.

He rises on both feet and tucks the money into the back pocket of his baggy jeans. His head tilts to his shoulder as he looks at you, too cute for his own good. “Whatcha doin’ out here, princess?”

Your stomach flutters at the nickname you’ve heard too many times to count. 

“Came to see you,” you shrug innocently, curling your smile around the straw of your drink.

Eddie beams, brows raising in amusement and cheeks reddening at your answer. He hopes you’re too far away to see his cheeks glowing as pink as they are now. He’d just blame it on the summer heat, anyway. 

“Really?” he lilts, voice light and airy with mirth.

You shrug as you swallow down the fruity slushy. “Gareth brought me for Slurpees.”

“How sweet.”

“Right?” you hum with a blue-tinted smirk, slowing when you finally reach the boy. His weed-tinged, woody musk envelopes you completely — he might as well be embracing you. “Best brother ever.”

Gareth isn’t really your brother, despite how often you call him that. You’re related by marriage, not by blood. You’ve known him your entire life, though, so you figure you might as well be.

Eddie knows this, so he smiles and takes a rather dramatic step back from you. “And that is exactly why I have to stay approximately three feet away from you at all times, princess.”

“Why’s that?” you squint at him.

When you take another step closer, he takes two more back.

“‘Cause he’s been threatening to beat my ass about dating you since we were thirteen.”

A smile quirks the right side of your lips. “Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” you lilt.

Eddie’s brows raise at the mischievous inflection in your words. This time when you step towards him, he stays in place. “You’d really do that to him? To the ‘best brother ever?’”

You take another daring step towards him. Your chin tilts up to look at him in your ever-shortening proximity. “I’ve done far worse things than think his best friend is hot, Teddy.”

“Yeah?” the boy coos, chocolate eyes dancing with amusement as his chin dips to his chest to peer down at you. He makes the mistake of looking lower — at your breasts in your pretty little tank top and the silver of your stomach showing beneath the hem. He wants so desperately to hold you, despite everything that tells him he shouldn’t. His best friend, namely.

“And what’s that, princess?” the boy croons to you.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you blink innocently up at him, then shrug. “Sorry.”

Eddie knows he shouldn’t be jealous, but he is. 

You’re not his, but god, you were so good at making him feel like you were. You were around so often, always so sweet in your way — sometimes, it felt like you really did belong to him. The thought of his girl with someone else makes him feel like puking.

Jealousy radiates from him like steam, palpable enough for you to feel. 

You grin.

“Don’t worry, Teddy,” you singsong, taking another goddamn step closer. Eddie knows he should be taking a thousand more backward, but your chest brushes his torso and he forgets how to walk. “I only have eyes for you.”

The boy swallows through a tightening throat. He nods for a moment, trying to work up the courage to use his voice. He’s scared that it’ll break, and he’ll lose all cool points with you. And he’s the rockstar, the older brother’s best friend — he can’t possibly have that.

“Good to know,” Eddie finally nods.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, though. Might have to find some other metalhead to give me attention.”

Your smile widens when his jaw clenches, honeyed glaze hardening at the thought of you finding someone else. Your heart flutters when you realize that he sees you as his. He’s already been yours for a long, long time.

Gareth calls your name from a distance, muffled and far away. It’s nearly inaudible, but it knocks Eddie from his stupor all the same. “You should go, princess.” 

“My parents usually go to bed around nine. Gareth’s usually sucking in the ceiling by eleven,” you maunder suddenly, wide eyes sparkling with roguishness. “If you park your van a few houses down around midnight, no one will be the wiser…”

“You want me to sneak into your bedroom?” Eddie laughs softly to himself. He hasn’t done that since he was sixteen. He thought he was over chasing girls like that. Turns out, he wasn’t really. Not when it came to you, at least.

“Uh-huh,” you hum with a firm nod, lips wrapping around the red straw of your slushy right after.

“And what’s in it for me, huh?”

Truth be told, Eddie couldn’t give a shit. He already knows he’ll be at your house at 12 o’clock sharp, climbing up your trellis like some kind of offbeat Spiderman. He just wants to hear you tell him something, anything — a wish for him to go on for the next several hours while he’s stuck dealing in the heat, thinking about you.

You don’t answer him with words.

You rise on the tips of your toes, holding onto your Slurpee with one hand and using your free one to cup his cheek. You usher the boy softly towards you as you press your mouth to his. And it’s not the most heated kiss in the world or anything — just a languid, honeyed thing that makes your lips lock like they were made to do it.

Eddie’s idling hands rise to your waist. His ringed fingers squeeze the bare skin of your sides as he sighs against your mouth. You taste cold and sweet — like blue raspberry and ice and lipgloss — his savior in this heat. The tip of his nose smushes against the side of yours, desperate to melt with you entirely. He thinks it might be close to possible, having you so close in the sweltering summer evening.

He’s breathless when you pull away from him.

“More of that,” you answer through labored breaths. “And maybe a little extra, if you’re good.”

Eddie doesn’t bother denying his want for you anymore. Fuck it, he’ll just fight his best friend. He can take a punch if he has to, but he’s not sure Gareth could even throw one — especially not at the boy he’s known for practically half his life.

“Your bedroom’s the last window on the light, right?” Eddie asks through rosy, kiss-bitten lips.

“Yeah,” you grin, backing slowly away from him. “I’ll leave my light on.”

He nods until the words catch up with him. “Okay.”

“See you then, Teddy.”

When you turn the corner for the main parking lot, Eddie can finally breathe again. 

The air is noticeably less sweet without you around.

[aachria]

The long awaited (maybe? Idk how many of you were waiting for this) SSSBMTY College AU!

Majors in bold

Headcanons in regular text

Notes about the art indented in orange

Luffy — Undeclared

Was forced into school by his gramps. (The university dean. The fucking dorm building all the Strawhats but Jimbei live in is named after him.)(it was this or join the navy.) Takes the most random classes he can. Some of them are advanced and require perquisites and no one knows how he keeps getting into them. Wears shorts and sandals in winter & will run any errand or do any odd job for food. He has a very nice bike he got for free from a garage sale that Franky fixed up. There's a campus wide bet on when and what he'll choose as his major. His bucket hat was a gift from Shanks, the universities World Economics prof. Has a million friendship bracelets on his ankles because Ed makes them when they're stressed. Never has a bag on him. Fights Canadian geese on the way to class, like a fucking maniac. Protected species who?

When I tell you that this drawing of Luffy is the first time I've ever drawn actual feet with toes that don't look fucking ridiculous I need to cheer for me. Why is he a different flavour of boy every time I draw him please. His ass isn't rubber in this universe, of course he's scuffed to shit. Chopper ran out of Spiderman bandaids, sorry bud. Advocate for the Single Piercing Luffy™ agenda, he went and got it done with Ed when they got their helix.

Ed — English major Psychology minor

Took History of Piracy for easy grades & a story idea. Known around campus as that asshole who'll tell you exactly which of your roommates ate your leftovers for $5. Is roommates with Luffy because of a system mix-up when they got distributed. Always wears a Burberry trench coat Nami thrifted for $3 and gave them as a bday gift. Carries everything in a ratty falling apart messenger bag. Them and Luffy filled out marriage papers on a dare, Zoro (who got legally ordained on a dare minutes before) oversaw that, Zoro and Ed filed the papers when they were drunk. So Ed and Luffy are legally married. And they don't even notice until tax season and Jonah, Ed's accounting friend, asks about it.

I need you to ignore the inconsistence with the hands in these ok? Some of them get very nice and normal hands, and others get weird shaped blobs. Sorry Ed, them's the breaks kid.

Zoro — Health and Fitness major Mathematics minor

Literally no one knows why he has a Mathematics minor, least of all him. P sure he walked into the wrong class on the first day and just stuck with it. The most terrifying captain of the kendo team the university has ever had. He's won more championships and trophies in his tenure than the school has in its history, the revenue he brings in from sponsorships and such make them turn a blind eye to his... eccentricities (three sword style. Nobody has stopped him yet, anyone who says it's illegal gets penalized). Has had campus security called on him so often from being creepy when walking home from the gym in the dark there's a poster of him in the security office that says 'NOT ACTUALLY A THREAT. JUST WEIRD AND WALKS WITH PURPOSE.'

Zoro's sword patch on his jacket was designed by Usopp, embroidered by Luffy for a class (shittily) and fixed up and sewn on by Ed. Those docs have seen war. He has put them through hell. He has walked through a fucking river with those things, he superglues them back together every time they break. Franky had to strongarm him into getting the soles professionally replaced.

Nami — Meteorology major Finance minor

All of her clothes are thrifted designer things. Regularly terrorizes Value Village employees. Anything she has that isn't thrifted she gets from the many estate sales she plagues, snatching grandma's entire Chanel collection and all her nicest jewelry. She has absolutely everything anyone could ever need in her purse. Tampons and pads? She gotchu. Extra pens? It'll cost you, but yeah. A curling iron? Sure, why the hell not. She runs the betting pool on Luffy's major with Ed. She also writes a gossip column for the school newspaper and has a podcast she uploads a new episode to every few months. Shows up to every class looking like a supermodel no matter the time. 7am? Perfect. 10pm? Fabulous. Your go-to if you get locked out of your dorm. Has a moped but barely uses it.

Nami's bag is a large Prada Gallaria Saffiano bag, which I painstaking drew to accuracy down to the colour even though it still looks ever so slightly different, because Nami is a big purse girl. The compass rose necklace was a going away gift from Nojiko when she left for uni. I think her haircut is so cute I love her sm. Don't pay any mind to how fucking disheveled half of their lineart looks next to her pls.

Usopp — Graphic Design major

Not a member of the archery club, but shows up enough he’s in all the team photos. Was originally the designated driver, had a pretty little mini van they called the Merry, had one of those fucking fuzzy dice hanging mirror things in the shape of a sheep’s head. Got in a bad car accident and she got totaled by some jackass in a red Honda Civic. Dating Kaya, who’s a nursing student. They barely see each other because she’s so fucking busy and half the students are convinced the girlfriend Usopp is always talking about and calling is fake. The Strawhats have a dnd campaign that they run every other week, Usopp DM's. On weekends he works at an axe throwing range and holds the record for most bullseyes in a row. They have his picture mounted on the wall.

Usopp's necklace is the old key to the Merry, and he engraved his belt buckle for a project. I cursed his ass with the giant fuck off portfolio bag because those things are so big and unwieldy. The people in his program's studio never clean their paint up properly, that's why he's covered in it. Advocate for the Usopp With Gages™ agenda. God he is such a cutie patootie.

Sanji — Business degree

Literally grew up working in a restaurant, he’s only going to school to get the degree so he can open his own and also because Zeff threated to castrate him if he didn't get a higher education. Cooks basically every single meal for the dorm, since it’s just the Strawhats (it's a new (old it's old and was refurbished. Everyone assumed it was haunted.) building that they just dedicated to Garp. Has no other residents yet). Him and Zoro fight so much in their shared room half the time he ends up kicking him out and making him sleep in the community room lmao. He just shows up in half the culinary classes because he hates the business ones so much, the one time someone tried to tell him to leave he cussed them out for a full ten minutes while gesticulating wildly with a knife in hand. They never tried that again. Saw one of the profs berate a young lady for wearing a dress shirt to class because it’s impractical and proceeded to take that personally. Yeah he wears three piece suits to all his classes, he could still kick you ass in ‘em. Shut up. Volunteers to show around foreign exchange students because he can speak at least 4 foreign languages fluently. Is it to woo pretty French girls with his charm? Wouldn't you like to know.

I could not draw Sanji in a decent pose for the life of me, his ass was just not having it. He's got one of them really nice leather messenger bags with the lined pockets and filigree, he's very proud of it.

Chopper — PreMed

One of the few Strawhats who regularly sees Usopp’s reclusive girlfriend, and is very confused as to why people think she isn’t real. Still a literal child (is 15 still a child? Yeah that's like barely a teenager), a goddamn prodigy and got in with an incredibly good recommendation from the best doctor in the country, who just so happens to be his adoptive mother. He’s literally too cute for anyone to question that, plus he’s the sharpest tack in the damn class. He knocked his front tooth out ages ago (it was an adult tooth) but he's too fucking busy to get an appointment to get it fixed, just adds another layer to his babyface. Nice girls keep asking him if he's here to go see his parents or older siblings, he's endlessly infuriated by it and Sanji is endlessly jealous. Saved Ed from choking to death in a Domino's parking lot the first time they met, he dropped his pizza doing it so they bought him another. The rest is history. Does not feel cold, wears chunky boots year round. Got them reflective ass eyes like a deer, no one has ever taken a good picture of this child. He looks fucking possessed in his school ID.

TELL ME WHY I ALMOST FORGOT TO DRAW CHOPPER. I finished drawing Franky and was like "gee, only Brook and Jimbei to go! Good for me," and then I had to pause while looking as the picture of the group I was semi-referencing for heights n shit and was like "OH FUCK THE CHILD—" He's so cute tho. He's giving lil baby Goro Akechi. The argyle sweater vest and Timbs were a must, so was his hockey boy haircut. Matching backpack and tie for the win. Oh and the freckles, Chopper with freckles is everything to me.

Robin — Has a million hyper specific degrees. Currently earning her third doctorate.

Very mysterious and sexy. Mature student who occasionally gives lectures in the archeology program when she has free time. Owns a motorcycle but barely rides it. How is she not in debt after so much schooling? Don't fucking ask if you want to live. Is that why she lives in the dorm building? Do. Not. Ask. She and Luffy attend the same Theology class, no one knows how Luffy is passing with such good grades, but Robin is adamant that he doesn't take notes or borrow hers, and takes to having the same scores as him with grace. Child actor on one of those show like Barney (but not Barney dear lord) or Reading Rainbow and people only knew her as 'that kid with the creepy fuckin stare.' She was a meme a few years back, they called her the devil child. Every time someone asks her about it she just says she has no idea what they're talking about while giving them the creepy stare.

Women with Big Bags truther, right here. Robin deserves to be put in a suit. Goddamnit, get that woman in a suit!

Franky — Has a bachelors of Engineering, a bachelors of Architecture, and is earning his (water specific) Architecture degree

Currently the groups designated driver (after the tragic death of the poor Merry) with his supped up SUV, the Sunny. How do all the Strawhats fit inside? The power of love, obviously. That car will NOT fucking move if even one of the seatbelts is undone. Made Ed and Luffy wedding rings after he found out they accidentally got married. (Only after laughing for a half our straight, almost passing out, and laughing again. Then he cried for another hour about how beautiful it was.) He sometimes works as a nude model for life drawing classes on campus. Half of the the Strawhats have, in one way or another, seen him in the buck. Has knee braces from an... incident... with a train when he was younger. Now he volunteers at KidsAbility and has a shift on the campus crisis/suicide hotline. Huge advocate for mental health services at the school. He lives in the dorms for the ✨experience✨. Even worse than Luffy, mf wears booty shorts in the dead of winter. He's constantly dressed like It's laundry day. One of those guys from a famous Vine when he was younger that just gets stopped while he's walking so people can go "TRAMPOLINE VASE GUY??" (Iceberg was recording. I love Iceberg.)

Yes Franky is wearing an I ♥ MILFs shirt, what of it? It was a gift. Drawing him was an exercise in struggling with the pompadour and getting uncomfortably close to drawing Syndrome. Yes, he's cold all the time. No, he will not stop.

Brook — Literally no one knows. Something music related probably.

Fucker has been around forever, there’s old ass profs who swear to god they went to school with him and he hasn’t aged a day. Regularly plays local bars and cafes. Doesn't own a cellphone, he can literally only operate rotary phones. Computers confuse the shit out of him. Knows nothing about pop culture or recent events, but is up to date on everything in the music industry. He sometimes helps organize the old library archives because he's somehow the only person who understands the system they're organized in. Sometimes he'll just namedrop a famous singer/band he's either played with, done karaoke with, or done background vocals/instrumentals for and you have to guess whether he's telling the truth or just saying shit. There's a campus wide betting pool (run by Nami and Ed, go figure) on whether he's a vampire, ghost, time traveler, or Dorian Gray in disguise. Prepares the questions for 70s night pub trivia. Every time the Strawhats plan a ghost hunt he's busy, then at the end they find out that all the paranormal shit they've been experiencing is just him running his errands. It's happened at least four times.

Is Brook off-putting enough? I was trying to make him off-putting. He swears up and down the neck tattoo was gotten on a dare by Elton John, what, you gonna question a man who looks like he stepped out of Coraline? The skeleton gloves were a gift from Ed.

Jimbei — Has already graduated as a Marine Biology major Political Science minor and is taking both a Gender Studies course and a Peace and Conflict Studies course years later.

Teaches martial arts at a local dojo on weekends and volunteers with the martial arts team on campus. Robin helps him organize protests on weekends. He's good buds with a lot of the faculty and gets invited to after work drinks regularly. He helped establish a program that walks people who stay late at the library to their dorms when he was first a student that's still going strong to this day. Lives off campus and has the Strawhats over for BBQ on long weekends. Literally the only time the Strawhats eat food not made by Sanji. The Grill Master™. Somehow holds some kind of record or high score at every single bar/pub in town. Knows every single mailman and janitor by name. MVP of the catch and release fishing club, helps plan all of their trips.

I struggled with him. I struggled hard. That's a man who went his whole childhood with a horrendous underbite and only got it fixed once he was an adult. Ed gave him the fishing lure earrings out of guilt after he brought them on one of his fishing trips and they fell in and nearly capsized their boat. IT'S A REUSED PLASTIC BAG JIMBEI IS RESPONSIBLE ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT—

[joesanrio]

Attitude | R.R

Summary: Roman’s already having a problem with LA Knight, so why are you giving him attitude too?

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Fem!reader || established relationship

Warnings: bratty!reader, Dom!roman, mentions: past fights, use of wrestling name, ignoring, reader needs physical touch, pet names, p-in-v (unprotected), cowgirl!mode, boring!missionary (in joe’s opinion), kissing, begging, etc not edited

Word Count: 651

Ratings: 18+ | Angst, Smut

A/N: I have so many ideas after crown jewel but I take so long to write them you probably won’t want it anymore :/

———————————————————

“What’s your problem?” Roman complains as he makes his way to you backstage, rolling your eyes at the scuffed up man. His eyes falling from yours to the tight fan merch of his that you got tailored into a crop top, tits filling the shirt perfectly.

“What problem?” You huffed before shrugging as his hand grabs yours quickly, “You have an attitude problem. I just got stomped out and you’re back here huffing and puffing at me.” Roman says before pulling your body into his private locker room.

Eyebrows furrowing as you stared blankly at him, “Now you’re quiet?” His voice deep as he observes your face. “I don’t have an attitude. Now let’s go before I miss-“ “No we aren’t going anywhere until you tell me.” Roman interrupts, large hands wrapped around your waist to prevent you from leaving.

A long sigh leaving your lips, you just wanted to enjoy the show. “I’m just tired… and I don’t like seeing you get beat up.” Lips falling into their natural pout as your eyes avoid his uncertain gaze, his long finger pulling your chin softly to look at him.

“Know what, I’ll deal with you later.” Roman’s voice deep as he whispers the warning into your ear with ease. Smirking at your surprised expression when he hears his name called by some of the producers.

His hand giving you a small tap on the ass before he leaves you in the locker room alone, flustered and tired. The silence becoming overbearing as you quickly leave after him, you needed him. Now.

———

“I’m always so proud of you. You always get the crowd to react…but I have a question.” You can’t help but ramble about how exciting tonight was, especially because you got this random boost of energy.

Roman knew it wasn’t random, he knew it was because you were finally able to be within touching distance of him all night. Your love language being physical touch was one of the things he didn’t think he had to worry about until it affected your whole mood.

“Are you still mad at me? Why aren’t you saying anything.” Eyes saddened as you wait for a response, though he continues to keep silence.

Lips pouted out as you watch him, “RoRo?” a soft whisper causing his head to turn towards you immediately.

“I’m pissed.” Is all he says before his large hand comes up to tug at the bottom of your top, “If it makes you feel better, you really turned me on..” You whisper-blurt out as he lets out a airy chuckle.

His hand falling from your shirt to rest on the inside of your thigh, thumb rubbing your soft skin up and down. You could feel the red panties your wearing, soak at his delicate touch. Eyes sultry as you look at him, mouth slightly ajar before leaning onto his shoulder in hopes to control yourself.

The car ride feeling forever, you didn’t want to end on a bad note with him because he was supposed to be going to Saudi Arabia alone tomorrow. “Are you actually going to go alone?” You complain quietly in his ear as his hand lands a soft smack onto your thigh.

[Presidential Suite; 12:01am]

Bouncing up and down his cock, reverse cowgirl, was the best part of your night. Hands down on the bed in front of you, between Roman’s spread out legs. Ass poked out behind you as you work yourself up and down his long, thick cock.

Not worried about the small squeaks of the bed or how Roman’s hands are palming over your hips to pull you down while he thrusts up. “Please! Fuck- Ro… your cock is so big.” A moan escapes your lips while your juices coat his cock perfectly, a white ring forming along him nicely.

“Only if you didn’t have that attitude.” He chuckles as his legs bend to put more force into his thrusts, putting you off rhythm. Short, loud squeals leaving your make-out swollen lips, body wanting to collapse as Roman works his cock amazingly up into you.

“Damn, your ass looks great from this angle.” He teases as his hand goes to push your back down a bit more, ass jiggling in his face without mercy. The arch in your back emphasizes your small waist, hair curly as it bounces down your back.

Almost makes Roman cum right then by just looking at you, but he’s still debating on whether to fuck you all right now and leave you or have you come with him and fuck you in Saudi Arabia.

“Roman… S’good. Please I’m sorry!” Your pretty voice moans as your pussy clenches along his cock that’s fucking you into oblivion.

Roman forgot why you were even apologizing, he’s so out of it. “You are? I don’t know…” He teases before stopping his thrust completely, making you want to scream in frustration.

“Baby! I was so close.” You whined as your hips pull you off his thick cock, now feeling empty and soaked waiting for him to come back. “Hush. I’m just tryna see that pretty fucked out face.” Roman coos as you switch positions to lay in front of him. Tits still concealed in his tailored merch shirt, full and round.

“Fuck! I need to get you more shirts huh? He groans as he enters your sopping��� pussy, not even paying attention to his question as your back arch’s off the bed.

His hand going under your top to play with your hard nipples, eyes going to meet his as he rocks his hard cock into you slowly.

“I love your cock so much.” You say absentmindedly as you clench around him, his pace picking up at the compliment. “I know you do.” He moans as his hand leaves your breast to play with your clit, eyes closing tightly as your body goes into overload.

The air becoming thick and hot, breathing erratic before you cum onto his cock. Ears ringing as you try to control your breathing, only before Roman’s soft lips captures yours.

Arms wrapped around his shoulder to pull him closer, his arms no longer holding him up as his hands rest into your soft hips.

“Don’t pass out on me, we need to pack.” His voice finally registers in your ear when he pulls away from the kiss.

[mrdixon]

My eyes only

pairing: established daryl x f!reader

wc: 4.4k

warnings: 18+ content, “christmas light bondage” (iykyk), whipped cream, praise, oral (male receiving), fingering, p-in-v, unprotected sex, kinda overstimulation, creampie, mentions of aftercare

summary: christmas with daryl

A/N: merry LATE christmas!! was debating making this a sub daryl fic but maybe next time… rugged muse chapter 2 will most definitely be the next fic posted….

masterlist

You were waltzing around the house, throwing around decorations while your husband slept blissfully unaware upstairs. You threw on one of his shirts, wearing your fluffy pajama pants underneath. You had set up his Christmas present next to the tiny artificial tree on the counter, the present wrapped with a cute red ribbon on top.

You chuckled as you plated some sugar cookies you made the night before, making two mugs of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream.

You moved towards the record player and flipped through the different records, settling for some Christmas music to really set the mood. Humming the tune to yourself quietly as you softly walked up the stairs, smiling widely when you found Daryl by the doorframe of your room.

His matching pajama pants hung loosely around his hips, you had to do some convincing to get him to wear them. He rubbed his eyes, yawning as he glanced you over. “Yer wearin’ my shirt?”

You took notice to the lack of clothing on his upper half, “I am, why? You couldn't find a shirt?” You chuckled, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He grunted in response, his arms sliding around your waist while he buried his face in your neck.

“Wha’ the hell is tha’ noise?” He grumbled into your hair, pulling back to investigate. You giggled as you followed your husband and watched him stumble sleepily towards the stairs, the Christmas music becoming more clearer the farther you both went down.

He stood at the base of the stairs, clearly stunned by the effort you put into making this Christmas the best one yet. You walked up behind him, threading yourself around his arm.

“You like it?” You murmured, looking up at his face. Daryl had never experienced a real Christmas before, so this was all new to him. He wasn't emotional but you knew he would’ve been, instead his eyes just glanced around.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, looking down at you. “It's nice,” he leant down to kiss your forehead, his free hand moving to the back of your head. You sighed contently, leaning in to his kisses before grabbing his hand and leading him to the counter. He sat on one of the stools, letting you slide over the mug of hot chocolate to him. Though not liking sweets all that much, he didn't complain and sipped it.

You chuckled and pointed towards the gift by the tiny tree, his head turning to look at it. He quickly looked back at you and raised a brow.

“For me?” He asked, you nodded in response and watched him grab the box. He stared down at it for a moment, nibbling the inside of his lip before pulling the ribbon and letting it fall away. He lifted the top of the box and looked inside, a smile creeping onto his face. He pulled out the scuffed wood figurine of a dog, he looked at you, your hands clasped together as you waited for his reaction. His gaze travelled down to your hands, noticing the little cuts and scratches on them, presumably from carving this figurine yourself. He chuckled and looked back at the figurine, placing it down on the counter before returning to the box. He pulled out a small film camera, his eyes sparkling. You knew how much he loved taking photos, you being his favourite subject. He thought he was being secret about his hobby but you noticed, you always did.

“Like it?” You asked nervously, your hands still clasped together.

“Like it? I love it,” he breathed out, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. “Thank you so much babe,” he smiled a genuine smile, one you loved seeing. He muttered something before getting up and running up the stairs, you sat still and waited patiently for his return.

He ran back downstairs, his hand behind his back. You tilted your head slightly, a wide smile on your face as you looked at him.

“’s not much, but I also got ya somethin’…” he mumbled and revealed a small fox plushie. You giggled when you saw it, taking it from him and laughing joyfully at it.

“Oh my god, Daryl!” You giggled, looking down at the plush in awe. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, sitting back on the stool.

“I found it when I was out the other day,” he murmured softly. “Figured ya’d like it.”

“Oh I love it,” you smiled brightly at him before engulfing him in your arms, “I love you so much, thank you.”

“I love ya too,” he said muffled by your hair while he draped his arm around your waist, “love ya so much.” He got up to properly hug you, kissing along your neck lightly. His kisses tickled but you let it happen, squeezing him. You pulled back to kiss him briefly, and then sat down on your own stool. He watched you pick up your mug and drink some of the hot chocolate, smiling softly at you. Your eyes darted over to him and you chuckled.

“What’s with that look?” You scrunched up your face, he shrugged and bit his lip.

“Yer just… gorgeous,” he mumbled, “my prettiest girl.” He reached forward to wipe some whipped cream off the corner of your mouth, bringing his thumb to his mouth to lick it off. His gaze shifted down to your lips, rubbing his chin while you watched desire glaze over his eyes. You stood up slowly and looked over to the counter where you grabbed the can of whipped cream before walking over to him. His head tilted upwards to look at you standing over him, you watched his adam’s apple bob when he swallowed.

His hands found purchase on your hips, looking up at you while you held the whipped cream in your hand. “I got another gift for you…” you whispered.

“Mmh, yeah?” His voice quivered, his fingers rubbing your hips. “Have a feelin’ I’ll love it.”

“You will,” you whispered and leaned in to kiss him, a small whimper left his mouth while your free hand came up to cup his cheek.

Your thumb rubbed back and forth against his cheek as his tongue prodded at your lips, seeking entrance. You smirked into the kiss and let him in, your tongues tangling as his grip on your hips tightened. You pulled back and squirted some whipped cream onto your finger, wiping it onto his nose, then his cheeks. He scrunched his face up at the feeling, his eyes shining as he looked into your eyes, curious as to what you were doing. You just smiled sweetly, your tongue darting out to lick the cream off his nose, leaving open mouthed kisses on his cheeks. He let out a low chuckle at the feeling, wiping his face after you were done.

“Wha’ are ya doin’ now?” He grinned, shaking his head while his hands rubbed up and down your sides. “Gonna let me have ya?”

“I will…” you hummed, unbuttoning your shirt and handing him the whipped cream. He raised a brow, glancing down at your cleavage. “What? Gotta make it enjoyable.”

“Suckin’ on yer tits is already enjoyable,” he snorted and pulled you onto his lap. He helped push off your shirt and placed sweet kisses on the tops of your breasts, you hummed delightfully and took the can from him. He pulled back and watched as you sprayed some whipped cream on your breasts, the cream slid down but he caught it, with his lips.

You let out a quiet hum as he sucked on your breasts, licking up the whipped cream that stained them. Your fingers threaded through his hair as he licked you clean from the sticky mess, his eyes half lidded when he looked up at you. You grinned, feeling his erection press against your ass.

“Wanna go upstairs?” You hummed sweetly, gently rubbing along his temples. He didn't reply, picking up the ribbon and camera before standing up with you in his arms, walking towards and up the stairs. You giggled, squeezing around his neck and pushing his face into her breasts. He grunted but placed small kisses onto them as he walked into your shared bedroom.

He placed you down on the bed, the camera placed down next to you while he kissed from your neck and down to your stomach. Your hands dropped the whipped cream and went into his hair, rubbing along his biceps.

“Enough of tha’,” he mumbled to which you raised a brow. He took the ribbon you wrapped his gift with and took your hands, tying them together.

“Hey,” you started, trying to pull your hands apart. He shook his head at you, tightening them even more, but not enough to hurt. He then took your arms and pulled them above your head, using the extra ribbon to tie them to the headboard. “I wanna touch you..” you whined.

“Not righ’ now,” Daryl chuckled, leaning down to kiss your lips while pulling off your pajama pants. You could feel his teeth bite into your lips, pulling back to bite at your neck. You sighed softly, your eyelids fluttering closed when his large hands gripped onto your thighs, keeping you from spreading your legs.

His tongue slipped out to taste your skin, a small whimper escaping your lips as he dragged his tongue down your body. He pressed an open mouthed kiss on the space below your belly button, his thumbs rubbing against the thin fabric of your panties. His warmth left you suddenly and you opened your eyes to see him kneeling above you, the camera in hand snapping photos of you in this position. You blushed, turning your head away only to be turned back, his one hand holding your face as he took photos of you.

“These better not be seen by anyone else,” you warned lightly. He pushed your thigh playfully.

“Nah, ‘s fer my eyes only.” He mumbled, biting his lip as he snapped a few more photos before placing the camera down. He picked up the can of whipped cream, squirting some into his mouth before coming down to kiss you. A delighted noise escaped your mouth as you tasted the sweetness of the cream, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth. He broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you two while he looked into your eyes. “Where did ya put the rest of the ribbon?”

“In the closet, brown box on the floor.” You murmured, your breathing unsteady. He kissed your lips once more and then got up, your eyes watching his back as he got to the closet. You heard him rummaging through the clothes, turning around with a thick red ribbon in his hand. A mischievous smirk played at his lips when he crawled onto the bed, watching your confused expression.

“Relax,” he murmured, his fingers dancing over the silky material before pulling it under your neck, around and tying it. “Too tight?” You shook your head and he smiled at you, tying the ribbon into a bow. He leaned over you to grab the camera again and started taking more photos of you, rubbing his bottom lip while he did.

“What’s this for?” You grinned, winking for the camera. He chuckled and ran his fingers through your hair, gripping it tightly and took photos of his hand in your hair.

“Yer my gift righ’? Gotta make sure ya look the part,” he snorted and released his grip on your hair. He placed his palm on your chest, running it over the curves of your breasts and down your stomach before stopping right on your mound.

Your lips parted in a silent cry when his thumb came down to rub your clit over your panties, pressing hard against it. You tugged at your restraints but they didn’t budge, you squirmed as he continued his relentless attack on your bundle of sensitive nerves. He breathed a little harder once your arousal started seeping through the thin fabric, your moans getting louder. He replaced his thumb with his pointer and middle fingers, rubbing them against your folds, groaning as your panties became damp. Your head fell back as well as you stopped resisting against the ribbons keeping you restrained, your mouth open to let out noises of pleasure.

His hand left your clothed pussy, a whine of protest escaping your lips while you lifted your head again. Daryl only smirked at you and picked up the can of whipped cream once again, making two tiny dollops on your nipples. Your breasts shook as you laughed, shaking your head.

“You’re such a freak,” you laughed as he snapped photos of you.

“Well yer the one with whipped cream on yer tits,” he chuckled and bent down to suck on your right nipple, his wet muscle swirling around the bud. You whined, squeezing your legs together to suppress the aching between them. His hands pushed them apart as he moved to the other nipple, licking you clean of the mess. Your pussy throbbed violently, your muscles straining to pull your legs together again, but his strength was stronger. His teeth bit on your nipple, your eyes meeting his piercing ones when you looked down. Daryl’s eyes were full of pure lust and affection, his lips wrapped around your nipple, moving down to leave hickeys along your breasts. You sighed heavily, biting your lip to silence any noises from leaving your mouth. His hand suddenly squeezed your other breast, “I dun’ like tha’. Keep moanin’ beautiful.”

You let out a deep breath as he pulled away, watching him pull his pajama pants down along with his boxers. His cock sprang out, a pathetic moan left your lips when you saw it. He almost laughed, watching your hands scratch at your own fingers in anticipation. He groaned deeply, taking his thick cock into his hand and stroking it while watching your panties get even wetter just at the sight. He caught you licking your lips and moved to your side, kneeling by your face.

“Come, look at me baby.” He murmured and gently took your face in his hand, his other holding his cock. “Ya wanna suck me off like a good girl?”

You nodded eagerly, opening your mouth as you looked up at him with those wide eyes. He smirked and rubbed your cheek with his thumb before sliding his cock into your mouth, taking his time. Your tongue ran across his slit, tasting the saltiness of his precum. Daryl let out a low groan, one hand cupping your jaw while the other went into your hair. Your tongue ran down his length, tracing over the one angry vein while you breathed through your nose. His hips bucked forward involuntarily, causing you to gag on his cock. He murmured an apology and rubbed your jaw, slowly rocking his hips back and forth, not going too deep into your mouth.

“Such a good girl fer me, suckin’ my cock like tha’..” he praised, tugging your hair ever so lightly. His head lulled back, the grip on your hair tightening as his thrusts got quicker. “Fuck… jus’ like tha’..” It was harder to breathe but you couldn’t care less, looking up at him as you continued to swirl your tongue around his length. His groans became more erratic, thrusting deeper into your mouth. The head of his cock pressed the back of your throat, making you gag.

“Good baby… so fuckin’ good, ya take my cock so fuckin’ well.” He moaned, looking down at you. Your teary eyes looked up at him as he continued to fuck your mouth, one hand was rubbing your jaw while the other pulled your hair back. Your hands yearned to touch him, pulling at the ribbon but to no avail, didn’t come free. You closed your eyes and heard the sound of the camera shutter, hearing quiet murmurs from him. You flattened your tongue against his velvet skin, taking him impossibly deeper into your mouth. He cursed loudly, pulling his cock out before he could cum. You coughed, saliva dribbling down your chin. He released your hair and brought both hands down to wipe your face. Your head felt light, almost like you were drunk on his cock. Your lips made contact with his, an involuntary moan leaving your mouth into his at the contact.

He moved away from you, moving towards the bottom of the bed. Finally, he pulled your panties off. Your pussy fluttered at the cool air, your breath hitching as he ran his fingers through it. His fingers pushed in, groaning at how easily they slipped in.

“Jesus christ girl, so wet huh?” He teased, rubbing his fingers tips on the inside of your wall. Your head throwing itself back as rough moans escaped you. Your nails dug into your palms, gasping for air. He dragged his fingertips along your walls as he pushed in deeper, his thumb rubbing your needy clit.

“Daryl…” you let out a sob, tears prickling at your eyes. The sensitivity was too much, though having not done much yet. He shushed you, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of your while teasing your clit. You felt you legs go weak, a cold feeling in your feet as you cried out softly. “Dar… please I can’t…”

“Ya can, gonna make ya cum fer me.” His free hand reached up to rub circles around your nipple, “can ya do that fer me? Huh gorgeous?” His fingers curled inside you, hitting that soft spot perfectly. A loud cry erupted from your mouth, feeling that knot tie, threatening to snap. He rolled your nipple in his fingers, his other hand speeding up the pace. Your legs thrashed while your hands pulled against the ribbon, moans leaving your lips involuntarily. “C’mon pretty girl, yer doin’ so good.”

The praises whispered into your ear threw you over the edge. Your walls closed in on his fingers, throbbing around them as you came. You gasped, groaning deeply as your eyes closed. He kissed your forehead softly, the hand on your breast coming up to your neck. His lips moved down to kiss you, your soft lips moving with his while the hand caressed the space below your jaw comfortingly.

“Good girl,” he mumbled against your lips, “can ya handle another one or do ya wanna stop ‘ere?”

“No… no I need you,” your voice was hoarse. He nodded and pecked your lips quickly before moving back to kneel between your legs.

“Guess ‘s time I unwrapped my gift.” His eyes glimmered, reaching forward to pull at the ribbon around your neck, letting it lay around your shoulders before reaching up to free your hands. You sighed in relief, your arms coming down to lay by your sides, his own fingers rubbing the skin on your wrists. “All good?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckled and kissed the inside of your biceps, lifting your thighs apart and around his hips. His elbows came to rest on either side of your head, leaning over you and kissed the tip of your nose. You let out a quiet giggle that was soon replaced by a whimper as he pressed the head of his cock against your clit.

You breathed heavily through your nose as he rubbed his tip up and down through your folds, teasing your already sensitive pussy. You turned your head to the side, closing your eyes while your chest rose and fell with every heavy breath you took. Daryl’s lips found your jaw and licked across it, pressing gentle kisses along your jawline.

“I ain’ gonna make ya wait any longer, ya’ve been such an obedient girl.” He whispered into your ear, his hot breath tickling you. He reached down with one hand to take hold of his cock, guiding it into your depths slowly. His length invaded your warm wetness, stretching you out. A soft moan emitted from your mouth, closing your eyes. His body trembled above you, clearly holding back from pounding roughly into you. He wanted to be as gentle as he could with you, making sure it wasn’t painful. As soon as he bottomed out in you, he let out a deep throaty groan, pressing his forehead against yours. His hips stuttered as he held still in you, moving his hands to the sides of your head.

“I’m good, move… Daryl please move,” you whined softly, feeling his lips kiss your cheeks gently. He shushed you, withdrawing his hips slowly, feeling your walls grip onto him. He pulled out just so his tip was inside before slamming back in, a choked moan releasing from your lips. He kept his face buried in the crook of your neck, you could feel his heavy breaths against your skin. He repeated this movement, keeping it slow but deep.

Your nails gently dug into his back, rubbing over the crescent shaped marks with your fingertips. He grumbled, his chest rubbing against yours as his pace slowly picked up. His cock slid in and out of you with ease, as well as moans escaped your mouth more freely. His hands slid down your sides, finding its place on your hips. He leaned back, sitting on his knees, your thighs over his as he bucked into you over and over.

The angle was just right, hitting the soft spongey part deep inside you, the part that made your eyes roll back into your head and see stars. The base of his palms lay along your pelvis, his fingers wrapped around the sides of your hips, pulling you towards him to meet his thrusts. Your hands couldn’t figure out where to go, alternating between squeezing his wrists or squeezing your breasts. You could feel his cock pulse inside you, dragging along your velvety walls with every stroke.

“Mmmh, look at ya… so perfect fer me,” he rasped, taking that damn camera again and snapping photos of you. “So pretty, gorgeous.” Your eyes fluttered shut, mewling softly. You could hear him toss the camera to the side, his palms landing flat on the mattress by your sides, ramming himself into you roughly. Your face screwed up in pleasure, your brows knitted together in pure ecstasy while your jaw went slack. Your moans filled the air with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass, and soon you felt a warm heat in your belly.

“Mmph, Daryl..” you whimpered, squeezing his hips with your thighs, signaling your impending orgasm.

“I know, ‘s okay.” He murmured sweetly, leaning over you to kiss you. His kisses were soft and gentle, contrasting with the harsh thrusts he gave you. The head of his cock kissing your sweet spot every stroke, causing your back to arch and press your chest against his. He took the opportunity to slip his arm under your back, his free hand coming down to squeeze your ass. His breath was heavy and his kisses turned sloppy, so you knew he was also close.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned out.

“C’mon girl…” he groaned, the hand on your ass slipping down to your thigh and pulling your leg over his shoulder. You threw your head back in bliss, moaning loudly as the angle changed. The head of his cock directly abusing that spot of yours, sending hot pleasure up your body. Your own hands grasped at the sheets, knuckles white with how hard you were squeezing. “So fuckin’ tight, gonna cum fer me?”

“Yes!” You shouted, your throat hoarse and your moans raspy. You surrendered to the pleasure, laying limp against the bed as he continued to fuck you deeply. Obscene sounds of your pussy squelching around his cock filled your ears, the bedsprings squeaking with the intensity of his movements.

“Good girl, c’mon.” He moaned, biting his lip as he pushed his limits. Your mouth opened wide in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as you came. Your walls tightened around his length and he groaned shakily, “shit, fuck.” You felt his warm release coat your walls as he came inside you. His hips stuttered, moving back and forth slightly as he fucked you both through your orgasms. He collapsed on top of you, his lips sucking on your collarbone. You out a sigh when he pulled out, his body leaving yours. You just closed your eyes, your pussy throbbing around nothing as his seed poured out of you. You heard the snap of the camera once again and raised your head.

“Stop that,” your grumbled, a small smile on your lips. “I gave you that to take pictures of the pretty things you like.”

“Yeah? Well I’d say you and yer pussy are quite the pretty things.” He snorted, moving off the bed and into the bathroom. You sighed and shook your head, closing your eyes as you lay back. The sound of water running could be heard from the bathroom, soon Daryl emerged again holding a damp cloth. You breathed out quietly as the cold water met your warm skin, his hand making gentle ministrations in between your legs to wipe you clean.

After he was done he kissed your forehead and tossed the cloth in the hamper before crawling into bed next to you. You scooted closer to him, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you in. He placed another kiss along your temple, rubbing your shoulder.

“Enjoyed your gifts?” You giggled to which he squeezed you, picking up the camera and flipping through the photos. He let you look which you eventually turned away from in embarrassment, “ew wait, delete that.”

He laughed, kissing your lips. “Not a chance,” he sighed and put the camera on the night stand, pulling you flush against his chest. “It was perfect, I love ya darlin’.”

You smiled up at him, rubbing his stubble with your thumb. “I love you too, Daryl.”

He let out a deep breath and wrapped both arms around your small frame, rubbing circles into your lower back. “So… are we goin’ out later today?”

“No way Dixon,” you chuckled. “My legs are weak.” He chuckled, leaning down and kissing your jaw, breathing in your scent.

“Good, I dun’ mind stayin’ in bed all day…” He raised a brow to which you narrowed your eyes. He practically pounced on you, giggles leaving your lips as you both squirmed under the blankets.

Seems you won’t be leaving the bed today.

[sissylittlefeather]

Fools Rush In (where angels fear to tread)

A/N: I don't know what's up with me and elevators right now, but here's a one-shot I hatched after a conversation with @atleastpleasetelephone about what I'd do if I met Elvis in an elevator. This is obviously the fantasy version 😂

Thanks to @ccab for helping me with this one. It was a little rough at times!

Warnings: 18+ SMUT minors DNI, cussing, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, someone has a glass of wine

Word count: ~3k

You work at the hotel, so you're no stranger to this elevator. You ride in it all the time to take things up to guests when they ask for them. Thats kind of been your job since you started here three months ago: fetch-things-for-guests-girl. You're supposed to just be working the front desk but for some reason anytime anyone needs anything, it falls on you to run it up to them. You've run up toothbrushes and newspapers and even trays of room service. That's really not supposed to be your job but you're not sure you can say no when they ask. That's probably why you keep ending up on the elevator.

Today, you brought a guest a sewing kit. He was a nice older gentleman and he asked if you could help him with a button on his shirt. Again, not a thing that's part of your job description but you did it anyway. He even tried to give you a dollar for helping. A sweet gesture, but you assured him it was unnecessary.

Now you're on the elevator headed down. Or at least, you were supposed to be headed down but for some reason the elevator starts rising towards the penthouse. You don't think much about it, not sure which rich or famous person is up there right now. You look at your shoes and notice the toe of the left one is scuffed. You're trying to figure out how that might've happened when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. It takes you a second to look up. But when you do, your heart stops and you do a double take.

Elvis Presley.

And he's alone.

He gives you a small smile and steps into the elevator with you. You can't stop yourself from whispering.

"It's you..." He gives you a sideways look and smiles.

"It's me." You look up at the ceiling and try to politely ignore him, assuming he doesn't need another person fawning over him. That would probably get old fast. You look at the buttons. 30 floors. That's a long time to ride in silence.

"Wouldja push the L for me, honey?" You're rattled out of your deep thought by his smooth baritone. It dawns on you that you're standing in front of the only set of buttons.

"Oh. Yeah, sure." You gently press the lobby button with your finger and look at him sheepishly.

"Thank you." The doors finally slide closed and the elevator begins its descent. You've fantasized about something like this happening for as long as you can remember. He's been your favorite singer since you saw him on Ed Sullivan as a teenager. You're not a kid anymore, though, and you know he's been playing Vegas for about a year now. He's a regular here at the hotel, but he hasn't been here since you've been here. You must've had your head buried in the sand to not know he was here right now.

You chance a quick glance in his direction, trying not to make it obvious that you're looking at him. He's absolutely stunning and it's like you can feel him in the tiny room with you, alive in a way that other people aren't.

"You're staring, sweetheart." He says, just above a whisper. You snap your mouth shut and look away panicked. Your heart rate is through the roof and you can't believe he caught you looking at him. But it's so hard to look away from him knowing he's right there.

"I'm sorry." You whisper it quietly and he chuckles.

"It's okay. Happens all the time." You feel him turn to look at you, but you will yourself to keep your eyes forward. "Besides, I don't mind when pretty girls stare at me."

Your head whips around and your mouth opens again. Did he just call you pretty? Now you're looking directly into his face and he's so breathtaking that you feel like you might pass out.

"You always this speechless or is it me?" He smirks mischievously. You've never been known to be quiet. It's him. You still can't find your voice to answer him, though. His smirk falls and he turns back to the doors, sighing bitterly. "Sometimes it would be nice to not have this effect."

You look at the buttons: you're passing the 19th floor. Still so many to go and goddamnit why can't you talk?!

"Sometimes I wish I'd just stayed a truck driver so I could have normal conversations with pretty girls on elevators."

He did it again. He called you pretty. You have to find your voice. You've got about 16 floors before he walks out of your life forever.

"You probably wouldn't be staying in the penthouse of this hotel then." Good God. What on earth made you say that?! You finally find your voice and that's what comes out?!

He chuckles and looks back at you.

"That's the damn truth, honey. I guess I should be thankful for what I have."

"I should be thankful for the opportunity to talk to you like this, but I can't seem to make words. Nobody's perfect." You finally lift your eyes to meet his and he gives a little snort-laugh.

"No, nobody's perfect. Except angels. And I'm not so sure you ain't one." Now it's your turn to laugh.

"Me? Let me assure you, I'm as human as they come."

"Good. Me too." You stare at each other in silence for a bit, both of you taking in the other. "You work at the front desk?"

"I do. I'm the errand girl." You cringe again. He doesn't need to know that.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you forget your comb or need a set of nail clippers, I'm your girl." It's like your mouth has disconnected from your brain and is working all on its own.

More silence. The elevator is playing a song you recognize and you hum along to try to soothe the awkwardness. To your utter shock, he hums with you. When you pick up the higher harmony, your voices blend and it gives you goosebumps. He doesn't tell you that it gives him goosebumps too.

"Hey listen, I-" He's cut off when the elevator reaches its destination and the doors slide open.

"EP, we thought we'd lost you!" One of his bodyguards hollers and they hustle him off the elevator. He turns to look at you one last time and you wave awkwardly. He smiles and lets himself be whisked away. You put your palm on your forehead as the doors slide closed again.

A wave?! Seriously?!

Then you realize you were supposed to get off in the lobby too and kick yourself for your idiocy.

******

The next day, you come in to work like usual and the hotel is abuzz with the fact that Elvis is back and playing shows. Thats why you didn't know he was there yesterday: he'd just gotten in. You think back to your encounter with him and try not to cry. He called you pretty twice and what did you do? Acted like a complete fool.

Your shift ends at 4:30 and you're just about to pack up and leave when there's a call down to the front desk. Your coworker picks it up and talks to whoever is on the line. At one point, he looks at you strangely. You're not listening to the conversation, but the way he looks at you makes you nervous. Finally, he hangs up.

"I need you to make one last run."

"Mark, I'm almost off the clock. You can't handle it?"

"They specifically asked for 'errand girl'. That has to be you." You sigh deeply and put your purse back under the desk.

"What is it and where?"

"A comb and some nail clippers to the penthouse." You look up quickly.

"Wait, really?"

"Yep. That's what the guy said." Your heart skips a beat and you stand there staring at Mark. "You better go..."

You nod and gather the two things from the place where you keep all the supplies. Then, you make your way to the elevator. Your stomach is in knots the whole way up. It has to be him asking for you, right?

******

Elvis paces the floor in the living room of his penthouse suite. He's only been awake for an hour or so, but he's been thinking about you since he got off the elevator last night. When he told Joe to call down and ask for you, Joe looked at him like he'd lost his mind. But he has to see you at least one more time to make sure what he's feeling isn't real. He had half a conversation with you. Why can't he get you out of his head?

The doors slide open and he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. You step out of the elevator and look around cautiously.

"Come on in, honey." He smiles awkwardly and you almost giggle. You never dreamed he was capable of awkwardness.

"I brought your things." For some reason, it's a little easier to talk to him this time. He laughs.

"Oh, right. Thank you." He walks to you and takes the comb and nail clippers from you and sets them on the table. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure! White wine?" You try to smile as he walks to the bar and fixes you a glass of wine. "Listen, I'm sorry about yesterday."

"What do you mean?"

"You probably get tired of people being all starstruck." He hands you the glass and shrugs.

"I'm used to it."

"Doesn't make it right. Can we just start over? I'm y/n." You hold your hand out for him to shake and he takes it and kisses the back of it gently.

"I appreciate the gesture, honey, but we don't need to start over. I'm Elvis. It's nice to meet you." You giggle softly and pull your hand back.

"See you can't do stuff like that!"

"Like what?" His eyes twinkle with mirth.

"Be all charming and cute like that."

"You think I'm cute?" You roll your eyes.

"You have to know you're cute. This isn't breaking news."

"I still like to hear you say it." There's a moment where he's looking down at you and it feels like he wants to kiss you. And he does, he really really does, but he's nervous all of a sudden. He clears his throat and sits down on the couch, spreading his legs wide. He pats the cushion next to himself. "Come sit with me."

You walk over and perch on the edge of the couch by him, sipping your wine and trying to think of something to say that won't sound dumb.

"Are you glad to be back in Vegas?" You wince. You did not succeed.

"Yes and no. I love performing for people. It's my favorite thing. Gets a little lonesome here, though." He's not sure why he's telling you this, but he just feels comfortable talking to you.

"Your... your wife doesn't come with you?" He shakes his head.

"No, she doesn't. And she's not really... I mean..."

"She's not good company?" He sighs.

"No, not really."

"Hmm." You're not eager to be the other woman, but he seems so desperately lonely that it's hard to imagine leaving him here.

"Enough about that. You wanna come to my show tonight?"

"Elvis, it's been sold out for months."

"I'm Elvis Presley. If I want you there, they'll build a table for you." He shrugs nonchalantly, but you can tell it matters if you say yes.

"I'd love to see it." He looks at you with his eyes sparkling.

"Yeah?"

"Of course. I've loved you since 1956. Why wouldn't I want to see you perform?" He raises his eyebrows and you wish you'd kept that part to yourself.

"That long?" You nod sheepishly. He sits up and puts his hand on your cheek. "You're somethin' else, sweetheart. You sure you're not an angel?" A soft laugh falls from your lips and you take a sip from your glass.

"Not an angel. Just a fan." He shakes his head.

"No. Not just a fan." Without warning, he pulls your face to his and presses his lips against yours. Fireworks explode inside you and it feels like you might die with the sensation of his soft lips. After a few seconds, he pulls back, sets your wine glass on the table, and presses his forehead to yours. "You're about the prettiest thing I've ever seen. And you seem to understand me in ways I didn't think possible. I'm pretty sure you're my angel."

You look deeply into his eyes and it's like your souls touch. All of a sudden he's a part of you and the idea of being without him breaks you.

"Elvis, I..."

"I know, honey." He dives back into kissing you, parting his lips to slide his tongue into your mouth. His hand grips your hip and he pulls you onto his lap, straddling his thighs. He mumbles against your lips. "Can I make love to you?"

"Yes... oh God, yes." You moan into his mouth as he lifts you and carries you into the bedroom. He lays you on the bed gently and hovers over you, rolling his hips forward to meet yours.

"My beautiful angel. I want to give you everything."

"Everything I am is yours, Elvis. Please..." He groans and runs his hands over your body, stopping to memorize the gentle curves of you. You lean into his touch, desperate to feel him on your skin. In a shockingly small amount of time, he has you both stripped naked, his body pressed against yours in a feverish frenzy of passion. His hands make hot trails over your flesh, followed quickly by his lips pressing desperate kisses to you. You've never experienced anything like this: the unbridled need for connection and sultry heat as it possesses you.

When he presses his tongue into you, it's like you've been waiting for him your whole life. Your body trembles with need and he moves his tongue on your clit with such fervor that you'd swear he's trying to devour you whole. But the ecstatic pleasure that rushes through you causes you to arch into him, begging for more. He obliges, sliding two of his long fingers into your pussy to tickle and tease you on the inside. You whimper and cry out, desperate for the release that's building in your hips.

"Elvis... god..." You moan, overcome with desire. He licks and finger-fucks you harder than you've ever experienced and you dance on the edge of an explosive orgasm.

"Cum for me, angel." He whispers into you, obsessively chasing your pleasure. It doesn't take long for you to do what he tells you, leaping over the edge into oblivion as your climax overtakes you, spilling out onto his hand as you shudder and pulse and scream his name.

"Elvis! Fuck!" He licks you through it, coaxing more ecstasy out of you as you cum harder than you ever have. When he feels your clit soften and your body relax, he pulls back, lips and chin glistening, and crawls up your body.

His cock aches to be inside you, to feel you wrapped around him and connected to him in an undeniable way. He kisses your neck and shoulder and cheek until he finally lands back at your mouth. You position him at your entrance and roll your hips forward, begging him to fill you.

"Such an eager little pussy. You want me to fuck you, angel?" He whispers it in your ear and you swear you could cum just from his voice.

"Y-yes..." He thrusts forward, his cock pushing into you halfway. You yelp and he stops to give you time to adjust to the size of him. As your pussy relaxes around him, he presses deeper until his hips meet yours and his dick is fully inside you.

"How does it feel?" You whimper and sweat.

"S-so good. Don't stop."

"Oh, my angel, I'm won't stop. Not until I know you're fully satisfied." He groans as he begins to pump into you with more speed and intensity. Your breasts bounce and he bends down to kiss you as his cock pounds you, over and over again. He fucks you like this for a while before he pulls out and rolls you over on your stomach. You moan as he pushes into you from behind, pressing his lips to your back and shoulders repeatedly.

The overwhelming sensation of being filled and fucked from behind threatens to push you into another orgasm. He slides his hand between you and the mattress to reach your clit and run over and around it with his fingertips. The orgasm crashes into you like a freight train as you scream into the mattress and cum on his dick.

"That's it, angel... I'm so close." Your pussy squeezes him and he grunts, no longer able to hold back. His cock throbs and fills you with his release in the aftershocks of your own climax. He whispers in your ear as his body jerks into you. "Yes, honey, yes..."

For a bit, he lays there with his head on your shoulder, the sweat dripping off of his hair onto your back. Then, he pulls out and rolls you over, collapsing on your chest and breathing heavily.

You run your fingers through his hair and hum again. He closes his eyes and soaks in the intimacy of being this close with you. The heavy weight of loneliness that's usually in his chest has dissipated and it feels in this moment like he'll never be lonely again. He looks up at you from where he's settled between your breasts.

"Stay with me."

"Tonight after the show?"

"Forever." It's crazy to consider. You've known each other less than 24 hours. But you hear the word as it exits your lips.

"Yes."

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist;

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley

[slutouttanowhere]

All Yours | C. Punk

Pairings: CM Punk x Sabrina Richards(oc)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: public sex, unprotected sex, oral(f) and (m) receiving, non-labeled relationship, age gap(oc is mid twenties), spiting, and vulgar language. A twitter p*orn link was included in this story. Not for minors

Authors note: this fic, listen this one beat my ass I cannot lie, but I threw that Normani on and I ended up having so much fun with it. This felt oddly therapeutic in some parts, and I was inspired by @harmshake to rip Punker a new one. The title was taken from All Yours by Normani, I hope you all enjoy, and as always follow me for more.

Sabrina is leaning against the door frame of Shawn Micheals’ office door, he called her in for a few notes he wanted her to hit on her interviews that night for the show. “Okay, Joe Hendry’s first appearance is tonight, so I’ll be sure to grab him, and make sure we get a camera on him right out of the battle royale.” She mumbled as she went over her list making sure she had all her notes. She said her goodbyes to her boss, and as she turned to make her way down the hall, she bumped into someone.

“Well today must be my lucky day, I was just looking for you.” Punk lied through his teeth, it would worry any normal person how easy it is to lie to peoples faces with such ease, but CM Punk isn’t a normal person. A tired expression crossed Sabrina’s face, CM Punk was in the performance center more than the nxt talent, and that annoyed her. Still, she couldn’t ignore the boost it did for ego that someone like Punk gave her so much attention. And unfortunately for her she did find his “charm” attractive enough to entertain him.

“Sure you were.” She said dryly, his hazel eyes raked her body, and shamelessly slowed at her breast. They ended up in a coat room closet entangled at TKO celebration, and she’s been trying to avoid him ever since. Leave it to CM Punk to be persistent.

Punk’s lips stretched into that classic smirk of his, despite her attitude, she hadn’t bothered to pick up her pace, or totally shoo him off. I do have a knack for toxicity don’t I? Punk humorously thought to himself, “so, word on the street is someone’s birthday is today.”

Sabrina’s heart jumped, she had stopped walking, it was then that she realized they ended up in a deserted hall, or was it that he had herded her in that direction while she was distracted? “What happened to your piercing?” She suddenly asked, her eyes fixated on the tiny puncture hole on his bottom lip where his lip ring used to be.

“You’re deflecting, so when’s the party?” His eyebrow quirked, he came to stand in front of Sabrina as she leaned her back against a wall. She really was gorgeous to him, but she just held back too much he felt. There were times when some of the other female talents were being so nasty to her, and he hated it, but it’s not like he could interfere with another woman’s business. He’d ask her about it, and she’d make up a lame excuse like, “it’s not worth the drama,” which Punk felt like if someone scuffed your shoe it’s definitely worth the drama.

“That’s what really made me fall in love with you when I was growing up. It’s just a silly little piercing, but it wasn’t just that, it was everything else added to it. You were everything that girls like me weren’t supposed to like.” She paused, her gaze not quite meeting his, usually he didn’t like her little anecdotes distracting him from what he originally was bothering her about, but this was more than she’s ever given him. He stood with his arms folded, interested in what she had to say.

She sighed as if recalling the memories of her early days exhausted her, “I was raised a good ole Christian girl, church every Sunday, and praying before bed every night. I wasn’t supposed to be watching things like wrestling but it was the one worldly thing my mom allotted me in exchange for my obsession with the occult.” Punk tittered, he looked at the woman standing before him now and tried to imagine a less…gray, version of her. She was just as tatted, and pierced as he is now. Perhaps that was his doing, oops.

“Back then, I wasn’t watching wrestling for John Cena, or Rey Mysterio. Nah, I was watching every Monday night for the Randy Ortons, The Undertaker…for you.” Punks eyebrows shot up in shock, he looked around and then pointed to himself for conformation.

Sabrina giggled, “yea you mister straight edge.” She wasn’t sure why she was spilling her juicy secrets to him, but anything was better than talking about her birthday. “You were a sacrilegious jackass who’s offenses knew no bounds, and that was the thing I loved about you so much.”

There was a long pause, “you’re a heathen, and you probably should have been taken to therapy.” He snorted, Sabrina rolled her eyes, “alright then let me have it, I can tell by the way you pinch your lips you’re holding back from verbally assaulting me.” Punk offered. His tone humorous, he was still unaware just how serious she was being.

“Okay fine.” She nodded her head decidedly, “you’re not used to compliments, and you could say it’s because you’re oh so humble. Or you could say that, because you’re so busy shitting on yourself with the constant woe is me bullshit you never see how much we adored you. You can’t see past your own self pitty, and how under appreciated you felt, you didn’t even realize when you walked out that door we all walked with you.” She only paused to take a breath, “but then as of the dramatic exit to end all dramatic exits weren’t enough, you took the company, chewed it up and spat it out. Then for some reason that wasn’t even the icing on the trauma cake, you didn’t just return once, you returned twice. God forbid you don’t outdo yourself. Point is…you changed, and if I’m being honest I don’t totally buy it. The clean boy act, the suits, the making amends, it’s bullshit.”

To Punk’s shock Sabrina’s revelation got under his skin, no one’s ever tried to hold him up to the light like this and he’s not sure if he likes it. “So what do you want from me? I’m 45 for crying out loud. I can't exactly start locker room fights.” He snapped at her, his voice raising above his normal volume.

“I want that lip piercing back, I want you to stop wearing those goddamn suits and be the Grinch I know you are.”

“What the fuck Sabrina, are you crazy.” He laughed, the way she looked at him actually made him feel a little nervous, she was being so aggressive, but he liked it. This is what he's been wanting from her, a little bite back, a little zest. Maybe I should ask her about her birthday more often.

She grabbed onto his tie, pulling him towards her till it was barely any space left between them. His hands hovering over her hips, his head craned around looking for any other talent, or officials that might come across them. Sabrina didn’t seem to give a fuck who saw them, which was news to him. Her eyes flickered to the arm brace that was tightly pinched over his suit jacket. “You don’t even need that arm brace do you?”

Turning his attention back to her, he grinned, “redacted.”

“Jade let it slip that Lash and Jakara are throwing me a surprise party. Everyone is invited, even old dogs.” She said playfully, Punk rolled his eyes, but he let her have it.

“Should I even bother bringing you a gift?”

She thought about letting him off the hook, but since he’s the one that started this conversation, why not get something out of it? “Wear the piercing.” She demanded in a soft voice, her arms sliding up his chest, and around his neck. She could smell his expensive cologne, she guessed it was something like Gucci, or Versace.

Punk let out a chuff of air, his minty breath fanning her face. “You gotta be kidding?” He was going to do it anyway, he didn’t need convincing, however, if she was willing to change her mind he wouldn’t be mad at that either.

Sabrina pushed herself off the wall which only brought them closer, Punks hands now gripping her waist, “think of it as cosplay, and if you do, we can have a repeat of TKO party…sober.” She ran her fingers through the curtains of his hair from front to back, and gripped his brunet strands. His growl mixed with laughter was all she needed. Before he had a chance to rebuttal, he pushed him away, blew him a kiss, and headed down the hall. Punk shamelessly watched her walk away, committing the way her cheeks bounced as he walked to his memory.

—

The party Lash and Jakar threw for Sabrina was every bit of wild as she expected. There was an even mix of people she, and people she didn’t packed their shared apartment. Music was way too loud to hear her own thoughts, which meant there would absolutely be a noise complaint from their tenant. She took a few shots to make everyone else feel like she was grateful to be there, but as soon as she was away from prying eyes she slipped off to her bedroom.

As soon as plopped down at her desk someone knocked on the door, “now who the hell?” She mumbled, reluctantly she crossed the room again, only to cuss out the person that was ruining her personal time.

“My bad, thought this was the bathroom.” Punk grinned, Sabrina was surprised he actually showed up, and in dress code. His red Ralph Lauren polo matched his Vans, and his dark blue jeans tied the whole look together. His toned, tattooed arms stood out against the deep reddish top he wore. So you have been spending more hours in the gym. Sabrina mentally noted the way his chest looked more elevated, she couldn’t see his physique well in those dreaded three piece suits. She grimaced at that stupid arm brace he didn’t need, she tried not to let it ruin the moment for her.

She shook her head, trying to fight the smile on her lips, the butterflies in the pit of her stomach, and the sudden ache of desire between her thighs. She always felt Punk looked handsome, but he brought some extra heat with him that she’s not used to seeing. “Well look what the scene dragged in, you look good.”

“Yeah? Not bad for an old dog.”

“Just shut up and get in here before someone notices I’m hiding.” Sabrina grasped his large hand in hers, the glint of his watch caught her eye as she closed the door, and locked it behind her. She pressed her back to the door letting out a breath of relief, as her eyes fluttered closed Punk took her in. Her outfit was very revealing, he’s never seen this much of her skin before, but then again he’s not down in Florida all the often. Her little black dress stopped mid thigh, it was strapless which didn’t help to support her large breast. Her legs and thighs were covered with black lace stockings that had pentagram designs on them. As sexy as the dress was on her, she decided to wear doc martens. A real Cinderella, Punk wasn’t sure if he should sit, though he was clean, her room somehow felt cleaner.

His eyes swept around the dark room, it was very strategically designed which told him more about her personality than what he thought he knew originally. “What, no poster of me?”

“I had a poster of you, I replaced it with Drew McIntyre when you pissed me off at Clash.” She was proud of that burn, the look on his face was worth the lie, but for now she simmered in his agitation.

“Cute.” He grumbled, that’s when she noticed it, the lip ring.

She crossed the room to him, she knew exactly what she wanted, and he knew it too. The game of cat and mouse was over for her, “you wore the piercing.” She met him where he stood in the middle of the room, one hand on his chest, and the other stroked his bottom lip with her index finger.

“Of course I did as told.” He smiled proudly.

“What good boy you are, come sit.” Sabrina plopped down on her bed, the blankets were pulled back to reveal Akatsuki, from Naruto, themed sheets. Punk wasn’t familiar, but he knew it had to be some sort of cartoon knowing Sabrina.

He watched her from where he stood, suddenly his skin felt hot, and he was sure his cheeks were flushed. She sat with her legs crossed, hands in lap, she looked so harmless, but he wouldn’t be fooled. “I can’t promise you I won’t bite, but I’m in a mood.” She purred, her hand patting the empty spot next to her, Punk breathed through his nose. Her room smelled like vanilla and chocolate, a contrast to her perfume which smells like cotton candy. Even if he wanted to think clearly he couldn’t, she had him surrounded.

He came to sit beside her, it was then he realized that he did have a gift to give her. “Oh, this is for you.” He dug a small, rectangular box from his pocket, it was covered in black velvet, and wrapped with a lavender purple chiffon ribbon tied in a bow. Sabrina was shocked, it looked like he put a lot of thought into it, all the other presents people brought her tonight were in dollar store gift bags. Not that she was complaining, she made it more than clear that she didn’t like to celebrate her birthday.

Her eyes slowly dropped to his tattooed covered hands, it was so small, but the gesture was so big. “Velvet, what a fancy gift.” She joked, she still hadn't taken the box from his hands, and a part of her didn’t. She wanted to skip this part all together, but she swallowed thickly, and took it from his hands. Neither of them spoke as she untied the ribbon, her heart hammered against her rib cage, and she wondered if he could hear it. She pulled the top off, and her breath caught in her throat.

“I know you’re really into spiders…for some creepy ass reason, but that’s who you are, a little weirdo.” Punk chuckled softly, inside the gift box, was a necklace with a spider made of sterling silver attached. Its abdomen had a shining red ruby in the center, and a single drop of pearl attached to its legs. What the hell made him buy me something so…intimate? She wondered, sure they flirted every now and again, usually when Punk was around all he ever did was annoy her. Sabrina understood that was his way of flirting, so she’d flirt back never thinking…

“Um…” Sabrina uttered, for the first time in his life, Punk felt uncomfortable. He just wanted to get her an actual good gift, Cody did warn him that maybe that’d be too much, but he couldn’t help himself. ‘Doing the most.’ Was in his nature.

He laid a hand on her wrist bringing her out of her thoughts, “it’s just a gift, I promise.” There was a sign of relief on her face, her body relaxed, but he could tell she was still confused by the sentiment. “Listen I’m an excellent gift giver, you’re lucky to be a witness of that…and besides you deserve to be gifted with something you actually like.” He smirked bringing the light energy back into the room, Sabrina chewed gingerly on her bottom lip.

Her gaze met him now, those pretty hazel eyes standing out against his dark, brunette hair. She reached out her hand, “I love it actually, it’s stunning. Thanks Phil.” Her smile genuine, he fought the urge to close his eyes, and take in her touch. She pulled away, took the necklace, and sat it on her night stand next to the bed.

“Listen, Sabrina—

She cut him off, “whatever this is between us, I don’t want it to end yet.” She cut right to the point, he didn’t question it, but instead pulled her into a hot kiss. Both of them needed to release the tension that’s been building over months. One hand held her to him, and the other gripped her thigh. They only separated to breathe, “I wanna use your face, can I sit on it Daddy?” Punk was already standing, and pulling his Polo off. Sabrina leaned back on her hands watching hold undress, a haughty smirk on his lips. Her eyes full of hunger as his hands slowly unbuckled his brown leather belt, and unbuttoned his pants. Her tongue slid across full, luscious lips. Punk stepped out of his Vans, set them to the side, and pulled his jeans down all the way, and kicked them out the way.

“All you gotta do is ask, Princess.” He teased, he ran a hand through his hair, this time he decided to not gel his hair down, he knew how much Sabrina liked to tug on it. “You see what you do to me, I’m so fucking hard.” He groaned, his hand gripped his dick over the fabric. As she stood to unzip her dress, Punk dropped to his knees before her, he kissed her thighs, and helped her step out of her boots. Her breathing was heavy, as the anticipation felt like it was killing her. It had been sometime since that company party. She’s been trying to recreate the way his tongue had traced her labia, but nothing would ever come close to the real thing.

He helped go tug her dress off, then threw it onto the bed behind them, and when he looked up he gripped his shaft harder. From this angle below her, he could see her curves even better than when he’s standing. “Fuck, come stand over here baby.” He directed her towards her desk, she faced towards the wall with her ass poked out, but when she peaked over her shoulder Punk was crawling towards her on all fours.

“That’s right, come get this ass.” Sabrina arched her back, she clapped her cheeks as she looked back at him, the friction causing her to ache more between her thighs. Punk hooked his finger over her lace stockings, as he pulled them down he trailed wet, hot kisses down her ass. Without looking he tossed her tights then eagerly pressed his face between her booty, and inhaled her deeply. “Fuck.” She hissed out, his roughly slapped her, then warmed her up before landing another thunderous blow down on her.

He pulled her panties to the side not even bothering to take them off, Sabrina was already too far from anything sensible, and once his tongue touched her clit, all decorum went flying out the window with the rest of her manners. He slurped her up all her juices, he covered his lips, nose, and beard in her essence. He reached his hand around her waist, his fingers made sloppy circles around her brown pearl. His tongue delved between both her holes, she held onto the desk with dear life, and twisted around to look at him. No one had ever eaten her like this. “Oh my god.” She cried, her fingers gripping his hair, his eyes looking up at her, he looked like a devil, “you're so nasty.” She moaned breathlessly, her hips rocked back and forth across his face. He held her by the hips so she wouldn’t lose footing, his lips caught her clit again, gently he sucked on her.

“Goddamn it, that’s so good.” She groaned she wasn’t sure when, or how the room had gotten so hot. She could feel sweat like her hairline, she could feel her baby edges peeling away from her forehead. “I’m so close, don't stop, please.” Sabrina begged, her hips bucked backwards, her throbbing intensified, and as her head fell backwards she was already done. A mix of her juices and his saliva sliding down her thigh. Punk wasn’t done yet, he slid his tongue back and forth between her folds until he felt like he had gotten every drop she had to over.

Punk grunted, “this ass is mine.” Then, disrespectfully spat on her pussy before trailing kisses up her lower back, to her shoulder. His thick, erected cock pressed against her as he held her by the waist from the back. “I’ve been thinking about this cunt of yours since I was on the plane here, all I’ve been wanting was to be so deep inside you.” He whispered in her ear, his hands found her breast, and caressed them gingerly. Sabrina swore she couldn’t see straight, or maybe it was from her eyes being rolled back.

“Prove it, fuck this pussy like it’s yours.” Sabrina breathed out, she could feel his tip slip over her entrance, he chuckled darkly, and kissed the shell of her ear.

“The only thing you’ll be craving for months is me sweetheart.” Before she could respond, he pushed himself slowly, and didn’t stop till he filled her all the way up.

“Ohhh fuck yes.” She cried out, the music too loud for anyone to hear them, Punk’s hand slid down to lower stomach, and held her against him. He pulled out of her, but leaving the tip in teasing her entrance.

He slapped her ass, “you want this dick baby? Let me fucking hear you.” This time he slammed back into her, over, and over till they were both fighting to catch their breath. His Instagram post of him doing hip thrust in the gym flashed in her mind, she couldn’t help but let out a giggle, mixed with a ragged moan.

“Fuck you.” She groaned, she leaned forward onto the desk, and hiked her knee up. She pushed back into him meeting his rhythm half way, peaking over her shoulder she could see him leaning back so he could watch her ass bounce.

He was grinning like a mad man. “That’s right, throw that ass back on me, just like that kitten.” Sabrina tightened around him, her knees weakened, and core aching so good. Punk leaned forward, one hand holding onto her waist, and the other wrapped around her throat. He filled her up perfectly, hitting all the right spots, and pounding her just the way she liked. He wouldn’t be back in Florida for a few months, so he put an extra special touch on it. Sabrina let her mouth fall open as moans, and whines of please poured out of her. “Fucking right, let that shit out, I wanna fucking hear it.” Punk encouraged her as he counted the steady rhythm, he could feel his own orgasam creeping up on him, but he knew she was closer.

“Ah! I’m gonna cum.” Sabrina breathed, Punks hand reached between them, his fingers massaging her clit. Her hand reached up and dug her fingers into her hair, “oh god don’t stop please.” She begged.

“I got you baby, I don’t care how long it takes, I’m not gonna stop.” His breath was warm against her, she inhaled his cologne deeply as she came undone underneath him. Had this been any other night her cries might have alerted her neighbors, but the bass of the loudspeakers made them unknown to the party goers. She took a second to catch her breath before spinning around, and now dropping to her knees. Mouth open, tongue out. “Look at you, such a good girl.” He praised, his hand massaging himself at a rapid rate, he held her head perfectly still. Milky white seman dribbled out of him, Sabrina took over, and wrapped her lips around his tip. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He changed over and over as she sucked him for everything he was worth, which wasn’t a whole lot in his opinion.

She swallowed without hesitation, Punk pulled her up from the floor, and pressed his lips to hers. It was sloppy at first, both of them too exhausted to do much of anything else, but it slowed to a softer touch. She wrapped her arms around his neck, a silly grin spread across his lips. “Happy Birthday Rin.” He hasn’t used that nickname since they first met three years ago. It was dumb but he was the only one that managed to get away with it.

“I’m gonna go shower.” Her own smile matching his, as she walked away, Sabrina thought this was the best birthday she had in years.

Tag list: @shes2real @joannasteez @plutokisss @naturallysunkisseddaisy

[grandlinedreams]

You’ve done an aged up quirk story, could I request one one where the Heart Pirates get hit with the opposite, and suddenly reader and Law are frantically taking care baby everyone. And there’s something about seeing reader handling babies that stirs…something in Law.

Hiya!! I actually haven't done a story like that before so I think you have me confused for Coza who did do an aged up thing, but I hope I can do this justice for you! But also hey i made it a week on this blog before devolving into my law based brainrot also most of this is under a readmore bc it's LONG pulling in at about 2.4k

[!]: MINORS DNI. AGELESS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

[Heads up!: devil fruit effects, fingering, reader is not gendered but there is usage of termed genitals(clit), unprotected sex, breeding kink, piv, i think i have my bases covered]

All in all, you’re really not sure this situation can get worse.

 But on second thought, you amend it ㅡ things can always get worse. And so, correction ㅡ things could get worse, but you’re desperately hoping that they won’t.

“[Name]?” You look down at the tiny redhead, his arms wound around your leg. “Can you hold me?” 

“Of course.” You bend down as he reaches up, your hands hooking under his arms to lift the small boy into your arms, situating him against your hip. “Careful though, don’t wake Bepo.” 

The mink, now reduced to a small cub, is fast asleep in the cloth you’ve tied around yourself as a makeshift carrier, his head resting against your shoulder. Approaching footsteps make your attention shift to the newcomer, your eyes locking with familiar gold. “Any luck?”

Law shakes his head. “I didn’t figure that he’d hang around long afterwards. Baㅡ” Your eyes narrow in warning and Law looks away, jaw clenching as he surveys the mess that’s been made of his crew. Besides you and himself, the rest of the crew’d been the unfortunate victims of a devil fruit effect that’d reverted them to children ㅡ and without their current, adult frame of mind.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask, adjusting Shachi on your hip again, and Law’s eyes flick from the redhead to Bepo’s sleeping face, then to his own hands. Both are occupied by a set much smaller than his own, and Ikkaku looks up at him and beams as Clione stares at the ground, scuffing his shoe in the dirt. 

What an odd scene this must appear to be ㅡ two adults and a group of children of varying sizes scattered nearby, tucked far enough into an alleyway that the casual passersby wouldn’t spot them. 

“Not sure. If we’re lucky, it shouldn’t last much more than a couple of hours.” 

“Well, nothing to be done but figure out how to look after them until it wears off.” You wiggle the fingers of your free hand in invitation, and Law watches as Uni darts over to latch onto it with both of his. “Should we take them back to the Polar Tang?”

“That’d probably be our best bet,” Law sighs, and Clione looks up at him with a frown. 

“Are you mad at us?”

Law turns, lips parting ㅡ and you cut him off before he can speak, your tone gentle in a way he’s never heard. “Of course not. Nobody’s mad at any of you, okay? You’re not in trouble, I promise.”  

Clione perks up at your words and you smile, pleased that you’ve been able to help cheer up your crewmate. Pushing down the stir of something odd in his chest, Law looks back up at you. “We should head back.”

You nod and adjust Shachi again, coaxing him to wrap skinny arms around your neck for support and still when Bepo squirms at the accidental knock of Shachi’s hand against his cheek, though the mink otherwise stays asleep. 

You slip past Law and he watches as Hakugan, Penguin and Jean Bart hurry to follow you, sight uncannily similar to that of ducklings following their mother. Glancing down at Ikkaku and Clione, he heaves a soft sigh before he moves to follow you. 

You make it half-way back through the little town before Ikkaku is tugging on his hand, and he glances down at her. “My feet hurt.” Cheeks puffed in a tiny pout, brown eyes bore into his own as she tugs on his hand for emphasis. “Carry me!”

“It’s not much further,” he tries, adjusting his tone so that it’s something closer to yours had been and when it doesn’t do anything beyond making Ikkaku pout further and stomp one of her feet, he gives in and lets go of Clione’s hand for a moment to pick Ikkaku up. The tiny girl makes a noise of delight, and he reaches for Clione’s hand again, little fingers curling around his. 

He knows how strange the two of you must look with your entourage of children, and he finds himself wishing more now than ever that the effects of that devil fruit will wear off. You’re stuck here until it does, after all ㅡ the two of you can’t pilot the Polar Tang on your own, and he’s not certain about the effect of deep-sea submersion on children. 

“You have a lovely family, my dear.” Law looks up to find you halted by an older woman who watches his crew cluster around your legs, Shachi tucking his face against your shoulder. As Law steps closer, her eyes flick to him. “This must be your husband.” 

There it is again, the odd flicker from before ㅡ stronger now, even as warmth threatens to rise to his cheeks at being called your husband. Your own are already pink, though your smile stays polite.

 “Thank-you,” you say, and the lady beams before she hurries off ㅡ apparently her only intent to compliment you and your supposed family. The Heart Pirates are your family, you've said that before and made it clear ㅡ but that woman's words are rattling around in Law's head with an entirely new kind of persistence. 

He's never given what he'll do after all of this much thought. To keep himself grounded in reality and not let himself hope for too much, he's told himself he'll be fine with just making it out alive. But now? 

"Law?" Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts to find you watching him, your expression somewhere between confusion and concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, "let's keep moving. The sooner we're back on the Polar Tang, the better." 

Now, he thinks he might give it more thought. Something soft, vulnerable ㅡ a future with you, where he can be your husband. He's never even thought about marriage like that, but being called your husband ㅡ he could get used to that. 

And a family. 

That surprises him, the sudden want for it ㅡ or maybe it's always been there, pushed down and buried. He doesn't even know your own thoughts on it ㅡ what you want for the future. You've never talked about it in depth before ㅡ but he still hopes that whatever you want, he can be the one to give it to you. 

ㅡ

"They're all finally asleep," you report quietly as you slip into Law's room, shutting the door with a sigh. "They'll be confused if they wake up like that and they're back to normal." You pause. "They are cute, though."

"Small price to pay," Law says, watching as you climb over his legs to settle on the bed beside him. "I just hope they don't remember this."

"Embarrassed that they might see you as anything but a grump?" You tease, grinning when he gives you a flat look. "I saw you holding Ikkaku earlier, it was cute." You reach, snuggling into his side. "I can see you as a dad to a little girl." 

Law tenses. "About that," he starts, and you pull away to regard him curiously as his attention shifts to you, eyes locking with yours. "Have you thought about what you want when this is over?" 

Your head tilts. "I mean not really," you admit, "but if I had to…I think I'd want us to settle down somewhere nice. I'd want a garden, so it'd have to be a place with good weather…" Law is staring at you, and you trail off. "What?"

"You said 'us'," he points out, and you snort, amused.

"Well yeah, dummy. You think I want that with anyone but you?" There's a small smile tugging at your lips, one that gives him the push to continue with his next question. 

"And…would you want a family?" 

"Well, you're my family," you say and his lips part to protest that he doesn't mean like that, but you're continuing before he can. "But like…our family? Between you and me? Yes, but…I would never push for something you didn't want too, Law." Your tone is soft but expression serious, no sign of teasing. "Kids or no kids, I want my future to be with you, whatever that means for us." 

He wants to agree. Wants to tell you that he feels the same way, that it doesn't matter as long as he has you ㅡ but instead, he kisses you. 

He can tell he's surprised you with the vehemence behind it, the seconds delay before you kiss him back. You let him push you onto your back, caging you beneath him. 

"Law," you manage when he finally pulls away in favor of kissing your jawline, "Law, the kidsㅡ"

"They're not really kids," Law counters and you huff, finding it hard to focus with the pinch of his teeth, worrying strawberry pink blooms down your neck. 

"They're right there," you still protest weakly, though you know you're already on the losing side of the argument. Law hums, pausing against the flutter of your pulse point, lips curving into a smirk.

"Then you'll just have to keep your voice down." Law is an absolute menace when he wants to be ㅡ something he's making clear at the moment.

You bite back a whimper when his lips press against your collarbone, the upward skim of one of his hands on your stomach earning a shiver from you and the arch of your back as he palms at your breast. 

There's the brief pause as he works your shirt up and over your head, his own following before there's the warmth of his mouth on your skin again. 

Lifting you a hand to cradle the back of Law's neck, you whine when he reaches up, tugging your hand away and pressing it down into the bed beside your head. "If you know what's good for you," he murmurs, "you'll keep your hands there."

It's a threat and a promise, one that makes heat pool between your legs, instinctive upward roll of your hips against earning you a groan against your skin as he grinds down against you. 

The path that Law makes down your chest is gentle but intentional, the brush of fingers down your ribs as he lets his attention linger at the soft skin of your stomach. Your cheeks burn at the soft intimacy of it, the strategic handful kisses at your navel, down to the swell of your hip bone. 

And then Law is moving back up, kissing you soundly as he pops the button of your pants, tugging the fabric of your underwear down with it and thumbing at the plush of your thighs as he skims his hands back up. 

The sink of one long finger into you gets a choked gasp of his name, one that makes him smirk, watching your face contort with pleasure as he adds a second finger. 

"This soaked and I've barely touched you," he murmurs, eyes gleaming at the crawl of darker red across your cheeks before your hips buck at the curl of his fingers. You've been intimate only a handful of times but he knows you like the back of his hand, drinking in every sound and face you make and committing them to memory. 

He can feel the slick pulse of your walls around his fingers, clenching with every curl and press of his digits, a moan slipping from your lips when he scissors them. A hard crook of his fingers paired with the abrupt press of his thumb against your swollen clit is what does you in as you cum, clenching hard around his fingers as you soak his hand. 

He gives you a moment to recover, watches your chest heave as he reaches to shed the last of his own clothing. His skin is warm against yours as he settles over you, hisses at the slick drag of your core against his throbbing length. 

"Want you," you say, and Law's chest aches as he leans in to kiss you. This time he does it sweetly, intertwines one of your hands with his, the other slipping down to guide himself to your entrance before he sinks into you. 

Your fingers squeeze his as Law's hips meet flush to yours, room quiet save for the sound of soft panting as you try to ground yourself. Law hisses as you clench around him, kissing the corner of your mouth before he pulls back enough to start moving. 

It's not as rough as you'd been expecting with how suddenly he'd pounced on you, but there's a certain intensity to his thrusts that doesn't go unnoticed. Your gaze drifts over the flush to Law's cheeks, the fine layer of sweat at his forehead, the shock of dark hair you so often run your fingers through during late nights and early mornings. Times where he's wholly, selfishly yours, just as much as you are his. 

Pleasure lances through your veins when he shifts his hips a little, nudges your legs apart a tiny bit further apart so that he sinks just a little deeper into you. The hand intertwined with yours slips free, fingers drumming down your ribs and in.

The barely there swell of your lower stomach is what catches Law's attention, magnetic as he spreads his fingers against it, pressing down slightly. It's not enough to hurt you, would never be that much ㅡ but the way your eyes roll makes it beyond worth it. 

"Gonna give you a baby," he says, words tumbling from his lips unchecked, "give you everything you could ever want, so long as you're mine." 

He pairs it with a rougher thrust, aware of how you're clenching around him, dangerously close to that precipice. "Say you're mine, [Name]. Wanna hear you say it." 

"Yours," you gasp, voice pitching higher when he slips his hand down to rub at your clit, working it in tight circles. "I'm yours!"

Law cums first, presses as deep as he can and groans into your neck as he spills into you, setting off your own orgasm as you clench around him with a moan. 

He all but collapses against you, breathing hard as you drag a hand up and down his back. Once he's caught his breath, he leans up enough for a soft kiss, one you return before you thread your fingers into his hair and tug him away from your mouth.

He expects a comment on what the two of you just did, or perhaps something about what he had said, the potential ramifications of your actions. But you don't. Instead you stare at him sweetly, a juxtaposition from the words that you say next. 

"If the kids heard any of that," you warn, "you're dead to me."

[theunfortunateplace]

"I was thinking about a neteyam x fem!human!reader. Reader is a short girl, maybe 4'11 (1.48) and Neteyam takes advantage of it and corners her to the wall..."

This was my request. Sory for misunderstanding

oblivious

Paring: Neteyam X Fem!Human!Reader

aged up Neteyam(26) Reader(22)

Word count: 5K

Synopsis: You’ve been sent to Pandora as a researcher. Constantly having your head in the books, swabbing cultures, and learning more about the world you’ve been sent to. Grace would occasionally mention the different Na'vi, but you had no clue who anyone was. Little did you know someone had been watching you this whole time. 

word bank: Lawr=melody

Warnings: no use of Y/N, smut, Dom!Netyam, semi-oblivious reader, size kink, teasing, slightly possessive Neteyam, P in V, cock warming, creampie, breeding kink, hair pulling, male receiving oral, 

a/n- This definitely took longer than I thought it would, but I finally got it done. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy.

“Can you get that for me?” You asked while letting out a sigh accepting your defeat. Grace raised her brow and shook her head. “You know there should be some sort of high requirement for these job positions.” You playfully rolled your eyes and took the stack of books from her. “If they did that it would be discrimination! And thank you.” 

“Mhm, you’re welcome.” She started walking away but turned back on her heels. “Oh, Neteyam and Lo’ak are stopping by.”  You placed the books next to the microscope, looking up with a confused face. 

Grace scuffed. “Do I need to make a damn PowerPoint for you? Come on quark!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname she gave you. It was the name used once protons and neutrons are broken down. Making them the smallest particles. 

“Are they the ones that come in here with spider?” She nodded her head and lit her cigarette.  You weren’t too familiar with the Na'vi… You tried to speak the language but only managed to grasp a couple of words, phrases, and some sentences if you were lucky. 

But most of the time when the men came through you just minded your business and stayed to yourself. 

“Yes with Spider… seems like he’s the only one you remember?” 

“Weeell he’s the only one who’s here often.” She shook her head “What are they stopping by for?” 

“Not sure. Anyway, I’ll be in the village.” 

You’ve seen pictures from when Grace was in her human form but that was many years before. She talked about the war many times and it still shocks you how she survived….how anyone survived. 

You nodded my head and started pulling out the necessary agar dishes and instruments for culture dishes

Many scientists passed by not paying you any mind. It wasn't until you heard Norm logging on his tape recorder that you finally looked up from the microscope.  He noticed he was looking and waved while finishing up.  “Hey, how’s it going Quark?” You let out a sigh making him chuckle.  “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you have to admit the name catches on fast.” 

‘At least it wasn’t an insulting name I’ll give Grace that’ you thought. “Yeah yeah yeah. I heard Spider and his f-

“ NORM! What’s going on!” You turned your head quickly hearing his loud voice bounce off the walls of the lab.  “Never mind it seems they have arrived.” You said 

Spider looked at you and instantly ran almost tackling you! “Umph… dude, we talked about this! I’m not a damn target stop tackling me like I’m a runaway!” 

“Shit- I’m sorry” he pulled away and fixed your hair…. Well, I attempted to fix it. You swatted his hand away and properly fixed it. The other scientist always would comment how you two were meant to be siblings with how you interacted with each other. The two Na'vi men were in the back watching the whole thing. 

“Spider is that your girlfriend? You sure ran to her like she was.” 

Spider spun around and gave the slightly shorter one the finger while the tallest one watched the two banter….until you felt his eyes on you. Your breath hitched causing a smirk to appear on his. You watched as he looked away and walked towards Norm. 

“Oel ngati kameie olo'eyktan.” Norm said while bringing his hand up to his forehead and extending it. This was a common greeting they used but of course, you struggled with it.  The really tall one returned the gesture and began speaking the language you struggled with the most. 

“What’s this you’re working on?” Spider asked causing you to jump. You’d been so caught up in staring at the man you forgot the name of to notice Spider was next to you along with the other man. “Shit! Spider, you have to stop doing that!” You clutched your chest and let out a huff of air. “And it’s swabs from the animals on Pandora…then once they are incubated properly I’ll be able to see the different bacteria that live on them.

The pair chuckled. “He didn’t do anything you were distracted by my brother.” You raised a brow and looked back between the one talking to Norm and the one standing next to you. 

You hummed and nodded your head. “ I see the resemblance.” 

He scoffed and shook his head while fiddling with the various books on your table. “Resemblance my ass! You’ve met us about a dozen times yet forget what we look like and our names.” 

You huffed and placed your hands on your hips. “Well, I’m sorry smart ass I have things to do and complicated names that I have to remember for reports…..and I do remember now you’re Lo’ak you always come in here and talk rather loudly if you ask me.” 

He scoffed and knitted his brows together mimicking your hand placement. “ I do not talk loudly you should see a doctor if your ears are sensitive you mouse.” You gasped and picked up one of the books getting ready to throw one at his head. 

“Oh, so you want to throw insults at my height?” 

His eyes widened “ n-no no that no-“

“Listen here you damn giant take another jab at my height and I’ll make sure to knock some inches off of you!”  You went to go throw the book as his mouth opened again but you were stopped by a large hand. You looked up to see the man called Neteyam smirking down at you. 

“Looks like you got yourself in some trouble brother.” He let out a deep chuckle sending chills down your back. The Na’vi accent was very thick on his tongue but you understood him clearly. Neteyam looked down at you again and let your hand go. You slowly let your hand drop and he smiled. 

“ I’m sorry Lawr, my brother tends to make trouble everywhere we go.” He said softly while squatting down. I took a step back surprised by how close he was. “Allow me to make it up to you…. I’m hosting a party well it’s more of a celebration for a hunt we had earlier this morning.” 

‘A celebration? How…what would I even wear’ you thought. “ I-I well I don’t really-“ 

“Bro look at her she can’t even speak properly,” Lo’ak said. You knitted your brows together gripping the book, and swiftly threw it at his head. Of course, he didn’t see the coming so it got him right above his eyebrow. 

Lo’ak let out a loud yelp and held the injured area. “ I have several more books if you want to keep talking ass hat!” Everyone started laughing and I turned back to Neteyam. 

“ I’ll take you up on that invitation thank you… Is there anything I should wear?” He smiled giving you a once-over. 

“You can come as you are or you can wear something nice, but I think you look beautiful as is.”  He smiled, making the heat rise to your cheeks. “Gosh ha-well I’ll wear something nice. It’s a celebration I don’t want to look raggedy.” 

I let out a small chuckle and sat back on my chair causing him to do another once over. He smirked before my attention turned back to Spider. 

“So no candy?” Spider chuckled and dug into his pouch. “If I didn’t bring any I’m sure you would have thrown a book at me.”  You playfully rolled your eyes as he placed the candy in the drawer on your research table away from your swabbing one. “No that’s only for people who have smart mouths.” You said taking a jab at Lo’ak who was still rubbing his forehead.  You heard Neteyam chuckle as he stood up. 

“Well, I will leave you to your work. I have duties to tend to until later….I’ll see you then lawr.”  You bit your lip subtly noticing his eyes not leaving you. He smiled before walking away.  You felt a little jab to your arm and it was Spider. You looked over to him and shook your head as he winked and wiggled his brows. 

“Will you stop? Now go, I’m sure Kiri needs help with something!”  Lo’ak gasped bringing your attention to him.  “So you remember my sister's name but not mine!” You laughed as you pulled out more agar dishes for swabbing. “Yes, because she is nice and I enjoy when she comes in!” It was the truth. Kiri truly was nice to have around and occasionally would bring little snacks. Most of the stuff on Pandora you couldn’t eat but some stuff you could. 

“You’re ridiculous you know that right? Am I not nice to have around?” You looked up at him and got up from your chair, you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for throwing the book at him. You went into the first aid freezer and grabbed one of the ice bags. 

You walked back over and handed it to him. “Here… and yes sometimes when I don’t have work to get done and you're not being loud.” He hesitantly took it and muttered a thank you before putting the ice on his brow. 

“Hm, maybe I’ll consider being quieter…or maybe you can take a break from work and come back with us.” 

You hummed while sitting back on your stool. “ I’ll think about it.” Is all you said he accepted the answer and nodded his head. They said their final goodbyes and you finally could go back to work…well at least you tried to but all you could think of was how intense Neteyam's gaze was.

-

After many hours of working you finally made your way back to your room to get ready for this ‘celebration'. This was the first time in months you’d gone to any sort of party so you were going to go all out and by all out it meant putting on some lipstick and mascara. You let your hair drop to your shoulders from its previous hairstyle so there was no need to spend unnecessary time with that. Especially when it was already curly.

“Maybe this is too much?” You said while looking in the mirror adjusting your outfit. You settled on a hip-hugging long skirt and the matching tube crop top that was practically a bra on you. Maybe it was too much especially with you putting your belly piercing back in. Maybe it was too much or maybe you were being super self-conscious knowing Neteyam would see you. 

You bit your lip and shook the unwanted thoughts from your head. “No! I haven’t been out of the lab in months I’m going as is!” You turned off the light and marched out of your room, only to be followed by a loud whistle from Norm who was now in his avatar form. 

You looked up and shook your head. “What are you doing here?” He chuckled and gestured for me to start walking. 

“ Neteyam insisted I be here to walk you to the village and sent his apologies for not being here instead.” You looked up shocked by what he just said but only nodded your head and hummed in response. ‘Hm he’s a gentleman I see.’ You thought 

“Also I’m sure I don’t have to give you the talk… but it’s best you don’t… how do I put this? Lo’ak tends to mess around so just a heads up.” You let out a loud laugh and shook your head. 

“That’s hilarious that you think I would even let him try something. I’m sure he got the message earlier today.” Norm chuckled and ducked as he walked out the building. 

In the past exopacks were needed for humans to breathe but after the war Grace and some of the other scientists developed a shot that would make it possible for you to breathe Pandora's air. That’s not your specialty so you had no clue how they did it but it was cool. 

With norms help it wasn’t a far walk and the music could be heard for a distance you’ve never been to one of these events before. A smile

 appeared on your face seeing grace in the distance dancing with other people. A sight you’ve never seen before. 

Kiri spotted you and instantly walked over with a wide smile on her face. “You made it! You look fantastic.” You did a little dance while turning around showing her your whole outfit.  “Come come let’s dance we can’t let this outfit go to waste!” 

Your eyes widened ‘Dance?’ You thought. You had no clue how to do their dances much less if they would look good on you. “ I-“. Kiri chuckled and leaned down to gently push you to the dance floor. “ I’ll show you now, stop worrying.” 

You looked around seeing couples dancing rather sensually. You hadn’t realized the music changed… and of course, you’d danced to similar music but it was nothing like this. You took a deep breath and followed Kiri’s lead and once you got comfortable you followed and put your own twist on it.  

You lost track of time with how many drinks you consumed and the music flowing through your body. You didn’t notice Neteyam watching you all night. But anyone who he conversed with sure noticed how his attention was elsewhere. 

It wasn’t until you managed to wander off that you were taken away by the various glowing flora. “Gosh, I should have brought my kit. I have to come back out here and get samples.”  You said admiring the plants, letting a gasp out seeing a strange animal fly up from below. 

“Not without me I hope.” A low familiar voice said causing you to jump. He let out a deep chuckle and held his hands up. “ I didn’t mean to scare you lawr” You tilted your and continued walking. 

“So you were following me?” You said as your hand grazed one of the flowers you passed by. “And what does that word mean?” 

The sound of the music was growing faint with every step you took but the further you walked the more things around you were illuminated. “You could say that yes. What kind of leader would I be if I left someone like you alone? And it means-“You spun around and knitted your eyebrows together. 

“ What is with you and your brother commenting on my height? I already know I’m short, okay!” You huffed out 

“ I can’t speak for my brother but I find your shortness cute.” You rolled your eyes letting out an annoyed grunt shoving his hips back in the process. But of course that was the wrong move on your part. The devious smirk on your face slowly faded as you watched his face morph into something you’d never seen before. 

It was as if your feet forgot how to walk forward and instead walked backward. The cold rock wall against your back caused you to let out a gasp. ‘When did we walk into a cave?’ You thought. It wasn’t until now that you realized the details in his face let alone his body. You bit your lip trying to look past the groin that was rather close to your face. You exhaled deeply and tried to move to the side but his hand pushed you back up against the wall. You looked up to find him staring down intensely. You watched as his head tilted. 

“Now what would happen if someone were to corner you like this?” He slowly lowered himself and you tried reaching out to trace the glowing dots on his abdomen but your hand never reached. “Someone as little as you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself against someone like me.” His hands grazed your cheek causing you to lean into it. “But you're not a wild animal or-” You felt his hands grip under your arms and swiftly pick you up pressing you back into the wall. 

Your breath hitched by how close his face was. “You clearly lack skills that would be vital to protect yourself out here.” He said, looking dead straight into your eyes.

“And how would you know?” He chuckled sending chills down your back. “Because I’ve been watching you ever since you started working here. I never saw one of your kind so small before.”

“ I didn’t know a leader could be a stalker.” He raised a brow.  “If stalker is what you call it then I guess but could you blame me? You had me intrigued,” he said with a smirk on his face as he moved closer to yours. Making your heart beat faster than ever. ‘What is he going to do? Is he going to kiss me?’ You thought. “We should get back.” He said pulling away from my ear and setting me back down.

“ hu-what?” He chuckled and gestured for you to walk in front of him. “ I said we should get back I wouldn’t want anyone thinking you got lost.” You felt his smirk burning in your back and all you could do was walk back to where everyone was with a frazzled mind. ‘What was that? I could have sworn he was going to kiss me! Then he pulls away. Get it together why the hell would he kiss me? I’m sure he’s betrothed to someone.’ And it didn’t help having those thoughts race through your mind. 

You felt his hand graze you back causing you to look up at him looking down at you. You gasped feeling one foot make its own decision to stop mid-motion. You yelped feeling the impact hit your knee. He cursed and swiftly picked you up. Not sort of wines coming from you. “See… I think it’s best I carry you.” He said turning in a different direction. “Maybe the second bowl of alcohol was too much…” you said gripping onto him. You heard him scoff. 

“No the first bowl was enough matter of fact. You shouldn't have drank any at all. I’m surprised you are still talking.” He said in an amused tone as if the alcohol was something not to be messed with. ���And why is that? I can handle my liquor quite well!” You huffed.

He laughed and shook his head “Well my ass! You just fell and hurt your knee.” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah because you touched me!” He didn’t say anything but kept walking… It was like that for a while. He said nothing and you stole long glances at him. You gripped onto him tighter feeling like you would fall. Making your face accidentally end up in the crevice of his neck. You cursed to yourself, smelling the addicting aroma coming off of him making you look up. He looked down briefly muttering something you couldn't understand. “Where are we going?” you asked resting your head on his chest. “Back to my place I need to examine your cut.”

He pulled back the flap on the door opening and sat you down on the woven carpet. You looked around as he walked off somewhere. It was lowly lit but lit enough so that you could see all the little details. ‘He's neat....and it doesn't smell in here. Well, why would it smell? He obviously knows how to clean especially himself. Gosh, he smelt so good. Did the Na’vi have cologne?’ Once again you found yourself distracted by all these questions and thoughts. You didn't notice he was sitting in front of you until his large hand touched your leg. You let out a gasp and he chuckled. “And you're easily frightened…I’m not letting you go out there alone.” You rolled your eyes and he let out a surprised scoff as he applied whatever it was on your knee.

“You know you have one hell of an attitude in you.” You grunted, “ especially someone for your size.” You reached in front of him and pushed his leg. If he wasn't so tall you would have pushed his chest. “See, my point is proven. Now sit still before I make you I need to finish doing this.” You raised a brow and looked him in the eye. “And why would I do that?” He let out a chuckle removing his hand from your knee. “Because I said so now don't move.” You huffed and stayed still until your eyes leaned back on his chiseled abdomen. Every part of his body had a different stripe. Without realizing your hand inched closer to touch the ones near his belly button. 

“If you keep touching me like that Lawr I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back.” He said jokingly but deep down you wanted it to be real. Unknowingly the sexual tension that had been building from this morning had come to a violent boil, and truthfully, you wanted him to do dirty things to you.  You looked up doe-eyed “Then don’t.” He looked shocked for a moment but smirked your comment off. “ I don’t think you know what you're talking about.” He said lowly 

He moved back now finished with your knee you bit your lip trying to decide what to do next.  You felt his thumb graze your lips dragging you out of your thoughts. “Don’t do that I’ll have another thing to fix.” He said but this time he wasn’t joking. This time his eyes were locked on you and his finger still pressed against his lips waiting for you to release the hold. 

But you didn’t instead you parted your mouth slightly letting his thumb fall in and swirled your tongue around it. Imitating what you would do to him if he would give you a chance. 

He let out a deep grunt when sucked on it but eventually let it go with a pop. “Please”, you asked, lust lacing your voice. You reached down at his loincloth waiting for him to protest and say no even looking up for approval. But the only look on his face was a smirk. “What are you waiting for my little Lawr? Put that mouth to work and show me how much of a good girl you are.” You bit your lip moving back to his loincloth swiftly untying it. 

You let out a gasp once faced with his large thick uncut cock. Your mouth was just watering at the sight ‘Gosh I need this in my mouth right now! Is this even going to fit in me?’ You thought as you took him I. Your hands bringing your mouth closer. 

You licked up the dripping pre cum on his tip making him let out a groan, bringing his hand to the back of your neck.  ‘There's no way this is going to fit in my mouth’ you thought as you quickly tried to figure out how to tackle it. You looked up and he let out a chuckle. “Is this your first time?” He asked in a rather cocky tone. You rolled your eyes. Took the tip of his cock into your mouth doing what you could do in the position you were in. 

A slew of curses spewed from his mouth as you tried to take him deeper but to no avail you were a coughing gagging mess. He huffed out as his hand caressed your cheek. “You gotta relax your throat, pretty girl. I know it’s big but if you want to take me you gotta relax it.” His smooth lust filled voice made you clench around nothing.  He suddenly let out a low grunt as his hand wrapped back around the back of your neck.  causing you to look up while still sucking on. 

He pulled you back by your hair. Making an unexpected moan to escape your mouth. “Enough of that on your back now.” He ordered. Without a second to spare, he picked you up putting you on your back. Your breath hitched feeling his fingers graze your clothed clit. He let out a mischievous chuckle. 

Resulting in your skirt getting yanked off along with your top. Leaving your chest exposed and your panties, which did a horrible job concealing how turned on you were.  Before you could even reach to cover your breast his mouth was already latched onto your nipple. “Fuck” you moaned out bringing your hands up to his head. You could feel him smirk against you. You gasped hearing a rip causing you to lift your head up in surprise only to find your panties ripped and thrown across the room. “Neteyam!” he chuckled. “You don’t need them anyways”, he towered over you revealing his cheeky smirk as his braids fell over his face. He took his cock in one hand stroking it slowly, clenching his fist as he rose to the tip. You watched yearningly, “Are you going to jerk off to me all night or are you going to fuck me?” You cursed out feeling him tap the thick head of his cock suddenly on your clit. “This is what you want?” he asked teasingly while looking at you wholly overtaken by lust.

You whined gripping his forearm as he lathered your wetness on his cock. “Yes” you finally spoke. He teased your entrance slowly trying not to hurt you, but it was hell holding back from plunging deep inside you. “You’re gonna need to breathe for me Lawr and relax. I can't do it if you don't do that for me,” he said softly. You nodded your head lazily still gripping onto his forearm, and as soon as your breathing became someone regular he began to enter.

 It was a burning pain at first that had you clenching your eyes shut even letting a few stray tears slip. “ I know I know I’m sorry Lawr it will feel better soon- fuck I promise.” He planted sweet kisses all over your face while whispering comforting words in your ear but soon the bearing feeling faded and your grip lessened. It was as if someone flicked a switch and now all you felt was pleasure. “Please” you mewed out as he started to properly thrust into you. He looked down wiping the stray ears from your face and smirked at your newfound pleasure. “See I told you… All you had to do was trust me.” He let out a deep gruntal moan as you clenched around him. 

It’s a shame he couldn’t fit all of him inside you. But that was okay because as the seconds passed inch by inch he was filling you up almost knocking the air from your lungs as he pounded into you. You bit down on his forearm moaning into him. 

He let out a breathy chuckle while rutting into you. “Marking me already hm?” He brought his hand down massaging your swollen clit. “You don’t have to worry I’m not going anywhere I’m yours.” You couldn’t process what he was saying or even begin to translate it. All you knew was that with the way his hips were moving and how much he was stretching you out you wouldn’t last long.  

He pulled out suddenly flipping you over, and pulling your hips up. “Wa- what’s going on?”  He leaned down kissing your back making your head droop low. “ I’m sorry I can’t hold back anymore.” He said in a tone you weren’t familiar with.  Your head spun around to see him lining up, but before you could ask what he was saying he dove back in making a scream of pleasure rip right through your throat. 

His grip on your hips was sure to leave a bruise the next day, but it was worth it. It was all worth it. You were ass up face down with Neteyam plunging deep in you. With your pussy relentlessly cleaning around him trying to pull him in deeper.  “shi- FUCK, you drive me crazy. You know that  fuck I’m gonna cum if you keep clenching around me like that!” The tears that were once on your face from pain were now replaced with tears created by pure bliss. 

No man has fucked you like this before. The orgasm that was brewing deep within you was fast approaching and if his brutal pounding didn’t put you on your ass by the end of the night the orgasm sure would. He reached under rubbing your clit again causing you to try and crawl away. He let out a chuckle yanking you back. “You’re not going anywhere. Take this fucking cock like the good girl you are and finish what you started lawr.” You cursed out as he continued to massage your clit not granting you any mercy. “No no no FUUUUU-“your screams fill the room around you as your orgasm ambushed its way to the forefront. 

A strong gush of fluids soaked the ground below you. “Good girl, look at you”, he cooed as his thrust got sloppy. He moaned out resuming the hold he had on my hips. “I'm gonna cum- fuuck I’m gonna fill you up so good. Is that what you want? Hm” you whined at the thought of his cum spurting into you.

 Despite you just cumming you clenched down on him hard. “Shii- I'm gonna fill you up- breed you so good. Make sure it fucking takes and if it doesn’t don’t think for a second I won’t have you bent over again.” His voice was strained. You turned back locking eyes. “ I want you to cum in me.” You mewed out. You watched as he came undone, feeling his cock twitch in you as his hot seed filled you up. Flooding your pussy to the point it was spurting out while he was still deep in you 

“Fuck.” He let out a breathy chuckle while rubbing your back. Your head dropped pressing against the floor, but he refused to let your body fall. Spinning you around and laying you on his chest as his back met the floor instead all whilst making an effort to keep his cock stuffed in you. “We have to get back to the-” he chuckled softly rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I'm sure they knew from the moment we left we weren't coming back.” You lay there on his chest believing every word he said, even if it wasn't the truth. You were too tired to question it and way too cock drunk to care

[chronically-ghosted]

bloody kisses — part three: cinnamon girl boy

pairing: shane morrissey/tim rockford rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 10K content: vaguely takes place in the 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, self-doubt, shame, worries about aging, heavy petting, oral (male receiving), first time giving head, gag reflex training, assplay, doggy style, protected p in a, discussions of dom/sub and top/bottom, bad family dynamics, hints of poverty, discussions around divorce, tim's internal battles, dominant!tim, bratty!shane, nasty dirty talk (anyone who identifies my favorite line gets a gold star), lmk if anything has been missed! dividers: @saradika-graphics a/n: i wanna cry @perotovar let me play with their beautiful blorbos and i had so much fun. i've never written m/m before so they took a HUGE risk on me - thank you so much for trusting me to treat them well!

series summary: shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

series masterlist

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(from @chronically-ghosted: if you liked my humble take on this, you can find my masterlist here!) ♥♥

Russet streaks of late afternoon light filter in through the vinyl slats over the grungy carpet when Shane opens the apartment door. He shuts it with a sigh, locking it behind his back, before tipping his head against the frame, closing his eyes, and taking a long inhale. On the exhale verging on a sigh, he tosses his keys onto the ripped and faded black couch to his right before trudging into the linoleum kitchen. 

There’s a note on the counter:

Gone to visit Barry’s kids in New Jersey. Be back on the 10th. Money for food is on the fridge.

Shane’s dark eyes flit to the M magnet that Samantha left here the last time she visited from Maine. Even their father came that time. 

He snorts resentfully when he sees it: twenty bucks to last him two weeks – thanks Mom. 

Chances that she left him anything in the freezer are lower than the chance he’ll be able to stretch this twenty till Friday. 

Shane slips off his leather duster and tosses it over one of the precarious bar stools. He snatches up the half empty packet of cigarettes from the scuffed living room table, takes one out, and lights it. He flops into the cracked leather, stuffing fluttering out of the cushions on impact, one of the metal springs stabbing him in his flat ass. Head against the ridge of the couch, Shane lazily puffs out smoke rings, his lips pursed, up to the ceiling. 

There’s about a dozen – maybe even twice as many – feelings in his chest right now, all bubbling and curling and spitting and scratching at his insides. Some of them are good – most of them are great, actually (god he can’t remember when he last felt this fucking ecstatic about anything) but some of them . . . some of them scare him so much he can barely breathe. 

Call, Tim had said, in his soft, low voice, the smell of sweet syrup still in the air, the plates with pancake crumbs sitting in the sink behind him. Call, if you need anything. 

The detective’s card sits in the left pocket of his duster. 

Shane shakes his head, a grim smile on his face. Can I call if I’m just fucking lonely without you?

He sips at the cigarette a bit, following the hazy trail of smoke as it wafts around the room. His eyes fall on the cracks of his life, this apartment he shares with his mother and her boyfriend. Stacks of newspapers by the bookcase that’s missing a few shelves. A cereal bowl he left by the window two days ago when a few friends invited him out to go check out Maxxx’s new stereo system. Takeout boxes and beer cans. Unfolded laundry in a plastic bin, the edges cracked and torn off. A few pictures when he was a wiry kid, then a wiry teen. He has a few good memories with Samantha, when he was fourteen and she was seven. That was the only time in his life when anything ever made any sense.

When she’d ask if he’d play her a s–

Shane’s eyes narrow at his bedroom door. Without looking, he snuffs the cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and stands up. Barry knows what would happen if he went into Shane’s room without Shane’s express permission – mother’s boyfriend or not – but Shane locks up every time. He keys open his bedroom door and finds everything as he left it. But that’s not what has him moving down onto his hands and knees, laying flat on his stomach to get a long arm under his bed. With a bit of searching, Shane’s face breaks open wide in surprise as he fingers curl around the long wooden neck. Slowly, Shane crawls back and with him comes his old acoustic guitar. 

By the line of dust on it, it really had been several years since he played this thing, but turning it over, the rightness of it settles into his hands, his hips, his bones. This is where it was always meant to be. 

Seems like I’m finding all kinds of rightness out of nowhere. 

He strums once. The strings are horrifically out of tune, but the thoughts swirling around in his brain make him smile. Fist under his chin, he props his head up on the guitar’s body, contemplating. 

He can still smell the sugar from breakfast and Tim’s aftershave from after breakfast. His heart squeezes without his control . . . and his ass twinges. Heat roars up his entire chest and he has to curl in on himself, rolling onto his back, to keep from exploding, a big stupid grin all over his face. The last twelve hours flit across his memory, each moment better than the next. 

Call, if you need anything, Tim had said.

I need you to tell me what to do now. Am I the same person? Do I want to be? If I left all of this and everyone behind, who would I be tomorrow? Would you keep me around then?

Do you even really like me now? 

He takes his hands down from his eyes, sighing and staring up at his popcorn ceiling, not unlike Tim’s. 

Beneath his right hand, his metal bracelets clatter with the wood of the guitar. 

Samantha. 

Samantha likes him, or at least used to. She loved some version of him. Little sisters are always supposed to love you, but maybe he could find that version again. If it’s still there.

Shane sits up and begins to clean his room.

Night comes and the light from the Morrissey apartment stays on a young man gathering trash and throwing it away. 

Tim hasn’t been this on edge since the four or five times he’s tried to quit smoking. He sits in his car, rain pouring down, heating set on low for an early November evening, and he thinks about all the ways this can go wrong. He stares up at the second floor of the tenement apartment, his fingers flexing around the steering wheel. 

Like file folders, he sorts his worries from least to most earth-shattering.

Shane is vulnerable right now. There is no one else in his life he can turn to with questions, and he had been left to fend for himself on and off since he was fifteen (Tim has pulled up his file only half a dozen times for follow up work on the shooting and Shane’s rap sheet often catches his eye). Of course, he wants nothing more than to be the person who Shane comes to with questions or concerns, or fuck, even just an ear to listen to. But, at his age, Tim is all too aware of what a situation like that could do to him. 

He’s already in too deep and he fucking knows it. 

Earth-shattering worry number two: he is a cop and he has booked this kid more times than he can count. Just for petty stuff and he was never the one to press charges – always the DA looking for an easy numbers game to boost his image before the elections. Tim fucking agonized over that and not just in Shane’s case – these kids weren’t in need of help, the attorney’s office said, they were problems that needed to be put down. So how fast would the DA’s head spin around and explode if he showed up to the policeman’s ball with the “Satanic Temple” on his arm, nevermind just another man? While that would be a sight Tim would cherish until he died, he can’t ask anyone – especially someone as new to all of this as Shane – to handle something like that. 

Which brings him to his final worry, the big concern that has him nearly start up his car and drive off, to call Shane on a payphone and apologize for not being able to ever see him again. Tim’s old. He’s fucking old and Shane shouldn’t have to carry decades worth of baggage when the kid’s got a fucking trunk of it himself. He’s old and a has-been and Shane has the rest of his life ahead of him. 

Of course, this is all assuming Shane would ever want something more with him and this isn’t just sex for him. But maybe that’s all it should be. Both of them dirty little secrets to each other that can fuel Tim’s fantasies until his cock finally stops working (which is probably pretty fucking imminent), and something that Shane can laugh about with his partner some day. 

With a sigh, Tim watches a figure move around behind dirty windows on the second floor. 

The only way Tim would walk away now is if Shane told him to take a fucking hike. And that’s a really big problem.

He turns off the car, grabs his tan raincoat, and heads towards the apartment building.

When Shane opens the door, Tim wonders if he had a stroke and is seeing things that aren’t really there. Shane still has all his earrings, his rings with his unusually jet-black hair, but the duster is gone. Shane has answered the door in a black sleeveless shirt, with faded but roughly-intact jeans, and bare feet. He looks –

“Laundry day.” Tim’s eyes snap up and Shane frowns petulantly. “‘S laundry day . . . n’ this is all I had.” His fingers around the doorframe tighten. “You gonna come in or just stand there and make me look like a fuckin’ rat?” 

Tim is very much aware of how much he looks like a cop even in plain clothes, and the tie with slacks isn’t helping. But he can understand why it might make things difficult for Shane to be seen with him.

But, fuck, if he only knew . . .

“Sorry.” 

He steps across the threshold and Shane shuts the door behind him, sticking very close to the wood to give as much space between the two of them as possible. The rain patters in the silence as Tim tries not to stare too much, but that pattern-picking part of his brain can’t help but lurch into overdrive. 

The apartment is empty. That’s the first thing he clocks. The second are several black garbage bags by the front door and the distinct smell of Pinesol in the air, sitting only faintly above the stench of cigarettes. Tim’s eyes fall to the cracked patio door, then the ashtray that has three very freshly stamped-out cigarettes in the bowl. Either two of Shane’s friends just left or –

“You want, um, something to drink?”

Shane moves swiftly from behind him to the kitchen and Tim’s gaze latches to his back. His ears are by his shoulders and Tim gets a brief flash of the borderline fear in those dark eyes before he disappears behind the wall.

“No, uh –,” Tim clears his throat and takes off his coat, then his holster, laying both flat on the counter that separates the living room from the kitchen. “I’m good. Mind if I smoke though?”

Shane returns, a beer can in his hand and slides into the plastic chair on the left side of the chipped table beneath a sickly, hanging fluorescent light. He cracks it and takes two long pulls before putting it on the table with a thud. He picks up his own packet and Tim thinks he might see a tremble in his hand.

He’s not sure if he feels vindicated, even elated, that Shane might be as nervous as he is, or just terribly awkward. 

“Make yourself at home.” Shane indicates the chair across from him with a jerk of his head before he lights up. The chair squeaks on the linoleum as Tim pulls it back and gingerly sits down. He stabilizes his elbows on the table to keep his hands steady as he takes out a cigarette from his own packet and lights it against his mouth. 

The heady rush of smoke combined with the fresh scent of rain soothes something and he forcibly tugs at his own courage.

“So, um, how’ve you been?” Fantastic start, Rockford.

Shane lifts those thin shoulders, eyes skirting the edge of the table. “Good. Went, uh, to see X the other day. He’s getting better. Says the hospital should let him out soon.” 

“Good. That’s good.” 

The room is so quiet, he can hear the paper burn and curl from the smoldering end of the cigarette between his fingers.

“And you? You've been – um?”

“Yeah, I’ve been good. Xavier – sorry – X’s testimony was really useful for identifying the shooter and establishing a timeline. Should be a pretty open and shut case.” 

At that, a wry smirk curls across Shane’s face. He looks at Tim with something that might be described as a teasing grin as he knocks loose a line of ash. “Probably the last and only time X is gonna be helpful to the police.” 

Tim responds with his own grin. “Wouldn’t expect anything different. Where’s the fun in easy cases?” 

They both chuckle, eyes on anywhere but each other. And yet the tension has cracked, just a bit. Enough to let Tim lean back in his chair and breathe out a long, relaxed plume of smoke. 

“But, uh, you called because you wanted to ask me something?” 

Shane’s ink-wet eyes glance up at him and Tim feels the knot beneath his chest bone throb. 

“Oh – yeah, right. Um, I was thinking about something you said over breakfast the other day . . .” Tim’s heart swells; he thinks about that morning all the fucking time too. Soft golden light and harsh black hair, spread across his chest. “And I was wondering if you still talk to your old friend in the NYU music department.”

That is not the question Tim had been expecting.

“John? Who works at the guitar shop on 7th?” 

“I’m not thinking of going to school,” Shane adds quickly, the tips of his ears going red and Tim has to make an effort to keep his eyes on Shane’s face. “I still think school is a fuckin’ racket made for rich people to make themselves richer and maintain authority over –,”

“Yes, I still talk to John from time to time. Why?” 

At this, Shane shifts in his seat, eyes low, shoulders rigid with tension. He taps his thumb on his knee uncomfortably. 

“Iwanajob . . .”

“Sorry?”

Shane scrunches his nose (the band around Tim’s chest tightens – god, he’s so fucking cute) and huffs.

“I want . . . a job. At the guitar shop . . . and I was hoping . . . you could introduce me to your friend. John, or whatever.” He adds sullenly as if Tim hadn’t just said his name twice. 

The buzzing awareness that is always present at the back of Tim’s mind suddenly clicks on. Like a camera taking film, he looks around the room. The trash bags. The tidy apartment. Fucking laundry day.

“Oh,” he says flatly. “Why, uh – why that place?”

Shane stiffens imperceptibly again. He’s got that “caught-in-a-trap” look about him – the kind his suspects get when they’re about to confess something, willingly or otherwise. Shane’s wide eyes glance over Tim’s shoulder as if he had pointed a finger. Tim turns and is rail-roaded again for the second time since coming here.

“Is that yours?” Tim stands, leaving the cigarette in the ash tray, and crosses the room, careful not to touch the shining guitar on its holder but getting as close as possible to examine it. It is a beautiful guitar, the body waxed and the silver of the tuning pegs bright in the low light. It takes Shane a second to answer.

“Yeah.” The admission is breathy, a release from a too-long-held inhale. Tim thinks his voice wobbles a bit but he dare not turn around to see what’s on Shane’s face. “I used to play a lot. I loved music as a kid, thought I was pretty good. Samantha loved it when I wrote songs for her. When we got older, she’d sing along with me.”

Tim clocked a white note stuck on the counter when he walked in, but he was too far away to read it. The way Shane said her name, Tim gathers that she’s not an ex, but someone closer. However, his file never mentioned any Samantha, so she must not live nearby or be someone he sees frequently. 

When we got older . . .

Tim straightens up and looks at Shane. “Is Samantha your sister?” 

Shane stares at him wide-eyed for a minute before shaking his head, smiling faintly. 

“I hate it when you fucking do that.”

Tim’s stomach knots. “Do what?”

“Figure me out as soon as you look at me. Yeah, dude, Samantha is my sister. Half-sister anyway. Mom and Dad tried to do the whole divorced parents who get along thing for a while, but it didn’t last. Now I don’t see her unless she can get the car for the weekend. But she says she won’t come if she’s not invited and I . . . it’s been a while since I’ve seen her.” 

Tim nods, the sick knot in his stomach melting into butterflies.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. Just . . . curious, I guess.”

Shane watches him silently as he rejoins the table. The chair squeaks again. Tim lights another cigarette when he knows he shouldn’t but Shane’s smile has him trembling. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” 

Tim swallows. “Can’t help myself do what?”

“Be curious,” Shane says softly, something unreadable and expansive in his gaze. For a second, he looks a decade older and a millennia wiser. He lifts his voice, louder, deeper when he continues. “Guess that’s part of being a cop.”

“You know, technically, I’m a detective, right? Not on patrol, only handling specialized cases.” 

Shane sucks the last bit of his cigarette, his eyes bright with mischief. “A-Cab, Rockford. I don’t make exceptions.” 

Tim wants to kiss that smirk right off him. He squeezes his own knee briefly before leaning into Shane’s space, the corner of the table separating them, to tap out his ash. He relishes in the way Shane’s eyes skitter up his forearm to his shoulder. He’s not the first to be intimidated by Tim’s size, but he is the first that Tim would gladly overwhelm with it. 

“Seems like you did the other night,” he replies, his voice throaty and scratched. It’s not entirely intentional – Tim’s mouth has gone shockingly dry. 

 This time, Shane’s entire face flushes pink and Tim grins. Old dog still got some tricks, don’t he?

“I’m just fucking with you, kid.” He chuckles. “Relax. Your secret is safe with me.”

He hears how that last part sounds and bites his tongue in regret. Of all the things Tim wants Shane to know, assuming he thought their time together was a mistake is definitely not one of them. He does not want Shane to think he is something that Tim wants to keep a secret. 

But by Shane’s unabashed intake of Tim’s forearms, chest, and curls on his hairline, he probably didn’t need to worry too much. 

It’s been years since he was so shamelessly checked out and it makes his heart pound. He wouldn’t dare return the ogling but, fuck he wants to. Last time, it had been all about Shane and making Shane feel good, which he would do without question again and again and again. But he is desperate for an exploration of Shane’s body as much as he knows it needs to be an exploration for the both of them.  

Or it would be, if he could get a goddamn grip. Last time - probably only fucking time, you sleeze. 

“I k-know–,” Shane’s voice cracks and the blush flares again, only briefly this time. He clears his throat and sits up a bit in the chair. “I know that. I know. It’s just . . .” Shane sucks on his cigarette nervously, his cheeks hollowing, like he’s warming up to something. Something sour rolls down the back of Tim’s throat, his stomach clenched, but years of training keeps his face as smooth as stone. Those dark brown eyes, as gentle and fluid as mercury, stare up at him and Tim knows he’s such a fucking goner.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Tim nods. Rolling his bottom lip into his mouth, Shane leans forward, drumming out another line of ash into the glass tray. He straightens against the back of the chair as he tugs one knee to his chest, expression wary, and wraps a skinny arm around his shin. 

At the last second, Shane drops his gaze and instead decides to interrogate a dirty spot on the table.

“When I first met you,” he began slowly, “you wore a wedding ring. But now . . .” 

His eyes flicker to Tim’s left hand, third finger, absent of any jewelry, sitting on his thigh. 

Tim thinks of the first time he saw that irate seventeen year old punk in the station. He had a ripe black eye and an annoyingly smug smirk on when the officer on duty chucked him roughly into a holding cell. 

“That’s perceptive of you.” He flexed his hand into a fist, once, then twice, then met Shane’s stare ahead on. Tim has to hastily swallow a deep lungful of smoke to smother the sudden uptick of his heartbeat. “You’re right,” he says, stiff, on a throaty inhale. “I was married until about five years ago.” 

A large knot visibly slips down Shane’s throat, his cigarette tilting dangerously between his fingers, ash hovering over the carpet. 

“Hm, and to a . . .”

The way his eyes go wide, Tim wants to bury a kiss into that agitated pulse on Shane’s throat, but instead, he just nods slowly, avoiding sudden movement that might startle the wild animal ready to bolt across from him.

“Yeah, Shane, to a woman.” 

Shane continues to tear into his own lip. He retreats before Tim’s eyes – crosses his arms on top of his knees and leans his head back. He stares into the rain outside, the beer at his elbow long forgotten. This isn’t the answer he was hoping for. 

“Oh,” he says. 

Tim leans forward onto his elbows, entering into his space again, but this time more hesitantly. Shane’s bare foot is inches from Tim’s fingers. 

“Shane.” 

“Hm?”

“Look at me.” 

With a steady hand, Shane flicks the end of his cigarette with his black thumbnail, ash falling, and with a very level gaze, he returns Tim’s watchful eye. His face is so blank he barely has any features.

“What?” 

“I’ve fallen in love with women and men.”

The impenetrable ice in his eyes melts and Shane frowns. “You can do that?”

Again, Tim nods, this time a faint smile on his face. How easily he forget how fucking clueless this kid is and how fucking cute his obliviousness makes him.

“But I’ve only slept with women before, am I–,”

“It’s not about who you’ve slept with, to a certain degree. It’s who you are attracted to.” 

“So there’s more than just being gay?”

He wants so badly to reach across the edge of the table and take Shane’s hand. Soothe him. Feel those rough calluses against his skin again. He can feel the heat of his own cigarette coming painfully close to the backs of his fingers so he tamps out the cigarette in the glass bowl, Shane’s eyes watching him the whole time.

“There’s a lot of things, sweetheart,” Tim says softly, the nickname slipping out as it had before, in his own apartment with Shane in his lap. He hopes that sweetheart sounded casual, a nickname more than a reflection of the hot knot tightening in his groin. “But at the end of the day, it comes down to what feels right to you. How you see yourself. You might have to spend some time figuring it out, asking yourself some hard questions, but you’ll get there.”

Shane nods, again swallowing the words that are so clearly caught in his throat. He switches the cigarette to his other hand and stares out the window at the rain. Tim’s mouth dries up at the sight of his long, exposed throat. 

“Is that why it didn’t work out between you and your . . . wife?” Shane asks quietly.

Tim runs his gaze over the piercings in Shane’s earlobe, the delicate bones within the cartilage, then to his set jaw and, finally, over his plush, pouty lips.

“No.” He can hear how hoarse he sounds, how wrecked, but having Shane in front of him again, all those feelings, all those basic urges he denied for the past few weeks come roaring to the front again. He of all people should have known suppression and repression never, ever work. “We were just different people. It had nothing to do with the fact that I also fuck men.”

He watches Shane tremble, the skin on his bare arms suddenly electrified. Slowly, with a shaking breath, Shane twists out his own cigarette, pushing it down roughly with two fingers. 

The thing that has been circling Tim’s mind – like a rabid dog tearing out chunks of his ability to think straight – slides out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“What have your other partners told you?”

Call it twenty years on the force.

Call it a finely tuned bullshit detector. 

Call it whatever you want, but in that moment before Shane opens his mouth, Tim knows he just considered lying to him and Tim’s heart plunges into his gut. He loathes the idea that Shane might lie to him, lie to him about being queer or an aspect of himself he still has questions about. Having someone older and more experienced than him in life alone at Shane’s age would have made all the difference to him as a young man and more than anything, more than his stupid cock, that’s all he really wants. He wants to be there for Shane because no one, not even his own family, has ever told him he means a damn. 

And you mean so much to me already.

Then Shane lets out a shaky breath, the crease in his brown carved deep, but one glance at Tim and it melts away. Without warning, he stands up right and for a split, wonderful second Tim thinks he’s going to crawl into his lap again.

But Tim realizes he’s waiting for something.

With a voice that comes from a very small place, Shane mutters, “there hasn’t been anyone since you.” 

He blinks up at Shane for one second, and then two, and his words register, click in, and everything else fades away. Tim’s on his feet with his finger snagged through one of Shane’s belt loops before common sense or patience can catch up with him.

“Is that right?” Tim purrs as he takes the curve of Shane’s neck in his massive palm, the other going to waist, and Shane instantly gasps at the touch. But that initial elation hardens and he glares at him. Tim is distinctly reminded of an annoyed puppy. 

“Don’t sound so fucking pleased,” Shane snarls through bared teeth. His black nails dig into Tim’s forearm, a warning and a plea. “It’s not like I think about you all the time or anything.”

His eyelids droop when Tim squeezes the back of his neck and Shane lets out a low moan. Tim drops his head against the other man’s forehead. The boy smells like cloves and cinnamon and definitely pot and it’s going to haunt Tim’s memories forever. He closes his eyes and resists the urge to nuzzle that bare cheek. 

“You’re all I think about. Every minute, every day,” Tim hums, “I can’t stop thinking about you and all those little sounds you made when I fucked your ass.”

Another sound, a better one, squeaks out of him – one of protest and desperation and carnal need – and Tim’s control snaps in his hands. 

The hand on Shane slides to the back of his head and Tim all but shoves those pouty lips into his mouth. 

It’s just as fucking fantastic as he remembered. 

Frantic. Needy. Tim kisses him like it’s his job to lick clean the cigarette smoke embedded on Shane’s tongue, on the inside of his mouth, the split cracks in his dry lips. His fingers tangle into that starkly black hair, the strands faintly damp, and his other hand slips to his low back. At that, the boy pulls back enough to let a whine escape from his open mouth before Tim yanks him against his chest. He feels Shane grow hard against his thigh and all the blood rushes out of his brain. 

Briefly dizzy, Tim stumbles forward, his hands catching the table behind Shane’s hips, pinning the younger man between him. He nips at Shane’s neck, trying to get the world to stop spinning.

“Fuck me, baby. You’re going to give this old man a heart attack.” 

Shane guides him into his mouth, his fingers clawing gently at the scruff of his beard, a slower, softer repeat of how Tim had initiated. Warm air puffs across Tim’s beard when Shane retreats, eyes searching for something he needs to find on Tim’s face. 

“Actually,” he breathes softly, “I really do think about you all the time too.”

Tim has never been more grateful for the rough grip on his cheeks because that’s all that’s keeping him from sinking to the ground on wobbly knees. Shane takes another kiss before his hand slips into Tim’s meaty paw and tugs him into the living room. He guides him back to the couch and, with a not-too-gentle push, shoves Tim down against the cushions. The detective goes without resistance.

The pale light from the rain beyond the window and the fluorescent glow behind him etches Shane in a soft halo. Brightness in Shane’s eyes tells him that the man is running on instinct alone – and that’s perfectly fucking fine. Whatever – anything – Shane wants, Tim will gladly offer it up. 

But when his hands drop to Tim’s belt buckle, the rush of heat up his body leaves him almost catatonic. 

“Mhmm, f-fuck, sweetheart, wait a second – d-don’t wanna rush things if you’re not –,”

The sound of his zipper tearing open is like a gunshot and there’s no denying the raw hunger that smears the edges of Shane’s eyes to a dangerous black.

“You have to walk me through it.” He sounds awe-struck.

He sinks to his knees and Tim considers he might actually die on this fucking couch. The heat radiating from those black-tipped hands that run up his thighs has Tim moaning in the back of his throat. He wants to curl that beautiful hair around Shane’s elegant ear – what would he say if Tim told him he has an elegant ear – but he’s using all of his energy to not immediately come when Shane tugs his pants down his hips, just enough to palm him through his boxers. 

As if the sensation of a half-hard cock surprises him, Shane’s lips split apart, eyes locked onto the wet spot beneath his hand. Tim swipes his bottom lip with his tongue, knuckles white as he grips the cushions, watching with aborted breath Shane stroke him gently. He grits his teeth.

“Tell me you want this.” Tell me I’m not forcing you into anything too fast because I’m fucking obsessed with you.

“I want this.” Shane shuffles closer, his hand dipping down to cup his balls, the scent of his cloves hitting Tim again, and Shane quietly gasps as the cock beneath his hand hardens more and more. “I wanna s-suck your cock.”

Tim grunts, his legs opening wider, sliding low into the cushions and now Shane hovers over him. Here is where with other partners in recent years, Tim would lock up. There’s gray in the curls at the base of his cock and his tummy hangs out a bit more, no matter how much he runs. But Shane doesn’t seem to register any of that. His mouth is still open in raw fascination, as if showing off how fucking deep he’s going to take the cock inches from his face. The sight splits heat between his groin and his heart. Tim is not going to fucking rush this. He’ll let Shane touch whatever he wants for as long as he wants even if it makes him come like an overeager teenager. 

Suppressing that peak of heat at Shane’s touch, Tim digs his fingers into Shane’s mop of hair like he’d been wanting to since the kid first offered that drink. At his immediate touch, Shane’s eyes roll back in his head and Tim takes that as an opportunity to scratch at his scalp, with a slight tug at the end. 

“Oh, fuck, please lemme me suck your cock.” 

Shane’s breathing hitches when Tim loosens the grip on his hair, runs his thumb down his temple, scuffs his cheek, and then drags that puffy bottom lip down. He looks absolutely ruined, eyes misty and shoulders slumped forward, and Tim has barely touched him. 

“Take me out, baby,” Tim murmurs, “and I’ll tell you what to do.”

Wide eyes never losing their nervous light, Shane dips his hand below the elastic waistband (why didn’t he put on better underwear?) and cups him, slowly dragging his shorts lower as he pulls Tim’s cock into the light. 

Tim has to remember to breathe. Fuck, it’s so hot in this fucking room. With trembling fingers, he tugs the knot of his tie away from his throat and unbuttons his shirt down to his ribs, as Shane runs an experimental grip up and down the length of his cock. Tim hisses as heat flares brightly and a little too fast. 

Shane’s eyes flick up to his face. “Sorry, too dry?”

Without waiting for a response, Shane cups his hand beneath his mouth and spits, a giant, slick glob. It might be the hottest thing Tim has ever witnessed with his two eyes. Shane’s hand returns and Tim’s eyes flutter shut as he groans. 

“S-s-shit, baby, that’s really good.” 

Tim wants to open his eyes, to see Shane’s face, to get a glimpse of what is going on in that beautiful head, but he can’t drag himself out of the lusty haze long enough. 

And then, after several slow, long pumps that have him harder than he can ever remember being, Tim feels Shane’s palm twist just as his thumb swirls the head and swipes the leaking tip. Pleasure roars up his spine and his hips jerk off the couch. His eyes snap open and find Shane not proud, but surprised. His mouth opens again in glee.

“I fucking love that too,” he murmurs, his hand moving a bit faster now. “Love it when they play with the tip.”

“Mhmm, hmm.” 

As Shane finds a slightly hurried rhythm with his strokes, Tim is greedily storing away images and sensations in lockbox after lockbox in his memory. Has Shane’s hands always looked so thick?

“You can try whatever you want.” Tim murmurs, his gaze jumping between the hand around his cock, Shane’s mouth, and that hand with the black nails against his thigh. “If you like something, I’ll probably like it too.” 

Shane wets his lip, his eyes darting to Tim’s face as if looking for permission. Tim nods, his heart pounding in a completely different way than from exertion, and has to breathe into his stomach as Shane parts his lips and lowers his mouth to his cock. Inch by inch, he takes him deeper and deeper, his hand falling away to Tim’s other thigh, as he sinks closer to those gray-streaked curls.

Tim is genuinely caught on the knife-edge of pleasure and pain. Exquisite pleasure saps his entire body of energy, every grunt and sigh bursts of tiny releases, but with every inch into Shane’s warm, wet mouth, his tongue a rough glide on the underside of his cock, it becomes harder and harder to not buck his hips and god, does he fucking want to. He wants to grab Shane by the back of the head, hold him steady, and fuck that mouth like it’s the last fuck of his life. But he won’t, he can’t – Shane isn’t ready for that and quite honestly, neither is he, despite how the arousal of that mental image floods him with hot satisfaction. He’s going to tear apart this couch with his bare hands, though.

Shane gets about halfway and then chokes and Tim is yanked out of the dream in a panic.

“B-baby, are you okay?” 

Shane splutters and nods, the back of his hand coming to his lips, as if trying to hide his smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he croaks. “My gag reflex is shit though.” 

Tim sighs with relief and a strangled orgasm. He’s so hard it hurts but he doesn’t give a fuck. “You’re doing fine, sweetheart. Better than fine, actually.”

Tim meets his eyes as they go dark and hungry with a flash of that spitfire that Tim only ever saw on the other side of a metal interview table before. 

“Guess you’ll have to train up my reflex, then.”

“Yeah?” This kid has no idea what he’s playing with. Shane kneels between his spread legs, hands gently rubbing the meat of his thighs, those dark eyes swirling almost maliciously. Tim pinches Shane’s chin between his thumb and curled forefinger, thrusting that belligerent mouth up. “You gonna listen to an authority figure for once in your goddamn life?” 

“I’ll try my best,” he pouts, his neck arched back. 

“Blow on it.” Tim commands. “Start from the bottom and go to the top.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim’s cock visibly throbs and Shane hasn’t even opened his mouth. But then he does, leaning forward when Tim releases his chin. He blows a quick burst of air around Tim’s curls, before opening his mouth wide and breathing heavily, wetly, warmly around the base of the cock in front of him. Then, as he was told, he lifts up and to the very top of that leaking head. 

“Take the tip – just the tip – and suck on it, gently at first.”

Shane does as he is instructed, his eyes never leaving Tim’s face or losing that maniacal glint, and he sucks, making a similar face (Tim assumes) as when he’s slurping up ice cream. Shane sucks harder and a loud, lewd moan rips out of Tim’s throat. 

“Now take it all in, as much as you can. Then swallow.”

Shane dips his head, mouth gliding down his veiny shaft, spit slipping out of the corner of his mouth, going down and down and down until he breathes sharply through his nose. Tim, clutching at sanity as it sprinkles through his fingers, watches the sharp planes of Shane’s shoulders and back churn and roll as he lifts his head up and down. He wants to loop his fingers through those black curls so badly.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay?” Shane grunts his approval, the blush of air against his groin sending a bolt of pleasure up Tim’s spine, and he soothes his own tattered nerves by digging into Shane’s hair, scratching a bit like he had before. But then he loosens and just lets his hand rest contentedly on the back of his head. 

The drumming beat of rain and Shane’s wet mouth is a narcotic. The sight and sounds and smells of it all makes his brain melt, deep desires usually chained down by his restraint snapping and popping free like fireworks.

What’s he going to feel like when Shane can take all of him?

How long and how often does he have to do this to train him up?

Could he come home after working a twelve hour shift to Shane crawling onto his knees and sucking him off, just like this? Like this, in perfect domestic bliss –

Out of nowhere, Shane swallows and Tim has to claw into his own thigh to keep from coming right then and there. 

“Oh, fucking Christ –,” he yelps. As if encouraged, Shane tries to go a little deeper, swallow a little harder, but he gags again. When he lifts his head, his eyes are wet and Tim wonders if it's possible to black out from being so aroused. 

“Sorry,” Shane mutters, wiping his mouth again. “Your cock is so fucking big. It felt big in my ass but this –,”

Tim’s eyes slip closed. “Shut the fuck up. You can’t – can’t say those things.” 

He breathes heavily, the pounding in his heart only slightly stronger than the blood pounding in his cock. But Shane is suspiciously quiet.

Tim opens his eyes and finds a curious expression on Shane’s face as he stares at Tim’s cock. No, not his cock, a bit below –

Shane turns and tugs the low, tattered table behind him closer. He puts Tim’s foot against the edge, and then does the same with the other. The haze in Tim’s brain won’t let him piece it together until Shane dips his head, tongue already out.

“Whoa, whoa, baby–,” he grasps Shane’s shoulder and he stops. “I can’t ask you to do that. I don’t want to push you too far tonight.”

Shane rolls his eyes, flatly annoyed. “I’ve eaten ass before, Tim. I’m not a blushing fucking virgin.” 

Tim can actually feel the second that sweat breaks out across his hairline. “A-are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I actually know what I’m doing there. I mean, an asshole is an asshole, right?”

He isn’t sure if he likes how fast Shane has grown in confidence, or if it’s the sexist thing he’s ever seen. Maybe he’s the one not entirely ready.

“Y-yeah. Alright. Fire away, then.”

And with that first kitten lick, Tim finally comprehends just how fucked he is. He knew he was, but it’s not until Shane masterfully rims the edge of that ringed muscle does he know, with clear certainty, this kid is going to ruin him.

Shane’s hand curls around Tim’s shaft, his tongue prodding his asshole, and Tim makes a loud, open-mouthed moan that hits the quiet air of the apartment and shatters.

Within seconds, he’s hurling towards a release so violent, his thighs shake. Shane pumps him slowly, his mouth making everything wet and drippy, his eyes eagerly catching every twitch and moan Tim makes. 

When Tim feels his balls draw up, dangling over the precipice, he snatches Shane by the hair and yanks him back. Again, Shane makes a sound like an irritated cat.

“C’mon,” he huffs, his face red as if he had mitigated his breathing. “Lemme do this.” 

Tim swallows everything – his tongue, his orgasm, the desire to lick the brat right out of Shane’s pouty mouth – and shoves it all down as far as it will go. He’s left sweaty and panting, holding Shane by the flat of his hair at arm’s length. He swallows again and sits up, that airless high settling. Shane scowls petulantly

“You still want me to fuck that ass, right?”

His glare cracks in half. Those swollen lips part and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Then you fucking listen to me when I tell you to stop sucking cock. Got it?”

Shane nods more insistently, tongue swiping fast against his bottom lip. “Y-yeah.” 

Tim lets go and resists the urge to correct him to how he addressed him before, but fucking Christ, one thing at time.

“Which one is yours?” Tim nods towards the two closed doors across from him. Wordlessly, Shane points to the one farthest from the living room. “Show me.” 

Tim barely grunts as he stands up, his knees dangerously unsteady, his back twinging from the low position on the couch and the fact that there’s more padding on a highway road than inside of those cushions. 

Again, just as he thinks he might tip over, Shane takes his hand, intertwining their fingers, and leads him through the door. 

The sun had set on an already dark day, so in the burgeoning twilight, Shane’s room is a collection of shadows and blue outlines. Beyond the vinyl window slats, the rain pours harder than ever, muffling the sounds of cars on the street and the blunders of other people in the building. With the door closed, the air is warm, but not uncomfortably so, more like a soothing hand against his sweaty neck. The pleasant scent of incense is unmistakable, a far cry from any other smell in the apartment. 

The effect of it all, standing in Shane’s room, alone, is . . . isolating.

“It’s not much,” Shane murmurs, as if he worried Tim would find something about his space distasteful. “But I did clean up.” His eyes grow wide as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Not that I thought, or even expected that this – that you’d –”

Tim brings their locked hands to Shane’s cheek and gently, sweetly kisses him on the mouth. For a man so confident in his ability to drive his partner insane with his tongue up their ass, the boy quivers beneath a soft touch. Tim pulls back and finds blurry, unfocused eyes. 

“What do you want to do tonight?” Tim hums and strokes an errant curl back from Shane’s cheek. 

“This.” Shane says immediately. “This feels so fucking good.”

“Where do you sleep?” Tim asks, quietly, letting the words slow to a rumble, his free hand gently cupping the boy’s neck. The bed is unmissable, but he wants to give Shane as much control as he needs. Beneath his hands, Shane’s breathing stutters for a moment, before biting down on his bottom lip and leading Tim to the haphazardly made-up bed. He sits, big eyes staring up at him, at their bound hands, before releasing his grip and lying back on the bed. He scoots up, nestling that all black hair against his gray pillow.

“Here.” His voice is strangled, choked, his fingers twisting together as he picks at his nails. “Right h-here.” 

“Is that why you look so good right here, baby?” Tim slides the tail end of his tie out of the knot and off his neck. Shane licks his lips, transfixed, as Tim continues to unbutton his wrinkled shirt. The bit of clothing falls to the floor and Tim nearly matches Shane in a white sleeveless shirt. Black and white, punk and cop. There’s poetry in there somewhere.

Tim continues to undress; shoes first, then socks, and finally his slacks. Shane gets a little jumpy as he crawls up the bed. 

“Are you comfortable?” 

“Yes.” Tim raises an eyebrow at the jeans confining his hard cock. “No, sorry, n-no – I’ll take them off.” 

Tim gives him enough space to unbutton his pants, then sloppily jerk them off. He flings them over by Tim’s and Tim grins. He settles back down with Shane nearly underneath him and gently strokes his cheek. Everywhere he touches on the boy, it’s warm. Women aren’t like that, usually, and in turn, it satisfies something deep inside of him. Tim thinks of the tender warmth of the heated skin of a deer after it’s run a long distance. 

“You still want it, baby?” This he asks honestly and without the grungy purr to his voice. 

Again, without hesitation, Shane nods, but then stops. His chest swells like the words he wants to say are caught on the back of his throat, his nails gently biting into Tim’s chest, so Tim presses thoughtfully into the arch of Shane’s jaw, encouraging him. His doe eyes darting across Tim’s face, tension coiling up in his thighs, Shane says,

“I want it from the back this time.”

Oh, fuck. 

With half of a groan and half of a laugh, Tim dips forward and loosely bites Shane on his ear. “You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?” 

Shane giggles as Tim’s nips slowly turn to open-mouthed kisses. He sucks sharply on the thrumming pulse of his neck, and Shane groans, his whole body writhing to be closer to Tim’s mouth, his skinny arms going around Tim’s broad shoulders. 

“Do you mind?” Shane asks, breaking apart for a moment, his lips brushing Tim’s mustache. “I know you did it last time and if you wanna, um, I mean I can try but –”

Tim grins through the smile pressed onto a corner of that sweet mouth as he sits up on his knees. He smooths a hand up through the faint trail of hair just above Shane’s waistband, then up his ribs, stopping to thumb a hard, pink nipple, before kissing both of his cheeks. 

“No, I don’t mind. I will never, ever mind when you ask so nicely.” 

“But one day – you w-want me too, right?” 

Ribbons of meaning hang over that question, their soft tassels hard to grab before slipping through Tim’s grasp. His brow furrows, his hand resting on Shane’s hip. The boy stares up at him like he hangs the moon in the sky.

Those ribbons drag forward new questions of their own, questions he can’t ask himself, much less out loud. They all clatter and fall into one big heap in his mouth and he can’t untangle them right now, not while he has Shane looking like that, but one slips through before he can stop it.

“You wanna do this again, with me?” The question lingers in the air like smoke, as gentle and insistent as the rain outside.

Shane’s fingers curl around Tim’s wrists. He smiles. “Yeah, of course. I . . . like you.” Blush trickles up his neck and into his ears, but he keeps his grip. “If you wanna keep me around, I mean.”

His voice goes small, from somewhere he never lets anyone see. Just as Shane’s eyes jerk off him, shame hot in his gaze, his body going rigid, Tim leans down and kisses him, the softest kiss they’d ever shared. The scent of cloves comes again as Shane offers his tongue and Tim takes it. 

They kiss in the cover of the rain, in the shelter of the space that is entirely theirs, for one eternity and a half. When Tim opens his eyes, he is someone new, someone changed. Someone he doesn’t recognize and that’s a wonderful thing.

“I’ll take you like you want,” he says softly. Beneath his chest, skin to skin, he can feel Shane’s heart pounding. He hopes Shane can feel his. “But I wanna see your face for a bit. Is that okay?” 

Shane nods and kisses him as he tries to pull away. Tim smirks and rubs Shane’s hip bone with his thumb.

“Remember what I said about preparing? Have you been doing that?”

Shane bites his lip as if caught doing something particularly filthy. “Yeah, I’m up to three fingers now.”

Fucking hell. Be cool about this. 

“Good, baby. Do you have lube?”

Shane rolls his eyes, that blush now blotchy on his throat. “Duuuh. I don’t know why you think I’m some bl–”

“– ushing fucking virgin. I heard you the first time.” Shane narrows his eyes playfully and Tim cannot wait to spank that smirk right off him. “Then go get it.”

Shane wiggles out from between Tim’s legs and crawls over to the bedside table. He digs around a bit before pulling out a box of condoms and a blue bottle. He tosses them at Tim like he’s throwing laundry detergent, before hovering for a moment. Lips between his teeth, he stiffly slips his underwear off and down the floor. His bracelets clink as he moves and Tim can tell it sounds like an air raid siren to him. Naked, he crawls back to bed and settles beneath Tim flat on his back.

“For someone who is so bothered by authority,” Tim begins and just as Shane frowns, wrenching his mouth open to argue, Tim sits back between his thighs and folds his knees up, spreading him wide. Whatever retort Shane had dies on his throat and the only thing left is a soft whine. “You are such a good boy. I didn’t even have to ask you to get naked for me.”

Shane’s cock, exposed for the first time all night, twitches on his stomach. He squirms as Tim picks up the bottle and clicks up the lid with his thumb, his other hand resting briefly on the arch of Shane’s foot. 

“I’m gonna start with one again, but move faster into two this time, okay? Then we’ll see if you’re lying to me or not.” Resistance flashes in Shane’s eyes at Tim’s smirk, but the boy stays silent. 

But that defiant look melts away to aching bliss when Tim drizzles the lube between his cheeks, and then Tim’s own fingers. His other hand curls around Shane’s knee and squeezes, grounding them both. 

“Probably should have gotten a towel,” Tim mutters and the sound Shane was going to use to reply fractures and crumbles, oozing into a throaty moan when his asshole spreads apart around a single finger. 

Maybe it’s his age, or maybe he’s never had his asshole played with in a way he likes, but Shane is so fucking sensitive. He’s twitching and gasping after a few strokes, black nails curling into the bedsheets. His eyes are squeezed shut, not from pain or discomfort, but from trying desperately not to come. Tim recognizes that look; he wore it himself fifteen minutes ago. 

Shane’s cock is trickling all over his stomach by the time Tim adds a second finger. And true to his word, it goes in without much resistance, much to Tim’s delight. This means there can be a bit more fun than just aimlessly prodding. Shane lets out a high moan when Tim’s fingers change angles. 

“What the fuck are you doing down there?” Shane pants, sweat peaking at his hairline. He moans again before Tim can answer, his back arching off the bed. 

“Searching.”

“For fucking what? I–,” Shane’s eyes snap open, horror and heat etched in the dark rims. “You can’t touch that, it’s not fair. You’ll make me come.”

Tim kisses his knee as he adds a third finger, grinning when Shane’s head thumps back against the pillow. “I think that’s the whole point of this, sweetheart.” 

Shane whines his answer; Tim speeds up his thrusting, giving up for now. 

“You’re doing so well, darling, so well. You did so good to prepare for my cock.”

Shane fists the bedsheets, his thigh muscles tightening. Tim thinks he can’t actually comprehend his words, until he wrenches his jaw apart. “Just your cock. I did it for your cock, Rockford, no one else’s. Don’t - don’t want anyone’s cock but yours in me.” 

This is just cock-drunk babble, tongue loose with whatever nonsense fills his mouth, his brain no longer in control.

Right?

Either way, Tim slips his fingers out with practiced precision, easing on the condom, then squirting his cock and Shane’s exposed hole with lube in one go. If Shane has noticed anything, his blissed out expression doesn’t change . . . until he feels the tip of Tim’s thick head expand his asshole.

His stare locked onto Shane’s blissed out face, Tim pushes forward, using Shane’s knees as leverage. 

The boy honest to god chokes. His cock spits up his chest. 

“Ohmy god . . .” 

Tim goes slow enough he knows it won’t hurt, his fingers opened him enough that the lube only adds to the pleasure, but he’s not entirely worried about that right now. He wants him stupid and babbling again.

“This cock, sweetheart? This is the cock you’ve been making room for?”

Shane whines, lips white between his teeth, nodding vigorously. Tim rubs his hip soothingly and Shane’s face breaks open with a loud gasp. His eyes snap down to where he swallows Tim inch after inch.

“You’re so much bigger than my fingers. Holy fucking shit. I forgot how big you are.” 

“But you like that, right?” There’s a collective sigh of relief as Tim finally is flushed against him. Huffing like a wounded animal, Tim pushes the mop of hair back from Shane’s sweaty forehead. “You like how I fuck you, don’t you?”

Shane nods again, as Tim grips his waist and he wraps his fingers around Shane’s forearms, his bracelets tinkling softly, as he settles in for what he can’t even possibly imagine.

“You’re damn fucking right I like how you fuck me.” Shane rasps out. “Wouldn’t let you do it if it didn’t rock my fucking world.” 

“I’m gonna go a bit faster than I did last time. You say stop if it gets to be too much.”

“I know what a safeword is, Rockford, I’m not –,”

Tim rolls his hips forward, knocking a surprised breath from Shane. He stabilizes a bit better with his knees and then picks up a rhythm, slow but deep.

“If you say blushing fucking virgin one more time, I’m putting you over my knee and spanking you.” 

But words fail him.

They fail Tim too, eventually, when rings of heat stack, one upon the other, up his spine. Every time Shane’s asshole clenches around him, those rings drop lower, closer to his groin. 

It feels too fucking good. 

The rhythmic chime of Shane’s metal bracelets clinking together can barely be heard over the rain outside, and the peaks and valleys of the heavy moans piling up in the room.

Shane’s flattened hand against his head board, he grinds his hips down, forcing even more resistance than just his tight hole. 

“Fuck,” he whines high and loud, Tim tightening his grip on his waist as he all but bounces Shane on his cock. “Oh god, I can’t – I can’t –,” 

Tim’s skin is so hot he wonders if he’s giving off steam. He’s sweating from his forehead, his neck, the backs of his knees, a slick wetness spreading across his groin every time he slams that cute little ass back against him. Not another single word of derision has passed Shane’s lips in what feels like forever, his mouth switching rapidly between grinding his teeth and dropping open when Tim brushes up against something nuclear. 

If Tim is steaming, Shane is melting. Every muscle in his body is weak, knees around Tim’s hips to give him better access. Cum rolls in white streaks off his stomach and onto the rapidly shifting sheets. 

Tim knows if he just breaths on the that pink cock, it’s all fucking over – so he slows, and pulls back out of him. 

A Shane with a functioning brain would have demanded an explanation but the gooey mess of a boy in the bed only lifts his gaze. 

“Turn around,” Tim pants. 

“What?” 

“You wanted me too . . .” Tim spins his finger, squeezing the base of his cock with his other hand. “Turn over.” 

“Oh, right.” Despite that almost sleepy murmur, Tim can hear the disappointment. At the head of the bed, a shaking hand swipes away one pillow then the other and Shane buries his face in the mattress.

His ass is already pink as Tim spreads his thighs, his knee nudging his right leg to bend, and lines up. But Shane is murmuring something into the sheets. 

“… stop.” 

Tim freezes, one hand around his cock the other flat against the bed by Shane’s hips. 

“You want me to stop?” 

Shane lifts his head enough to look back and whine. “Don’t — don’t stop.” Crackling with unspent energy, Shane rubs his face against the sheets like a cat. “Please.”

Tim grins as he lines himself up again, his free hand coming to Shane’s thigh when the cockhead spreads his cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, darling, I’m not gonna –,”

Tim stops moving. It’s long enough and unusually fraught enough for Shane to lift his head in confusion, Tim’s cock barely in.

“What happened?” 

Tim is staring, struck dumb and mindless at the sight of Shane’s lower back.

“You’ve got two dimples here,” he murmurs, the growl in his voice thick and rough.

“Yeah? So?”

Without warning, Tim yanks Shane onto his hands and knees by his waist. The sudden movement is rough for his loose muscles and he yelps. 

“Fuck – what’s got you all fucking twisted up now?”

Tim is no longer entirely himself. His shoulders seem broader, nose sharper, mouth firmer. His eyes have been eclipsed by black as one by one, he puts his hands on Shane’s hips, and then twists his thumbs to fit into the divots of his dimples as he, achingly slow, pushes back into Shane’s abused hole.

“You’ve got fucking handles built in, baby.” Tim murmurs and heat radiates from where they are connected, Shane’s skin flushed with red and goosebumps. The sensation jams the signal to Shane’s brain. 

Behind him, Tim kisses his back almost lovingly.

“I’m definitely gonna wreck your shit now.” 

On the first tug, the one that snugs Tim’s groin right up against his ass, Tim knows he only has seconds left in him. 

These strokes are brutal, fast, and short. Whatever sounds tears itself from Shane’s throat is the prettiest thing Tim has ever heard. His mouth goes wet as he watches Shane’s shoulders and back go loose again and on another day, he’s going to clench his fist around that mop of hair and pull until Shane begs him to stop.

Another day. But not today. 

Tim focuses on the things he can control to elongate that enormous orgasm that rattles his teeth. His thumbs in the perfect little divots of Shane’s back; he pushes down, increasing the pressure higher up, and actually hears the cum squirt out onto the bed, followed by a groan that shakes Shane from head to toe. He focuses on his breathing, the short huffs out his nose, mouth closed shut but tiny mhm mhm mhm’s escape anyway. He tries to focus on the glint around his pelvis but that makes things worse. 

He focuses on – fuck, what can he focus on? – Shane hasn’t made a noise in –

“Shane, baby, are you okay?”

He gasps out as though electrified. “I’m trying so hard not to come, I don’t want it to fucking stop, but you hit my g-spot three thrusts ago and I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Tim can’t help but chuckle. He rubs a warm palm up Shane’s spine, then gives his neck a reassuring squeeze, before leaning forward and draping himself over Shane’s trembling frame, never slowing those fast, rough thrusts. He noses his ear as his hand slips around the cock leaking profusely onto the sheets. 

“You can come, but it has to be loud and messy.” 

Just half a stroke down and Shane comes with a cry that paints the inside of Tim’s brain permanently. And he keeps coming, gasping, wet and whining. Over his shoulder, Tim feels a dribble against his knee and that, combined with all of Shane’s delicious fucking sounds, knocks free Tim’s own release, the swell and burst far away from his control. Shane’s elbows are trembling by the time he slumps to the side, trying and mostly failing to avoid his own cumstain. Tim drops behind him in a haze. 

He’s already sore, every muscle tightened then released over and over and over again. He can’t inhale properly and he’s got a stitch in his side. There’s a pulsing all over his body and he isn’t sure if that’s from coming so hard he nearly shot off the condom, or his heart pounding like it’s about to explode. His skin is wet and sticky and he’s hungry but exhausted and he would hate all of this if he was alone, but . . .

Weary down to his bones, the breath settling in his chest and the fog lifting slightly, Tim puts a hand on the narrow waist in front of him. Fingers join his, wrapping together, as the frenetic energy of the room slows to a crawl, each moment plodding along in front of the next like fat water droplets. 

“. . . good, that was good,” Tim slurs to no one in particular, his eyelids flickering open and shut. “You’re . . . s’good.” He knows they should talk, but he’s past speech, or rather anything coherent, his consciousness slipping beneath the churning dark waves of sleep.

The smooth back in front of him, shiny with drying sweat, shakes in a dizzy, silent chuckle.

“Go to sleep, old man.”

Tim knows he should be offended, or he thinks he should, if he could comprehend language right now, so instead he settles into the warmth and the darkness. Soon the only sound he can hear is the rain pattering against the window and Shane softly snoring before reality winks out.

+

[ju1cyfru1t]

HAIII mootie :3!! I just got back from an ✨ ExHaUsTiNG ✨ day (literally, I was on the verge of sleeping but still ofc reading you’re hc one shots) and I had this idea for one shot!! My mind will NOT sleep if i don’t type this request (pls send help/j)

Okie!! It’s Rottmnt x female sibling reader (ALL PLATONIC) , so this is the scenario!! The Reader is the Kemp's ridley sea turtles and they are the youngest, they maybe small! But they are strong, thanks to the training her brothers would give her! Alright, so she’s the only one who goes to schools thanks to the cloak (sunita gave to her since it was a spare one) she got a into a fight with another girl because the girl would call her a ‘freak’ because she would talk about her brothers being hero’s, and mutants!! But the girl started it tbh, so they’re fighting and reader is not beating the crap out of them she’s hitting her slightly but the girl took it TOO far and picked up a pair of scissors and CUT READERS HAIR!! (Like they cut it to make it short like a boys haircut yk?) And reader would just start balling and FINALLY a teacher would come in and bring them to the nurse first then the principals office and the principal called the brothers (+Casey JR, and April if you can!) , if you’re wondering why they first got in a fight anyways is because like the girl got mad at reader for talking too much to her friends and pulled her hair and… you know the rest happened.

AND THEY STORMED IN (with their cloaks on ofc) they’re fuming because reader loves her hair it would make her so happy!! The brothers would play with it, help brush it etc. But I would like HC’s of them reacting to that please?

Take as much time as you need, dear!!/p (platonically)

Hope you don’t mind I took this kind of in my own direction 🫶🏻

ROTTMNT x Sister! Reader

fluff! :D, comfort?, Sister! Fem! Reader, mild swearing

Rise! Donnie, Mikey, Leo, Raph x Fem! Sister! Reader

Donatello and Michelangelo were sitting in front of the TV in your living room playing a video game when the heard the front door creak open and the familiar clack of your favorite shoes.

“Y/N?” Mikey called out, only taking his eyes away from the game to check the time quickly, “You’re home early.”

They heard your sobbing as you sniffled and whipped their heads to look at you.

You were pretty scuffed up, with a few fresh, developing bruises scattered on mostly your legs but a few on your arms. And your hair! Your beautiful, prized hair was all chopped up.

“Oh mi gosh! Y/N, what happened to you?” Mikey jumped up and practically teleported to you, placing his hands on your arms and looking you over.

“This- this girl in- in my-“ You hiccuped, desperately wiping away your tears.

Mikey pulled you against his plastron, shushing you, “It’s ok, I’m right here. Just focus on calming down.”

Mikey looked at Donnie from over your shoulder, sharing a ‘what the fuck?’ look. He carefully led you over the couch, sitting down next to you and rubbing your back.

After a few moments of taking deep breaths and your breathing turning back to normal, Donnie spoke up. “Now, Y/N. What happened?”

“I- I was talking to my friend in the lunch line, and- and I was telling her about how my brothers are..are heroes. And this girl in my grade, Abigail, she- she called me a freak. So, I stood up for myself like you guys taught me..and she hit me, so I hit her back. Then she- Then she cut my hair.” You spoke quickly with a shaky voice, raking your fingers through your messy, choppy hair.

“WHAT?!” Donnie and Mikey shouted in unison.

“Y/N, what? Where was a teacher during all of this?” Donnie was furious, but not at you. Mikey kept rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“I don’t- The principal just told me to give you this and for you to sign it..” You slipped your backpack from your shoulders, unzipping it and pulling out a paper.

“Su..suspended?!” Donnie and Mikey both leaned over your shoulder to read the contents on the page. “For fighting? That wasn’t fighting, that was self defense!” Mikey scoffed, crossing his arms.

Donnie took a deep breath, glancing back up at you. “Y/N…do you think this ‘Abigail’ girl deserved it?”

“Mhm. I wasn’t even doing anything to her. She started it, I swear!”

“Then you shouldn’t have been suspended!” Mikey said.

You looked back over to him with a nod, “I know! Don’t tell me that-“

Donnie interjected, “No, No. We are going to talk to the school. This is injustice!”

“Yeah! This is unethical! Incredulous!” Mikey agreed.

"Unfair! Unreasonable! Outrageous! We shall NOT stand for such atrocity!" Donnie yelled while standing up.

“Yep. I agree.” Mikey nodded, keeping his arms crossed.

"I say, we march up to the principal right now and make them undo this blasphemy! WHO'S WITH ME?!" Donnie yelled while pointing out to the rest of the house.

Mikey hesitated, “…it’s just you and me, D.”

"I SAID, WHO'S WITH ME?" Donnie repeated.

“OH, I mean- YYEEAAAHHH!!” Mikey cheered with him, throwing one hand in the air with the other on your back.

"HELL YEAH!" Donnie took his phone out and started dialing the principal's number.

Mikey turned his attention to you, leaving Donnie to take care of business. “Y/N, you didn’t deserve this, ok?” He tried to reassure you with a smile while running a hand through your short, chopped-up hair.

“I just don’t understand why…I wasn’t doing anything wrong, was I?” You looked up at him.

Mikey shook his head no, “Of course not. You were just being yourself. Some people are just hateful for no reason, ok? Try not to let her get you. It’s obvious she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Donnie was yelling in the background, but you were too focused on Mikey to make out what was being said…most likely something that shouldn’t be repeated anyways.

“But…but my hair.” You started to tear up again but Mikey was quick to wipe them away before they could fall.

“It’ll grow back! You still look beautiful. We just need to…touch it up is all.” Mikey was trying his best to cheer you up.

After he finished calling, Donnie put his phone on the coffee table and sat back down on the couch next to you. "There. We march at dawn."

“Yeah! You show ‘em!” Mikey cheered, clapping.

"Indeed I will. They'll rue the day they suspended my little sister! RUE IT!” Donnie huffed.

“What is with all the yelling- woah.” Leo stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway as he took in your present condition.

Mikey shot him a look that said ‘don’t say a goddamn thing.’

“W-wow..Y/N, I really like the, um- the new look…” Leo laughed nervously, walking over cautiously.

Donnie narrowed his eyes at Leo, “Some little heathen cut Y/N’s hair at school today.”

“What?! That’s terrible!” Leo shoved Donnie to the side to take his spot next to you. He observed the straggly mess of hair left on your head.

Donnie opened his mouth to yell at Leo, but decided for your sake to just let it go this one time.

“Yeah! And Y/N got suspended for defending herself.” Mikey added, huffing.

“Y/N GOT SUSPENDED?” Raph yelled from the doorway of the living room, making you, Mikey, and Leo jump in surprise.

Raph stood there, shocked, as he waited for an answer.

You were about to speak before Mikey beat you to it, “It wasn’t her fault, Raph! She was attacked! All she did was stand up for herself.”

“Attacked?” Raph raised an eyebrow. Well, at least the area where an eyebrow would be. He got closer and saw your tear-stained cheeks, your cut-up, ruined hair, and your disheveled appearance and his expression immediately softened into a frown.

“Awww, come here! Let Raphie hold you!” Your oldest brother spoke to you in a babying voice, lifting you by your armpits and pulling you close to him, “it’s ok. Raphie’s here.”

“Raph! You’re scaring her!” Mikey stood up.

“No, I am not.” He scoffed.

“Guys! Just relax, we’ll get this all figured out-“ Leo spoke calmly, trying to keep everybody calm.

Donnie cleared his throat, “If you had allowed me to explain further before you viciously shoved me, you would know I have already spoken with the school.”

Leo looked at him in surprise, “why didn’t you start with that?!”

Donnie gasped in offense, “I tried! But you pushed-“

“Enough!” Raph snapped, still holding you in his arms and petting your head.

“Stop fighting! Y/N needs us.” Mikey shoved Leo gently.

You couldn’t even get a word in through all this chaos and panic so you just grumbled into Raph’s shoulder.

“First things first, boys.” Raph spoke up, “let’s get you cleaned up, Y/N.”

There was silence for a moment before Leo brought up a good point, “…Do any of us know how to cut hair?”

Silence.

Donnie sighs, picking his phone back up from the table, “I’ll call April.”

[words-of-wrath]

Conquered

Once upon a time there was a knight and a princess 😈

Enjoy 🖤

The city burned outside, as did the furnace. It blazed like the glory that was ignited in Lady Maven's heart when the siege began. She could not yet shake the exciting imagery of the battle, still raging outside though she was not part of it anymore. The trebuchet's flinging large boulders, the swords clanging and clashing. Lady Maven remembered dashing through the mud and dirt, scuffed and scorched. She remembered screeching as she drove her freshly sharpened blade into it's first heart. And soon it was dripping with the blood of the enemy, flecking droplets over the grass. And the bodies lay strewn around her, eyes hanging eternally open. Lady Maven rose a hammer up and brought it down upon the petite golden crown in front of her. She was a knight of the realm. Respectable, full of valor, loved by many. But now, oh now, she would let a more deviant side of herself out. 

She remembered what he had said to her. "I have a special job for you, Lady Maven. Oh, Maven, bravest and best of all knights!" Her commanding officer had said. She had smirked at that then and she was smirking now. Another strike on the crown, and it buckled under her force. Soon it would mold to her will, her specific desires. "Once the siege starts you are tasked with... taking care of the princess." Lady Maven struck the crown again and it nearly flattened. She dislodged the jewels from their homes and started to reshape the attire in the heat of the flaming furnace. While doing so, her eyes wandered over to the post just next to her. There she was, bound by the torso, arms behind her back, and gagged. "Do with her what you will," she remembered him saying.

The princess. The fair lady. What would they think of her if they saw her now? Lady Maven grinned deviously. Her auburn hair was spilling over her shoulders chaotically, her deep brown eyes filled to the brim with fear, wide as they could go. She watched Maven hammer away, twisting and contorting in her pretty pink dress. She was like to ruin it fussing like that. Maven cared not, however, she was nearly done. It would still be hot, but a snot-nose noble brat like this one deserved a good branding. Maven fastened the jewels back into place on the newly shaped collar. She smiled wickedly, turning in the Princess' direction. 

It was hot, but her knightly gauntlets protected her from most of the head. Princess shook her head from side to side quickly, mumbling against the pair of panties gagging her as Maven squatted down and opened up the scalding hot golden collar. Maven gripped a fistful of Princess' wavy auburn hair. She began to scream even before it was fastened around her neck. When the heated metal finally touched her bare neck, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her skin singed. The collar cooled around her throat while tears streamed down her cheeks and drool dripped from her gagged mouth. 

"Come now, Princess," Lady Maven cooed sinisterly as she hooked a leash to her neck and started to unfasten her bonds. "Darling, a little pain never hurt anyone," she reassured as she tugged Princess toward her feet. The gag was taken off and her screams were freed from her mouth, spilling over the dirt ground. On her hands and knees, Princess could barely look up at Maven. The pain was still too much to bear. "Beg," Maven said plainly. "Beg for my mercy, Princess..."

A single sob caught in her throat as she gripped Maven's ankle with weak fingers, clutching and slightly digging her fingernails into the flesh. "Puh-puh-p-please, Lady Knight... I wish not for thine wrath... please..." she gurgled out, saliva dripping down from the corner of her mouth to the ground. "I've done n-nothing to deserve this..." Maven took a deep breath, and then a swift kick to the Princess' perfect ribs sent her careening across the ground in a heap. She tugged Princess back up, unfastening her belt and letting her trousers fall to her ankles. 

Princess watched, half awestruck, half in horror as Lady Maven's cock beat to life in the freshly heated air. Her lips pursed together and she shook her head as Maven grabbed another fistful of her hair and drew her close. Princess' nostrils were suddenly filled with Maven's scent as she nuzzled the base of her erect member. Lady Maven dragged her lips up and down her own shaft. Princess was forced to kiss up and down, coating her with a thin film of lip gloss. Finally, when she got to the tip, the knight shoved her halfway down her length. Princess hummed at the sudden filling of her cheeks, forced again to slide down to the base. She gagged. 

Tears welled up in her eyes once more as Lady Maven bucked her hips, gripping her face on both sides with her gauntlets and sliding her cock in and out. Down her throat it bored, hitting the back harshly. Maven rolled her eyes to the back of her head and let out a grunt as she continued to violate Princess' mouth. "You're no longer royalty, dear. Not when you're with me," Maven hissed through a moan. "Now, you're just a harlot. A dumb whore for my use." Princess looked up at her desperately, innocently taking Maven's cock between her lips. Finally, Lady Knight shoved her down to the base as she spilled down Princess' throat. 

Mouth dripping with seed, Princess was tugged off of Maven's half deflated cock. She was tugged up to her feet as their lips were drawn together. Lady Maven tasted herself from Princess' lips as her tongue snaked into the throat she had just gotten done violating. Princess was pushed up to the lip of the furnace. Palms extended, heat blasting over her, she winced as the leash was tugged from behind. Her back was forced to arch, and a gauntlet ripped at the skirt of her pretty pink dress. Maven's metal fingers massaged her slit. She was completely exposed underneath as Maven had ripped the panties off earlier to gag her. 

Princess had begun to sweat, the flames ever so close to her. Lady Maven squatted down, drawing her hips near with a firm grip and shoving her face into her cunt, dripping with anticipation. Princess shivered as her tongue snaked along the clit, flicking and spelling her name. M A V E N, each letter carefully drawn out with the tip of her tongue until Princess was a shivering and moaning wreck of a human being. Her tongue mercilessly invading her body, assaulting her pussy as Princess gripped the lip of the furnace, dripping with sweat. 

Maven stood soon after it was clear she couldn't take it anymore. Princess felt the tip of Maven's cock teasing her slit. She braced, back arching once more as the leash was tugged. One hand on her hip, the other gripping the leash, Lady Maven thrust into her. "Your body will be conquered like your kingdom," Maven said as she started to thrust in and out of her. "Sown like the farmlands we take, bred like the animals we raise." 

"A-ah!" was all Princess could muster as Lady Maven took her then and there, sheltered by the rickety stable. Heat spilled over her as her tits spilled from her pretty pink dress, bouncing up and down as Maven fucked her mercilessly. She was tensing, aching, body begging for more but too prideful a Princess to admit it openly. In that moment she was owned. And she may very well be for the rest of her life as Maven pumped in and out of her like a wild stallion. Maven reached around to grope her tits, tugging on the collar with one hand as she pounded Princess from behind. Her cheeks slammed against the knight's hips and jiggled as the rest of her body tensed. 

"G-good girl," Maven said with one final push, pumping loads of warm seed up into her womb. Maven could no longer hold it back, and she let out a deep cry of pleasure. A slap was planted on her ass and Maven tugged out. "You're not a noble now. You are nothing!" she said as she tossed Princess to the ground. Her pretty pink dress torn, her hair mussed, and her body aching, Princess fell to the ground. "A noble knight's toy. A slut!" Maven turned her onto her back with her boot and planted it into her chest. "Tell me you're mine," she said, cocking her head to the side and staring at Princess expectantly. The kingdom burned outside, the people screaming as they fell one by one by the sword. Princess turned her gaze onto Lady Maven and gulped. 

"I-I'm yours," she said.  

[lunarw0rks]

Old Bones | Chapter Eleven

Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.

Warning(s): PTSD/abuse themes, explicit content (18+), strong language, depictions of nightmares/panic attacks, hurt/comfort, smut, p in v sex, unprotected s*x, hehe

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: Watch by Billie Eilish + Fine Line by Harry Styles inspired this chapter. Not proofread entirely, so don't mind mistakes. Enjoy!

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter | ao3 ver. | playlist ꒦꒷ O.B MASTERLIST

Watch Me Burn

“Think this is the last of it.” Simon huffs, setting down the last box.

You were finally back there, standing in the middle of the home Cal and you once shared. Selling it was too much of a hassle, and it was decently sized. Perhaps it was a calm before a storm; how tranquil you felt standing in the middle of the entrance hall. Or the kitchen, the dining room, worst of all—the bedroom.

But you were here now, and he was soon to be cremated. There was no room for dwelling, at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. And Simon? His awkwardness has been well disguised if there is any left by now.

The drunken kiss—it was just that; a drunken kiss.

With the horrible shit you two had been through to land you here, unresolved tension became the new way of communicating. You began to think you both fed on the chaos like if things were too calm, the world would implode.

“Thank you.” You say, playing with the new house keys. Internally, you were showing gratitude for more than just him moving a few boxes, it was how resilient he had been, despite all your baggage and unpredictability.

He merely nods, reaching into his pocket for his carton of cigarettes. He was going to leave you to do… whatever it was you needed to do in order to be comfortable here. Simon hadn’t expected you to ever want to be back here, to want to spend your new riches on travel.

However, if Simon learned anything about you during these months; life on the road didn’t suit you, especially not with him. And in truth, he had no plans once you got settled here. At first, he was going to move straight to his next op, forget about this one.

It was abundantly clear he was well past self-control, though. That’s what frightened him the most.

You turned yourself in a circle a few times, admiring the high ceilings and decor still left behind. It was the same as Christmas Eve, only the evidence of Cal’s tantrum had been long cleaned up. He really wasn’t here when he was hunting you—he had sent a housesitter, most likely, given the fact that there wasn’t a speck of dust in the main living area.

There were only small reminders; the scuffs on the hardwood, the dents by the china cabinet, and a nasty scratch in the dining table from the night you left. You’d be lying if looking at the damages didn’t paint a vivid image of each blow that causes them.

When you gazed at the scuffed hardwood, you remembered the way he flipped the table the first time you fought. Then, the china cabinet—merely a cabinet of things for him to hurl in your direction. Worst of all, the dining table with a scratch from the knife you grabbed, scraping across the oak when he dragged you across it.

In each small area, you were rewatching the moment as a numb spectator, as if you had a third-person viewing of your fight for your life.

You hadn’t realized, but you had been literally walking down memory lane, physically tracing your fingertips along each reminder. “Found this in the truck, must’ve fallen out of your bag.” His sudden presence startled you, but it was a blessing. Any longer, and you would’ve probably ripped up the real estate papers and kept moving.

He was outstretching one of your necklaces, one you definitely didn’t want to be left behind. “Thank you,” you said it again, a double entendre barely concealed with your wavering voice. His poker face made it hard to decipher his awareness—for all you knew he could be feeling nothing towards you.

Simon’s eyes found the dent in the wall, recalling just how long your fingertips skimmed it, the nauseous look on your face. He debated on this next move, but his feet found a position behind you anyway since you didn’t take the jewelry from him yet.

“I hate the carpet. And everything in the dining room.” His subtle breath was the only thing alerting you of his close proximity, or you probably wouldn’t have even noticed. Two hands came in front of you, opening the necklace and slowly wrapping it around the base of your neck. If you hadn’t just been morbidly reminiscing, perhaps your breathing would’ve changed a bit.

He clicked the necklace in place, his gruff voice gentle and appreciative, “so get rid of it all.” It was almost a whisper like he was giving you the permission you didn’t need but were so obviously asking him for. It was your home to renovate, not his.

Simon’s breath smelled of fresh cigarette smoke, lingering in a cloud around you even after his simple words concluded. A hand lingered on your shoulder, giving it a small pat, before he retreated out to the untouched living room.

There was no sense in keeping the reminders, and none of it was to your taste. It was time to get to work if you had any shot of moving on from Cal.

Once you got started, you found it hard to stop.

Tearing out furniture and ripping up the carpet was surprisingly therapeutic, even with the emotional baggage the material things carried. The place was empty, but not understimulating. To you, it was a pleasing blank canvas you had full power to refurbish and leave the old behind. Cleaning up the mess was just an afterthought, but soothing to your soreness from all the handy work.

Of course, Simon would carry heavy things out, or assist in moving something for you. But when you were aggressively hammering a nail and grunting? He… found it beneficial to stay out of your way, with no clue whose face you might’ve been picturing while doing it.

The kitchen was shockingly tidy; the fridge was empty, as were the cabinets. You tackled that room last, disinfecting and placing the few food items you brought with you. Of course, it was a depressing sight; all those cabinets with only a few canned items and some granola bars. On the bright side, you’d only ever seen Simon eat once, so he wasn’t your worry.

Groceries would be a task for tomorrow. For now, you need to rest your legs and feet.

Simon claimed the spare room, which once was Cal’s office. You peered inside of it when you strolled down the hall—he had already laid out a blanket and pillow on the daybed. It was nice enough, for someone like him, at least.

You were taking advantage of the king-sized bed, though. Not one night in your marriage, did you ever get it to yourself. Sometimes you would snuggle in it, hopeful that this would be the night Cal didn’t come up the stairs and join you—or more commonly, that he would be too drunk to drive home.

He never was, of course; a natural buzzkill and energy vampire.

But it was yours now, the whole master bedroom. It had the nicest view of all the rooms; two large windows above the nightstand that overlooked the street, the bed in between them, and a fireplace seating area in the corner. Not that you ever needed this much room, or could even fill the space with all your belongings, but you had earned the right to spoil yourself. It was your home as much as it was his, even though it didn’t feel that way with Cal.

You practically expelled all the air in your lungs, the second your back hit the plush mattress. You sprawled out, almost in a starfish position as you looked around at your new room. The walls had always been kept white, as did the sheets—allowing you to picture it entirely renovated, to your design taste.

Though, if you had another minute of thinking about renovation, you would’ve lost your mind. You hadn’t even taken off your shoes, and your eyes were fluttering shut. In all honesty, you were too worn out to care about the position you were in, or the shoes still on your feet.

—

You sat up in the bed, feeling yourself in the exact position you had snoozed. You looked at the alarm clock to your right, red numbers being one of the only sources of light.

12:32 AM

Clearly, you needed it, because you hadn’t even moved in your sleep, or pulled the covers up. You reached up a hand, rubbing your tired eyes. Of course, you were now wide awake at midnight. Just your luck.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, embraced by the softness of the bed beneath you. A warm tingle was overtaking you like you were taking a soothing shower or bath. It was perfect… Too good to be true, right?

The bedroom was the same, nothing disturbed. But, as comforting as it was, something was off balance. There was no faint sound of the TV downstairs or the occasional clearing of his throat, only the white noise of the AC.

Now that you’ve moved and gathered your bearings—it was icy cold, more than what could be blowing from the vents. And… there was a mumble growing louder; a man’s voice you couldn’t decipher from your room.

Your legs swung off the edge of the bed, taking an instinctual look over your shoulder as if searching for the source of this ill feeling. There was no monster in the shadows, or a hand from under the bed grasping at your ankle. Not even the feeling of a presence—but you knew there was one. Who was talking, at this hour? The confusion made your brows knit, and your mouth hang open slightly.

Normally, you would’ve just got up and investigated the sound. But, getting to your feet was taking some courage right now, and you were moving about half the speed you would any other time. When you turned your head toward the bathroom, the door was still open—the washroom was nothing but a pitch-black abyss right now.

And the closet? You were too shaky to go in that direction, shaking your head at the idea immediately. That left the door in and out of the bedroom, where the muffle was coming from somewhere in the home.

You fingered the brumal knob, feeling it sting against your steaming flesh. The air was cold, causing goosebumps, but you were simultaneously burning up from a feeling of impending doom. The hinges cracked, almost sounding similar to the low-octave male voice still audible.

The door opened and it was… the hallway. The same way it was when you went to sleep, only illuminated by one of the sconces. Still, the sound was coming from the spare room. When you looked, there was a near-blinding light coming from under the door.

A hushed, growly whisper went past you—no, through you, like a stranger passing you on the street while speaking. You shivered again, eyes darting down each side of the hall. Down the steps, it was like the master bath, a dark abyss you didn’t want to trek through.

That left the spare room in all its blinding glory, and whoever, whatever was behind the door. This time, you pushed forward with all the speed you could muster. Not even a light jog, as if you had the weight of the Earth constricting your joints.

The muffle got louder, even overbearing when you opened the door to the spare room. It wasn’t the empty room with stray boxes and tools—it wasn’t your house at all. You squinted and held up your forearm to shield the light, taking several seconds for your eyes to adjust. It was the large windows—those large windows from the office building. And now, you could hear the voice clearer now.

You turned the corner and saw yourself. The moment Cal was creeping up on you, touching your waist. Though you were watching it from a different angle, seemingly watching it play out the same way it happened—it wasn’t. The woman you were watching, she wasn’t moving, not budging against his hands. She was… just standing there, white-knuckling the glass of whiskey her husband poured for her. He leaned closer, and as he tightened the grip on her waist, you felt two hands on yours, two that felt very lucid. So tight you felt like the assailant had sharp claws.

You could smell him; the stench of whiskey and cruelty warm on your neck. But you couldn’t speak, not scream, or resist. Just like the replay of the day he died, you were standing there like her, the guilt of being weak-kneed made you sick.

He could’ve clawed you in half, how harshly he was holding you in place. It was like a mockery of watching what would’ve happened if you didn’t break the glass over his head—and he was making you watch. Every second, every struggle, every cruel thing Cal would’ve said if you let him touch you.

This wasn’t you. You wanted to bellow at her to fight him, and more so at yourself for not making a run for it. Why couldn’t you move? Despite his hands feeling like they were going to tear you in half? It was pure humiliation—the woman in front of you that once got off the kitchen floor on Christmas Eve, now a face of blood and bone.

You turned around slowly, feeling salty tears go from your face all the way down to your lips.

His sneer would’ve been seen for miles—the sadism written on Cal’s face as if he was still feeding on your tears, even in death, even in your dreams. It wasn’t just his mortal face, it was the one he was left with in death—a spewing bullet wound through the forehead soaking you in his blood.

You could taste it after a few seconds, the metallic taste coating your face and body the closer he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, just like the day they did in the office. The crimson was filling your mouth, causing you to hack and reach for your throat.

Your shoes squeaked against the marble floor of the office, looking down and seeing gallons of the stuff pooling. You could feel his blood trickle and seep into the fabric of your clothes, in the whites of your eyes with an excruciating burn.

As badly as you wanted to call out his name, your mouth was too coated to get the words out. It was hot, so hot it made you stumble. Your vision was gone—replaced by the blood that flooded your irises. You felt yourself nearly fall, as you ripped yourself from his grip.

You were palming through the ruby of your vision, arms outstretched. Though you couldn’t see, you could still feel him looming over you, watching in amusement as the pools of blood squelched under your feet.

Then, you felt your hands grip something, or someone. You hung on for dear life, blinking away the currant that washed your vision. It still seared, still coated your throat and face, but you could finally make out the figure; Simon.

You blinked rapidly, a chest cough followed by more blood as you watched him. He was staring straight ahead at first, until he felt you beating on his chest, yanking on the fabric of his clothes, just like you had done when strangled. The lifeless version of Cal, he had fizzled out the second Simon approached, nowhere to be seen in the shadows of the office anymore. As well as the alternate version of Cal and you—they were gone too.

Left in the room, it was you and Simon. One soaked with blood, gasping for breath. The other was tattered and seething at the sight.

Simon’s eyes widened as if he had just now noticed you. His hulking, veiny hands are outstretched, cupping each side of your saturated face, taking a step closer to you. Under the mask, you could see the fabric move, like he was speaking to you—but your sound was muffled again.

You plummet from a great height. Adrenaline-fueled rush courses through your veins, instantly jolting your senses awake. The wind roars past your ears with an ear-piercing howl. Your stomach clenches and churns, a sensation that feels like a roller coaster taking a wild descent. The feeling of weightlessness washes over you as if gravity has momentarily lost its grip, leaving you suspended in a free-falling void.

The pit of your stomach seems to drop with each passing moment as if trying to catch up to the plummeting rest of your body.

The blackness seizes hastily—your view is of widened amber eyes, and you can feel the same hands cupping your cheeks, just like the nightmare. The burn in your throat wasn’t from blood, it was from your screaming. The searing in your eyes, it was stemming from the tears streaming down your cheeks.

For the first few seconds, you were still half-in, half-out, pounding on his chest with all the shaky strength you could muster.

“Look at me, look at me.” Simon kept repeating it, only gripping the sides of your face faster. If he wasn’t restricting you, you were surely going to hurt yourself or him, so he had to. You were hyperventilating, still stuck in that dream-like state of terror and the threat of him attacking you. His pressing weight was caging you in place, no matter how much you yelped and thrashed to get running.

In a swift movement, Simon tugged at the edge of his mask, pulling it entirely off his head. “It’s me, it’s me!” He raised his voice, his identity now in your full sight. When he was wearing the mask, he probably appeared more like a masked intruder than a comforting soul—he had to snap you out of this, even if it meant breaking his own rules.

You could see him now; a chiseled jaw and protruding eyes cloaked by years of dark circles, a faint stubble across his chin, and that scar you had touched a few nights ago. It wasn’t an assailant or Cal, it was Simon.

Your hollers halted, now only quiet sobs against his chest. Everything in the dream felt so vivid, so real, lucid enough you were controlling your every movement, but not enough to rid yourself of the threat. The adrenaline you felt during the night terror left you unable to shut your eyes or stop wailing as if you were being actively hunted for sport.

“I’m sorry. It felt too real, Simon.” You whispered against his chest, one hand digging your nails deep into his bicep. His knees were on either side of your waist, anchoring you up enough to use him as a pillow. It seemed the only way he could successfully wake you was to straddle your frame, to cup your cheeks.

What he had done in the present, injected its way into the night terror—perhaps the reason it all felt too real.

“I know.” A calloused thumb stroked your cheek, his head resting against the crook of your neck. He didn’t need to ask the source of the nightmare, and he wasn’t going to. It was a natural reaction, being in this house all day reminded of your worst memories. You tried to hide it throughout the day, but Simon was too observant for his own good.

When he heard your shrieks in the next room, half-asleep on the daybed, he knew. This would’ve happened eventually. Just because Cal was dead, didn’t mean he was dead to you. His ghost still loomed in every room of that place, a constricting weight on your shoulders.

He had witnessed his fair share of adrenaline highs and experienced plenty on his own too. Only then, he didn’t have the luxury of a shoulder to cry on. There was no way in hell he would damn you to that same loneliness he had, no matter how much his inner voice bellowed at him to put the mask back on.

“Sit up, you won’t be so shaky.” Once hovering over you, he eased up, a gentle tug on your wrist to get you sitting up. Eyes still wide, tear stains on yourself and the fabrics of the bed. He looked behind him, seeing the armchair by the fireplace. Simon guided you to it, allowing you to sit down somewhere other than the bed occupied with memories.

He dropped to his knees in front of you slowly, a fist finding your ankle. You flashed a look of confusion, but you weren’t in any position to protest. It felt safe, despite the outward appearance Simon had—broody and dripping with masculinity.

His fingers found the tongue of the shoes you fell asleep wearing, pulling them off slowly.

“Better?” He asks, figuring out the answer quite quickly based on your silence. You nodded in response, wiping your cheeks with your sleeve. It felt the same as it did when you were younger; embarrassed for being afraid of a nightmare. It was just that—a nightmare, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel every bit of it.

The light from the hallway was the only thing allowing you to see his face; washed out by the golden tint of the light bulb, but pleasing to look at. “Thank you, Simon.” God, how many times you said it that day, probably too many times. He would never accept it, not since the beginning of this road, and especially not after what happened at the apartment.

But, without his mask, he didn’t have his usual safety net of anonymity. His face was as blank as you expected it would be, aside from the slight scowl on his lips. “Stop sayin’ that.” He wanted to get up, but his palm remained wrapped around your calf, gazing at you with confliction.

You tilted your head to the side, leaning against the backrest of the armchair, “yeah, but I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he replied, his speech still a mumble even without the mask, “that’s why I said not to.” Simon didn’t deserve the gratitude, as far as he was concerned. Especially not from you. The last thing on your mind should be thanking him, being kind to him, and even looking him in the eye. But you did—every single day.

“You know you don’t have to stay, right?” You asked, the flicker of the hall light still concealing his pout slightly. You didn’t mean here, you meant in general; he didn’t have to, but he always did. You inhaled sharply, feeling his thumb still caressing your calf soothingly. “And… I’m not upset with you. You have to know that, at least.”

Perhaps it was the fog in your mind or the nerves still working overdrive, but his silence was too still for your liking. It wasn’t distaste, it was his old habits keeping him from indulging.

The hand was removed quickly and placed back on his own knee. You heard the shuffle of his pant fabric like he was going to stand up and leave the bedroom. But he didn’t—his head dropped in the direction of the floor.

“Simon?” Your tone was hushed, eyes squinted with unsettle.

“Stop it.” He grumbled, the whites of his eyes still glowing within the dim lighting. Simon blinked slowly when he met your gaze again, unable to accept the perturb. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t. That much was obvious.

He heard you stammer, a sentence cut short when he spoke so firmly. “Stop being so fuckin’ nice to me.” Though the words themselves were harsh, it was nothing more than a defeated whisper—a plea to halt your tenderness before he lost all self-control.

What he desired was to find the mask he flung only minutes ago, slip it on, and slam the door behind him. His presence remained; a commanding voice, despite being the one kneeling in front of you. And you? Ever persistent, and he despised it with every fiber of his being.

You scoffed, but it was coming from a place of intense empathy.  “Am I supposed to scream at you? Beat you bloody?” The question hung in the air for a few seconds, followed by a snappy retort. He would never let himself relax, even feel, could he?

“No, you need to stop treating me like someone you deserve. You’re not that stupid.” Simon hissed with a slight roll of his eye. You clutched each armrest tightly, mouth slightly hung open from his self-pity.

His shell was breaking—the umbrage was just the last futile attempt at restricting you before it shattered completely. When that happened—and it would—he had but a clue about his next step. Why had he remained in this spot for so long, kneeling so closely to you?

“Why did you stay then? The night at the cabin, after Cal?” It surely wasn’t because he had to. You were onto him, and you weren’t going to let him go now, not unless he packed up and left right this second.

His stammer said enough, the tightened grip on his own appendage as if he was squeezing the reply from his own body. If he said what he wanted to, it wouldn’t be something cruel. He couldn’t be cold to you. That’s what frightened him the most.

You hunched forward slightly, a hovering hand on his shoulder. Simon tensed out of reflex, but didn’t physically stop you—he couldn’t anymore. Tonight was a breaking point, and his face had been in your sights for several minutes now.

“Don’t do this.” Finally, he gathered his bearings and clamped a hand around your wrist, the sheer size of his hand swallowing yours entirely. He let out a heavy breath, his glowing eyes burning holes into yours.

Your reply was as simple as blunt as you could muster; a one-worded question you’ve had for a long time. “Why?”

His fingers clenched a little tighter, expecting you to squirm. But you didn’t. “Because I won’t be able to stop myself,” he blinked slowly, eyes drooping with the small sliver of weakness he was showing you right now. Who said you wanted him to stop? In fact, nothing about you did. Not even your reddened eyes, or the tension you carried. It was a simple concept to grasp, but someone as stubborn as himself hadn’t. Yet.

This time, it was you who initiated the intimacy. It wasn’t sensuality; it was reassurance—something Simon needed desperately. You pressed your forehead against his, fingers finding the stubble you could finally touch.

He breathed heavily into the kiss, an instinctual hand protecting the back of your head when he pushed your weight back into the armchair. Somewhere in it, he had stood up again, able to deepen the lip contact by hovering over you. Simon should’ve fought it, but he didn’t. He wanted you to pull away and realize how ridiculous he felt against you, but you did not.

His lips pulled away with a moist squelch, still a hand on the back of your head. The drunken kiss was messy and heated. This was stone-cold sober—much needed and full of feelings. Simon seemed to be searching for hesitance, any excuse to halt his desires. You only breathed heavily from the loss of air, unblinking and desperate for more.

You nodded slightly, an unspoken plea for that part of him that couldn’t stop himself. Though it seemed like you were leading things, you didn’t have a clue what the hell you were doing either. It just felt right at the moment. After the nod, his free hand clasped the collar of your shirt, pulling you to your feet. He scanned the room around him, though he already memorized the layout the first time he walked in. It was as if he was searching for prying eyes that weren’t there—an instinct when his face was visible.

Instead of the sides of your head, his fingers found your waist, digging into them as he backed you against the dresser. Without a struggle on his end, he lifted you on top of it so he could stand between your parted thighs.

It couldn’t be the bed; it was too domestic for the both of you. He needed somewhere you could easily pull away from him and walk away, as he’d convinced himself you were going to. There was no way this act would carry out completely, right? The rational portion of you had to be buried deep in your lust.

Simon’s fingers gave your waistband a tug, pulling your bottoms off entirely. His eyes remained trained on yours the entire time, expecting some sort of resistance. Hell, he was expecting a slap on his cheek that never came. You wanted this; you wanted him.

The pad of his finger found your swollen clit, rubbing paced circles on the nerves. You felt your breath hitch at the sensation, a clench around the wooden edge of the dresser. Despite how much you wanted this, it was like an out-of-character blur. Simon, being the face to match the lustful hands? You never thought of that as a sight you’d see, never in a million years.

His heavy breathing was just as arousing, how lustfully he was watching despite not being the one being touched. Words weren’t coming out, but the language of stares was all the two of you needed right now. Simon could keep searching for refusal, but he wasn’t going to find it. Not while he was massaging your clit so intimately.

The pleasure built rather quickly, as did the pace of your hips rocking against his hands. It had been so long since you touched yourself, let alone a sexual partner doing it for you. When his finger ceased, you let out a small mewl from the emptiness.

From the moonlight illuminating his features, your eyes wandered at the sound of his belt unbuckling. He did it with such haste, such experience. He unzipped his jeans next, pulling them down to his knees to allow access.

Instinctively, you outstretched a hand to palm him through his boxers. It was what you were used to: I do something for you, you have to do the same for me.

“No.” Simon hissed, placing your hands back at your sides. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you to stroke him—he didn’t want the focus on him. You seeing his face was all the focus he could handle right now.

You kept your hands on either side of you, respecting the boundary he had put up, though you didn’t understand its purpose. He pulled down on the waistband of his black boxers, stroking himself for a few seconds, followed by another hiss. Simon stepped back to his original position between your thighs again, only he pulled them further apart��enough for his wide frame to fit comfortably.

You felt his length pressing against your folds, the knuckle of his hand on your inner thigh as he guided it into position. Before he did, he searched for a nod again, or anything, really. You obliged, bracing yourself by clamping down on his shoulder. It had been a long time since you had sex, so it wasn’t going to be particularly comfortable at first. A man of Simon’s stature, no matter the amount of arousal that pooled—you would have to be eased into it.

He guided the tip in first, eyes darting up and down as he slowly pushed his hips forward, his length coated in the lubricating slick caused by his fingers. You let out a pleasured gasp, not yet feeling the stretch that was coming.

When he was sure of the next phase, he placed his lips against your gasping ones, silencing the inevitable whine of discomfort. Still at a snail's pace, he entered even deeper, enough that you needed to sit with him like that for a moment. It was just that; discomfort, not pain. Yet another factor of intimacy you weren’t accustomed to as of late. “Is that… good?” He whispered against your mouth, still only thrusting a portion of himself out—and slowly.

Since he’d given you time to adjust, the discomfort did fizzle away. “More,” you replied, a slight nod of your head. Now, you were arguably enjoying the sensation more than he was.

This time, he didn’t wait for a refusal.

With an abrupter thrust, he bottomed out inside you. It wasn’t roughness, not yet—just his way of ripping off the bandaid. His lips found yours again, allowing you to bite down on his lower lip at the sudden stretch. The angle he was at; you sitting on top of the dresser with your hips slightly raised, and him standing, it felt euphoric, not agonizing.

“Shit…” A guttural groan fell from his lips as his movements began, methodical and pleasuring for both of you. Every sound you made, every little reaction; it made him twitch deep inside you. This is what he wanted when you two finally gave in—you, writhing in front of him and forced to do nothing but enjoy it.

His tip kissed your cervix with each pump, just enough to make your eyes roll slightly. What the hell you two were doing, the consequences tomorrow, none of it mattered. Lust truly did cloud the two of you this moment, and he wasn’t going to stop unless you asked him.

You felt tears prick at your eyes, but it wasn’t from pain or repulsion. It was from how long you had gone without this shared feeling of desire, the closeness of two people. Simon slowed his movements, wiping away the tear with his thumb. He could tell, it wasn’t a fear of him or the past that haunted you—it was pure satisfaction.

You needed this, no, deserved this from someone who truly deserved you.

His experienced hands found your hips, tugging you closer so your chests were touching. You let out another sharp gasp, holding onto him just as tightly. The tug allowed him to hit a deeper spot inside your walls if that was even possible.

The change in position allowed you to raise your knees higher against him, so much you probably could’ve placed your feet up on the dresser. Simon grunted and increased his speed, one hand on your thigh, and the other a flat palm against the wall in front of him. The furniture piece hit the wall with each relentless thrust, the thumb masked by your shared moans of delight. And they were becoming desperate ones, plain desperate.

Your stomach was doing flips, tightening and churning the longer he went at it like this. And Simon, his head leaned back ever so slightly, he was close too. There was no turning back now, too deep in the sensations. But still, you iron gripped him—as if pleading for him not to pull away—something he had no intention of doing.

“Let it out, love.” He rasped in your ear, his hips still going an uninterrupted pound. Love. The unexpected pet name made your already shaking knees turn to putty. You truly would only last seconds at best, especially with that accent smothering you.

What once was a moan with each thrust, now became a growing holler. That breaking point that had been bubbling, the one he gave you permission to, finally struck you—destructively. Each muscle in your abdomen constricted, your head thrown back against the wall at the feeling of euphoria hitting an all-time high. Simon’s hand, once gripping your thigh, was now protecting the back of your head as it thrashed against the wall. His tongue traced along your jaw and chin, the combination of sensations only prolonging the interval.

His fist balled in your hair, just enough to only cause an enjoyable sting. He leaned back slightly to have a better view of his length going in and out of you. The sounds of your high delighted him, the final permission for him to enjoy his own climax.

When he felt a more violent twitch, he pulled himself out, using his hand to finish the rest. Still, he wouldn’t allow you to touch him, you were sure of that. You panted heavily, mouth still agape in awe of the attraction you felt towards this. Your fingers clenched the sides of the dresser once pulled away, feeling the spew of his cum land on your folds.

Simon trembled slightly, giving one of your clothed breasts a yearning squeeze as he drained himself of his seed.

Then, clarity hit him as quickly as his climax did. “You wanted that, right?” He whispered, eyes now full of searching rather than lust. God, his cluelessness would be the death of him before any enemy. You quickly nodded, now slightly more slumped than before. You thought it was obvious, but he did always have a way of shocking you—in more ways than one, now.

Inside, you were shaking your head and smacking sense into him for his own stubbornness.

“Simon,” you panted, tightening your thighs around his waist, “just shut up. Please.” You pushed your head against into chest, using it as a surface to catch your breath on. The sensations you felt replayed already, leaving you sensitive and breathless, but heinously calm in spite of what you two had just done.

It happened so quickly, but it wasn’t regretful or dissatisfying. It was the exact opposite.

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