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joelsmochi · 11 months ago

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honey ♡ joel miller

rating: E 18+ only pairing: beekeeper!joel x f!reader summary: joel is obviously beekeeping age warnings: not proofread, no outbreak, best friends dad!joel, soft!joel, unspecified 30+ year age gap, a hint unrealistic in the sense that sarah doesn’t care, lots of bee science, mentions of bees/bee stings (ouch), honey play (i had to), fingering, f receiving oral, kitchen sex, pet names, plenty of dirty talk (mhm yes yum) a/n: i totally didn’t google bee sex for like an hour just to be accurate… nope… no i didn’t. lol enjoy & happy valentines day ;)

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“Which eyeshadow should I use?”

You looked at the small, black palette and its array of choices before telling Sarah, “Purple, it goes great with green dresses.”

Sarah began to brush the product onto her eyelids while she talked about her plans for tonight with her boyfriend, Alex; her voice became white noise as you caught a glimpse of her father in the backyard working on something.

“Your dad’s a beekeeper, right?” You asked without realizing you interrupted her.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Cool… How’d he get into that? Doesn’t seem like the type to… Save bees?”

“What do you mean?” She mumbled beneath her working hand.

Shrugging, you tried to keep your expression and tone neutral. “Aren’t beekeepers usually a bit dorky?”

“My dad is a dork.”

“I mean, not really,” you chuckled, watching the man pull out the different trays and examine them. “It’s cute, your dad keeping bees… How old is he again?”

Sarah only rolled her eyes.

“He’s definitely beekeeping age,” you continued. “Kinda sweet. Him caring for a colony of bees in your backyard.”

Your best friend was now looking at you look at her father—correction: you were ogling him. Your attempts at seeming unbothered by his looks failed. Sarah always said you wore your heart on your forehead sometimes.

You just couldn’t help it; Joel was tall and big and broad and… Older. He wore a tough exterior, one that always intimidated you, but now you see him tending to bees. The man was a softie at heart, not to mention insanely hot.

His skin tanned even deeper from the long hours of being in the sun, and his forehead littered with droplets of sweat. Was it so wrong to think about Joel f—

“Sarah, I wanna fuck your d—“

“Oh, really?”

You shrugged and sat down on her bed. “Can you blame me?! He’s like… Twenty times hotter than the guys our age.”

“He’s also twenty times your age,” she spat.

“Doesn’t he have a brother?” You shamelessly asked.

She scoffed and looked at you in disbelief. “Yeah, who’s married and has three kids.”

You groaned softly. “Bummer.”

“You have a fucking insane sex drive, you know?”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you whined, “It’s making me masturbate more than I’d like.”

“You know what, if you wanna make the bold attempt to fuck my fifty year old dad then you have my blessing,” she sarcastically told you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and stared at her shit-eating grin, waiting for her to tell you she was joking. “Don’t bullshit me, Sarah, ‘cause you know I will.”

“Ah—la la la la la! I am not—I am not listening to it anymore. Get it out of your system before I take it back.”

You pretended to lock your lips and throw the key away as she got back on her boyfriend, but all you could think about was her dad.

♡

You waited for Sarah’s boyfriend’s car to leave the driveway before shakily fixing your hair and lip gloss, then you walked into the backyard with eyes set on the man and his work.

“Mr. Miller,” you called once you were a few feet away from him.

He looked up for a split second and motioned his head as a greeting, saying your name in response.

“Bees?”

“Yes, ma’am. Somethin’ I can help you with?”

Shrugging, you walked a little closer but kept your distance fearing a bee sting. “Maybe.”

He lifted a panel up and briefly examined it until he noticed the lingering silence. His dark eyes locked with yours and he sensed your hesitation. “You allergic?”

You only shook your head.

“They’re calm if you are.”

I am so not fucking calm right now, you thought.

“C’mere darlin’. I’ll show ya.”

He used his index and middle finger to beckon you, and you instantly fixated on why you were there in the first place.

You made the daring move to take a few more steps, ears coaxed by the hum of the colony.

“They usually only sting if you annoy them, or smell like a flower.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t spray floral perfume on my shirt this morning,” you joked.

He almost laughed as the bees didn’t seem to care for you so far. “Honeybees really don’t want to sting you.”

“‘Cause it kills ‘em, right?”

Nodding, Joel says, “Exactly. Their number one goal is to protect the queen. Second is to survive whatever threats they face.”

“How’d you get into this kinda stuff?” You asked.

You were trying to find some way to bring up your question without being sudden or rude, though beekeeping didn’t seem like a helpful topic.

“When Sarah was little she used to get a lot of rashes and she had some bad allergies. That over the counter medicine didn’t help, but honey helped. The natural shit— stuff they sell at the store… Well, it gets expensive. And I didn’t have as good a job as I do now... So I figured I’d give it a go and make my own honey.“

“That’s sweet of you. My dad always had me tough it out,” you chuckled.

“I have plenty stashed away in the kitchen. You’re welcome to take some,” he offered. “Hey, what was it you needed?”

“Oh, uh.” You pursed your lips unsure of whether or not you should lie. “Well, I have this sort of… Itch.”

“Itch? It’s not an STD is it, ‘cause I don’t think honey can help with that.”

You knew it was a deadpan joke but the tension had your face stuck in a scrunch.

“No. Not an STD,” you answered. “I just, uh… I really like you, I guess.”

“I hope so, you’ve been eating up half my groceries for the past twenty somethin’ years.”

Idiot.

“No, I mean…” You realized you wouldn’t be able to ask him. “Never mind, uh. Just forget it.”

He watched you turn and begin walking away before it dawned on him. “Oh!”

You faced him again, scratching your head and giving him a nervous look. “Yeah, like I said: forget it. We can just pretend I never asked—“

“Come here,” he said, adjusting his jeans and walking to the other side of the apiary. “Wanna show ya somethin’.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your stress response of fleeing the scene and standing beside him again.

“Do you know why bees are so loyal to their queen?” He asked after pulling a panel out to show you.

“Mnh-mnh.”

“The queen is the only bee in the entire hive that can produce more bees. Again, a bee’s second main goal is to preserve the life of their species. The queen produces pheromones that calm the bees down and keep the structure within the colony. Drone bees are male bees that really only exist to mate with the queen when she’s a virgin and out of the hive. Worker bees are females that aren’t the queen, but they’re very nurturing. Especially to the queen because she’s the one in charge.”

“Ahh, a matriarchy. Count me in,” you giggled.

Joel chuckled and pulled a switchblade out of his pocket before forcing the blade to whip out. “Do you know how bees mate?”

His voice sounded a little more quiet, and his eyes met yours with curiosity. You shook your head and waited for him to explain.

“When a new queen is selected, she goes out just one time to find a group of drones who will essentially take her virginity. And drones have an endophallus so after they ejaculate into her, their insides are ripped out and the drone dies. When a new drone comes up to mate with the queen, he removes the last guy’s endophallus and does the same thing. Mate with her… And die. She can mate with about ten or twenty different drones before flying back to the hive and laying eggs.”

“So the drones’ only purpose is to mate with a queen?” You asked.

He began cutting away a small piece of the wax, and the honey trickled down slowly.

“It’s the only reason he lives,” Joel muttered. You watched his thick fingers scoop up the liquid gold and he raised them to your lips. “He waits… And waits… And waits… For the right queen to come along.”

He smirked at your amused expression.

“Are you trying to seduce me by telling me the sexual nature of bees?”

He softly shook his head and glanced at your shiny lips. “Not trying to seduce you. Just tellin’ you what most men really want.”

Exhaling, you tried to ignore his fingers lingering in front of your face. The sickly sweet smell of honey filled your nostrils as his words echoed inside of your head.

“Go on,” he whispered, “have a taste.”

It took you a few extra seconds to build up the confidence in order to take him on his dare, but you made sure you did it as slowly as possible.

Your lips parted and he immediately felt your warm breath flow over his fingers; instinctively, your tongue darted out to catch a drop of the honey before it fell to the ground. Then you wrapped your lips around his digits, softly moaning at the sweet tasting nectar that coated his wood scented fingers.

WIth steady eyes you watch his brown orbs darken with lust, hearing him let out a huff and seeing the muscles in his face relax as if your slick tongue gave him the satisfaction he’d been seeking for a long time.

You swirled your tongue around, persisted to taste every last drop. The thickness coated your throat while you desperately wanted it to be something other than honey.

Your lips left his hand with a wet pop that prompted him to lick whatever saliva and honey remained on his fingers.

“Tastes good.”

“Just good?”

“Tastes delicious,” you corrected.

He let out a soft chuckle and put the wood panel back in its place.

“Sarah know you’re out here?”

After rolling your eyes and smirking you said, “She doesn’t need to know. Actually quite sure she wouldn’t want to know. Besides, Alex just picked her up, so.”

“So we’re all alone,” he finished.

“I’m gonna go get some of that honey you were talking about. Though I might need your help finding the right cabinet.”

He watched you walk back into the house before following you; once inside he saw you reaching into a cabinet in the corner, but a big red bruise on your arm caught his attention.

Joel walked over to you and grabbed your arm. Confused, you tried to see what he was looking at to no avail.

“You got stung right here,” he said as if he read your mind. He started walking over to the correct cabinet.

Frowning, you lifted your arm before spotting the bump. “Weird. Didn’t even feel it.”

“S’normal,” he muttered.

He stepped in front you to lift you up underneath your arms and sit you on top of the kitchen island.

You carefully watched as he opened up a sealed mason jar and stood between your legs.

“Mmkay. Lift your arm up.”

You did as he told and tried not to grimace while he scraped the stinger out. Honestly you didn’t have to try too hard; he looked so good like this, taking good care of you. Focused and confident like he’d done this a million times. You were certain he had.

He dipped a finger into the jar and swiped a little honey over the bump, carefully rubbing it in and drifting his gaze to your eyes.

“Helps the itch,” he spoke. “You said you had one, right?”

“Think I’ve got a bigger itch,” you replied.

“Hmm. Where at?”

Biting your bottom lip you trailed a finger over your neck, finding your sweet spot and rubbing a small circle over it. “Here.”

Joel rubbed a some honey on your neck and lapped it up like a thirsty dog. He held back on sucking the skin, mindful that you might not be fond of hickeys.

“I get it?” His voice strained.

You hummed. “No… No it’s went down a little bit. Tryyy… Here.”

Your clavicle.

More honey. More licking.

“How ‘bout now?”

You took your shirt off revealing your breasts. “Try here, and here.”

Your breath shook when the cold liquid was smeared over your hardened nipples. Once he took the first one into his mouth you let a desperate breath and held the curve of his head in your palm, letting him have his way with your tits.

“Nope, still there,” you spoke once he pulled away.

His fingers found the button on your shorts, then the zipper.

“Damn itches,” he said, “they’re always so damn stubborn. Ain’t that right? S’okay. Think I have a remedy for that.”

Just like that your shorts and panties were off and his fingers scooped up some more honey—more than what was necessary for anything.

He bent down to your glistening pussy and lazily rubbed the honey all over. You’d be lying if you said that alone didn’t make that knot inside of you twist harder.

Joel’s tongue eagerly met your clit, and he didn’t bother wasting anymore time with teasing you. A gurgling moan left his mouth once he tasted your juices mixing with the honey, creating the perfect elixir for his tastebuds.

Your legs clamped around his head reactively but he was strong enough to force them apart and keep them open.

Whilst he sucked and pulled and lapped around your clit, your hands were reaching, searching for anything to grasp. As a result you ended up knocking over the jar and spilling its contents, but you were too dazed to give a fuck.

Somewhat annoyed with you flailing around like you’d never been eaten out before, Joel smacked the back of your thigh. You shuddered and calmed your body down, settling with pulling on his hair relentlessly since the force of his smack stung a little.

He preferred it that way; take your tension out on him. Make him hurt if it meant you felt good. It only stroked his ego.

His tongue slipped between your pussy lips and slurped up whatever it could, the vibrations making you cry out his name. He did it again and again and again and again and a-fucking-gain until he was certain you were screaming from an orgasm.

Joel moaned at your thick cum pouring out of your cunt and down his sticky chin, drinking up anything he wasn’t missing.

He only stopped when he figured you’d had enough and stood eye level with you while fumbling with his belt buckle.

“I think that itch got a little deeper now,” he cockily said, “wouldn’t you say?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly blown, mouth agape, and chest heaving. “I think you can reach it just fine, Joel.”

Holding back a boastful laugh, he lined his erection up with your soft entrance and slid inside carefully.

“So pretty,” he whispered, “you look so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

You pulled his face in for a sloppy kiss, happily tasting the mixture of you and his honey. He noticed your hand was tacky from the spill and stuck a few fingers into his mouth, spreading the stickiness anywhere he could get it.

“Your cock,” you moaned into his chin. “So big.”

“It’s all yours, princess,” he moaned.

His hips pulled back and then snapped back into yours; his tip pressing into the deepest part of your pussy.

“Fuck. You get so fucking deep,” he praised. “S’it feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you said against your will. “Oh my God, just like tha—fuck!”

Joel fucked you just the way you liked: fast, but not sloppily or too hard. He watched his cock disappear into you a dozen times, and he grew harder than he ever had before.

“You look so pretty with my cock inside. Such a dirty fucking girl,” he shouted over your moans. “You take it so well, baby.”

Joel felt the his orgasm begin to arrive so he pulled out and took a step back; you whined a bit and reached for him but you were already so sore.

Meanwhile he just undressed himself and laid you down on the marble countertop, climbing on top of you not long after.

“I hear you, baby,” he cooed. “You don’t need to beg… I’m gon’ take real good care a’you.”

You lazily smiled and wrapped your legs around his broad waist.

“There you go,” he whispered against your lips as he slid back into you, hearing your whines turn into moans. “There you go, sweetheart. I got you.”

He returned back to his original pace, only his hips thrusted harder into you. You felt every curve and vein along his cock, every inch he gave to you.

Your nails clawed at his back and feet dug into his hips. You reached for him in any way you could. His lips danced with yours as you drank each other’s honey-coated moans.

“Joel, fuck. Oh, Joel I’m gonna cum,” you admitted.

He felt your back arch off of the counter as if your tone was indicating enough.

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so well. I got you, I got you. Need you to look at me, darlin’, can you do that? Can ya look at me with those pretty eyes when you cum?”

You struggled to open your eyes, wanting to wilt up at the intensity building inside of you. But once you saw his eyes again you were hooked.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, wearing the proudest grin imaginable. “Doing such a good job, let it out sweetie. You can cum.”

“I’m cu—oh!”

“I know, babygirl. I can feel it. Let it out for me. Let it out for daddy.”

He watched and held you as you writhed from your orgasm; your skin was on fire, stomach fluttering with elation.

Joel loved the sound of your voice calling his name, so precious and shameless. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to make you his own, even if it had to be temporarily.

“Cum inside me,” you breathed out, feeling overstimulated and overstretched. “Need you to—ah.“

He leaned down for another kiss just when he began to cum inside, a feeling so raw and deep he hadn’t felt in years. He forgot how fucking good it felt, and savored it by pushing through every painful bit of the overstimulation.

Joel gave you a few more soft kisses and slowly got off of the island. He ran a hand over your thighs and watched you come down from your high.

“My hair is covered in honey,” you giggled.

“Let’s go wash you up. Maybe we can find a few more itches to scratch.”

#SORRY THIS IS KINDA RUSHED UMMM #pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #tlou smut

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darlingdreadwrites · 2 months ago

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Healing Touches

paring: Ticci Toby x GN!Reader

Summary: You wake up and can tell that Toby is sick. He’s infuriatingly stubborn about it.

contains: fluff, sickfic, kissing, cuddling, sick toby, sassy toby

warnings: first fanfic i've ever posted (i apologize in advance), inaccurate portrayal of cipa if that's super important to you (he sweats), mention of making out, swear words, insults used affectionately

word count: 1k+

masterlist

a.n: finally decided to suck it up and post something. i was gonna post a stalker-y riddler fanfic first (i say "stalker-y" and he's literally watching you through your webcam LOL), but i'm just gonna do a fluffy one.

You stir from your slumber and your ears pick up on the deep exhale from the body holding you tightly from behind. You're warmer than how you usually wake up next to Toby. And sweatier. You stretch your back a bit to try and wiggle out of your hunched over position and feel as your shirt sticks to you stubbornly. Gross.

Pulling your outstretched hand from its laid-out position front of you, you use it to shield your eyes as you open them. It’s dark, of course, thanks to the black-out curtains, but it’s a habit you can’t put down. You blinked once, then again and try to wake yourself up enough to care what time it was. Why’d you wake up, anyway? And why were you sweating, most importantly. The scratchy clearing of your still-sleeping boyfriend’s throat seemed to make you suspicious.

You remove the hand pressed to your brow and rest it on top the forearm that tightly encircles your waist. The skin is warm and just a little clammy. Now, you’re no doctor, but you’re 50 percent sure Toby might be sick. You feel his body softly rumble as he lets out a phlegmy, wet cough. Maybe you were 90 percent sure. You rub his arm absentmindedly before grabbing a fistful of the blanket over your bodies. You toss it aside in hopes for cold air to cool both of your bodies. He doesn’t stir, thankfully, since he can’t feel the temperature change.

You rack your brain and try to think of any earlier hints of this sudden ailment until your thoughts stray to other topics. You didn’t even notice that you’d been staring, unblinking, at the wall in front of you until a groan broke the comfortable silence. You feel Toby’s lips against your shoulder blade in a lazy attempt at a kiss.

“Good-good morning,” he mumbles, and you return the sentiment. You wait a few seconds before you make your accusation, already anticipating the reaction.

You shift to your other side to face him, and he grunts in protest. Both of you settle into your new positions. He drapes an arm over your waist again, urging you to come closer. You only nudge his leg with yours since you’re not particularly fond of getting anymore of his sweat on you at the moment.

“How’d you get sick, Tobes?” You ask, half-sweetly, half-accusatory. “You’re always in layers.”

“M’not suh-sick,” he insists, his brows furrowing, and the muscle twitches ever so slightly.

“No?” You push back the hair that sticks to his forehead and press your lips onto his skin. Just to check the temperature, of course. And, Jesus, it was scorching. You could smell the slight tanginess of the sweat on his scalp.

“I don’t-don’t get sssssick.”

“You’re way hotter than usual.”

He snickers at that, “Thanks.”

You should’ve seen that coming, you sigh and suppress an eyeroll.

“I meant that you have a fever, dumbass,” you give him a deadpan expression, though his eyes stay closed.

“Nnnah,” he brushes you off and you can see his jaw clenching involuntarily when he shuts his mouth.

“You’re sick.”

“You’re suh-sick.”

“I might be. Cuz of you.”

Toby’s eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes, his wide brown ones meet yours. He purses his lips, as if trying to gauge if he really was sick or not. Before he can say some other smartass comment, you lean forward to plant a kiss on his jaw. Your body aches in protest, but you raise yourself using your arm and trail more kisses up the side of his face. He exhales contently through his nose and smiles at your sudden affection. He hums in satisfaction when you finally decide to peck at his lips repeatedly. He closes his eyes and pushes his lips out into a pout as the kisses get slower and longer.

Settling back to rest your head against your pillow, your eyes flick over Toby, and you assess his state. His nose and cheeks are pinker than usual, and you can tell how flushed he is despite the dim lighting.

“D’you want me to get you water? Or make you some soup?” You offer and he opens his eyes only to roll them at you.

“I like you-like you here,” he says stubbornly.

“We can keep cuddling,” you chuckle and press the backs of your fingers against his heated cheek. “But I’m getting you some medicine later.”

“S’fine, I can’t ffffeel any...thing.”

“I don’t care, you could have the plague.”

“You’re dramatic,” he shot back, a sassy lilt in his voice.

“Can I help you?” You ask sarcastically. “Please?”

“Can we not-not just cuh-cuddle?” He uses the same tone you did. “I can’t fuh-feel being sick, so-so it doesn’t m-matter.”

“Toby,” you say dryly before repeating yourself and drawing out the syllables, “Toby.”

“O-kay, okay, Jesus.”

“Good,” you smile and scoot just a little closer to him. He gives you a goofy grin before opening his mouth and letting out a small, playful cough. You can still see the shit-eating grin on his face.

“You’re nasty,” you cringe and scrunch your nose. He lets out a giggle and playfully pinches at the skin of your waist. When you nudge his leg again just a little harder in response, he rubs the spot on your hip to soothe it, and you can feel his hand twitch against it.

“C…an we muh-make out?” He breaks through the wholesome moment, and you purse your lips into a thin line.

“Your breath fuckin’ reeks, my love,” you pause and a subtle smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “And you’re sick.”

Toby rolls over, mouth falling open to let out a quick, disbelieving chuckle. “I am-am not si-sick.”

Laughing, you lean over to be partially draped over his chest, propping yourself up on your side and giving him a gentle kiss. He slowly lowers his eyelids, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your cheek as both of you surround yourself in the blissful moment.

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wayward-dreamer · 23 days ago

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Do Something About It

Square/s filled: Free space @jacklesversebingo |

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader

Word count: 2,056

Summary: Y/N goes to the Radio Company concert in Austin to support her boyfriend, but gets more out of the show than she thought she would.

Warnings: Swearing, sweaty Jensen (yes that comes with its own warning), smut: dirty talk, bathroom sex, public sex, v fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), fluff.

A/N: I've been working on this one literally since the concert happened, and it took finally being in the same room as @hintsofhoney (still can't believe that happened!) for me to finish it lol Thanks for beta'ing babe! Happy reading everyone!

The room was sweltering.

No one could figure out if it was hotter inside or outside, but it was probably the former considering the scorching display in front of the crowd. The band was electrifying, the backup singers were angelically soulful, Steve was absolutely crushing it but Y/N only had eyes for one man on that stage.

Beads of sweat dripped down the length of Jensen’s neck, the vein glistening as he threw his head back, combed his hands through his drenched locks and stood in front of the mic again. The black tank he wore exposed his muscular arms, a rare sight which was gladly received. The heat was getting to everyone, but his presence in the room was either making it more manageable or worse. She couldn’t decide. She suddenly wished she could’ve been at the first night’s show as well. Maybe it could’ve prepared her better for what she was currently witness to. Or maybe it would've been the precursor to this final nail in the coffin.

Between the way he looked and the way he sounded - that deep husk that only increased as he sang - the need to squeeze her thighs together grew. The perspiration that ran down her back was nothing compared to the wetness between her legs the longer she stood to the side of the room. Just about every erotic thought she had about him came to mind, her brain not knowing when to chill out and forgetting she was in public. All she knew was she needed a cold drink and even colder shower once this was over. Or maybe her vibrator and some time alone with those thoughts was what she really needed. Or maybe she needed him; those strong arms around her, hands bruising her skin in the best way possible, his cock slamming into her roughly…

She dropped her head, closing her eyes and willing those images away, but it was no use. Especially when she looked up again and caught a glimpse of his gaze on her through the crowd, his green eyes intensely focused on her as he crooned the last words of the song. With his attention solely on her for what felt like forever but in actuality was probably only a moment, she knew she’d have to give way to the fantasies.

His cute little dance and sultry roll of his hips as the beat played out only added to her wild imagination, and as Steve announced the last song she was more than grateful. The first thing to do was splash water on her face and calm the fuck down once this was over.

As the final number reached its crescendo, the crowd cheered and applauded as the band continued with their incredible energy. With one last riff, the boys said their goodbyes and walked off the stage, the room going dark as the people still clapped and whistled. As the house lights came on, Y/N followed behind a group of people as they made their way to the exit. Spotting the sign for the restrooms, she walked towards it, going down the narrow hallway. Just as she reached the women’s, she heard the door across the hall open behind her and a tug on her hand, dragging her back. She almost screamed, but the hands at her waist turned her around and pulled her close, a pair of familiar green eyes staring down at her.

“Fuck, you scared me!” she exclaimed, slapping his sweaty, tattooed arm.

He hummed, leaning into her neck and pressing a soft kiss to her pulse. “Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to.”

“How’d you know I was coming this way, anyway?” she asked, her hands resting on his soaked tank.

“I had a feeling,” he shrugged, his face close to hers.

His lips captured hers in a long, sultry kiss. The kind that always had her needing air as soon as he pulled away. Only this time it deepened as he walked her back towards the sink, his mouth refusing to leave hers as he bent a little, supporting her thighs and lifting her onto the ledge. Her legs instantly wrapped around him, her arms draped over his broad shoulders as her fingers played with his wet locks. An obscene moan escaped him as she lightly bit down on his bottom lip, causing him to briefly shift away and glare down at her.

“That’s not very nice, Y/N,” he husked.

She scoffed, flipping his shirt up slightly and reaching for his belt. “No, what’s not nice is you giving me that look on stage while you’re dressed like this.”

He grabbed her wrists in his large hands, holding them down to her sides. “I can give you whatever look I want, sweetheart. It’s you that should know you don’t talk back to me.”

“So take me home and do something about it, then,” she challenged.

“Who said anything about going home?”

Jensen lifted his eyebrows suggestively as he moved down and kissed her, passionately. She tugged roughly at his shirt, pulling him as close as he could get to her. His lips drifted down her cheek, jaw and neck, leaving small nips and kisses along her skin as her nails scraped through his hair, eliciting a deep groan from him. She had a brief thought that this bathroom might not be the best place to do whatever he was planning, but she forgot all about that the second his calloused hands pushed the hem of her dress up her thighs. He pulled away for a moment, his breath fanning against her mouth as he lifted his hand, pressing the pads of his fingers against her bottom lip. Knowing exactly what he wanted, she softly sucked at the digits and let them go with a wet pop, a low moan leaving her in anticipation of what was coming.

His hand drifted down between her spread legs, their eyes locked as she felt him pull her underwear aside and slide his fingers up and down her folds. Her head fell back slightly, leaving her neck open to attention from his plump lips.

“So fucking wet already,” he muttered, one side of his mouth pulling up as he stared down at her.

Before she could respond in any way, his fingers moved into her tight heat, causing a loud moan to fall from her lips. He pulled them out a little before sliding back in, building up the pace gradually to one that had her whimpering in his ear just the way he liked. She gripped his shoulders tight, her eyes squeezing shut as she felt him hitting that sweet spot inside her.

“So fucking tight, darlin’,” he groaned, nipping at her pulse. “Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock…”

“Jay, please,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering open to look up at him.

“What, babe?” he whispered against her lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“W-Want-” she shook her head, unable to think straight.

He clicked his tongue as he smirked down at her. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

His fingers slid in a little deeper, making her cry out in wanton pleasure as she cupped his face in her hands and pulled him down, pressing a rough kiss to his lips. Her hands stroked down the front of his top and reached for his belt once more, but he stopped her just as quickly as before.

He pulled away from the kiss, his gaze darkened as he removed his fingers from her and undid his belt himself.

“Fuck, Jensen, just fuck me already,” she whined, her breath heavy with impatience.

He smirked as he unzipped his white jeans, taking that small moment to relish the way her fingers kneaded into his shoulders, tugging at his black shirt as she waited for him to do something.

“You gotta ask nice, darlin’,” he teased.

“Please,” she begged, draping her arms around him and pulling at the ends of his hair. “Please fuck me.”

“Good girl,” he praised, giving her lips a quick peck.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her close, her legs locking around him. She held tight to him as he took hold of his hard cock, lining up to her entrance. Without wasting another second, he shifted his hips and pushed into her, her walls sheathing him completely as he sank deep. Her mouth fell open in a hushed moan, their eyes on each other as he grinned at her reaction. He set a steady pace, his hips rolling as he moved within her, a growl escaping him as her fingers combed through his sweat streaked locks.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he husked, pressing his forehead to hers. “Feel so fucking good, so tight and perfect just for me…”

“Shit,” she hissed, her head dropping down on his shoulder. “F-Fuck me harder, Jay. P-Please.”

The words had barely left her mouth before he was picking up the pace, his pelvis smacking against her spread thighs as he pounded into her. She cried out as she buried her face in his face, panting against his skin as she held on for dear life. It was everything she had envisioned as she watched him perform earlier, and then some. Beads of perspiration ran down his throat, causing her to softly nip and lick them away, tasting his tangy musk on her tongue. That clearly did something for him because the sound that came out of him - somewhere between a growl and a moan - only encouraged him to thrust deeper into her, his cock pressing against that spot inside her with precision.

It was hot inside that bathroom. She knew that they’d have to take several showers once they were home, but at that moment she couldn’t give a shit. Their hands roamed over each other’s sweaty skin, their bodies moved perfectly together and she was gaining on that sweet bliss, feeling the beginnings of that heat in her core.

“You’re close, aren’t ya, sweetheart?” His voice was low, the rumble vibrating against her. “I can feel it… you wanna cum, don’t ya?”

“Yes!” she moaned, the sound echoing off the walls, but she no longer cared if anyone heard her. “I-I wanna cum, baby, please. Make me cum.”

He hummed, biting his lip as he stared down at her. “How bad do you want it, Y/N?”

“So bad, Jensen, please,” she pleaded, her nails digging into his biceps.

He held her tighter, feeling his cock pulse as he slammed into her repeatedly, knowing he wasn’t too far from his own release. He pulled her hips forward with each thrust, her pleasure gaining volume as they both headed toward that euphoric peak. The rhythm faltered slightly as they grew closer to the edge, her desperate whimper enough for him to know she needed a little help. He brought his hand down between her legs, his thumb flicking over clit, circling the swollen nub as she clung to him, their eyes locked as her mouth hovered over his.

“Take it, darlin’,” he groaned, kissing along her jaw. “Take what’s yours… make yourself cum on my cock.”

With a few more thrusts, Y/N’s eyes rolled back as she cried out his name just as the coil snapped. Her body convulsed as her walls contracted around him, feeling her wetness cover his cock as it throbbed inside her. His neck strained as he let out a deep grunt, the vein popping against his glistening skin as he followed soon after her, ropes of his cum flowing into her. He shuddered as he pulled her close, her nose nuzzling against his neck and up to his jaw. His lips found hers in a slow, passionate kiss before they pulled away, sharing a small laugh.

“Can we leave now, please?” she asked, pushing him back lightly. “We need to wash this place off us.”

“Sure,” he chuckled, before his voice dropped down as he leaned into her. “And I’m gonna take my time with you once we get home.”

Feeling a shiver run down her back as she fixed herself and popped down from the counter, she took his hand in hers after he made sure he was decent. She pushed up on her tip-toes to kiss him, roughly, letting him know everything she needed with one passionate embrace.

“You better."

#jacklesversebingo24 #Jensen x Female!Reader #Jensen x Female!Reader Smut #Jensen x Female!Reader One Shot #Jensen x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Jensen Ackles Smut #Jensen Ackles One Shot #Jensen Ackles Fanfiction #Supernatural RPF #Supernatural Fanfiction

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the-hopeless-haze · 2 years ago

Text

Worried About You

Chapter 4 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed On Me (House x reader)

“I need Vicodin,” Greg says to you, walking into your office. Well. Your office when you were here. You scowl slightly at the day-old coffee in your line of vision and think about how you’ll be scolded by the other people you share the office with the rest of the week when you inevitably forget that it’s there.

“Funny. I’m not your dealer,” you say.

You and Greg had hit it off, so to speak. Much to everyone’s chagrin and surprise, you continued seeing each other inside and outside the hospital. It wasn’t something either of you spoke about. Psychiatrists (or psychiatric doctors of nursing) are the worst patients and the best repressors. You did what you had to to be able to function like a member of society, but you were as fucked up as the rest of them. And you see Greg is similar. USA-renowned, if not world-renowned, diagnostician—but that was all he had besides a bum leg and a healthy dose of chronic depression and reliance on opiates to function.

When you finally had sex -heterosexual sex, dick in pussy sex - it was a frenzy fueled by alcohol and weeks long of teasing, and you saw glimpses of his leg in the midst of it and he saw the scars scattering your arms, but beyond the “oh, so you tried to kill yourself” he said to you when he edged you on the brink of orgasm the umpteenth time (and oh, boy, was that a mood killer) there were no comments about either.

But he kept you around and you weren’t entirely certain of why. It’s only been a month or so, and he’s not calling you his girlfriend or telling you he loves you, but he’ll still wine and dine you before railing you. And you don’t know if it’s out of obligation, if he feels like even though you’re not a hooker he has to pay you for sex, or if he genuinely enjoys your company. You think about how dissimilar you are to Wilson and how that’s the only person he keeps close. You wonder if maybe you remind him of his live-in ex that you’re almost certain he never got over. It’s a good time though, regardless. You make each other laugh. You both love The Rolling Stones. You begrudgingly agreed to be dragged to a monster truck show one night (“Wilson won’t come with me” he whined) and in return you made him go with you to see a local band perform that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in.

It was that sacrificing that made you pretty close to a real couple. Wilson pointed it out to you and he no doubt pointed it out to Greg. You made a snarky comment about his marriage and you wonder if you should compare notes with Greg to make sure you’re both not using the same lines.

You don’t know why you keep him around either, so it’s fair. It’s nice to have a fuck buddy, you suppose, and it’s also nice to almost like them as a human being rather than a sex toy. It’s certainly not because you think you can cure him, because you know you can’t. You wanted sex and you didn’t want a rehash. All things considered, he was a thorough lover and cared about getting you off as much as himself, which somewhat surprised you given how selfish he can be in other settings.

It’s not a bad arrangement. At least not right now.

But you’re fucked and you know it. It’s why you were drawn to work with kids in the first place. At least you’d always have a leg up on them. Someone out there thought you were sane enough to be rent an apartment and be a licensed prescriber.

Oh. Speaking of.

“Come on. You have a license to prescribe. Just once,” he begs.

“Yeah. No. I think you’ve got me confused with Wilson.”

“You’re much hotter,” he offers.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It got you in my bed.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah. Fair. But that’s as far as it’ll get you. You can be lackadaisical with your license, but I’d like to keep mine until I want to retire.”

“How’d I get with such a goody-two-shoes? Even Wilson will play.”

“He’s not now, apparently. What gives?”

“I bet Cuddy clinic hours that I wouldn’t take Vicodin for a week. They’re all convinced I’m an addict.”

You snort. “Okay. I hate to point it out so bluntly, but this is prime behavior for addiction. Searching all channels to get a fix because you can’t go a week without it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. I’m going to do the week. But I need someone on standby. I’m only doing the week, and I don’t know that I’ll be able to get it prescribed afterward.”

“Chronic pain is outside my scope of practice. Best I could do is a suboxone MAT and say I’m detoxing you off Vicodin and keeping your substance use in check, but even that’s pushing it. There’s a conflict of interest.”

“You can’t keep the clinical and the personal separate?”

“Nope. Could you? If I was your patient this week, would you be able to? Bringing your ex-girlfriend into this is what got you into this mess. Don’t bring me in to try to fix it.”

“I’m not asking you to fix it. And you have a medical background. I’m asking you to write the order I’m asking for. I know how to manage my pain.”

“Why don’t you get through this week first? Then maybe you’ll take me up on the suboxone,” you say, crossing your arms.

“You think I’m addicted?”

“Jesus Christ, Greg, you’re smarter than this. You know what happens if you consistently take opiates. I know you need them for pain. I’m not denying that. But to think you’re immune to the side effects? It’s habit-forming. You know this. You’ve been taking it for years. You’re going to have withdrawal symptoms. You should be doing this in a detox facility if anything.”

“I work in a hospital. Opiate withdrawal never killed anyone, anyway,” he says, seeing no point in bluffing to you any longer.

“Maybe not. But you’ll suffer. I’ll meet you halfway, hm?” You say, looking up at him. “I’ll prescribe you comfort meds for the week. Ease you through it. Mirapex, vistaril, zofran, clonidine, bentyl…”

“Most of those aren’t exactly in your scope. If you want to be technical.”

“If I lose my license for any of those the board has far too much time on their hands. But you’re right. I’ll get Chase to sign them off.”

“Chase?”

“He’s the most desperate to get laid out of the three. I bat my eyelashes enough he won’t even question who the scripts are for.”

“Chase? Look at him. If he’s not getting laid none of us should be.”

You scoff. “I guess pretty boys do it for you, but not for me. But no…I can tell. He reeks of desperation.”

“It’s desperation to be liked by authority. Not desperation for pussy. He’s swimming in it.”

“Okay. We’ll see if he folds,” you say, winking.

Greg sighs. “Is this some kind of game?”

“What isn’t, with you? It’s all games, it’s all puzzles.”

“Why Chase?”

“I told you. I know you’d rather me go to Cameron, but unfortunately, I don’t think flirting would get very far with her. Foreman will never fold.”

“You don’t have other doctors you work with you could ask?”

“Greg, it’s just fucking comfort medications that you probably will have too much pride to even touch. Again. Not risking my career for you and letting people that actually respect me think I’m a nutcase because I slept with you.”

“So… you want to fuck Chase. Right?”

“Where in that insecure little man brain did you think of that? It’s your other head, right? I must want the sexy Australian because all the other girls are doing him? Because I want to ask him to prescribe meds? For you?”

He shrugs. “Matter of time. ‘Oh, I had to blow him, that’s the only way I could get him to do this’ or ‘oh, honey, good news, he said if I sleep with him three times a week he’ll prescribe your Vicodin’.”

“Stop with the immature bullshit. If I wanted to fuck him, I’d just leave you, not worry about the meds, and do it. Grow up, Greg,” you mutter, walking away.

“Then why don’t you?” he challenges, hating himself as the words leave his mouth, hating how unattractively juvenile he was coming across. But there were reasons, the need to push you away to see if he would get pulled back, the need to be contrary, the need to know. Know what, exactly, he’s not sure.

He already knows he’s in for one of the worst weeks of his life. Even if the withdrawal symptoms are mild, he’s going to be in terrible, unmanageable pain, and all the Tylenol and Motrin in the world aren’t going to even come close to touching it. And he’s going to be more miserable than usual. No pain relief. No euphoria from the high when he takes just one… or two… or three extra than he needs. He knows he’s addicted. He tries to roll it off his back, saying it doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t change perceptions of him, it’s something he needs for pain, and it doesn’t affect his ability to practice medicine.

But sometimes he’s afraid. When James looks at him in concern but doesn’t offer any solutions because there aren’t any real ones, are there? He needs opiates for pain. Nothing else will work. Whether it’s pure heroin or your gold-standard synthetic hippy bullshit medication-assisted treatment… it’s still an opiate. Naloxone embedded in the pill or not. Having to go to a clinic to get dosed and having to have checks and balances on his use or not. It’s still an opiate. There’s still a stigma. It still pinpoints his pupils, lowers his respiratory rate, and hopefully, hopefully, takes the edge off so he can function but he knows. Addiction isn’t his specialty, he never wanted it to be, but he knows. One day it’ll be his last Vicodin, or the Vicodin won’t work anymore, and hey, you know what’s instantaneous? Spinal morphine. Can only use that card once or twice, have to tell Wilson he’s in excruciating pain and guilt him into enabling. He’ll only go so far. And then…well, then it’s IV heroin or fentanyl, whichever is easier to get, whichever is cheaper.

Greg knows that addiction treatment centers are revolving doors. He knows that you saw the same people back and forth and back and forth sign in and sign out, sign in and sign out. Change their medication plans a million times. And some of them still died anyway.

He’s afraid. He’s afraid of dying by his own hand by accident, alone and blue, nodding off forever. Sometimes he wishes for it, an end to the pain, but he also doesn’t want people to find him like that. A predictable end to a predictable story. World-renowned diagnostician died the same way a poor broke junkie did on the streets. Hooked on drugs, overshot it.

And it’s not that he thinks he’s better than those people. He knows he is those people. Even prior to his disability he dabbled in drugs, never enough to create a habit but enough to definitely indicate the potential of a problem. He’d tried almost every illicit substance “just to see how it felt” by your age. It feels good. Drugs feel good. It’s how they work. And your brain wants to feel good. It’s how they keep working and you keep using.

He knows. He’s in a vicious cycle he’ll never claw his way out of.

And you know it, too.

And yet you’re wasting your time fighting with him instead of walking away.

Why?

He doesn’t know that.

“Yeah. Why don’t I fuck him?” you snark back, turning on your heel and walking back toward him, drawing him out of his pity party and back into the misery he created for no reason other than to drag you down with him, make you choke on it with him. “I don’t want to. That’s why. I want to fuck you, although believe me, that thought is getting less and less appealing every time you open that fucking mouth and speak.”

“It does have better uses,” he quips, shrugging, almost visibly relaxing at hearing he was chosen, that he hadn’t scared you off yet.

You roll your eyes. “When does the detox start?”

“Now. It’s been a couple of hours.”

“So you wanted to kick it off and try to put both of us in a shitty mood to start with? Not your brightest idea, huh?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything and you nod, feeling slightly more in control now that you rendered him silent without any arguments. “Go home. You can’t think clearly if you’re going to be actively detoxing.”

“I still have to make them think I can function without it,” he says after pausing. He would’ve lied to you too, put up a façade with you too, but that’s the thing about addiction. It’s easy to hide dependence to people who don’t know what to look for, but you do. And you would smell it on him.

“I thought you didn’t care what people think?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why take the bet at all?”

“I’ll get out of clinic hours.”

“Right. You would never do something like this to prove a point,” you say sarcastically, leading him out of the office. —————- “Why are you with him?” Chase asks. “And you care enough about him to ask me to use my medical license for a script.”

“You’ll see I don’t care enough about him to risk using mine,” you counter. “It’s comfort meds. Just write the scripts and I’ll leave you alone and we can go back to never talking, which is honestly how I prefer it.”

“I’ve done nothing to you.”

“Right,” you mutter. “I’ve heard enough, though.”

“Does he… what does he say about me?” he asks, a look between bewildered and terrified crossing his face.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Forget I said anything. You’re fine, I’m sure, I just don’t want to be entangled in the team. I already work with Wilson. One facet of House’s life needs to be separate from me.”

“Right. So you’re asking me to prescribe him medications.”

“As a doctor. Which is your job,” you point out. You sigh, looking at the pretty blond man sitting in front of you. Maybe Greg was right to be afraid. Most women your age would be begging to spread their legs at the thought of carrying this man's children. He's more stable, at least comes off that way, and he doesn't have an addiction and a crippled leg.

“Why stay with him if you know he’s an addict?”

Why are you staying?

You look at him for a second, reading his face. “You hate people that struggle with addiction, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say I hate them. I just think they don’t realize the pain they cause and it’s unfair to the sober people in their life.”

“Everyone is someone’s burden,” you say.

But why did you take him on?

“So you think he’s going to detox.”

“I know he’s going to detox. Which is why. Once again. I’m asking you to prescribe him comfort medication for the aforementioned detox.”

“You guys really like each other, huh?”

Why did he take you on?

“No. I want my week to not be miserable. This might lessen it a little bit.”

“Oh, and you’re deflecting just like he would.”

“Just prescribe me the damn meds, Chase.”

“You’re going to be miserable anyway,” he says, shrugging as he takes out his script pad. “You owe me one.”

You know he's not wrong.

“Yeah. You’ll get a psych consult on the house,” you agree.

“Why’d you ask me?”

You sigh. “Can’t ask Wilson. Too close. So it had to be one of you three. Foreman just wouldn’t. Cameron would ask me too many questions and she’d tell everybody.”

“And me?”

“Process of elimination, really. Thank you, you know," you say, deciding to leave out the part where he gets off on sucking metaphorical dick for the chance at appealing to authority. Sometimes you wish you were as crass as House. You come up with some good ones if you could only find the guts to just say them.

“He’s not going to take them.”

“Probably not. But I’m doing my part.”

“As what? His girlfriend?”

“His… friend,” you clarify, and you walk out of the office with the scripts in tow to fill at the pharmacy. Later you hand them to him and he takes them without a word. He opens all the bottles, takes one of each pill in his hand and he pops them dry. Terrible for his esophagus, you tell him, and he mutters something about how he’s wrecked his liver and everything else has to catch up. He opens a bottle of wine and you lean against his chest, barely processing the cheap soap opera flashing in front of you on the TV. He's already sweating, you can feel his shirt damp against your cheek. You don’t know why you’re here. You don’t know why he made a show of taking all those pills in front of you. Maybe to show your efforts were appreciated without having to say the words, even if he thought it was stupid. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to make this all suck less. Maybe it was because this was bending the rules a little, a detox with help, however minor, and he always wanted to see how far he could push before the consequences could roll in. Let’s cheat a little. Instead of a slice of pizza on a diet let’s have a hydroxyzine in a cold turkey detox.

He asked you to come over tonight but he hasn’t said much of anything or initiated much either. Why does he want you here? To know he’s not alone this time, that you’re willing to face the brunt of this pain with him when it returns, like Stacy was unwilling to?

You don’t know.

You don’t want to know. It’s best he keeps that information in his own head where it belongs. You don’t want to get too attached, too close, too entangled. This is fine how it is.

But you still wake up drenched in sweat that isn’t yours.

#house md x reader #house x reader #greg house x reader #gregory house x reader #greg house x you #house x you #gregory house x you #house md #house md fanfiction

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bridgetotheskyyy · 2 years ago

Text

in your dreams.

series masterlist

chapter summary: Sukuna's sick of you pretending to be something you're not.

chapter warnings: nsfw, 18+ content, aged up characters, dubcon, oral, praise kink, degradation, spanking, ass fingering, unsolicited photo

word count: 3.8k

a/n: This one's a hefty one, worthy of the King of Curses! Whew. Please tell me if there's a tag you'd like me to add!

read on ao3 here.

“Bye, Itadori …”

From within, Sukuna’s hand clutched around his throne arm.

You were just so …

You smiled.

His tongue dragged across his lip, desperate to taste something.

So …

“Yeah,” Yuji said, waving, an unmistakable blush on his face as you left for the train.

Your skirt swished, exposing a dangerous amount of thigh.

The throne’s arm gave under Sukuna’s grasp, crumbling to his feet.

He would have you.

---------------

The King of Curses couldn’t be fooled, wouldn’t be. Beneath your shy veneer was a vivacious slut, he knew it. You were desperate to spread your legs for Yuji, desperate for the brat’s cock.

For him.

He wasn’t imagining it; your sweet little voice would turn coquettish when Yuji was none the wiser — alluring — at the turn of a dime. Your body would brush against his vessel when you were sure he wouldn’t notice. Your hands would graze against the nape of his neck. Timid eyes turned hungry at the sight of his shirtless form.

Perhaps Yuji could be fooled, but he couldn’t be.

He’d prove it.

It was the brat’s fault, anyway; his fault for falling for a girl who knew nothing of their world, of curses, of him.

Oh, but he’d love to introduce you.

Sukuna waited until the brat drifted off to sleep, exhausted by the inexhaustive pile of college homework (he huffed at the boy’s attempts at being normal, as if) before stepping into his consciousness.

“O — Oi! —“ Yuji jerked, feeling the disturbance shrouding his mind.

“Go back to sleep,” Sukuna demanded.

“I —“

“Sleep.”

Sukuna waited until he could take over before he grabbed the brat’s phone and found your name in his messaging app.

(Y/n)? Come now.

Sukuna smirked at the message bubble appearing on the screen, could feel his mouth water as the three dots appeared signifying your approaching reply.

Yuji? What’s wrong?

I can only tell you when you get here. It’s a secret just between us!

Oh … all right. I’m coming!

You would be. Sukuna snickered to himself, the phone’s blue light absorbing into the black of his tattoos.

The plan was set in motion, all he had to do now was wait.

----------------------

Your heart rammed in your chest.

It wasn’t like many — many — of your fantasies about Yuji Itadori began just like this. You, walking up to his door in the dead of night only for him to swing it open to pull you into his apartment and a breath-stealing kiss.

Pinning you to the bed … shredding your clothes … ramming into you with those strong hips, big hands latched to your hips, praising you —

Good girl, (Y/n), oh my god, so good —

“Na—ahhah!” You shook your head like doing so would loosen the thoughts hold on you.

You’d been a mess ever since you’d caught him shirtless, playing basketball with a gaggle of other college students. Yuji was, it turned out, adorned with scars and mysterious marks marring his skin. That worried you, in a different world you’d be brave enough to ask him about it, but in this one, you’d kept quiet.

And you were frustrated with yourself because … you said adorned for a reason; they only made him hotter to you.

You wrung your hands around your jacket sleeve as you approached the door you’d seen so many times in your mind’s filthy eye. Knocked three times, hid your hand like it’d been caught stealing.

The door’s locks jingled from the other side — lightning zigzagged throughout your system, somersaulting your heart.

It opened and Yuji appeared — but he was different … Tattooes? How’d he get those so fast? And his stare …

“Yu — Yuji?”

Yuji stepped to the side and held the door open shut with his back to admit you. The side of his mouth ticked up in a smirk.

“Come in.”

“What’s — what’s wrong?” You said, moving slowly past the threshold.

And he chuckled — deep, resonating through his bones. His voice was different.

“Nothing,” Yuji said, “now you’re here.”

You blushed. What did he mean? You’d never heard him sound like this …

… you liked it. A little.

“Um …” You fiddled with the buttons of your jacket like an old habit. “Uh … I — I …”

Yuji snapped his fingers. “Oh, that’s right; you’ve never been here before, have you?”

Yuji walked toward you — prowled, more like. You stepped back.

Has … has he always been this big? Bigger than you?

“Uhm … no — no?” Only in my dreams. You bit your lip.

That smirk again. Halfhearted. Mocking. Yuji’s eyes — darker now — scanned you, their attention delving lower and lower …

“(Y/n).”

You swallowed nothing. “Ye— yes?”

He came close. Your heart leaped as he stopped in front of you —

“Come to the bedroom —“

He brushed passed you.

Red further stained your cheeks. You turned to watch him, hand in his pocket, head down the hallway. “Wha — what?”

“You heard me,” he teased.

“I — I can’t! I —!”

“Please?” his voice was softer now, more palatable as he puppy-eyed you from over his shoulder. “There’s something I gotta show you.”

You follow him and watch as Yuji shut the door, your heart rammed in your ears.

Silence. You followed Yuji with your eyes, waiting.

“(Y/n),” he turned to you, “do you think I’m stupid?”

You blinked furiously. “Wha — what?”

He turned his office chair and sunk into it, hands still in his pockets. “I don’t like you belittling my intelligence like this. You think I don’t know?”

You’ve offended him. You mentally kicked yourself several different ways. How? When? You pinched the sleeve of your jacket hard, your fingerpads whitening.

“Know — no — I mean — I don’t under — know what, Yuji?”

God, your voice sounded weak even to you.

He met your eye. “You said you’ve never been here before … but how many times have I fucked you in that bed, right there, beside you?”

You froze. The surreality of the moment delayed your understanding of the words leaving his mouth. Like an idiot, you turned to face the bed, undisturbed and unslept in, as though it’d provide answers.

You turned back to him, gaping your mouth like a beached fish.

“How do I fuck you?” Yuji said. “In your dreams, I mean. Hm? Missionary? Do I throw your pretty little legs over my shoulders? Or, perhaps …”

He paused, profane eyes oogling your form.

“Yuji …” Your voice was barely audible.

Yuji sighed. He stood from the chair to stalk toward you. “You shy ones are always so easy to read.”

He leaned forward and in your ear:

“You’re not fooling anybody.”

You gasped, still unable to move as he leaned backward to meet your eye again.

There was that chuckle again, chocolate dark.

“Well then, if you insist on your innocence … let me introduce you to the bed.”

The world tipped and spun as Yuji turned you around and shoved you onto the bed. You fell gracelessly, thumping your head inches from the pillows with a yelp.

Pressure on your back and you knew Yuji was there. You raised but sucked air between your teeth when your ass brushed into Yuji’s crotch.

“Yuji …!”

“Perhaps you’d like it ass up?” Yuji continued.

You balled fists into the sheets, stunned into paralysis as Yuji chuckled above you. Visions of your fantasies flooded your mind; Yuji, ramming into you, the headboard of your bed bobbing from the power of his thrusts. In your lust-frenzied mind, it was his preferred way of fucking you.

You gasped as he swiped your skirt over your ass and knead the fat of it with his palm.

“Hmm?”

You whimpered as Yuji suppressed you to the mattress with his weight.

“Yu —“

A sharp smack to your ass sent you screaming, the sting running through your nerves.

“Answer me.”

Yuji buried his face in your hair, burying his sick laughs at the back of your neck. Another slap reinforced the pain of the last, rolling into one another.

“Y — Yes! Doggystyle!” You relented. “Always doggystyle!”

He laughed out loud this time but your reply didn’t deter him as a third slap came down on your ass — again and again, alternating between cheeks each time. Your skin screamed from the swift punishments of his hand.

“On your hands and knees … ” Smack. “You should be ashamed.”

Smack.

“Filthy slut.”

Smack.

You felt another shout crawl up your throat when the assaults ceased. You breathed a sigh of relief as Yuji’s weight lessened.

A new sound; the metallic clink of Yuji unbuckling his pants.

Your eyes widened.

“Doggy, you said?” Yuji said. “Hm. If you insist.”

You felt him yank your panties down to ride around the fat of your thighs. You felt him press into you again —

“Yuji —!” You panicked. “Wait —!”

Yuji’s answer was his cock slamming into you from behind.

Your voice died, the wind knocked out of you as he forced his way into your wet cunt.

“So wet,” Yuji remarked as you mewled. “To be expected —“

He pushed your head into the mattress, forcing you to bite into your lip before resting his hand at the small of your back. He rocked his hips hard and fast into you. Hard slapping sounded throughout the room as he took you. It was your first time but it wouldn’t matter if it hadn’t been, not with the way Yuji’s huge cock split you open, your clenched walls expanding with pain to admit him.

Your legs trembled. Yuji roared from behind you as his cock forced itself inside of you time and time again. Your mouth hung agape against the sheets. Yuji’s thrusts kept coming, swift, his angle providing you with equal times pain and pleasure, robbing you of any bearings.

“Fuck,” he hissed, hands forcing your hips back to meet his thrusts. “I bet you’ve envisioned this a few times today. Go on,” he growled. “Tell me I’m wrong — lie.”

One hand abandoned your hip to slap the sore skin of your ass and you yelped.

You couldn’t deny it. Things were happening so fast — Yuji reached forward to pin your hands behind your back with only one of his. You were so full, full with him — and he hadn’t — hadn’t even —

You couldn’t help it; your pussy throbbed, tightening around Yuji’s cock in response

Yuji rewarded you with a particularly hard thrust. “Just like this,” Yuji taunted. “Hard and rough, isn’t that right, (Y/n)! What a good little bitch you are.”

No answer came; you were overwhelmed with him and his cock making a meal of your cunt. Yes! Your brain screamed. Yes! Just like this! You convulsed around him and heard him groan in response.

His strength — it wasn’t human. He dragged your ass on him and each time you collided with him with a pronounced slap, slap, slap, the hardboard of his abdomen stabbing at your backside.

One of his hands reached forward and you felt the flaring pain as his thumb stabbed into your asshole.

“Ngh!” You bounced against him, powerless in the onslaught. Your pussy fluttered around his cock, feeling it punch your cervix with each swift thrust.

You might as well be part of the mattress with the way your face was planted against the sheets. Drool escaped your mouth to wet them as your eyes rolled back, mind overwhelmed with the assault your cunt is taking.

His weight fell over your back but his thrusts remained undisturbed, he merely thrashed into you at a new angle while his strong body fused with yours.

“Do I cum inside you, (Y/n)?” he taunted, the heat of his breath puffing into the shell of your ear. “Do I leave you a slobbering — fucking — mess —?”

“Ye — yes!” You choked out, feeling the tight of your orgasm. “Yes, Yuji, ple —ease!”

“So predictable,” Yuji landed a smack to one of your abused cheeks. “Human women, you’re all the same —“

He pounded into you, his thumb fingering the pucker of your ass as your orgasm came over you. You bite your lip as he crushed you to the mattress, the tight muscles of his fine chest pressing onto your clothed back. You convulsed around him for a second time and heard him roar —

You heard your scream in your ears but didn’t recognize it as yours; the world melted around you. You trembled as your climax sent you clutching around him again and again. Blackened dots flared in your vision when your eyes squeezed shut. Your cunt milked him, desperate to keep him sheathed inside you as each thrust sent another wave of pleasure through you. Your chest wracked with sobs. Yuji’s hold on your wrists pained as he spilled inside of you.

You don’t feel him pull out nor do you feel yourself being tussled around so your back hit the mattress. Your eyes opened —

Yuji’s pressed down and around you. You looked up at his wicked smile.

“Yu —!“

He covered your lips with his.

You yelped as he nibbled the plush of your earlobe.

“Yuji …!” You exclaimed, out of breath, legs squeezing to him. “What’s happening you you? I —“

His lips land on you again, rough and demanding your mouth. His hand flew to your neck, choking you hard. Yuji ground into you, the hard press of his cock at your thigh.

His lips left you. Your lips parted without your say, delirious from Yuji’s attention.

“Stop playing dumb, you —“

You feel something warm and wet smack your tongue and realize it’s him, spitting into your mouth. His tongue traced the line of your jaw until he met your ear again.

“You’re getting what you want, aren’t you?” Yuji said, his hand grazing against your clit like a false promise. “ I didn’t even have to play with you before, maybe your cunt is more behaved than I thought … Good girl.”

Yuji’s hand tightened over your throat, appendages molding into your skin. You mewled because it is all you can manage. A shameful wetness roiled between your thighs, a mixture of your juices and his.

His cum inside you.

Yuji seemed to notice your predicament because he faced you, grin darkening his face. “I imagine there’s one other place you’d like my cum,” he said. “Am I wrong?”

He lessened his grip so you could afford him a shaking head.

“N— no …”

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d envisioned Yuji’s cock in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks to suck him off, the salt of his seed flavoring your tastebuds …

“Of course I’m not,” Yuji said.

He rose, bringing you along by the tug of your hair. He threw you to the floor and you stumbled, falling awkwardly on your butt, panties still tangled around your thighs. You groaned; you hurt everywhere, the pain Yuji had imprinted on your flesh and bones thrumming from every direction. Yuji gripped your hair again to adjust you on your knees before forcing you to face him.

Your eyes landed on the cock that had just assaulted you, still hard and ready at your lips.

Yuji didn’t wait, guiding his cock into your parted lips and waiting mouth. You gagged, planting hands on his thighs for space, but Yuji only pressed you farther by a hand at the back of your head.

“Suck,” he ordered — groaned.

You looked up at him through hooded lids. You hollowed your cheeks to supply the suction he’d demanded and you watched him hum. He was gorgeous, all sculpted chest and buff biceps and elegant neck. The sight of his marred skin only sent much-needed saliva to your mouth. Yuji’s hand ran through neopolitan pink hair as you serviced him at your knees.

“Nngh … You little whore,” he hissed, grip at the back of your head tightening, coupled with the rock of his hips. “I knew it, I knew it — urgh — allow me to leave you a little parting gift.”

Your hand worked the space of his shaft unoccupied by your mouth, stroking as you worked for his load. You heard his labored breath above you, sending thrums of excitement down to your cunt. His approving hums turned hurried with his cockhead having found the back of your throat.

Yuji’s fingers grazed your skin until they curled under your chin. He lifted your head, your gaze following suit.

“Is this the act of a shy person, (Y/n)?” he mocked between short breaths. “Panties around her ankles and a cock in her mouth?”

Your face grew hot with embarrassment before he threw your face away with a guttural rumbling in his throat. Tears pebbled the corner of your eyes. You sucked harder, hungering for his cock, for your gift. You felt his cock twitch on the pad of your waiting tongue.

“Yes, come on,” he urged. “Earn it. Earn it.”

Yuji’s cock pulsed against the flat of your tongue. He forced himself down your throat, the hot swell of his shaft tickling the palate of your mouth. With a few more assisted bobs of your mouth, he planted your face into his abdomen with a roar. Pubic hair tickled the tip of your nose as his cum splashed the back of your throat, licking its way down.

“Don’t swallow,” Yuji ordered, rocking his hips slowly to ride himself out in your mouth. “I wanna see —“

He choked his disappearing words down in the wake of his climax. You gagged as trails of cum escaped past your lips and rolled down to your chin.

Finally, finally, he released you, pulling your head off his cock.

He slapped your cheek expectantly. “Come on now, show me, show me.”

Yuji …

Delirious with him, you obeyed. You parted your lips to show him the desired evidence left on your abused tongue.

He laughed — soft at first, mirth rife with disbelief, only for it to dissolve into hysterics.

“Beautiful!” he said. “Truly, truly —“

He doubled over from his laughter. Tears that threatened your eyes fell now as you struggled not to swallow. Humiliation flared in your chest, rumbling your stomach like a poor meal. Yuji brushed past you to snatch something off the desk. Only when he returned to you did you see that it was the shadowy rectangle in his grasp was his phone.

“Stay. Keep your head up — thaaat’s it.”

Light flashed in your eyes as Yuji captured your depravity.

He raised his phone up to admire the picture. “Now I can see why humans carry such things.”

He threw his phone on the bed, affording you one final glance down at you before closing his eyes with a smile to himself.

“You can come back,” he said. “I’m through with your little slut.”

You watched, mouth finally closed and sore everywhere, as Yuji popped his eyes open; life flared in his irises as though having been deprived of it beforehand. Yuji blinked furiously, waking from some disorienting dream.

“Huh? I —“ he looked down and saw you.

Your head was filled with cotton. “Yu … ji?”

Realization colored Yuji’s face. “Oh … god.” He knelt down in front of you. “I — oh god, FUCK, (Y/n).”

You felt his hands adjust your clothes, flatten your hair. His hands were awkward, unsure in their movements. He stared at you in concern.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m — I’m so sorry,” he said.

You placed a hand on the bed to afford you purchase as you tried to stand. The space between your legs roared in protest and you whimpered, stumbling.

“God … oh god …” Yuji said. His arms settled on your arms and for a second you anticipated a hug, so Yuji to do, but none came, perhaps he thought it better not to after …

After.

“Let me get you cleaned up —“

“No,” your voice was shrunk, rivaling the pain rattled in your bones. You pulled your panties back up past your skirt. “I’m — I’m … okay.”

You meant to say clean, but a desire to laugh at the hilarity of such a statement stopped you.

“At least let me give you a ride home,” Yuji said as you walked to the door, soreness restricting your gait, “or — or —“

“I’m okay, Yuji …” You said, just a little more sure now. Your hand caressed the knob but you didn’t see it; your mind had turned to mush, reality blanketed by a sickening haze.

“A taxi, then,” Yuji said. “(Y/n), please, I can’t leave you like — like this.”

Your hand remained unmoved on the knob as you considered his words yet didn’t answer.

“A taxi,” Yuji said and you could almost hear him nodding. Yes, yes, a taxi would fix things, wouldn’t it? “I’ll order for you, just … stay here.”

His hands were on your shoulders, gently carrying you away from the door. You looked up at him as he guided you back to the ruined bed; his eyes were … normal, wide and almost childlike. He left you with a gentle touch to your hand for reassurance before grabbing his phone.

Yuji … You watched his fingers scurry across the screen, hand trembling as he held the device.

Who are you?

The next half hour carried on in a daze, an endless vignette of events ushering you from one moment to the next, mall snapshots taken seconds apart; Yuji ushering you gently into the backseat of the taxi; the streets, illuminated by nightlights, whishing past your window. The steps to your apartment. A door closing. Collapsing against fresh sheets.

You drifted into sleep — where, apparently, dreams and reality were one and the same.

-------

Sukuna waited with bated breath and excitement roiling the waters of his inner domain for the next time you dared to speak to his vessel.

He’d laughed himself silly watching the boy thrash his apartment, crying about the friendship lost between the two of you, damning him to hell.

You’re not getting rid of that picture on your phone, though, are you, little rat-faced runt?

Heh. Yeah, right.

Humans.

Even more fun lay imagining you the next morning, the memories of the night before coloring your mind before the panic set in and came your mad scramble for contraceptives. Ha!

But then it came. A chance encounter at the university. You paused on the walkway as your eyes met his. Your precious skin flushed with red at the sight of him. His vessel stumbled, swallowing hard at you in turn.

Sukuna’s smile cheshired.

What will you do? Will your eyes flicker down to the abs you loved so much? Will you speak first? He had to know, the human drama was delicious to behold.

“Hey …” it was Yuji who spoke first, nervous hands hiding in his pockets.

“H — Hi, Yuji …” You fiddled with the strap of your purse.

“Look …” Yuji’s gaze trailed downward. He gripped the handrail. Pathetic. “I … um … about that night —“

“It’s okay!” You said. “Really, it is!”

Like hell it was. Already, your mind must have done the legwork to rearrange the turn of events, desperate to make a sensical narrative out of it.

Sukuna watched you fidget through Yuji’s vision. Your legs rocked against one another in your cute little beige skirt. He … recognized something, a familiar gesture he’d learned from nights ruining women.

He leaned forward on his throne, anticipation clutching his hand.

Say it.

Yuji looked up, clearly astonished. “Really?” a blush. “Wha — what do you mean?”

“I …” You struggled. “I mean …”

Say it.

“What …” You stammered, your eyes glued to his shoes. “What I mean is …”

Say it, you shameless little whore —

“If you’d like to get together again sometime?” You said, your sweet eyes tinged with hunger at Yuji’s parting lips. “If you want?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, sure!”

From within, Sukuna bit into the sweetness of his victory.

Hook, line, sinker.

#sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n

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konigenblobbity · 1 year ago

Text

Request: Emergency Contact

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!Military!Reader (Callsign Viper)

Warnings: Angst, mention of severe injury, mention of car accident, slow burn

Request: [@lovestruckaphrodite] (this request is based on a Pierce the Vail song, but I suck at writing and i trust your words). y/n and ghost became roommates after meeting somewhere. They moved in together after something happened in y/ns life that made them either get kicked out of their house/had to leave their house so they become roommates. they weren't really close with one another regarding their jobs, but knew that both of them were in the military, just not in the same task force. then one day, Ghost gets a call in the middle of a meeting from an unknown number, but a familiar area code (the one y/n and he lived in) so he answers, and y/n was injured and had to get emergency surgery, and y/n put him as the emergency contact

A/n: this took a WHILE! But I hope you like it! Also I used the term dove - wanting it to be GN :). This work is also HIGHLY inspired to this work by @mockerycrow! If you like this please go show them some love!

Every Tuesday afternoon you spent in the same place doing the same thing. Sitting in your corner seat in your favorite cafe waiting for your drink. In fact many of the locals loved to visit this exact cafe, so you often saw the same people walk in and out of the doors. Not really caring, often reading a book or on your phone.

Its then that he walks in, you can tell by his heavy footsteps and his soft sigh as he takes his usual seat in the cafe - preferring the one closer to the window one table from you. You try not to be obvious with your gaze, watching through your lashes as he adjusts his sleeves and then places both his hands in his lap, fingers interlocked before pulling out his phone.

Ever since you started seeing him in this cafe a few months ago, you were infatuated with him. His blonde hair which he appeared to bleach himself, his signature black face mask paired with a skull patterned mask that covered up the bottom half of his face along with most of his neck, his tattoo sleeve that you only got a glimpse of on the hotter days he wore a t-shirt.

What was fascinating is how’d you see him at other places too… at your local grocery store, bank, park, even the bookstore. After a while you came to the conclusion that you had to live in the same area, or that he was simply a ghost haunting you and following you everywhere. With how much you saw him, you began to notice more about him…

Others didn’t dare look at him, let alone sit near him. His whole demeanor radiated authority and power. However rather than feeling threatened, you felt intrigued. Matter of fact… he reminded you of a lieutenant you heard rumors of around your task force. A ruthless and highly trained individual, who wore a similar skull balaclava paired with a skull mask. What a coincidence.

Finally your eyes land back on your book, not wanting him to spot you burning a hole into him with your gaze. Luckily that now gave him his opportunity to do the same, leaning back just enough to glance over the top of his phone and at you without making it obvious he was staring.

He recognized you, remembers seeing you last week at the grocery store and before that having seen you at the library. Wherever he was in the area, his eyes always managed to find you; turning a corner and hearing your familiar hum of a song, spotting your through the windows of restaurants with a friend, even walking through the doors of a store and seeing you already in line with a kind smile.

Maybe it was the familiarity that came with seeing you so often but he couldn’t help but open his mouth whenever you got close, trying to find the words to introduce himself. Yet he never could, just letting you walk off with your steps echoing the sound of his racing heart. Breaking from his thoughts as you flipped the page of your book, he took notice of something on your arm.

Right on your inner forearm, under where you had rolled up your sleeves, he saw a rather familiar symbol. The tip of two wings were showing along with the top a knife handle, he furrowed his brows and became curious. Beginning to devise a plan.

He stands up softly taps the edge of your table “Excuse me dove…” he says and you turn to look at him and giving a kind smile and letting out a soft hum of curiosity, urging him to continue. “Mind if I take some of your sugar?” He points over at the container on the end of your table “Don’t have any on my table” he clarifies further, wanting to appear smooth.

“oh! Yeah, here!” you reach forward and grab it, handing it to him “I don’t need it” you add, suddenly feeling so nervous your mouth feels the need to move and speak. It’s then that he gets a better look at the tattoo, and he smirked under his mask. It was exactly what he thought it was. Sitting on your forearm was a set of wings erupting from a SAS dagger, a banner below it reading ‘Who dares win’ in black ink.

“Would you look at that…” he mumbles softly, but clear enough for you to hear. You just look at him confused, both at his words and the fact that he hadn’t taken the sugar yet. “You a soldier?” He asks and that’s when you notice his gaze wasn’t on the sugar, but on your forearm.

Your eyes shifts down to your tattoo before lifting it back up to look into his eyes. With a soft smile you respond “Sergeant actually…” a bit of pride in your voice. Then using this opportunity to get to know this mysterious gentleman “I’m guessing you serve?” You inquire with a tilt of your head.

He gives you a curt nod, “Spot on” finally reaching forward and taking the sugar container. He holds onto it for the moment and then lifts his right hand, grabbing his jacket and opening it to show you the inner lining where a patch is sown in. It had that same symbol; the SAS dagger and wings. You chuckle softly and then mumble “What are the chances”

Just as you were about to ask his rank and which task force he is a part of, the server told you that your order was ready and simultaneously he received a phone call. You stand up and then smile over at the gentleman “it was nice to meet you…” pausing afterwards as you realized you don’t know his name.

“Callsign Ghost” he spoke with a light chuckle and reaches out his hand. You take it with a small nod “Viper” smiling as you responded. You then pull your hand back “Until next time I guess?” You ask and after he gives you a short nod in response, he walks back to his seat, takes the call, and leaves. Funnily enough not adding any sugar to his drink.

As time passed you continued to see Ghost quite often around the area, always exchanging hellos, checking up on timely things going on in each others lives. Even feeling comfortable to compliment him on his new watch to which he points out your shirt, saying how he didn’t recognize it. Making the effort to check in on each other if the person seems particularly chipper that day.

You should’ve known by how often you saw him that there was a chance you two lived in the same apartment complex. Yet you never saw him there so it was always just a theory in the back of both your and Ghost’s mind.

The first time he sees your there was a few months after you first met, when he was making his way back to his apartment and saw you at the receptionist desk he couldn’t help but be confused. Then becoming intrigued as he noticed you were arguing frantically with the receptionist.

“Look. Lydia is there any way someone can get started on the treatment today. I can’t stay at a hotel for weeks on end!” His brows furrowed at just how agitated you sounded. Spotting a large suitcase next to you along with a few bags. “Yes! I heard you the first time. Just… Is there any other apartment I can stay in?” You were practically pacing and steaming with rage.

“Then can you bring him out here! Seeing as he’s my fucking landlord!” The receptionist walks off for a moment and Ghost continues to observe. When they come back she says something that makes you scoff. You then lean over the desk and shout into the direction the receptionist had walked off to.

“Thank you so much for your help! I really appreciate how empathetic you are about the whole situation you fucking prick” Before stepping away from the desk and sitting at one of the chairs with your things. He chuckles to himself at your sarcasm, walking up to you when you pull out your phone and curse out in frustration.

“Viper?” Your head lifts and you spot Ghost walking up to you, “Hey… Ghost?” you look at him confused but then give him your best attempt at a smile. “I didn’t know you lived here.” He states and you scoff, shaking your head. “Not anymore. The pipes in the apartment above mine broke so there’s water damage everywhere. The landlord kicked me out while they fix it but didn’t give me anywhere else I could stay… so I’m currently homeless” you pinch the bridge of your nose and grumble.

He chuckled dryly “Well shit. I’m not surprised, that asshole never gives in any effort expect when it comes to drinking…” you can’t help but laugh softly at his joke. Ghost feels a butterfly sensation when he heard it, finding pride in lifting your mood ever so slightly.

“Anyone you can stay with? Or a hotel?” He then asks and you shake your head, looking at him and sighing. “No. No one I’d be willing to live with for weeks. And no hotel I’m willing to spend an unknown amount of money on for an indefinite amount of time”

At his soft hum of understanding you just shrug and there’s a comforting silence for a minute. He simply stood there as you aimlessly search through your phone for nearby hotels. “What if you stayed with me?” His words caught you off guard. Thinking he was joking you chuckle and look at him with furrowed brows and a questioning smile.

“What?” You ask and he shrugs, as if what he suggested wasn’t completely out of the blue and naively bold. “Why not? I mean we both are out most days. No point paying the rent for two apartments when neither of us spend most of our time there.” Your shock and skepticism slowly fades as you consider his words.

“Well… you have a point.” You murmur softly and put your phone in your pocket before putting you hands on your hips, looking down at your bags. “Are you sure?” You ask and he just nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah. Dove, as long as you pay your half and respect my ground rules. It should be just fine. I got a guest room you can use” he explains and you nod at his words.

Then sighing and shrugging dramatically. “Alright! It’s not like I got a better option right now” you smile at him and hear him chuckle dryly. With that he takes one of your bags and throws it over his shoulder, grabbing the handle of your large suitcase and beginning to walk off to the elevator with it. “Come on. The sooner we get there, the sooner you can get settled in” you grin and grab the rest of your things, following after him.

At first you wouldn’t see Ghost that often, having different schedules and both of you immediately heading to your rooms to enjoy your time off. Slowly the two of you ended up seeking out each other’s company. Running into each other in the kitchen and enjoying a nice drink together after a long day.

Roughly two months later, when your apartment was fixed and ready for you to move in again, you spoke to Ghost and both of you agreed it would just be better to stay roommates. Over the next few months getting even closer, ordering food together for dinner, waking each other up in the mornings if one of you were sleeping in, distributing the chores, even going by a first name basis.

At this point you’ve been roommates for more than half a year, and it was just as any other day for Ghost. Sitting in a meeting with Captain Price up front telling the team about an upcoming mission. The goal, precautions, sub teams, targets, security, the whole nine yards.

Its then that he’s interrupted by a ringing phone. Ghost immediately cursing to himself as he feels the vibration in his pocket, meeting Price’s unamused gaze. He sighs “Off lieutenant.” To which Ghost nods “On it, sorry Captain” pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning off the ringer.

Not without spotting the unknown number and it’s familiar area code. Right from the area where you and Ghost lived. He noted down in his head to check it out after the meeting.

10 minutes later he walked out of the room, reaching his hand into his pocket and grabbing his phone. Curiosity getting the better of him as he pressed the most recent missed call. Holding the phone to his ear as it rang, leaning against the wall behind him as he waited.

After a few moments there was a click and a kind voice spoke. “Hello, am I speaking with a Simon Riley?” Ghost’s brows immediately furrowed, put at unease by the fact this stranger knew his name. “Who is this?” his tone stern and cautious as he waits for a response. “How’d you get this number?” he asks before the person on the other line could respond.

The voice then clears their throat “Thank you for calling back, this is the Woman’s and Children Highbury Hospital. You were put down as an emergency contact” the name of the hospital immediately registered with him… recognizing it as the hospital just a few blocks down from where you and him lived.

His heart caught in his throat and he stiffened up, now standing up straight looking off into nowhere. “Emergency contact?” he repeated to himself, mumbling so softly he thought the receptionist on the other line hadn’t heard him. Until he spoke.

“Yes sir. By an y/n y/l/n. They were in a severe car collision earlier today and were rushed to the hospital. They had to undergo an emergency surgery and in their files they left you as the emergency contact.” Ghost felt as if he lost the ability to speak. His phone shaking in his hand as the weight of those words sink in.

The voice of the receptionist fading away as he calls out through the phone, trying to get a response or a sign that Ghost was still listening. Realizing that in that moment of time you were lying in a hospital bed, suffering immensely, all alone. Snapping out of his daze as all his attention went to getting to that hospital.

“I’m on my way.” He spoke curtly into the phone, immediately hanging up and rushing to leave the base. Pushing past people without much care as he simply regarded them as obstacles in his way, stopping him from getting to you. As he rushed to the hospital, his mind was a storm he couldn’t manage to contain. Emotions running rampant.

Ghost never fully took the time to reflect on how he felt about you. Only knowing he enjoyed your company and couldn’t help but relax his reserved demeanor around you. Never feeling judged by you, or needing to explain anything about his past or why he acted the way he did.

Yet… as he rushed over to the hospital all he could think about was what he would’ve done if you hadn’t survived the accident. How he would’ve returned home to an empty apartment… fragments of you all around him. The photos you hung up to ‘add more life’ to the walls. Or the carpet you bought for an outrageous price just because ‘the woman who made it was so nice’.

How he would’ve never been able to share another drink with you… or argue about takeout ever again… never heard you singing to yourself while doing the chores. All those things that lifted his mood, he would’ve lost them all. If he had lost you… his closest friend and roommate.

His mind continued to fall down that rabbit hole of ‘what if’ and the more upset he got at the idea of you not longer being around, the more he realized just how much you meant to him.

Considering the idea that maybe he loved you more than a friend… cared for you so much that the mere idea of you being in pain made his knees weak. And the idea of you no longer being around had his body about ready to collapse in on itself.

How he managed to make it to the hospital without breaking down, he wasn’t quite sure. As he bursts through the doors he ignores the judgmental glances he gets. Rushing up to the receptionist desk in the lobby, the man behind it terrified at first at the sight of Ghost, still in his uniform and wearing his skull mask, rushing at him.

Ghosts hand gripped at the counter “Which room is y/n y/l/n in?!” although his voice was low and gruff the softness and worry behind it was enough for the receptionist to regain his focus. Eyes blinking and clearing his throat as he asks “A-and who are you sir?” looking at his screen as he awaits his response.

“Gho-…. Simon. Riley” he corrected watching the receptionist double check the information. “The emergency contact” he clarifies further, tapping his fingers anxiously and impatiently on the desk as he looks around, seeing people on crutches, injured, and bleeding. Images of you in that state making him close his eyes, just needing to see you. Alive and breathing.

The receptionist then nods his head and looks up at him again. “They’re in room 32 on the third floor, but I’ll warn you they-“ before he could finish his statement Ghost mumbled a thank you and was bolting down the hall. Straight past the elevator and rushing up the stairs skipping over steps with pounding footsteps.

Eyes spotting the room number at the end of the hall, and just as he was a foot away from the door, mere meters away from you… a doctor opened it and walked out. She looked up and Ghost halted to a stop as to not run into her.

“Ah. You must be Simon” giving him a sympathetic smile. Ghost could feel his heart pounding and his eyes kept flitting to the door “Y-yeah” he says quickly before trying to move past the doctor and through the door. Surprised when she steps in front of him blocking his path.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be able to see them in a moment” he looked at her with disbelief, eyes wide… how dare she keep him from you for a second longer. She then speaks before he can protest “I just want to warn you of the state they’re in…” and with those words he thinks better than to just burst in through the door.

Grumbling under his breath but turning his gaze back to the doctor, letting her know he was listening. She continued “They’re alive but asleep at the moment” just those two first words enough to make his shoulders relax, and he swore his vision went hazy at the relief that flooded through him.

“They are, however, suffering from major bruising, multiple broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and a broken foot” her face sympathetic as she spoke, gauging his reaction. With every diagnosis his heart twisted that little bit more. Repeating to himself in his mind ‘At least they’re alive. At least they’re still here’ like a mantra, trying to focus on the ever so slight silver lining.

‘At least it’s not too late’

The doctor then finally steps aside, calmly advising him “I recommend you take a deep breath. They’re very emotionally vulnerable right now and we want to avoid stressing them out as much as possible” Ghost was more than ready to ignore that advice but at the thought of stressing you out, and remembering what he’s learned about how important it is not to panic in high stress situations, he pauses and gives a slight nod.

The doctor gives one final nod in return and then leaves. Simon takes a deep breath and with a shaking hand reaches for the doorknob. Gripping it and just holding it for a few seconds before finally finding the strength to turn it and walk inside.

There you were… lying practically lifeless on the hospital bed. Only sign of life the beeping of the heart monitor. Covered in white bandages which contrasted the deep purple bruises across your skin. His eyes continued to trace over your sleeping figure, noting the few gashes in your skin, the one on your calf even decorated with stitching.

You looked awful… it made him sick and he almost went looking for a trash can as he felt vomit threaten to make its way up his throat. He steps closer, moving to kneel on the floor next to the bed, eyes welling up in joy as he finally sees you… finally has proof that he didn’t lose you.

Eyes focused on the rise and fall of your chest and in the silence of the room… in the steady beeping of the monitor… he was finally able to organize his thoughts. Questioning himself on why he felt his world shatter when the hospital called him, why he was crying underneath his mask at the sight of you, why he could physically feel pain in his chest.

Then his eyes drifted up to your face, and even with the cuts and bruises on your face you still made his heart skip. He found himself tracing your every feature with his gaze, as if trying to map it out in his head. He’s never been this close to you before and in this moment he realized why… he couldn’t handle being this close to you.

It was as if he could feel his body physically melt next to you, hand reaching for yours before gently holding it, hoping it would keep him from dissolving into a puddle. Cursing to himself he rested his forehead against your hand and closed his eyes.

He loved you. Simon Riley really fucking loved you.

Never fully considering it before today… too afraid to even think about his feelings towards you. Yet now he regretted every day he didn’t tell you he loved you. Didn’t tell you how much you meant to him. This felt like another chance for him.

Another chance for him to share his true feelings with you because he just couldn’t lose you. Especially not without you knowing how much he loved you first. How he’d be willing to take every single one of your wounds on as his own just so you don’t have to suffer like this.

You had to know. He had to tell you before it was too late. He would wait by your bed for days on end, never once letting go of you, until you woke up. He wouldn’t let anyone or anything drag you away from him, not again. Not without a fight.

#konigenblobbity #fanfiction #cod modern warfare #modern warfare fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #Simon ghost fanfic

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lichenes · 2 months ago

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Looking for sdv x reader ideas?

I'll do you one, how comes despite their most obvious contrast, there are absolutely zero Shane x Reader x Elliott fics out there? I'll do it myself one day, but for now this tragedy must be shared, and perhaps serve as a spark of inspiration.

Hi anon! You've come at the right time cuz I've been obsessing over them both for a moment... which could mean nothing. And absolutely go write it!! I can't wait to read more of them!!<2 This one took a lot a long while to write but I hope I manage to as the younglings say, eat. CW: hopefully not too ooc. autor fucks around with word formation and fails miserably, brief swearing, pursuing two men at a time, shane being shane :( SFW wc: 1529 . * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚

You were acclimatising as The Farmer(™) quite alright. You were well liked by the dwellers of Pelican Town and were generally just doing okay for yourself. You weren't swimming in profit quite yet but you were hoping to get there soon. Working at Joja wasn’t the dream but it did pay the bills so you were hoping you didn’t have to go back to it, because you’ve grown fond of this town and its residents.

Especially two of them. Elliott - the local writer and an absolute heart-throb, a stark contrast to the other, less charming but equally as enthralling - Shane. At first they were both keeping their distance from you, occasionally accepting gifts from you with a better or… worse reaction depending on what you decided to bestow upon them.

As weeks passed they both started warming up to you, Elliott more so than Shane as he still was not ready to open his heart to someone. Elliott as the hopeless romantic was more so open to your courting, Shane on the other hand went through all five stages of grief when Marnie informed him he was actually being pursued.

Shane wasn’t sure what you saw in him. In his mind he was purely - a slob - an unwanted, shrivelled up shell of a human being who with or without his family could well lay down in his coffin and wait for the sweet release of death.

“What do you want from me?” He said praying to Yoba you’d leave him alone this time. The day was long and hard and he just wanted to drink in peace and not ruin a relationship he held so dear with a rage fueled comment. Relentlessness was what you were known for though so despite the slight hurt you felt you pulled out a bunch of chillies out of your basket and handed it to Shane.

“Just wanted to give you this. They’re in season and…” You trailed off, your hand still extended towards him. “...how’d you know this is my favourite?” He stared at them with a hidden warmth in his eyes. You just smiled and mentioned a little birdy. He had a long stern talk with Jas after that.

A few days later you received a pizza in the mail and you knew… you knew he was smitten.

During the winter there wasn’t much to do besides fuck around in the mines and fish. At the end of one of the short, winter days you entered Elliott’s house cold and tired after a good few hours of fishing. “Ah! And what are you doing here?” You were basically vibrating with excitement (and possibly shaking from the cold). “I know Pierre doesn’t sell this so…” You presented him with a bottle of squid ink.

“I brought a bottle in case I caught a squid and wouldn’t you know!!” His eyes slowly rose up from his work and he stood up from the chair, starling you in the process. “My yoobness you are truly wonderful.” Your face got a little hotter at his comment as he strode towards you taking the bottle gently out of your hands. He placed it onto the nearest surface and turned back towards you.

“Now.” His form was towering over you. Your breathing deepened as he leaned down to your level, his hair cascading down the sides of his face. A certain tenderness washed over you. You tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear and let your hand rest on his cheek. You caressed it and leaned impossibly close, your noses almost touching.

You suddenly pulled away and gave him an excuse to leave, your face hot and your hands trembling with anticipation. You exited the humble abode and went on walk slightly faster to your farmhouse than you usually would.

“You… temptress.” He mumbled under his breath as he stood there… confused.

You could imagine that Elliott and Shane, except for the festivals, didn’t interact much. Shane spent all his days at work or in his room and Elliott at the beach. By the grace of Yoba they both, at 5pm. would head for the Saloon and keep themselves occupied, with conversation or mindless drinking.

Once, when Elliott was severely inebriated he, suddenly emboldened by the alcohol coursing through his veins, sat down next to Shane and began conversing. “So Shane… wha’s your problem?” Shane just ignored him, looking down at the usually well kept man. His hair a mess and and a stain from the wine he was drinking on his dress shirt. “What’s yours?” Elliott rolled his eyes. “Why are you hitting on Farmer? I’ve heard you sent a pizza… must be serious…”

Shane’s cheeks suddenly went a deeper shade of red. “It’s none of your business.” Elliott smiled lopsidedly. “Yanno… we almost kissed a few days back.” Shane’s head darted towards Elliott. He continued. “Yeah… I think we’re in a pickle, man.” Shane grabbed Elliott by the collar and pulled him up as the drunk man began laughing. “Elliott, I swear to Yoba if this is true.” He nodded. “Totally true. I even got a gift.” Shane let go of Elliott and felt a cold breeze flow through him, locking him back in his shell.

“You need to go home.” Said Shane looking at Elliott with an indescribable sadness in his eyes. “But I’m havin’ such a nice conversation with you…” Proclaimed Eliott, sarcastically. “I will carry you home if it means I don’t have to listen to you talk.”

And so they ended up here. Elliott on top of Shane snoring softly and Shane terrified to move as to not wake him up and possibly cause a scene. Embarrassingly so, when Shane looked toward Elliott he felt a pang of shame. Elliott, the graceful, beautiful and kind-hearted person he showed himself to be was a way better a partner than Shane ever could be.

The night after, Elliott woke up next to Shane. Elliott felt horrified that he did something without Shane’s consent as he remembered they were both pretty drunk last night. When Shane opened his eyes he was startled at first. “Did we…?” Said Shane surprising Elliott in the process. He turned to the older man with a slight smile. “Did you want us to?”

“Not in the mood for stupid jokes. I might hate you for what you’ve done with Farmer since yesterday.” Elliott’s smile dropped. “Look, you’ve invited yourself into my house, slept in my bed and now are-” Shane stopped him. “I get it.” Silence fell between them.

“At the end of the day It’s the Farmers choice. We can’t do anything about it.” Shane nodded void of any emotion.

You entered the Stardrop Saloon, the air heavy with suspense. A few days ago you asked them via mail to meet up here, at 9pm when most guests would leave, for privacy. Elliott and Shane were sitting in silence, neither of them drinking, Gus was also absent, for some reason. “Hi.” You said meekly.

“Hello.” Elliott said back as Shane only looked at you. “I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

“I know you feel betrayed, both of you and I wish I could take it all away from you but…” You stopped and then looked at them pleadingly. “I hope you understand that it’s difficult to choose and I won’t be making that decision at all.” They both looked at you questioning your statement. “My point is… I want to be with you both. I want to get to know and live a long fulfilling life with you… both.”

They couldn’t utter a single word afraid that in the heat of the moment they would say something utterly stupid. “Say something…” You pleaded. “I think Elliott would be a much better partner than me.” Spoke up Shane. “I can’t take care of myself, much less of others and…” Elliott turned abruptly to jim. “That’s nonsense! I’ve seen you take care of Jas and Marnie time and time again. Sam constantly raves about your job ethic! You never miss a day and are always on time. You constantly put yourself down despite all the positive things people say about you. See, for once, you have a chance at love, true unbridled love and you want to give it up because YOU think you’re not good enough?!” Elliott was breathing heavily after his rant and you were all stunned at the sudden explosion of emotions.

“Elliott I-” Said Shane, at a loss for words. “I wish you would recognise the beauty sitting within you Shane. Get out of your shell and let yourself be happy.” Finished Elliott. Shane’s stoic demeanour was slowly crumbling. “So I guess you’ll have double the expenses now…” You looked at Shane questioningly. “You know… two flower bouquets and all.” You beamed.

Each night after that Shane would swing by as Elliott made his way to your house and you’d spend the remainder of the day talking, gossiping and enjoying each other's presence. Soon enough Elliott would see you walking in the rain to the beach and he immediately told Shane the great news.

“Till death do us part and beyond."

. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ BONUS: Them in this fic...

masterlist

#x reader #writing #fluff #light angst #angst and fluff #stardew bachelors #stardew elliott #stardew shane #stardew valley #sdv #stardew #shane x farmer x elliott #shane x reader x elliott #shane x reader #shane x farmer #elliott x reader #elliot x farmer

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whumble-beeee · 4 months ago

Text

WOOP WOOP THAT'S THE SOUND OF DA POLICE

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 15

Content: kidnapping/captivity, noncon drugging, recreational drug use, OD references, captivity references, honestly this is probably the closest thing to fluff you'll get from me: the funny

(AN: just a mini-chapter this week before we get back into things!)

* * * * A Brief Interlude * * * *

It had been a pretty easy drive so far.

Stan seemed more than content to just sit in his seat with his arms bound behind his back, completely relaxed except for the brief moments when his eyes would fly open and he would lurch up stock straight in his seat. Then just settle back and close his eyes right back up. Made Declan jump every time. Though he was really just happy that he didn’t have to blindfold the kid, excepting the intermittent night terrors, or whatever those were.

He knew he really should put the kid in the trunk or something, at least the back seat, but he was slightly worried he’d OD Stan, considering the way he was acting, the blank staring the complete lack of fight. Not to mention Declan’d kinda forgotten to account for his tiny size with the dosage. He was like, what, half Declan's size? More? Better to keep an eye on him.

It was pretty funny though, how high he was. And it’d be fine. No one would see them. It was dark, and Declan was taking the backroad highway that was usually deserted at night anyway.

That being said, Stanny hadn’t said a word since they started driving… almost an hour ago now? The pill Declan’d taken earlier was really starting to hit him, too, lightly smudging the dark trees as they went sailing by, muting the rumble of the engine, a warm buzz enveloping his body as they sat in an easy silence aided by the light tunes of classic rock. Darkness washed over them like calm waves on a beach, only broken by the lime-green illuminations from the buttons on the dashboard and the odd car blasting them with their brights as it screamed down the opposite side of the highway. That was usually around when Stan would lurch up, actually.

“Hey, Uh… Declan. Deeby, DB, Deebers, Eeby Deeby, uh... Darth… Bucky…” Stan mumbled, eyes fluttering open.

Declan snorted at Stan’s ramblings, even if it did interrupt his favorite part of ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’. He turned the speaker down to a dull whisper.

“What, that my new nickname?” he bantered lazily. “I’ve definitely heard better.”

“Y’know, you’d be like,” Stan pitched his head back until it lightly thumped on the headrest, glassy eyes fixed firmly on the cloth ceiling. “Like, really hot, super hot, y’know? If you weren’t evil. Like really hot. The-the bandana, and the cowboy hat, and the tall and that accent and the whole… cyberpunk cowboy shit?... that’s fuckin’... that’s hot, man… not to me though but like, ahh... 'M not blind…”

Holy shit, what? God, he loved drugged people.

“Y’know, some people would say that the evil makes me hotter,” Declan pointed out, humoring the captive than anything else. Besides, he wasn’t wrong. That was one of the tactics he used to capture, sometimes. Charms. The mask, the hat, the whole rugged cowboy look. It often got people excited, lulled them into a sense of safety and wanting. Very useful skill, being ‘hot’.

“Well… yeah,” Stan conceded. “But not me. Because you’re evil. Actually evil, a real actual villain who does villain things... Also not really my… my type. My fiancé though? D’loooove you‘f you weren’t evil. And if you didn’t kidnap me. He'd punch you in the face. S’mine though, hands off.”

Declan snorted. “Yeah, nah, don’t worry, I’m not gonna try to hit that. I think he’d be more angry with me anyway. Or scared, I guess. I certainly wouldn’t wanna meet me again.”

Stan lifted his head up. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You uh… you-you… met? How’d you know Marcus?”

“You told me about him. He’s your boyfriend,” Declan led on. It was kinda fun, this game of almost revealing information to him.

“F-fffiancé!”

“Ah, right. Fiancé. My bad.”

“T’ssssss uh…” He laid his head back again and closed his eyes. “It’s fine…”

And he was gone again. Settled back into the seat, like he’d just fallen asleep on a long late-night road trip.

Except for the blood running down his shirt and temples and the excessive bruises and red angry cuts that covered his body, his arms, his face, his neck. Ugh, all he could think now was that he probably should have cleaned Stan up a bit before sticking him in the front seat of his truck.

Not to mention the collar. That's what really worried him. It was discernable from a mile away, and everyone knew what it was: A super detainment device. He hated that collar. It was so demeaning, and for what? Why a collar? There were power-dampening cuffs, he knew they existed.

It was all just for show, some ill-disguised power fantasy. Parade around the supers, look, they’re not dangerous anymore, they’re collared. They can’t hurt the regular people! You’re safe from the freaks! Police definitely liked it, power-tripping bastards. And he knew Vaughn definitely loved the collars.

And Lana.

Ew.

Not thinking about them right now. The engine of car roared over the music. He let up off the gas just a smidge. Declan had better things to do while high, anyway. Like vibe. Which was the complete opposite of those two. He’d much rather listen to ‘Hotel California’.

He turned the radio back up and let the music envelop him.

And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast Last thing I remember, I was running for the door I had to find the passage back to the place I was before "Relax, " said the night man, "We are programmed to receive You can check out any time you like–”

Piercing sirens suddenly hammered his ear-drums, wrecking through his easy concentration. He nearly swerved off the damn road. Bright reds and blues bathed the interior of the car in eerie, dangerous rave-like flashes of light. Stan’s eyes startled open with a small gasp.

Lightning shocked through Declan’s body.

The police.

God dammit, why? Was he speeding? Was Stan more visible than he thought?!

Declan slammed his hands against the steering wheel with an angry shout, and this time Stan squeaked and cowered into himself.

God, and now he had to get out his ‘fuck da police’ playlist, the vibes were completely different now!

This is what he got for breaking his damn rules!

Shit.

* * * * * * * *

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything

@paperprinxe | @tippytappytyping | @chaotic-orphan | @notactuallyluska | @lumpofsand

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees | @whumpwhittler | @thelazywitchphotographer

(If you'd like to be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

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arokel · 4 months ago

Note

If you're still taking prompts, the Bobby Moch is chatty in bed tag needs more content.

sorry this is so late, anon! but you are absolutely correct; I've been derelict in my duty. hopefully this makes up for it <3

(nsfw under the cut or read on ao3)

Title: Chatty Pairing: Don Hume/Bobby Moch Rating: E Tags: PWP, Dirty Talk, Coming Untouched, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs Notes: written in an hour and a half and unbeta'd, so my apologies for any typos!

Bobby has never been one to keep his eyes open during sex. He himself enjoys being watched, but - selfish as it may sound - he’s always found it too difficult to focus on his own pleasure enough to come and to look at his partner at the same time.

He’s sure giving it his best shot with Don Hume, though.

Every time he feels his eyes start to flutter shut he forces them back open, forces himself to focus on Don’s sweaty curls as they flop over his forehead to tickle Bobby’s stomach, on Don’s strong hands where they grip tight onto Bobby’s waist. He’ll come eventually if Don’s ferocious determination to make him feel good is any indication; he doesn’t want to miss a second of this in the meantime.

It’s easier if he narrates what he sees, lets his mouth run away with him as it so often does in other circumstances. Ordinarily he would lock that part of himself away in bed for fear of being a distraction, but here, too, Don is different. Far from finding it irritating, he seems to love the stream of praise and nonsense blanketing the air between them, drowning out the slick noises of his mouth and hands on Bobby’s skin.

“Fuck, Donny, sweetheart, there, just like that,” Bobby murmurs, as Don sucks a mark into the delicate skin just beside his hipbone. “How’d you know I’d be sensitive there, huh?”

Don hums noncommittal and scrapes his teeth over the darkening bruise. That’s alright; Bobby can talk enough for the both of them if that’s what Don wants.

“Or did you do it just ‘cause you wanted to? I bet it’s torture for you just like it’s torture for me, sitting across from you near-naked every day. Did you sneak looks at my hips when I wasn’t looking, imagine pulling my shorts down and getting your mouth on me?”

“Bobby,” Don gasps. He mouths hotly at Bobby’s stomach, breath coming shaky and fast. What Bobby can see of his forehead is bright red. “Yeah, I - I did.”

That’s enough to make Bobby’s next inhale a little shakier, too. He shifts his hips suggestively until Don gets the hint and returns to his open-mouthed exploration of Bobby’s abdomen and thighs, skirting around Bobby’s obvious erection - not because he doesn’t want to touch it, Bobby suspects, but rather because he’s waiting for a sign of encouragement before he does.

Bobby will gladly give him that.

“I thought about it too,” he says, arching into the press of Don’s lips against his inner thigh, just brushing the coarse hairs leading up to the base of his cock. “Or not even pulling them down, maybe, but if you’d be so desperate for it that you’d just get on your knees and put your mouth on me even like that, suck me through my shorts till I come and then -”

Don whines, high and desperate, and then sure enough his mouth is there, gliding hot and damp along the side of Bobby’s shaft like one long, smeary kiss. He follows the path with his tongue, curling, tasting - more for his own enjoyment than for Bobby’s, but his blissful groan and the concentrated furrow in his brow more than make up for the lack of direction.

“Yeah, fuck, kiss me like that, so good, even hotter than I imagined, want you to taste all of me,” Bobby babbles.

He spreads his legs wider to let Don settle in between them properly - it means that his calf is no longer situated for Don to grind against absentmindedly as he has been doing, but with the exception of one small, mournful noise Don doesn’t protest the loss. Instead he sets to mapping Bobby’s cock with his tongue just as he has the rest of Bobby, ticklish and maddeningly light.

Bobby endures the anticipatory torture of it until his mouth once again gets the better of him. “C’mon, suck me, put those pretty lips on me and let me feel you, you were made to look just like this, Christ, I can barely hold it together and if you don’t get your mouth on me properly I might - god, yes, Don, that’s perfect, you’re everything I dreamed -”

Don gives an agonized moan that reverberates around the head of Bobby’s cock where it rests just inside the heat of his silken mouth. His tongue laps clumsily at the slit and his suction is soft and uncertain, and Bobby might just go out of his mind with how perfect it is. He wants Don to know it, too.

“Just like that; it’s so good, you’re so - do you like that? Me in your mouth, so hard all because of you, because of how good you’ve made me feel?”

Bobby doesn’t mean it as a genuine question needing an answer, but, to his surprise, Don groans again and sinks further down on Bobby’s cock as if to say, yes, I like it, I want more of it. His hips move jerkily, thrusting against air. Bobby can’t catch his breath.

“That’s good, that’s beautiful,” he manages, as Don grows bolder and the circle of his lips tightens around Bobby’s shaft. “I’m glad you like it, ‘cause I’m never gonna stop thinking about it now; god, I wanna kiss my come off your lips, lick it out of your mouth -”

Don makes an urgent sound and pulls back - but not off - so that his lips brush the head of Bobby’s cock as he shapes his words. “Bobby, wait, I’m so close, I can’t -”

His restless hips have settled into a smooth rocking motion, powerful thighs flexing and trembling. Bobby wants to feel that force and rhythm thrusting inside him as soon as possible. But it’s clear Don can’t wait that long.

“Of course you are, sweetheart; we’ve waited so long,” Bobby coos, half-delirious at the sight and the thought of experiencing it for himself. It makes him even less aware of his words than normal.

Don moans helplessly and takes Bobby in again, but he seems too overwhelmed to do more than suckle weakly as his hands clench and unclench on Bobby’s hips. Bobby gently pries them loose and holds them in one of his own, petting Don’s hair back from his forehead to reveal his hazy, watery eyes.

“It’s okay if you’re close. I want to see you come. Hell, the sight of that’ll probably set me off too.” He hisses as Don’s grip on his hand tightens painfully, feeling the tremor wracking Don’s entire frame. “Will you do that for me? Touch your pretty cock and let me see?”

The moan that tears itself from Don’s throat is, perhaps, to be expected. The full-body shudder that overtakes him, the frantic rocking of his hips, the splatter of warmth against Bobby’s thigh - all that is a revelation.

“Holy fuck,” Bobby breathes. He has no other words.

Don twitches and whimpers through the aftershocks, and all the while his mouth never leaves Bobby’s cock. He isn’t sucking - his lips are parted on gasping breaths and the wetness of his saliva is dripping down Bobby’s shaft to dampen his pubic hair - but it’s so fucking erotic that Bobby thinks he might come nearly untouched too.

Finally, the shivers cease, and Don pulls away with an expression like chagrin. He directs an unintelligible mumble towards Bobby’s stomach.

“What’s that?” Bobby says. He’s still holding both of Don’s hands, so he lets go of one and laces his fingers together properly with the other.

Don lifts his head at the nudge of Bobby’s finger to his chin, embarrassment writ clearly in his features. “I said, oh god.”

“Hey, don’t be like that. It wasn’t embarrassing; it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Bobby says. He traces the curve of Don’s swollen lips. “What did it? Did you like sucking my cock that much?”

“No, I - well, yes, but it was more… just you, talking to me,” Don says.

“I talked you off? Oh, Donny, you have given me a dangerous piece of information. I’ll have to watch my words next time, though, because I do want to watch you touch your pretty cock. Almost as much as I want to see your hips moving like that inside me and not just air.”

“Stop, Bobby, I can’t come again,” Don says, strangled. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

His free hand inching once more towards Bobby’s cock belies his protests.

Bobby pushes his hand away, gently, and replaces it with his own. “You sure you want me to stop? ‘Cause I’m close too and I’m not sure I can keep my mouth shut through all that, especially when I’ve got you here making such a pretty picture for me to look at while I do.”

Don whimpers again. Bobby laughs.

“You just stay right there and let me do all the work.” He shifts slightly so that Don’s head rests more comfortably on his thigh and Bobby’s arm won’t whack him in the face as he begins to stroke himself. It’s an easy glide, still wet from Don’s drooling orgasm, and Bobby feels himself immediately close again.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love having your mouth on me, but I missed seeing you,” he says conversationally. His breath hitches on the next sentence, though, and once it’s gone he can’t seem to get it back again. “You’re the most - the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and - I meant what I said; I wanna see you feeling good, want to watch your eyes when you fuck me and see your face when you come, see what you look like when I suck your cock and if maybe you like listening to me moan as much as you like listening to me talk…”

His words are growing shaky and so is his hand, but before he can slow down or request Don’s assistance there is a broad, warm palm covering his and Don is grinning sleepily up at him.

“You’re five steps ahead, with all your imagining,” Don says, fond and amused. “How about you just focus on me right now and let me make you feel as good as you made me feel?”

Bobby finds himself nodding wordlessly. Don doesn’t ask him to let go of his cock, so Bobby lets Don’s hand guide him as they move together, and the new pace and firmness of it has him writhing, trying not to dislodge Don from his thigh and biting his lip to stop things much more embarrassing than filthy words from slipping out. It doesn’t work.

“Don, please, please, I want - I’m so close, god, so - ah, I - fuck, you - fuck -”

He isn’t proud to admit that he comes with a scream.

“Holy shit,” Don says, wiping his hand on Bobby’s other thigh, mingling Bobby’s come with the drying remnants of his own. He looks just as worshipful as Bobby felt watching Don come undone. “Yeah, I do like listening to you moan.”

“Shut up,” Bobby groans, finally allowing himself to close his eyes for just a moment while he catches his breath. He feels incredible.

He opens them again to watch as Don grins and props himself up on one arm to trace idle patterns across Bobby’s stomach, unrepentant.

“No way. You’re a menace; why didn’t you warn me you were chatty? I wouldn’t have come so quick if I’d been prepared for it.”

“I’m not, usually. Most people don’t like it,” Bobby says. Any sting he might have felt in admitting it is erased by the slow creep of Don’s fingers up his sternum until they can cup his cheek and turn his face down to meet Don’s gaze.

Don shakes his head, grinning even wider. “Crazy. Good thing you’re sleeping with me now, then.”

Bobby can do nothing but lean down and smother that grin with a kiss.

“Oh, are you a fan? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You shut up,” Don tells him, nose scrunching against Bobby’s cheek as he keeps smiling even through the kiss. “For now.”

#the boys in the boat #don hume x bobby moch #my fic #tbitb

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 1 year ago

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“Love is Better When You Share.”

Y/N, after being sent on a business trip to Helsinki, Finland, has a fated meeting with two men in a hotel bar that would change her life forever.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader X Ville Valo

(Fluff)

3.2k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, crude language, smoking, alcohol, descriptions of injuries, flirting, jealousy

An: Wow! I actually started writing this one day before Bam and Ville had their little reunion earlier this week, so about good timing! XD I really tried to create a dichotomy between Bam and Ville in this fic because I think they’re so different but, at the same time, so similar! Aaa I’m in love with both of them heheh anyways I’m getting back to my requests so thank you all for all of them and please keep sending them! :)

If you were stuck in Nowhere, Helsinki for the next week, the least you could do was get drunk. It was funny how business trips always led you to the hotel bar, you thought, nursing the drink in your hand. It was a crowded, dingy place, but you worked with what you could get. Through the dimness of the bar, you could still make out the silhouette of the tall stranger brushing against your arm as he took a seat next to you. A smile played on his delicate, pale features as he looked down at you, thin fingers just barely resting on the darkness of the bar top. He didn’t even have to say anything and you were charmed, but maybe that was the tequila talking.

And before this handsome stranger could open his mouth to say anything, the bartender slid you another drink, wordlessly pointing a thick finger at someone down the bar, presumably the man who bought you said drink. Both of you glanced in the direction he pointed. Of course, you weren’t going to turn it down, but the timing was funny. You heard a snicker before he finally spoke up in a thick accent, “You know, I was about to ask if I could buy you a drink myself.” He took a sip of his beer, grasping the bottle with dark painted nails, “Guess that won’t be a problem anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow, “You speak English?” His words were deep and sweet but very articulate, a contrast to the tight lipped hotel concierges and shop owners you had met thus far. He flashed a sliver of teeth, “You’re an American?” The wit and the speed at which he replied to you was amusing, and you pressed, “How’d you know?” Glancing down the bar, then back to you, he replied nonchalantly, “It’s your accent. Well, that and your assumption that I didn't speak the language.” He seemed more endeared than offended at the cultural misunderstanding, pointing a thin digit down the bar and adding, “You know, I actually have a friend from America with me tonight.”

Oh, it was the guy who bought you that drink. You chuckled, squinting to see if you could make out his face and decide who was the hotter of the two, “What? You two havin’ some contest t’see who could get my number first?” The knowing look on his face told you everything you needed to know. It was immature, sure, but at the same time it was kinda cute. Nonetheless, he justified it, “Well, it was his idea in the first place. He refused to believe that I could get the phone number of the hottest girl at the bar tonight- care to prove him wrong?”

“I think I’d like to. Who are you, by the way?” You didn't show it but god, he was killing you. The words fell off of his tongue low and gentle, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear his musings, “Oh, I’m nobody, darling.” He added hastily after, “My name is Ville. And yours…?” Ville. The name sounded nice in your head, like some kind of European prince. You replied simply, “Y/N.” Ville seemed to smile hearing your name fall from your lips, “What a beautiful name.” He was Prince goddamn Charming. All he needed to do was hand you a glass slipper.

Before you could even start to respond your attention was drawn to a man walking up next to Ville, looking at you. “How’s the drink?” He raised an eyebrow at you from behind a pair of $300 sunglasses- the guy from the end of the bar. “Oh, it’s great! Thanks!” He grinned, one of his sharp canines glinting in the light, “I’m Bam, by the way.” Weird name, you thought, but you brushed it off. Leaning a little closer, his cockiness shone through in the tone of his voice, “Listen baby, I got a lambo out front here. Y’wanna come take it for a spin with me?” From the corner of your eye you caught Ville giving him the side eye of the century. Weighing your options, you made an excuse to save face, “Maybe not tonight- I got work in the morning.” Only then did Bam take a seat next to you, sitting with his back to the bar and his shoulders pulled back. “When’d you get off, then?”

“Around five tomorrow.” Reaching into your pocket, you grabbed two business cards with your number on them and passed them out to the men.

Well, he wasn’t lying about the Lamborghini. The roar from the engine made your stomach get that weird feeling, making every square inch of your body vibrate. Bam really put the speedometer to use, and you were equally as nervous as you were thrilled. It felt a like a roller coaster, zig-zagging up treacherous curved mountain turns as he rested one muscular hand on the steering wheel, the light from the street lamps that dotted the highway glinting off of his silver rings. Your gaze trailing up his forearm, you found your eyes fixated on a multicolored bruise framing a mangled pink mess of a scar, covering most of his elbow in shiny, raised tissue. The car ride itself was wordless, but anything spoken wouldn't have been heard anyway over the heavy metal music blasting through the speakers. Fast music, fast cars, and fast company. God, you felt alive.

“So, what’s this?” Bam glanced over at you as you asked the question, putting the car into park and swinging his legs out of the open door. “The best date of your life.” You couldn’t help but snicker a little at his bravado right out of the gate. Getting out, you noticed that you had left the busy city center a while ago and were instead nestled in the dense thicket of trees that made up the Finnish countryside. A cold, dry breeze blew the scent of spruce trees past you as you followed on his heels.

You two walked into the restaurant and you were seated in the blink of an eye. Bam just shot the Maitre D a look and you had the best table in the house or, at least, you could only assume they were the best from the view you had. Overlooking a cliff, all you could see for miles from your terrace level seats was water the same crystal blue color as his eyes. It was like magic. “Oh my god. How did you get all this?” There must’ve been stars in your eyes as you took in everything around you, but Bam just chuckled, “Well, back in America, I guess you could say I’m pretty damn famous.” Clearly not famous enough, you thought, because you didn’t know him. It took you a few seconds to realize he probably assumed you weren’t American but you still had no clue who he was, so you didn’t stop him.

Taking a sip of the sparkling wine the waiter left, you tilted your head to the side, “So, what do you do?” It almost felt cruel to see the blow that took to his ego but, at the same time, it was fun to watch him scramble, “Well, I’m a skateboarder. A professional one.” You raised an eyebrow, your smile teetering on sinister, “You know, my little cousin does that too. And that pays well?” He seemed to catch onto your game. Glancing to the side, then back at you, he leaned a little bit closer, “I mean, did you see what I drove you here in, Baby? Of course it does!” Bam sat back in his chair, looking up at the waiter as he placed the plates of lobster in front of you two before continuing, “I’ve been in movies, Tv, video games- they make shoes with my name on them for crying out loud.”

As he rambled, your eyes started to drift back to that elbow as it rested on the nice, white tablecloth. Catching you, Bam grinned, holding it up for you to get a better look, “Broke it a week ago. Sixteenth time, actually.” You winced. Maybe he was less of an ego case than you thought. As a breeze blew, swirling his dark curls around, a look of great satisfaction crossed his face when he saw the surprise on yours. “Mmhm. Doctors say if I do it again, the whole ‘things just gonna turn to dust. You can touch it if you wanna.” The rich boy routine didn’t work on you, but this surely did. The injuries made him look grizzled, real rough around the edges. Your curiosity begged you to, so you tentatively reached out a hand and gingerly ran just the tips of your fingers over the raised surface of his skin. Suddenly, Bam drew back his arm, hissing air through his teeth and clutching it dramatically. You hastily began to apologize, “O-oh, I’m so-“ He was laughing.

Bam went on to excitedly show you the raised, earthwormy scars that ran down his arms he acquired from skateboard spills and patches of hair he was missing that made his scalp look like a dog with a bad case of mange. There was a beauty in the fact that he was falling apart, a kind that your fellow diners seemed somewhat disturbed by from the glares they shot at you throught your meal, but you didn’t find yourself caring in the slightest. All you could focus on was your own little world- just you and Bam.

And the end of the night was almost like one of those cute little romance movies, where the guy drops the girl off at her front door under the moonlight and they stare at each other timidly for a while, not sure exactly what to do. “So, uh,” Bam rocked a little on the heels of his chunky skater shoes, his hands in his pockets, “Maybe we can do this again sometime?” As overconfident as he was, it seemed that once things got past the talk, he was a little shy. You smiled, “Sure!” A look of relief crossed his pale face under the golden light of the street lamp, “How’s next week sound?”

“I’m a little busy then. Week after that, maybe?” You didn’t want to tell Bam why, but he already knew.

After you and Ville had dinner together, he said he’d take you to a nightclub. “One of my friends owns this place.” He explained in the taxi ride there, golden light falling on his face, just as quickly fleeing from his features as the car sped through back alley streets towards your destination. “I think you’ll have a spectacular time here tonight, Y/N.” As you pulled up to what could have been an abandoned warehouse, you didn’t really know what to expect, pensively stepping out the door and gazing at the dirty, run down building before you, “You sure this is the place?” He nodded, “Positive, love.”

As walked up to the bouncer, Ville slipped him a 20 euro note and you took the opportunity to give him a good once over in the moonlight. God, he was beautiful, like those paintings of dying Victorian women. His white, just barely toned chest sat beneath a silky black fur coat that hung from his shoulders. You felt a little weird looking at him like that, but it’s not like you could help it. The tight little pair of black leather pants he was wearing weren’t helping your staring problem very much either, especially with how it exposed the tattoo on his lower stomach that he caught you ogling at. Your nervousness seemed to be amusing to him from the way he smiled with only his dark, smoky eyes, the corner of his magenta lips quirking up slightly. He reached out a hand to you and led you in.

It was like you walked through a portal into a whole other word. German techno blasted from giant speakers stacked haphazardly around the club, loud enough to make your ears tickle as you followed closely behind Ville, squeezing through the crowd. Women in latex miniskirts and black corsets would touch him on the shoulder and say lecherous things to him as they passed and seemingly everyone there knew him, offering him high fives and a few ass grabs. It was like he was some celebrity or something. From tall pylons, fire eaters spun flaming rods wrapped in vodka soaked rags and women danced in cages suspended from the ceiling. For you, this was a circus, but for Ville, this was just Saturday night. Sitting down at the bar, he lit himself a cigarette and took a drag, glancing at you, then the red leather stool next to him. You sat.

“First time at this kind of place?” Ville turned toward you with that coy, knowing smile. “Yeah…” From the corner of your eyes, you caught Ville propping his heels up on something dark just out of your line of sight, making you do a double take. Your jaw went slack, “Is- is that a gimp?” He recrossed his ankles, nodding, “Well, my feet were getting tired.” The way he just didn’t seem to give a shit about anything was so entrancing to you. Smiling, he tilted two of his pale fingers towards you, passing you his smoldering, magenta stained cigarette. You took it without a second thought, not even mentioning that you didn’t smoke. Ville smirked at your inexperience as you coughed after you took that first drawl. Sliding off of the stool in one motion, he kicked his feet off of his footrest, “I’m going to hit the men’s.” Nodding, your gaze lingered on his leather clad behind as he walked away from you, pressing the cigarette back to your lips.

Huh, maybe Ville had the right idea with this place. It made you wonder what kind of life he lived to get him into these places. Pondering whether he was a musician or some sort of male stripper, your thoughts were interrupted by an unfamiliar voice behind you, “Hey, baby. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” Turning arround, you went to confront the creep hitting on you but were a little taken aback by the fact he was less than a foot away from you, staring you right in the eye and making your words escape you for a moment.

Your speechlessness wasn’t in any way aided, however, when Ville made his very timely return, sliding right between you and the guy. His chest pressed against your body in a way that made you rethink what you were okay with doing on the first date. He slid his knee in between your legs, pinning you to the bar like a butterfly on an insect spreading board. His long, dark hair just barely brushed against your cheekbones as he leaned down to speak to you, so close that you could’ve sworn he got some of his lipstick on you, the warmth from his bare torso radiating onto your body, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah.”

Lingering in front of the hotel, you both were slick with sweat from the steamy night you had, basking in the afterglow. Drinking a little too much, dancing a little too close, and sharing just a few too many things. You couldn’t forget it if you got amnesia. Ville waited in front of you patiently, looking up at you with those deep eyes that just made you melt. “I had a really great time tonight, Y/N.” You nodded back, your heart picking up a little, “Yeah, me too.” He seemed to wait for you to do or say something, but you couldn’t really tell what he was expecting. Reaching a hand out, you brushed a cold palm against his smooth chest, feeling him take a quick breath at your touch. Still not pulling away, you leaned forward just an inch- all that you needed for your lips to meet his cheekbone, his skin soft and warm. From your peripheral, you could see him glance up at you with his nearly black pupils as you slowly pulled away, walking back inside and leaving him on the sidewalk.

You knew what you were doing when you invited the two of them to the bar that night, and you could tell your plan was working. “It’s not fair, dude! You get all the hot chicks!” Bam sneered, beer in hand. You watched as Ville leaned on one elbow, turning to him, “Well, I’m not stopping you from getting any of the ugly ones.” It really was fun to watch them bicker from your spot at the bar like you weren’t even there even though you were sitting directly between the two of them.

It was only about fifteen minutes into their couple’s quarrel that either one of them acknowledged you. “Come on, Y/N.” Bam nudged you, “It’s not like y’called us here to watch us bitch with each other.” A playful smile danced on your lips as you batted your eyelashes, playing coy and running a finger along the rim of your glass, “Well, I was thinking about you two, and I realized something.” You glanced over at Ville, then back at Bam, feigning melancholy, “I just don’t think I can choose between you two.”

Besides how much fun it was to play with their emotions like this, especially when Bam gave you that wide eyed, slack jawed look as you broke his poor little heart, you weren’t entirely lying. Both men, over the course of two dates, made your day to day life of work and dull travel feel magical. Bam, and the excitement and thrill that followed him wherever he went, fulfilled the adrenaline fix you didn’t even know you needed. Ville, on the other hand, with his mystery and sensuality, opened your eyes to this world you couldn't even imagine before meeting him. Though in different ways, you were equally addicted to spending time with each of them. Your little show you were putting on was just you buying time until one of them worked something out.

“You know, I have an idea.” Ville spoke up, breaking the silence, “I think there’s an arrangement where everyone gets what they want here.” You breathed a sigh of relief, your prayers being answered. Still, you were a little skeptical. Bam sighed, shooting him a ‘you’re kidding me’ look. Ville explained, leaning towards you while making half lidded eye contact, “For example, when you want to spend time with me, then you can spend time with me, and if you want to spend time with Bam- well, I wouldn’t judge you- but you could spend time with him.” He took a sip of his drink, getting a little glint in his eye, “And, of course, if you want to spend time with both of us…well, I wouldn’t be one to stop you.” It took you a few seconds to realize what he was implying by ‘spend time with’, your cheeks turning a little rosy as he chuckled, “I mean, love is better when you share, right?”

#jackass #h.i.m #bam margera #ville valo #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #jackass x reader #ville valo x reader #bam margera x reader

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poeticallyspiteful · 1 year ago

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hi!!! new follower here but could u pls write something for rafe where reader is not having the greatest day (sick, period, just plain sad etc etc) and rafe doesn’t really know how to make her feel better, so he goes and buys a plethora of gifts for her ranging from flowers to chocolate to (maybe) lingerie etc etc etc u get the vibes

*maybe reader sees his google history and it’s him looking up what to get someone when they feel like crap hehehehe*

all for you

rafe cameron x reader

fluff

cw: the common cold, one sexual innuendo/joke, mentions of a hypothetical meth lab…anyways, ooc rafe (as always??)

summary: reader feels sick, rafe don’t like it, yadayadayada they very cute and stuff <33

notes: HEY BABE, thank you so much for the request and i rlly hope you enjoy!! this was so fun to write and i think it turned out real cute <33

16+ please!!

“rafe, what—”

“shush.”

rafe kicked the door shut behind him, arms too full of shit to use his hands. four different types of soup sat piping in a paper bag hanging off his right hand, picked up fresh from ‘the wreck’, while three boxes of the softest kleenex known to man sat in a plastic back wrapped around the same wrist. this load was nothing compared to his left arm, which supported two overflowing bags full of goodies and medicine to help mend your ailment:

the absolute terrifying blight of the common cold.

but to rafe, this was enough to warrant a soup kitchen delivered to your door. it’s not like the extravagance was a burden on him anyways; he could’ve bought every pint of ice cream and every bag of cough drops in the store and it wouldn’t make a dent in his back account.

“rafe, honey,” you laughed, wiping under your stuffed up nose. “i just asked for cough drops. what’d you do, looks ‘em up on web md?”

rafes eyes went wide, and he looked at you like bewildered deer in headlights. “h-how’d you know that?”

you snorted. “it was a joke, but the reality of it is much more funny.”

“mhm,” rafe hummed sarcastically, tossing three flavors of cough drops onto the comforter. “and for the record, i got your cough drops; the top brand for sinus and cough relief, according to google.”

you had called rafe at 9:30 that morning, asking him to bring you some cough drops as your throat was hurting, and your roommate had left for a vacation two days ago. and of course, rafe being the doting, overprotective, boyfriend he was, was tripping over his own feet to get to his car.

you gave a lopsided frown. “this is too much, baby, you don’t have to spend all this money on me.”

rafe shot you a look somewhere between amusement and concern. scoffing, he started organizing his purchases on the bench by the foot of your bed.

“you should really stop saying things you know aren’t true,” he chided, carefully pulling open a cup of chicken and rice soup and stirring. he looked up at you through hooded eyes and grinned at the sheepish smile on your face. “i’ll spend as much money on my girl as i please.”

“well you please a lot.”

rafe laughed softly, towering over you as he lifted the spoon to your lips, gentle as ever. “do i now?”

you felt your cheeks burn, and not just because of the soup, which you accepted gratefully.

“thank you,” you mumbled, face getting impossibly hotter as he sat down on the bed and continued to spoon feed you, brushing hair off of your forehead all the while.

“you’re very welcome, sweet girl,” he whispered, voice still raspy from sleep in a way that made your stomach erupt in a swarm of warmth.

hesitantly, you leaned into his chest, accepting his arm around your shoulders and the kisses he left in his path up your jaw and the side of you face. with one final brush of his lips on your hairline, he spoke.

“i’ve got lots more soup, and some snacks, ice cream, enough drugs to start a meth lab—”

“rafe!” you giggled, but he shushed you, laughter bubbling in him just the same.

“it’s all good, lovely, no underground drug rings here,” he reassured, entire body loosening as it settled into his happy space; you.“‘s all for you.”

all for you.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe obx #rafe cameron fluff #cute #fluff #fanfic #outer banks

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fantem1903 · 1 year ago

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Some Rotten Man: A Book of Bad Decisions by Maggie Clef (Preview)

The following is the first half of the prologue to the upcoming SCP Wiki interactive novel, Some Rotten Man, starring the Baddest Man in Hell, Alto Clef.

The story is a part of the W H O R E O F B L O O D canon, and should be considered separate but adjacent to other commonly known depictions of Clef, the Goddess, and SCP-166, as it was made from what @ashes-and-pudding and I loved most about the characters, and made into a new take.

With that all said, I hope you enjoy a preview of his better days:

(1686 words)

A strong breeze graced the two children on the cliff. One a kid, and one a fawn.

The kid stalked through the brush like a hunter, his two small hands in the shape of pistols. His footsteps were light. He knew his target was near. “Ya can’t hide forever, ya know I’ll getcha.” The warm, bright Grecian sun made his black fur feel even hotter. Sweat trickled down and stung his eye. “Come on out! No sense bein’ a sore lo-” The kid bleated slightly, as he felt two fingers press against his lower spine. “Bang! Gotcha!” The fawn smiled. The kid spun around just a little too slow as the fawn pressed two fingers against his chest. She mimicked the sounds of a gun firing.. Each imaginary bullet punctured the kid’s torso. “Gotcha again! You’re dead twice now. Good job.”

“Nuh-uh! I got armor!” The kid said, puffing his chest out. “I’m bulletproof!”

“Wh- no! That’s cheating! How’d you get that?!” She huffed, pouting as she looked at him in disbelief. “Cuz I’m the bad guy! I stole it offa lawman I shot down.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Yeah it is! I earned it! From when m-” The kid couldn’t finish. The fawn tackled him to the ground as she cracked a smile. “Shut up!” She laughed as they both hit the ground. “I put you in the ground fair and square, Alto!” The kid blows a raspberry at her. “Fuck you, Gaea.”

The fawn slapped him lightly across the snout, causing the kid to bleat. “Watch your mouth, Alto! I’m still the law around here, and I can bury you again.” “Yeah, and I’m an outlaw! No one kills the bad guy, he’s too tough!” “I just did!” “Well then why am I still here, dummy.” The kid stuck his tongue out at the fawn before she jabbed him right in the snout. “Ow! Quit it, I’m sensitive there.” She giggled. “Aw, looks like Mr. Outlaw is sensitive isn’t he?” The kid lapsed into an embarrassed but comfortable silence as they laid side by side, staring up at a blue summer sky. The cry of gulls filling the air.

It had been a few moments until the fawn broke the silence. “Hey Alto? Do you ever miss the Seventh Circle?” The kid was quiet for a bit. Dark memories lapped at the edge of his mind. “Naw… I- We weren’t very happy there. I just- I miss my family, I guess. The ones who didn’t make it, I mean.”

The fawn was silent, not sure what to say. “… How many?”

“... A lotta ‘em…” He sniffed, trying to hide it from her, despite already noticing. “I, uh, didn’t used to be the youngest, ya know.”

“… I’m so sorry, Alto.” She sat up, placing a supportive hand on his knee. The kid sat up, and looked off to the side. “Ain’t nothin’ you gotta be sorry for. You weren’t the ones that killed ‘em… but thanks.”

“Of course. I’m your friend, that’s what I’m here for.” She gave a reassuring smile. “At least you’re safe here, right?”

“Yeah… Yer safe with me too, ya got that? I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ happen to you.” He put on a tough look, the best a boy could do at his age. Even if it was all smoke, the fawn still smiled and drew the kid into a warm embrace. “Well, thank you for keeping me safe, Mr. Bad Guy.” The kid blushed as he felt her arms around his neck. He gingerly returned it with his arms around the small of her back. The fawn wished in her heart that he’d never let go. The kid broke the hug first, as he remembered what he spent all of last night doing. “Hey, uh… I made ya a lil somethin’.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” The fawn tilted her head.

“C’mon, I left it over here so we wouldn’t mess it up when we were playin’.” He stood up, gave his hand to the fawn to pull her up to his level. He brought her near the edge of the cliff, where they often sat. “Ok, you wait here, just close your eyes, and hold out your hand. I’ll be right back.” “Alright!” She waited as she was told to. She could hear him curse under his breath in the distance, and fumble a bit. “You, uh, doing okay back there, Alto?”

“Yeah, yeah, just- fuck, hold on, I messed something up.” He responded, walking back over to her. Gaea could feel something land in her hand. “Alright, open yer eyes!”

She did. What lay in her hands was the worst flower crown she had ever seen; poorly knotted Bear’s Breeches.

“I hope ya like it!” The kid smiled, proud of his handiwork.

“I… I love it.” She looked up, giving him a genuine smile. She donned the crown alongside her fledgling antlers. Or rather, tried to, as it immediately fell apart.

“Aw shit! Come on!” The kid groaned, embarrassed. “I ain’t no good at this, am I?”

“Alto, don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? You know I still love it.” She sat down at the edge of the cliff, gathered the flowers, and got to work. “Here, we can fix it together. Come on, sit down with me, alright?” “Yeah, sure, I ain’t… very good at makin’ shit.” He sighed, sitting down and letting his legs swing off the side of the cliff. “I uh… hope it ain’t too shitty or nothin’.” “Not at all!... You uh… chose a heck of a flower to make this out of… We’d have to get rid of some of this mess…” She held it up for the kid, stripping the flower of the superfluous petals. ”Like this, see?”

The kid nodded and watched intently. “When you’re done with that, can I try again?”

“Of course! Almost done.” She smiled, handing the prepped flowers over to the kid. “There you go! Now, you just gotta put those stems through those stems, and keep on going till you reach around to the start.”

The kid focused on threading the stems through the other stems, the fawn only occasionally interjecting to fix a mistake or two. Soon enough, the kid wrapped the crown around the fawn’s head to measure, closed the loop, and placed the much-improved and much more stable flower crown on her head.

“There you go! See? Easy, right?” She smiled, bringing her hands together in a clap.

“Yeah, you’re really good at this… guess it comes free with bein’ a nature god.” He playfully punched her shoulder.

“Maybe, but I also just like making stuff in general.” She giggled, and put a single flower in-between the kid’s long ears.. “... Especially if it’s for you.”

The kid looked away and blushed hard. “... Thank ya, Gaea. I… can’t really do much. I’m not good at a lotta things. Besides, ya know.” He shaped his hand into a pistol and went ‘bang’. An imaginary bullet pierced the heart of a gull flying high overhead. “I just- I wanna take care of you, I guess. Like how you do for me.” “Yeah and I think you’re doing a great job.” The fawn hugged the kid’s arm. Her head rested on his shoulder as the both of them looked at the sea. The two enjoyed the silence. The cold breeze of the open air and the warmth of their bodies right next to each other. “... Hey Alto?” “Yeah?” “What do you wanna be when you’re older?” “I told ya, didn’t I?” The kid smiled, wide and bright. “I’m gonna go back to the Seventh Circle. And when I do, I’m gonna be the Baddest Man in Hell. I’m gonna show those rent-a-cops with their fuckin’ tacked on tin stars who’s hot shit.” “... Why?” The kid blinked. “Huh?” “Why do you wanna be ‘Bad Man’ anyways?” The kid had a fire in his voice as he spoke. A fire that always made the fawn weary. “I like you the way you are already.” The kid was quiet for a while. He looked at the fawn’s worried face. Concern etched all over her pretty eyes. He sighed. “Cuz I’d rather be a bad man than stuck as… ‘river trash’.” He looked away. Embarrassed or maybe just ashamed. “River scum can’t take care of their family, can’t stop when bad men wanna hurt ‘em. River scum can't do shit." “Alto…” The fawn grabbed a hold of the kid’s hand, gently. “And ‘sides…” He turned back to “I was already a bad man before you met me. I might as well try and be the baddest there is.” “... You wanna know something, Alto?” “What’s that?” “I don’t think you’re a bad guy.” She puts another flower on his ear. “I think you just try too hard to be one.”

The kid sat there. And said nothing. He did nothing. He merely looked off to the horizon.

“I hope I’ll always have a place in your life. I don’t want you going away forever.” “Of course you will! When I’m the meanest, baddest sumbitch in Hell, I’ll do whatever I want. I’ll get a whole world just for you! Just for the both of us!”

The fawn giggled. “You don’t gotta! I think I like this world just as it is already.” “Maybe… but I think you deserve better.” “... You know, you can always just stay here, right? You don’t have to go anywhere. You, your family, you’ll always have a place right here, with me.” “Yeah… yeah… I know…” the kid was aloof. His thoughts elsewhere.

The fawn pouted once more, and thought of a way to get him out of his stupor. She leaned in quick, and pecked him right on the cheek.

“Wh-” the kid bleated once more, his face beet-pink. She simply giggled. “C’mon, Mr. Bad Guy. We gotta get dinner ready.”

=========================

I wanna tell y’all a story. A story about my papa. The Gunslinger. The Baddest Man in Hell. Agent Ukulele. Angel Eyes. The Anti-Type Green. Doctor Clef.

This is a story of how he dies.

=========================

Some Rotten Man will release during this Halloween's ANTHOLOGY! Want to read more right fucking now? Hit me up in DMs to become a beta reader!

#also “Kid” means both “child” AND “baby goat” in this context #scp #scp foundation #scp wiki #alto clef #clef #dr clef #dr. clef #scp 166 #maggie #the goddess #Some Rotten Man #WH0RE 0F BL00D #writers on tumblr #preview

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ilovebluedilfss · 2 years ago

Text

Lingering Gaze

just lyle and his boyfriend

Lyle watched, his eyes glued to the man before him. Colonel Miles Quaritch. One of the toughest bastards on Pandora, who was currently pacing across the room right infront of him giving the newbies a rundown.

Quaritch was at ease, explaining how he as head of security was running things. He was in his element and god was it attractive.

Lyle couldn’t help the way his pants tightened. His lust growing with every syllable muttered by Quaritch. He felt his skin getting hotter by the second and he imagined all the things Quaritch could tell him to do. He thought of the way he would feel around him, moaning his name for everyone to hear-

The colonel’s voice was final and firm when he spoke “Dismissed” and Lyle was pulled back to reality. Damn he had to snap out of this. He was Corporal Lyle Wainfleet, second in command to the colonel, he couldn’t afford to think this way.

Lyle would never admit it to anyone but he was absolutely captivated by his superior, in a way that was not so innocent.

The way the man walked with confidence radiating off of him every step. One look could command the room he was in. Even the flex of his arms when he worked out. He was too damn fine and Lyle was obsessed.

Lyle was lost in thought think about how good those pants fit his colonel but was startled to find a hand clap his back “How’d that go Corporal '' the voice sent a shiver up Lyle’s spine. Quaritch looked at him expectantly, taunting him, and wearing a knowing smirk. Lyle felt flustered but he recovered quickly and responded “It went great Sir” he was lying out of his ass because honestly he hadn't paid attention to the majority of quaritch's speech.

He was... preoccupied.

Quaritch laughed before looking around and leaning in. He whispered in his corporal’s ear his low voice shaking Lyle to his core “You don’t have to pretend you were listening. It’s fine, you seemed a little distracted” He let the last word linger in the air before walking away without another word.

Lyle’s face burned with embarrassment. Quaritch had seen him staring but-

oh,

oh.

He knew.

#Lyle wainfleet #Miles quaritch #miles quaritch x lyle wainfleet #mlm #avatar the way of water #recoms

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insomniiyac · 6 months ago

Text

The Path That Leads to You

It’s been a while since Jayce had any leads in terms of the terrorism done by individuals in Zaun against Piltover.

But he eventually finds one which leads him to a certain scrappy, young inventor who happens to be the head of his own gang.

Pairing: Jayce x Ekko

Warnings: nsfw (minors dni!), omegaverse, ABO dynamics, age gap

Word count: 2.3k

Creak!

The door to the interrogation room opens, Jayce and Marcus taking their positions before Ekko.

He was arrested. The last drug bust the Firelights were in was a trap. Almost all of them got away, save for himself. Midway through, he sensed he was the target and urged them all to go before they captured the rest.

‘Business as usual, don’t worry,’ he reassured the others.

His life was but a small price to pay for their movement.

Jayce takes a seat while Marcus opts to stand, wearing a deep scowl.

“What’s your name?” Asks Marcus.

“Ekko.”

“Your real name.”

“That is my name.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Don’t have one.”

“I am the enforcer! I ask the questions.”

“Whatever.”

Marcus clenches his teeth.

“Why you little-“

“Easy, Marcus. Keep your cool,” Jayce advises.

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath. “How old are you?”

“20.”

He pulls a mask out of his pocket and dangles it in front of him. “This mask helps you lot hide your voice. Who made this?”

Ekko narrows his eyes. “You two look familiar. Real familiar.”

“Relevance?”

He’s definitely seen them around before. Not together, but at different times.

His eyes shift to Jayce.

Was it Benzo’s shop back then? Yes, it definitely had to be. Did he also play a part in..?

Thump!

His heart began beating faster, his core getting hotter and slowly spreading like an oven warming up.

He grits his teeth, clenching his chest. No, not now!

He anxiously reaches for something in his pockets. Ugh, of course- his pills were confiscated when he got booked.

“Anyways,” Marcus slams his fists on the table to get his attention. “This,” he holds up the mask. “Who made this?”

There was now hostility in his eyes.

“None of your fucking business. Fuck you.”

Jayce’s eyebrows furrow as he smells something peculiar in the air. Was he…?

Marcus reaches over and snatches him by his scarf, halfway over the table.

“Marcus, wait,” Jayce raises a hand. “I got it.”

“But Councilor-“

“I said I got it.”

Marcus huffs, letting him go and moving to the far end of the room and crosses his arms.

It was now Ekko and Jayce alone at the table. Ekko glares at Jayce. His eyes were so bright and kind. But he knew what these Pilties were really like. He’s seen it with his own eyes.

“Ekko. Before I begin asking you the hard questions… may I ask you something personal?”

“…Go on.”

“Are you an omega by any chance?”

Ekko’s eyebrow twitches at this. It was supposed to be a secret- if anyone else knew that the Firelights were ran by an omega, it’d be even harder to keep them in line. So he built himself up hard, took some street pills, and pushed his more submissive traits down.

Taking care of the orphans and other children was easy, it was in his nature to be nurturing. But being a leader? Didn’t come naturally, unfortunately.

“…I am. How’d you know?”

“I’m an alpha. We’re hardwired to sense these things. He isn’t, though,” he gestures to a scowling Marcus.

“I…I see.”

“Do you take any medication?”

“Somewhat-“

“They’re street drugs,” Marcus interjects.

“They help me when I’m out and about,” Ekko corrects. “Unfortunately not everyone can afford medication,” he glares at the man.

“I see,” Jayce nods.

There were light tapping sounds beneath the table that Ekko couldn’t help but pick up on. There was also a knit in the Councilor’s brow that didn’t seem to go away. He looks down… Jayce was anxiously tapping his foot.

“Hey Marcus… do you mind leaving the room to get the pills… please?”

“What? Councilor, I strongly urge against giving him-“

“Marcus.”

The enforcer sighs before straightening himself and saluting. “Yes sir,” he walks towards the door, taking one final glance at the duo before leaving.

Jayce takes a deep breath. He knew that Ekko was in heat, but he was sure Ekko didn’t realize just how strong his pheromones were.

It took everything in him to be patient and not bend this boy over in the interrogation room.

“What do you normally do if you can’t get a hold of your meds?”

“…Well my friends help me, so.”

“You must really trust them.”

“I do.”

There was no hiding the hungriness in those hazel eyes of his. He wanted a taste… he needed a bite and he’d do anything for it. This became apparent to Ekko, for he clasped his thighs together, his eyes glued to his feet.

His entire body was doused in heat, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

This was a test of wills. Who can fight against their better nature? The Firelight Leader? Or the Councilman?

A shock jolts from his nether regions up his lower back, making Ekko shudder in shock.

“I…” he opens his mouth to speak, but was only able to babble: “…need you…”

He needed to say nothing more.

Jayce rises from his seat and holds his hand out. Ekko weakly takes it and rises to his feet. He felt so small against his own, strong body. The difference was apparent.

“Where are we going?”

“The bathroom. Don’t worry…” he reassures with a smile. “I’ll let them know.”

He walks out with the other in tow, some of the enforcer’s giving him a quizzical look.

“Councilman Talis, where are you taking-“

“I’m taking him to the bathroom.”

“Oh! Should I just call Marcus over? We have to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you,” he affirms before heading to the bathroom to the far back of the precinct.

He shuts the door and locks it behind them. With all those pheromones contained in this one small room, it was easy for Jayce to become ravenous.

But he wasn’t an uncouth man. He was already pushing the boundaries by doing this, he didn’t need to traumatize him.

Heavy pants escape Ekko’s full lips as he pulls at his scarf.

Jayce gently helps him take it off before asking: “Where… where do you want me?” He asks, hardly containing his excitement.

“I don’t care where, just make it quick,” Ekko demands with a hiss.

The alpha goes in, instantly attacking his neck and unclasping his tool belt. He soaks in all that scent, his cock now pressing painfully against the seams of pants. God, he smelled so fucking good. He was addicted, like this boy was made for him. He had to have him.

Gasps and whimpers escape the other as he clutches onto the other’s head, desperately. His hands, those calloused hands felt like heaven against his skin. He’s only given himself to Scar and Eve in this way- they were the only ones that knew his secret.

And yet, nothing compared to this man touching on him like he owned him.

Ekko takes his hands and guides them under his tank top. Jayce wastes no time grazing his thumbs over those little hardened nubs. His body shakes with pleasure at this, so Jayce decides to go a little lower- unraveling his joggers and pulling them down. The omega loops his arms around the other’s neck and helps shimmy them down along with his boxers.

Jayce fumbles with his own belt as he plants sloppy, rushed kisses on the other. His pants drop to the floor and he kicks them off eagerly grinding against the other. Ekko’s body juts against him, the Zaunite using his own hands to pry Jayce’s dick from his boxer briefs.

“You’re in a rut, huh?” Ekko raises an eyebrow, gingerly caressing the sensitive underside of his partner’s cock.

“Yeah… sorry, I need this too,” he apologizes.

Ekko’s hands continuously graze his shaft, eying it hungrily. It was strange, his heat was out of nowhere. He’s learned from his books that some omegas and alphas can experience Spontaneous Heats when they see their perfect match.

He knits his brows. The last thing he’d want to be paired with was with a fucking Piltie.

That would be his worst nightmare.

He was going to use this man to satiate him. And then he’d break out of here.

“Let’s just get this over with before your buddy gets back,” he grumbles before abruptly withdrawing his hand and turning around, hands on the wall.

“O-Okay,” Jayce responds, confused. There was that demeanor flip again. No matter, he was simply being helpful. It didn’t bother him, right?

Right?

Jayce carefully shifts forward, reaching down to spread his cheeks, unable to keep himself from drooling at the sight of his wet, slick-filled hole.

Ekko glares back at him before turning away, red-faced.

“You don’t have to keep staring, y’know?”

“Y-Yeah,” Jayce clears his throat, red from embarrassment. “Sorry.”

It’s been a bit since Jayce has gotten laid.

Well, that’d be a lie- let’s reword that.

It’s been a bit since he’s slept with an omega. Sure, there was his fling with Viktor but since he’s broken their friends with benefits relationship, it’s been a while. He was attracted to him, but something seemed different. Especially compared to how he felt now.

There wasn’t the same instant attraction he felt here. Nowhere near.

He uses a hand to steady the other while holding his own cock in his hand. He nudges it against his hole, poking and prodding it deliberately.

Ekko leans against the wall, putting his finger to his lip.

Jayce slowly eases his way in inch by inch, Ekko biting harder down on his finger with each inch that went deeper. He finally makes it to the hilt. It took everything in Jayce not to pound the daylights out of him. He was quivering with excitement, waiting for Ekko’s word.

“You can start. It’s okay,” he says, trying to hide the anxiety. It wasn’t like he was afraid or anything!

Jayce begins to move his hips, thrusting in and out of the boy and developing a rhythm.

“Mm nghh,” Ekko moans, his hole opening up and getting adjusted to Jayce’s unfamiliar cock. But as unfamiliar as it felt, it felt so… right?

“Are you okay?”

“Mmhmm,” he nods. “I’m fine just… get it over with.”

“You sure?”

Ekko paused. He was sure this meant that Jayce was gonna fuck him into the wall. He sensed that excitement. He was bigger than he was used to and yet-

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

And with that, Jayce grips Ekko’s hips and plunges into him once more, jackhammering him with no remorse- pure selfishness. Ekko bites back tears as he pushes against his unrelenting thrusts, working his thigh muscles.

Jayce bites his lip and grips his bleached locs, ravishing this boy. He had no idea that he’d be this hooked, but he had to make him his. However, this could happen only if Ekko accepted him.

“Ekko… I’m gonna bite you-“

“No,” he snaps before catching himself . “J-Just get me off.”

“Okay,” he relents before leaning forward and putting his hands on either side of Ekko’s and rutting into him.

It’s okay.

That’s okay.

He was okay with this.

He just met him. It doesn’t matter. It’s just to help him. It’s okay. It’s okay…

Jayce shuts his hazel eyes tight as he drives his dick into him over and over and over again, tipping Ekko over with pleasure.

Ekko’s raspy moans gradually rise in octave with each thrust before:

“NGGHHH!” Ekko yelps as he cums and Jayce reaches forward to cover his mouth. Can’t alert the Enforcers, right?

His asshole clenches around the crown of his cock and soon, Jayce feels a tightening in his own core. Leaning forward and burying his head in the crook of the Zaunite’s neck, he presses in and cums deep inside- pushing his knot inside.

Ekko’s body stiffens underneath him, most likely out of fear. He shouldn’t get pregnant, right?

‘I took birth control, I should be okay,’ he thinks to himself before relaxing.

Jayce slowly pulls out, watching his cum ooze out of his soft hole.

“Ahem!” He clears his throat with pink cheeks. “Did that, uh… help you?”

“Uh huh,” Ekko nods, still in a daze.

Jayce looks around for the tissue paper and pulls off a couple of sheets from the roll and holds it out for him.

Ekko adjusts himself and grabs it, scooching over to the toilet and cleaning up the cum from his ass along with some that dribbled down his leg.

The Councilman pulls up his pants and waits quietly by the door, looking away to give him some privacy.

The Zaunite finishes cleaning himself up and flushes the toilet paper down the toilet before returning to the Councilman.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

Jayce nods before reaching to take his hand into his, but catches himself and pockets his hands.

“Sorry.”

“For what?” Ekko looks up at him.

“Nothing,” he quickly chirps, holding the door for him.

Ekko’s eyes narrow, but he chooses to say nothing, walking out the door while being followed by Jayce. Maybe it was his own self-consciousness, but he couldn’t help but feel they were more eyes on him going back than usual.

He certainly hoped he wasn’t that loud.

They finally returned back to the interrogation room where Marcus was waiting impatiently.

“Hope you two had a great time,” he sneers.

“What do you mean by that, Sheriff?” Jayce asks nonchalantly, pulling a chair out for Ekko to sit before taking one himself. “I simply provided the conditions for our suspect here to feel more inclined to speak. That’s all.”

Marcus narrows his eyes before scoffing.

“So Ekko…”

Ekko looks up at Jayce, that toothy smile now warming his heart in ways he never thought he would.

“Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?”

#arcane #ekko #jayce talis #marcus arcane #hammertime #arcane smut #cw age gap #chai’s writing

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