#i guess i have to find a way to say this subtly in the game. the desperation is fun though

[autistickfigure]

by the way.. i dont know if ive said this but there is a kind of high chance that there isnt actually a solution to the BOB timeloop. such a thing kind of hangs on him being Not a pessimist

[jj-one]

MIND GAMES ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ bf!Jungkook x gf!reader ˒˓ established relationship genre/tags. smut, v small amount of angst, fluff, thigh riding, face sitting, body worshipping, jk lowkey simping hella hard in this & we love to see it <3 words. 1.4k

**old repost from my deleted blog

“Can you stop ignoring me please? It's driving me crazy.” You whine to your nonchalant boyfriend, urging him to mutter at least one word.

He has been giving you the silent treatment since this morning. You and Jungkook got into a petty argument that could've been easily resolved within seconds had he not just stormed out mid-convo.

Rightfully so— you were upset by him not wanting to talk things out and he got all defensive by saying you were ‘overreacting’. The bickering only spiraled from there and once you realized you had to leave for work you left without even saying goodbye.

You felt bad for not at least giving a peck on the cheek but you were slightly annoyed by how immature he could be at times. Once you came back home, you wanted to talk with him immediately to patch things up yet he's still being difficult with you. His silence was speaking mere volumes.

“So you're really going to play that game now huh? You know you can't ignore me forever Kook.” You snicker, all those pent up emotions filling you with an intense longing for him. “Can you say something?”

Jungkook remained quiet as a mouse, still refusing to speak, just sitting there examining you. Taking all of you in, basking in his own little glory. He wasn't trying to ignore you at first but now it has turned into a game for him. His only goal was seeing how far he could push your buttons until you break.

There was nothing more frustrating than craving someone's affection. His affection. Usually he'd give it to you on a silver platter, spoiling you with all the love and attention he could provide. But today — you were gonna have to work for it, and that you did.

Since talking wasn't the solution you try your best guess and think of something else. That's when an evil plan struck your mind — you were going to get a word of out him one way or another.

You were still wearing your work clothes so you strip naked right in front him, taking off every piece of clothing to only leave you in your panties. He tried to make it not so obvious that he was staring but you could feel his eyes on you the whole time. Still quiet, he looks up at you with his big, brown doe eyes — glancing over every inch of your bare form.

Licking his lips while leaning back on the couch he takes in all of you, losing himself in your alluring gaze. As much as he wanted to believe he had all the control in this situation, you played a deafening role in making sure this won't be an easy win for him.

As soon as you fully undressed you make your way over to Jungkook, subtly swaying your hips to send a rise out of him. Walking up to your boyfriend you find yourself straddling his thighs between your legs, the bitter silence only creating a thicker tension. His face looked so innocent, you couldn't help but go in to kiss him. Grabbing the side of his face to pull him in for a sweet, sensual kiss, molding your lips to match his hungry movement.

He was passionate with the kiss — almost leaving you winded by the end. You could tell that he's been holding that in since this morning, you couldn't open your eyes afterwards, savoring in the taste of him on your tongue.

“I'm an asshole, sorry y/n. I don't know why I do the things I do sometimes… but l'm thankful I have someone as patient as you in my life.” Jungkook finally spoke, his gentle tone brings you a familiar source of comfort.

Heated make outs turned you both into even more dangerous territory. A constant rush of heat surges throughout your body, leading all the way down to your aching core, you swung your head back in pleasure while riding your boyfriend's pretty, muscular thighs. The light-blue distressed jeans he wore showing just the slightest bit of skin to make you go feral. The weak, sweaty kisses in between rutting against him — the friction of his jeans grazing over your clothed heat, making you feverishly whimper out for him.

Jungkook couldn't keep his hands off you if he tried. Everything about you is absolutely stunning and perfect to him. His hands dance along the perimeters of your body, tracing every line and curve of your heavenly beauty — embarking on the notion that you are all his. He needs to show how grateful and lucky he is to have you more often.

“God... need you so bad right now..I don't wanna waste another second without having my cock inside you.” He keens, migrating his lips up the side of your earlobe.

He's going to have to put in the work to get a reward like that though.

“I want you to eat me out then we can talk later.” You boldly counter, not even giving him an option at this point.

His face lights up with an idea, “Wanna sit on my face princess?” You nod right away, letting Jungkook maneuver you to the side so he could lye down comfortably — he looks up at you with wandering eyes as you go in for another kiss. He hums into the kiss, moving his hands to grab your ass. It's beginning to become too unbearable to keep your panties on.

Breaking the kiss to remove your soaked underwear, you toss them on the floor and meet your boyfriend's handsome face once again.

The anticipation was killing him, he couldn't wait to devour your pretty little pussy already ;( As soon as you positioned yourself below him, he held onto your thighs with both hands — making eye contact with you as he pressed a kiss to your swollen bud.

Any minor touch to your clit makes you overtly sensitive, letting out a tiny mewl from the light action. His lips part open to dip his tongue into your wetness, “mmmh... fuck Koo” you hiss, already needing to brace yourself to not cum early. His mouth always works magic on you, leaving you with an earth-shattering orgasm every single time.

He flattens his tongue completely now, dragging a long stripe across your slit, drinking up all your essence, letting none of you go to waste. His face was so deeply buried into you all you could see now was the top of his head — grabbing a fistful of his messy hair to pull on later. You rock your hips back and forth to build more movement, grinding on his face while not having a care in the world if he could breathe or not.

From the looks of it, there were no complications on his end since he started moaning against you — the vibrations sending instant chills to your spine. You feel his nose brush up against your bundle of nerves, his tongue appears again to spread it’s brutal attack on your clit. His warmth on the sensitive sprout makes you jut your hips into a hastier motion.

“Shit... keep going just like that…i'll cum all over your face,” you cry out, feeling yourself close to making a huge mess and creaming all over his face.

“Cum on my face please, my precious little doll.” He only breaks away to say that quickly and attaches hisself back instantly.

Those words did it for you, it was like ultimate green light to reaching your climax. Two digits enter your weeping cunt and his tongue goes back to sucking on your puffy abused clit — the knot in your stomach tightens as he produces sloppier licks to your leaking folds.

A lusty, guttural moan escaped your lips, screaming your boyfriend's name at the top of your lungs. Jungkook keeps your hips steady with a tight grasp to help ride out your intense high; his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping. His face saturated with the glint of your sweet nectar, he licks his lips and savors the delicious taste of you, there's nothing that'll ever compare.

"So beautiful my baby.. so fucking gorgeous.." he chants under his breath, kissing the apex of your thighs. He'll never get tired of admiring your pretty body— or you in general.

Jungkook has always been more of a giver than a receiver, he likes to watch his partner writhe under him, loves when they cry and violently shake while he's giving them the most pleasurable moments of their life. He also likes to get what he wants in the end but that isn't always needed for him to be satisfied. He'll get his nut eventually, but in the meantime he's going to keep playing with you some more.

[erideights]

Little pieces here and there (3)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Chapters: one, two, four, five

Word Count: around 2K again.

Warnings: minimum context of the arlong park part of the story (background), MUTUAL FLIRTING, forbiden pinning of them both, Buggy has his body back *wiggling eyebrows*, sexy times

A/N: devil works hard but i'm working harder, every 5 free min i have from work/class/practices i'm writing on my phone, i'ts actually insane and i love it (ROAD TO CHAPTER 4?? If you like this one and want the next one, please let me know!)

Oh, he was mad. He was really mad.

Maybe "sexually frustrated" was a way more accurate term given the circumstances but the feeling was so strong, so visceral, he was sure he was reaching a point where jumping to the sea to end that agony -even if a bit exaggerated, like him always, everywhere and for everything- was justified.

Somewhere in Arlong Park, Buggy could feel the boner pressing his pants, demanding to be satisfied; dirty talk was one of his true passions and when (Y/N) played that card on him, being capable of picturing himself with her on his lap, that damn woman so -actually- close to his face in that moment he was already tasting her lips, her low, smooth voice driving him insane, he could not help it, but get turned on so easily and so strong is been hours, and he's still mad, incapable of stop thinking about that.

That is, perhaps, the reason he feels relief as soon as the sun rises and Usopp is back on the helm again, asking for directions as Buggy, in fact, demands to go faster. Like instead of slicing and dicing his body, his power could control the wind that propelled the boat or the force of the waves against the hull.

(Y/N) ran away just after such a -even if brief- conversation. She may have broken his balls with that dirty trick, but she was equally a victim of her own game. She knew what to say to push Buggy and leave him so stunned -to speak- that the poor clown didn't have the chance to fight back at that moment, not without his body to help him keep her in that kitchen, lift her up on the counter, force her to back down, regret even thinking she could do that to him, and then, only then, yes, fuck her until she wakes up the rest of her little and - according to him - pathetic crew with her moans.

Or so the girl imagined, leaning against the door of her room, eyes closed, heart slightly racing, fighting the temptation to lie down on the bed and masturbate thinking about what had just happened.

Which included him. Him!! What the hell, was she actually losing her mind? All that damn flirting had really gotten into her, for fucks sake, because regardless of her finding him quite interesting when they met, this attraction was something else.

Lately everything around her was something else. Did she really think through the decision of leaving her mercenary life behind and follow those kids to the Grand Line? Did she really think through the decision of flirting back with a psychopath clown?

Because in the end it's just that, right? Flirting. Was nothing else, is nothing else, and will be nothing else. She doesn’t want it to be something more, that's for sure; there's no need for unnecessary complications and extra headaches. In the meantime, it's fun, a bit of a backfire kind of situation, a bit -sexually- frustrating, but fun.

After a good ol' resting night and already some hours into the new day, (Y/N) notices that it's been a lot, since their encounter in the kitchen to be precise, that Buggy not only doesn't flirt with her, but doesn't talk that much or even look at her as amazed as before. Of course, he is, also, way less annoying, which Zoro subtly points out clearly pleased with how calm, nice and silent this morning is.

At some point she shakes her head, knowing, or at least guessing, the reason for this behavior, so she decides to check no one's around and the rudder is locked in the right direction, and then goes to where the bag with his head is, closed probably by the sniper when he got the last indications he needed from him. She opens it, lowering it until the clown's head is free on top of that barrel.

"How are you doing, Bugs?" she starts with a funny little smile, looking intently at him as she leans her back forward to leave her face level with his. "It's been hours I don't hear your raspy voice, I'm starting to miss it."

Silence. Absolute indifference besides the sidelong glance he gives her because let's face it, Buggy is annoyingly proud, extremely, exaggeratedly, but he loves attention. He likes nothing more than receiving it, no matter where, when, and from who, and she could see it as soon as they met.

"Also your silly nicknames for me" She grants, giving in. She would also be mad as hell if someone leaves her as horny as she knew she left him, so she doesn't have any problem being the one to start the tug-war this time.

"Already tired of the shidiots?" He finally asks, almost drily, after a minute; now he is the one to play difficult, huh? "No wonder, they don't even know where to start being pirates."

"Oh, of course, because no one compares to the famous Buggy The Clown, the colorful nightmare or the East Blue." Playful, she retreats a bit, resting her hip in the barrel, arms crossed over her chest.

"Quit the sarcasm doll, you know I'm right." Well, he was, in fact, right. None of them had real experience in the whole i-wanna-become-a-pirate thing, still, they were doing pretty good to be newbies. She was quite proud of them.

"I cannot wait to have my body back" he then murmurs, adding before she could say anything else about her new friends. "To do what?" She asks, you know, like she didn't know.

"Take a guess"

"Recover your spotlight? Find a new crew and a way to enter the Grand Line to go search the One Piece and be the king of the pirates?" (Y/N) mocks, clearly enjoying being the annoying one this time.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah'' Buggy rolls his eyes, scoffing. ''All that, but not before making you regret what you did last night." To that accusation she gasps, resting her right hand over her chest "What did I do last night?"

The clown falls silent again, but his mood is completely different. Right now he's not pissed off, it's obvious that this time, instead of flirting with her in a casual and natural way, he’s thinking what to say, choosing carefully his words to return a fraction of the effect she had on him hours ago.

His eyes darken, and his voice goes octaves lower and raspier. "Sweetheart, there will be no possible escape from what I plan to do with you. At the slightest opportunity I will make you cum on me so many times you will be the one to find the One Piece without needing to go to the Grand Line, but first…'' He pauses, breathes, and lets it go calmly, like the intimidating, psychopathic calculator she saw at the circus and not that flirty cartoonish version she got to know on the ship. ''you will beg for it."

She knows she shouldn't surrender to this type of tease, but she also can't and doesn't want to avoid it. Getting heavily carried away, without thinking about it twice, one of the girl's hands slides to the back of his neck, slipping under the bandana, and tugs his hair aggressively as she leans in again to speak close to his face. He grunts in pure satisfaction, closing his eyes for a second. Of course (Y/N) is, once again, taking advantage of the fact that he cannot defend himself no being more than a head, and the fact is that he enjoys like a condemned bastard those small but intense gestures the girl has given him since they met at the circus.

He can't wait to break a woman like her. And oh, he will.

"Are you sure about that?" Hearing distant steps, someone from the crew coming out on deck and climbing the stairs, she gets some distance from him, acting naturally, closing the bag again around his head. "My expectations just skyrocketed, I hope you don't disappoint."

By the end of the day, the Konomi Islands begin to appear on the horizon, and as soon as they set foot on them, shits get really serious. The situation of the poor people who live there is heartbreaking, so for two days, no one dares to make a single joke, Luffy's usual energy and bubbly positivity is nowhere to be seen, and of course, the interactions of (Y/N) and Buggy are reduced to = 0. The clown's head is no longer of any real use to them, and it’s poor Sanji, the new recruit, who’s carrying it around just in case.

At least until they reach Arlong Park.

Again, (Y/N) is not exactly the type of mercenary expert in martial arts and although she knows how to defend herself, fighting like Zoro or Sanji is, in few words, impossible. Her only advantage is being very, very fast, and knowing how to use the scenery to her advantage, so it doesn't take long for her to hide here and there among the different tents and attractions in the area to get rid of the most straggler fishmen, with a knife she got long ago during one of her jobs, capable of cutting their tough skin easily.

Everything happens so fast and is so chaotic that apart from some screams and blows in the background and having seen Usopp running towards the forest, (Y/N) is completely unaware of what is happening in the main complex.

A strong pull on her left arm activates her flight or fight response as one last fish falls dead to the ground in front of her. Raising the knife, in a quick movement, she tries to defend herself by aiming at the stranger's neck, although in vain; a pair of lips whose red has already been worn for days impact against hers, stealing her breath, a small moan escaping her. Eyes wide open, she barely registers the blurry color of Buggy's nose when two strong hands squeeze her hips as if the life of the clown depended on it, pushing the girl against the wall of the building behind them, cornering her without any type of delicacy.

She hadn't heard from him since they reached the island. Hell, she didn't even know he had got his full body back and was already so close to it that air was unable to pass between each other.

Of course, the moment the clown's head joined the rest of himself -the feeling much better than he remembered- he fucked off his captors and decided to flee. Not before making a vital stop along the way.

The ideas about how to proceed with her once he was whole were very, very different in his wild fantasies, but when he saw the girl's back, he knew that the only thing that would -partially- calm his yearning would be to kiss her before disappearing as fast as possible. To taste her lips, to feel her warmth.

Still not recovered from the shock of the kiss, Y/N doesn't remove the knife from the clown's neck, but he couldn't care less; quite the opposite. He is so turned on and waited so much -again, exaggerated- for this he doesn't know yet how he will be able to break the kiss, take distance from her, and run away.

Passionately carried away, moved by his most primitive instincts, Buggy sneaks one of his legs between hers, pressing in between them as Y/N inhales through her nose and her free hand flies to his vest, pulling it a little.

It wasn't the time, nor the place, to think about fucking that asshole, but damn, after all the teasing and the tension and the adrenaline of the fight--

And just when she starts fully giving in to him, he retreats just enough, panting a bit, and looks at her now red, stained lips, eyes darkened and full of lust. Just like hers.

"Hate to leave you like this sweetheart but I have things to do and places to go. I don't want people relating me to Arlong, I would hate the bad press on my persona." He whispers, cracking his usual cruel, playful smirk when he finally puts some distance between each other.

‘’It's time to exit stage left.’’ Buggy adds, theatrically raising both hands in the air. ‘’I promise I’ll see you around.’’

And like this, he stars running away again. Where? She doesn't know, or even guess at this moment, too busy registering the kiss in her memory, the way his lips felt on hers, how his nose pressed her cheek the entire time, or his hands grabbed onto her for dear life.

Bastard.

''You better'', she whispers to herself.

[thehighladywrites]

- “if it is so wrong, why does it feel so good?”

pairing: stalker/perv!azriel x reader, nesta, elain and feyre mentioned

summary: stalking and perving is azriel’s favorite activities. What happens when you finally drop the oblivious mask and confront him

warnings: dark content, stalking, perving (on literally everyone), breaking and entering, stealing panties, az having a darker side, getting turned on by your fear, az eating you out, reader being bold and hot as fuck omg,

amara’s note: okay this is very short bc it’s my first time writing a dark fic. Also i hope you like it and pls read the warnings.

Azriel knows he is some sort of sick freak. He knows he should resist his sinful glances at Feyre when she's cozied up on Rhysand's lap. He flexes a little extra just to spark Nesta's desires, fully aware of her fantasies. And as for Elain, well, let's just say he's playing a forbidden game of spying while she bends over to plant her greens.

Azriel's is extremely aware he shouldn't be harboring forbidden desires or indulging in the secret pleasure of stalking someone as seemingly innocent as yourself.

Azriel, the ultimate mastermind, keeps everyone guessing. Who would suspect the quiet, brooding and publicly respected spymaster to be a closeted perv and sick stalker? It's his most guarded secret hidden beneath the intimidating exterior.

Little does Azriel know, you're fully aware of his perverse behavior—his wandering eyes and spying shadows. It surprises you that no one has figured him out yet; after all, it seems quite apparent, doesn't it?

You don’t miss his lurking shadows following you around for hours. A regular fae would’ve missed it but not you. You’ve grown accustomed to him and his ways. You know him better than anyone else and you definitely know of his stalker tendencies.

Azriel believes he's smooth, avoiding outright ogling. Instead, he strategically glances at you during training with Cassian and while sharpening his weapons, subtly appreciating the way your body moves.

Pervert azriel walks up to you, complimenting your form, claiming while it’s good there’s something you need to fix. You don’t mind if he needs to grab your waist while fixing your pose right? And of course you’ll excuse him if he accidentally brushes against your boobs and ass. I mean he just wants to help you perfect your form!

He watches you walking through Velaris from the shadows, always hiding one of his shadows with you. He tells himself that he does it for your safety. Who knows, you might be attacked and he needs to be ready.

He absolutely doesn’t want to hear how much of a hypocrite he is for also stalking you in the safety of your home aswell.

Azriel steals your panties, silently breaking into your room as he looks through your drawers, skimming through the collection of panties. He promises himself it’s the last time, though he’s made the same pledge seven times before.

Azriel's stalking tendencies lead him to roam through your belongings, touching everything to become familiar with your world. He goes to your vanity, picking up your perfumes, and indulges in the forbidden pleasure of smelling the one thing he desires most—you.

Lying in your bed, his head on your pillow, he starts shifting in the sheets, inhaling more of your scent. He revels in the trespass and wrongness of being in your bed, knowing that you might catch a hint of his own scent lingering there, a twisted thought crossing his mind that it could confuse, frighten, or even arouse you.

His cock swells at the thought of you scared, heart beating fast, trying to place who the scent belongs to.

He looks around and finds one of your shirts on the bed and picks it up to his nose.

Then he does the one thing he swore he would never stoop to. He pulls out his already hard cock and strokes it while inhaling your scent from the shirt.

—

He has timed you and learned your schedule hence why he now knows that you’ll be in the shower for the next twenty minutes, giving him the perfect opportunity for his perverse activities. He’ll pick up the laciest most intricate pair, keeping it in his room as some sort of trophy with the other stuff he has taken from you. No one can enter into his room anyways, it’s safe…

Pervert Azriel looks through the little crack in your door as you stand there posing infront of a mirror while wearing pretty much nothing. A lacy little lingerie set as you touch your body, hands traveling all over your tits, waist, ass then up through your hair as you spin around, admiring yourself.

You know Azriel is standing at your door, he isn’t really all that subtle with his hand down his pants as he jerks off at the sight of you.

It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll back into the back of your head, fucking gods, he’s pathetic.

You wanted to fuck him for the longest time. He could just ask you to fuck and you’d say yes yet here he is thinking he’s slick as he pervs on you. Even with all that in mind, there’s a sick, twisted adrenaline rush spreading through your body at the thought of the esteemed and highly respected spymaster doing something so dark and wrong like this.

“I know you're there, Az. Come out,” you say, a wicked smile forming on your face as you plot to utterly humiliate him.

His entire body freezes and Azriel cautiously emerges from the shadows, realizing he's been caught. You maintain that mischievous grin, ready to unleash your plan. The air thickens with anticipation as the confrontation unfolds.

“Az?”

He looks like he’s about to jump out of the nearest window as he looks at you through the mirror.

“Yes?”

“Why are you such a disgusting little pervert? Here I am trying on some clothes and you’re just perving on me. How do you think that makes me feel? I mean I could be super afraid and you wouldn’t have any remorse? Who does something like that?”

Azriel's face heats up at the mocking question, flushing as he tries to respond.

“Az, I asked you a question,” you assert, walking over to him. His embarrassment is palpable as he apologizes, rambling about not knowing what came over him, begging you not to tell anyone.

You already know the answer, and a knowing smile plays on your lips as he seeks forgiveness.

“You’ve done a very bad thing, Azriel. Bad people deserve to be punished. You of all people understand that, right?”

Pushing him back onto one of the sofas in your room, you creep closer, leaning over to whisper. Looking down at him, you place your hand on his cheek, letting your nails dig in a little.

“I think you deserved to be punished.”

Azriel's heart raced, fearing exposure for his hidden activities. Was this it? Would you punish him by revealing his actions to everyone?

Before he could plead for forgiveness, you stood up, walking back to your bed and beckoning him over with two fingers.

As he approached, ready to sit, you extended your leg, placing your foot on his stomach, halting him in his tracks..

“Not so fast,” you assert, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “The bed is reserved for me. You can kneel on the floor.”

Azriel complies, gracefully sinking to his knees. His gaze meets yours, his beautiful eyes revealing a mixture of submission and desire.

“You’re going to eat my pussy. If you manage to make me cum, I won’t tell anyone about your disgusting behavior, understand?”

He couldn't believe what was unfolding. Was he really about to taste you? About to experience the fantasy he'd daydreamed about every single day? He nods, but a disapproving tsk follows.

“I need more than a nod, Azriel. Do you understand?”

A quick, “Yes, I understand,” escapes his lips.

You can't help but smile at the swiftness of his compliance.

“That’s good. Now, I’ll be taking off my bra and panties and they’re very expensive and new so they better not go missing.”

Azriel affirms his understanding and then proceeds to drool over the way you slowly strip infront of him before you spread your legs and tell him to start.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge as he dips his head down to run his tounge up and down your slit, tasting you before playing with your clit.

You gasp in pleasure, letting out moans as your hands find their way to his hair, urging him to keep going.

Azriel’s hands dig into your thighs that are currently smushing his head. He decides to let you continue, telling himself that if he dies like this, he'd go down as the happiest person in history.

“T-that’s it, right there.”

A breathy moan escapes your lips as you feel two of his fingers enter you. Your hands grab his dark soft hair as he started pumping his fingers, relishing at the way your soaking cunt is squelching and squeezing him.

You whimper at the way his thick fingers strecth you out then curl against that secret spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You start to slowly fuck yourself on them, eager for more of him.

“You taste even better than I imagined, fuck.”

His desperate voice only spurred you on.

It doesn’t take much longer for that feeling to build up in your stomach, the tight cord eventually snapping. You squeeze and throb around his fingers as you cum hard, letting out whines and mumbles.

Azriel helps you ride out your high, memorizing every facial expression in case this is the last time you ever let him this close again.

He pulls out his fingers and lick them clean then goes back and licks your pussy clean.

You let out a giggle at the sight before you, casting him a look of fake sympathy as you pull yourself together.

“Well, look at that. Seems like I’ll be keeping your secret after all. I mean, what a shame to loose such a good little pussy eater, right? I might just keep you around.”

You beckon him to rise, tossing your underwear onto the sofa before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

Glancing back at his flushed face and heavy breathing, you offer a secret smile.

“Who knows, next time I might even let you fuck me.”

Turning around, you leave him to his thoughts as the shower starts.

Azriel stands there for a moment, his desire evident. Unable to resist, he takes your panties and bra, always craving something of yours.

He promises to himself that he won't do it for an eighth time before hurrying back to his room, to finally help himself

🏷️ taglist: @stasiereads @clairebear08 @daycourtofficial @historiaxvanserra @rowaelinsdaughter @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @redbleedingrose @danikamariewrites @readychilledwine @nocasdatsgay

[spideyhexx]

oct. 7th - scaredy cat

William H. Bonney x BountyHunter!Female!Reader

mdni! wc; 3.3k cw; gunplay, threats of death, dom-ish reader, dub-con-ish, thighriding, grinding, mentions of piss

kinktober 2024 masterlist

a/n; was worried about this one because i was having trouble writing it, but i think i like how it turned out soooo!!!! hope you all enjoy!!!!

The smoothness of the cards touch at your skin as you move your thumb across, eyes bouncing from the cards, then back up to the man in front of you. 

The bar is rustling with life, but the noises drown out the longer you focus on the man’s blue eyes. They sear into you, subtly trying to beg for an inch, to find what it is you’re thinking or take an educated guess at what cards you hold behind your hands. 

His lips are in neutral territory. No faint smile, but no tension, though his thumb taps to his cards every other second. You count it. One. No tap. Two. Tap. One. No tap. Two. Tap. 

There are two other men in the game, a gentleman to your left that’s clearly off his rocker, and a gentleman to your right, who has the worst poker face known to life itself. Your focus is on the blue-eyed man though. Actual competition. 

The drunken man folds his cards, giving up more because he cannot even think straight. He barely walks straight to the bar just ahead. The man across from you tilts his head, his slightly messy hair catching your attention for only the moment he’s looking away at the drunk man. The cocky one places another bet. You raise your bet. And the blue-eyed man taps his thumb twice in a row this time, before raising his bet. 

The cocky guy scoffs a bit, but your expression remains unmoving. In fact, you lean back in the rickety wooden chair, like this is just some easy day for you. The guy folds his cards and you resist the urge to smirk, your eyes gluing themselves back to the young man in front of you. 

You make your bet, then lean back against, the only movement you give him is a slight cock of your head. The man tries to school his expression, but you see the slight quirk in the corner of his mouth as he looks at his cards, thinking. Or pretending to think. Most likely the latter. Either way, you study him more than you were before.

His dark blue shirt is dirtied, no doubt. Probably hasn’t been washed in days. Weeks, maybe. His knuckles are redder than they should be, but there is no bruising. You can deduce he was hitting something though. Or someone. There is a cut on his lip though. A cut in the process of healing. His hair, messy like you noticed before, seems more windswept or hat hair, than anything else. The slight curls near his ears curl around the curve of it, and his eyes, well, they return to boring into your soul. 

He hasn’t said much of anything since he sat down. A small hello to the other players. A lingering glance at you. He called you ma’am. It’s not that women didn’t play poker, but it was certainly rarer, especially out here in a middle of nowhere town with maybe three entire buildings and the rest expansive farmland. 

The man thinks for a few more moments and you have played enough poker to know he’s purposely building up the tension, wondering if you’ll push through any cracks to give him an inkling on your hand. He’s baiting you, but you know better. 

He shows his cards and leans on his arms on the table, a silent challenge, because he would be winning right now with that hand. 

If only you didn’t have a straight flush. 

The man gives a huff, but a small smile graces his lips. They’re so red, and you catch yourself watching the way his tongue quickly runs over them as he stands from his chair. He grabs his hat, black in color, and sits it perfectly atop his head, pushing it down a moment, before sticking his hand out. 

“Well done,” he says, his voice smooth with the slightest hint of a twang. You shake his hand once, then move to gather your winnings into the small satchel at your side. 

“You’re good. It was a good game,” he speaks again, adjusting his hat, though you know he has no need to do so. A nervous twitch, maybe, but you’ve already gathered he’s a fidgety guy. 

“I know,” you respond, offering half of a grin. His hands drop to his gun belt, shifting one of his legs like he wants your attention to drop to that area. 

His fingers drum on his belt, a grin still stuck to his face, but he just nods, and shrugs on a maroon jacket, then saunters out to the bar exit, while you turn towards the bar itself. 

Once you hear his boots leave the establishment, you count to thirty in your head. You’re lenient. Your hand snakes down to the gun in your holster, your thumb tracing the handle. It soothes it. Prepares it for the potential action afoot, something you always had to do before a job. 

When your mental count hits thirty, you stand, and walk out of the bar. The setting sun still shines bright and hits your vision at first. You shield your eyes, clocking the man’s horse still tied up here. 

You walk past the few buildings in this settlement, then veer off toward the woods. The grass of the field swishes against you as you stride slow, careful of your steps as you look around. 

As you approach the small thicket of trees, you catch that maroon color. 

His back is to you, standing near a tree, so you slowly stalk over, pulling your gun from your holster with ease. 

You make no noise, approaching your prey with a staunch air. Your heart is beating. A rapt hitting against your chest, but it’s not nerves, it’s excitement. As you get closer, you realize he’s urinating against the tree, but it does little to hinder you. It only excites you more. 

He whistles softly to himself, a tune you cannot place, and it almost distracts you from the task at hand. You roll your shoulders back to snap yourself out of it, then close the distance, quickly coming up on him from behind. 

The man startles and makes a quick move to grab his gun, but the barrel of yours digs into the side of his neck before he can reach it. You press your chest close up on his back, your other hand reaching around the front of him to undo his gun belt. 

His head turns slightly and you watch him recognize who it is. 

Your hand almost grazes his exposed dick, and a droplet of piss leaves him. You snicker, letting the gun belt detach and you toss it to the side,“Continue.”

“What?” He asks, voice more gruff than it was back in the bar. 

“Finish pissing, Mr. Bonney.” 

Billy hesitates, but you nudge the barrel harder against the skin of his neck and he relents, continuing to relieve himself against the tree. 

It’s quiet besides the sound of his stream, until he asks, “Who do you work for?” 

You scoffs. “No one.” He finishes, and goes to tuck himself back in. You watch the movement with a deep intensity, feeling lucky he isn’t looking at your face. 

“People are after you all over this state and the next. And you made your face known in a busy bar?” 

You’re ridiculing him. The tone of your voice shows it, and you get him to turn around, pushing hard at his chest so he’s up against the tree. There’s no question that Billy the Kid, is stronger than you, but he makes no move to fight you. Not yet, at least. 

“Guess I had some faith,” he says, keeping his hands held up. You drag the barrel from his neck to the front of his chest. 

“How long were you followin’ me? No way you just happened to be there…playin’ poker with me,” he questions, eyes narrowing. He’s trying to study you, but you won’t let him do that. 

“You’re gonna come with me.” You step up closer to him, almost chest to chest if it wouldn’t be for your gun against him. His one leg, having been slightly jutted out, makes it perfect to step up closer to him, his knee brushing to your leg, his head tilted to see you. 

Billy’s jaw clenches when you don’t directly answer his question, “Or you’re gonna kill me? Is that it, ma’am?” 

“Do you not believe I would?” You laugh in his face. 

“No offense, ma’am, but you don’t look all that…threatening,” he says and you break your little composure to furrow your brow. Is he trying to anger you? Trying to see how far you’d go? Well if he is, you’ll sure show him. 

“Ah, I see.” With a nod, you quickly push your hands down on his shoulders. The shove is hard enough to send him to his knees on the ground and you cock your gun, putting it right at his head, “Your poster says dead or alive, didya know that?”

“Yeah I do,” Billy clears his throat, his gaze up at you. He still makes no move to do anything. He doesn’t dive for his gun that’s a couple feet away. He doesn’t try to steal your gun. He doesn’t try to shove or push you away. He’s toying and it’s killing you. 

“Darlin’, listen, maybe we could work out-”

He’s cut off by a shot ringing out. You shot right next to him, so close to him, the bullet whizzed past his ear before landing somewhere behind him. The amount of unadulterated power you feel when you see his expression morph into something of genuine fear makes your stomach heat up more than it should. 

“Mr. Bonney, while I appreciate a negotiation, the price for your head is worth more than anything you could possibly give me.” As you cock your gun again, the movement casual, almost nonchalant as though you don’t have the ability to end his life in the manner of a second. 

Billy’s eyes never leave your figure. He looks up at you with a glint of what you can classify as fear, but also interest. You try to ignore that second part. His eyes are widened and wet, but you’re not sure if that’s incoming tears or just how his eyes are. 

“Your nose is bigger than the poster’s detail,” you blurt out. Why? Why the fuck would you say that? At least you didn’t say he looked more handsome than his picture. More rugged. He’s got a boyish charm that you could easily get hooked to if it wasn’t your job to wrangle in outlaws just like him. 

He doesn’t tease, no, Billy still looks frightened. Is that an act? You almost wanna ask him. 

“You have been followin’ me,” he says, more of a statement this time than a question. You give a nod to confirm it for him, because it doesn’t matter. And you’re wasting time, gun to his head and standing here while he’s on his knees. 

“Now, I’m gonna tie you up a bit so you can’t-”

“I’ll give you somethin’. If you let me go,” he interrupts, his eyes still fucking shining like they hold every single truth of the world. He says it with so much conviction, you almost want to indulge him. 

“Yeah? More than the money on your head?” You knock your gun against his head and he winces despite there being no pain from a few small bumps of your gun. 

Billy goes to speak, but in an instant, he decides to grab at your hips, and he tugs you down with him as he sits. On instinct, you squeeze the trigger, but your hand was already dislodged from it’s position, so the shot rings out beside him instead of at his head. It makes his breath quicken, as yours hitches, your body sat against him, his hold tight on your hips. 

His strong thigh is nestled right between your legs and you glare at him, cocking your gun again and holding it to his head, “What the fuck do you think-”

“You’re a very good poker player,” he says, his voice closer to a whisper than the volume he was speaking before. 

Your head cocks, a confused look dawning your face, “I know that.” 

“Are you alone? Do this all…alone?” Billy swallows hard, shifting his thigh ever so slightly and you instinctively shift too. The fabric of your trousers and his separates the two of you enough, but his words ring true, reminding you of the vacancy of touch in your life. Suddenly you hate him even more. 

“That’s none of your business. But I guess there might be a use for you while I drag you back to Lincoln,” you whisper sharply, getting closer to his face than you might have intended to. 

His breath is shaky, “What’s that darlin’?” Billy looks at your lips. You count it. It was three seconds. Three seconds too long and three seconds too short. 

“You can’t charm me.” You don’t believe your words. In fact, you wonder if his stupid eyes are entranced with a curse solely set out to destroy you. They’re urging you to do something. 

To kiss him. To rub on him. To kill him. 

Billy doesn’t speak another word, but he tilts his head ever so slightly against your gun, the tip of his nose brushing to yours. The floodgates open and you surge forward, your usually careful precision breaking as your lips crash to his. The gun stays to his temple like it’s meant to be there. 

Billy kisses you back in a slower manner, like he wants to take his time with it, but fuck that. You push into him, wanting to own his mouth, feel his tongue slip against yours, suck his bottom lip till it’s even redder than his natural color. 

When he lets out the smallest of moans into the kiss, you start the drag of your hips against his meaty thigh, a rampant, erratic motion that has your finger slipping from the trigger. It snaps you out of it for a moment, but you pull back from the kiss, your breath panting as you grind on him. Billy’s hands never stray from your hips, they hold there, and help a very minimal amount. 

His mouth, now parted, his eyes, as deathly as ever. 

Billy goes to say something and you shake your head, “Shut the fuck up,” and without a though, you drag the gun to his cheek, pressing it into him, watching his eyes flutter in fear and arousal. 

If you chanced a look down to his lap, you would see the bulge growing in his trousers, but you can’t look away from his face. 

Your hips never stutter. They’re on a mission, despite the fact you would get more friction if they were off, this is enough. Enough to feel that heat building up inside of you and enough to make you feel something you haven’t felt in so long. 

Billy mumbles, “Oh fuck,” as you shift, so that every time you grind up closer to his body, you’re grazing near his bulge. It’s much less friction for him. He barely gets any, but that small amount makes his eyes glaze. 

Is he under your curse now? Is that what this is?

Your finger almost slips the trigger again and it makes you grunt out in frustration. Your movements are so harsh, you’re surprised you haven’t accidentally shot the gun. Billy’s eyes flicker to the death trap in your hand, and he goes to speak again. 

You pull the barrel from his cheek down to his mouth, the opening grazing his pretty lips. His mouth stays parted, his eyes telling you he too, doesn’t know why he’s got his mouth open. You count to three in your head and his mouth is still open. Your restraint is gone, the grinding of your clothed cunt on his lap prickles at your skin, and you don’t need to think anymore. 

You shove the tip of the gun into his mouth and he fully closes his eyes this time. 

“Good fuckin’ boy,” you grunt, a moan leaving your lips as you sit up more on him, rubbing on him quicker. Your life depended on it. You push the gun deeper into his mouth and grab at his jaw with your other hand, coaxing him to open his mouth a little wider. 

“Y’know, I could kill you right now,” you breathe out, sneering right in his face as a whimper leaves you. You push down a little harder against his thigh, chasing that feeling that’s approaching. 

“I could kill you so fuckin’ easily. The one who killed Billy the Kid…that could be me right now…all cause you…you took her fuckin’ gun in your mouth.”

How could he be so pretty with it? His eyes tear as you push the gun into his mouth enough to make him gag, but all it does is spur your movements on. You grant him som decency to take some of the gun out of his mouth so he won’t choke on it, but you don’t take it out fully, the sight of him with it is doing too much. Why do you love this? You can’t question yourself right now, but you know it’s fucking sick. He looks lewd, swallowing against the barrel, eyes fluttering and chest heaving as you rock yourself on him to completion. 

When it happens, you moan louder, arching against his body, rubbing yourself on him in quick motions so you can feel every part of that orgasm you so deeply needed. 

Then, you squeeze the trigger. 

Click. 

You have to laugh. A breathless laugh. His eyes are wider. Some of the arousal a bit loss, but still lingering there, and you glance down at his lap, a small wet spot forming on the crotch of his trousers. 

“Seriously?” You taunt him and then slowly slide the gun out of his mouth, your eyes stuck to the string of spit coming from him, and the wetness on your barrel. 

It’s in the flash of a moment that Billy is grabbing your wrist, his bigger hand holding excrucaitingyl tight to you as he forces you to drop the gun. He grabs it with his other hand before you could make a move and he throws it. 

He stands, your wrist still tight in his hand, and doesn’t look back as he drags you the couple feet to his gunbelt, where he grabs his gun, cocking it. He lets go of your wrist with a small shove and points it at you. 

You’re stunned for a moment, processing the sequence of events that just occurred, your mind running rampant and your body still jittery from what the two of you just did. You stay leaned back on your hands, at his mercy, “Go ahead then. Kill me, if you must.” There’s no purpose to your voice. You could scramble for your gun but he could shoot you easily. You could run up and tackle him for his gun, but he’d still have the upperhand. 

You fucked up.

His cursed eyes and just him. Is this why he keeps escaping jails and lawmen?

“I said, kill me,” you say it again, and Billy’s arm is still straight out, gun pointed directly at your heart. His chest is still heaving and his mouth wet and red. 

He lets the moment linger, like he had back at the poker table, then he uncocks his gun, settling it in it’s home in his holster. He leans down to fix his belt on himself on then places his hat back on his head. “I don’t kill women, darlin’.” 

With one more look, his blue eyes cast their last spell, but you’re not sure what. Lingering lust? Arrogance? Pity? He backs off, his gait a saunter. Billy full-on turns his back on you, something so confident it makes you gasp. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there in the dirt and grass, running through the entire encounter, but you know one thing’s for sure.

You’re going to capture that motherfucker someday.

[purplestanleypinkblanket]

Cookies:

Pairings: (DP3 Vers.) Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: In an attempt to finish smoothing things over between you and Logan, he suggests going out to a bar. He says it’s to help you and Logan bond- but it’s actually so he can watch Vanessa work. Wade, knowing exactly what kind of drunk you are, takes advantage of your kind hearted nature to the point that you get hammered. Poor Logan finds himself taking care of you after Wade decides to try his hand at pole dancing.

Warnings: Heavy mentions of drinking, cursing, a few insults sprinkled in, Wade pole dancing, drunk reader.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1,647

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“Come on guys!” Wade whined, throwing his arms over you- interrupting the scowling match between you and Logan. “It’ll be fun!”

You had work the next morning and drinking around an alcoholic Wolverine didn’t exactly sound thrilling. It didn’t exactly help that he clearly hated you. Sure, you didn’t help with your sarcastic comments and matching his glares. Hell, your friends with Wade- how could you not rebuttal Logan whenever he snapped at you?

“I can’t, I have work early tomorrow.” You stated, trying to pry yourself out of Wade’s arms.

“Bullshit.” Wade remarked. “I’ve seen you get shit-faced then hop back up like it’s nothing the next day. You’ll be fine!”

Damn. He had gotten you there. But you were also a much more responsible drinker than Wade gave you credit for. But it came at a cost…your a light weight.

“Good! It’s decided! We’ll all go out tonight! Get your best bar hopping panties on ladies, cause we’re gettin it on.” Wade cheered.

“Wade.” You huffed out, “I ain’t flashing anyone my panties.” You finally cracked a smile, finding it hard to resist his odd sense of humor. As odd as it was, though, you always found yourself cackling.

That’s how you ended up here, in a sleazy bar, wearing a dress that, frankly, shouldn’t warrant all the eyes of shameless men on you. You let out a huff, head resting in your hands as you sipped your alcoholic beverage. Logan sat next to you at the dark oak bar. It was the spot Wade had insisted he take. The partying lights of the dance floor low as Vanessa danced on a pole. You watched as Wade basically threw the same one dollar repeatedly at her, rushing to scurry it back up before throwing it again.

The air between you and Logan, who was sipping at a glass of beer, was less than welcoming. Your eyes analyzed him, the way he looked. He seemed so tired, so defeated, yet alive. Even more so these days as he grew accustomed to life with Wade.

Despite the various martini’s and strong drinks Wade had left not-so-subtly on the bar by you, you had done a fairly decent job at pacing yourself. It wasn’t until Wade’s hand was snatching the water glass from your hand and replacing it with a martini that reeked strongly of booze that you finally guessed his game. He wanted you drunk. And he only brought you two here to see Vanessa dance. You moved to dismiss the drink.

“Wade, I don’t-“

“Drink!” Wade adamantly flashed you his puppy dog eyes, knowing full well if you were tipsy enough you’d fall for it. With a sigh, it turned out you were as you brought the martini to your lips. The more Wade handed you drinks, the more you drank. The more you drank, well, hadn’t everyone heard the story? Needless to say, it wasn’t long before you were slumped over on the bar, giggling to yourself as you looked past Logan to watch Wade try to dance on a pole. He had finesse, but you didn’t miss the way his foot failed to land.

Logan watched you, eyes filled with judgement. He couldn’t believe all it took was a few drinks. His eyes scanned the bar, scowling at anyone who looked at you. He didn’t know why he suddenly hated every man in this bar that looked your way. He told himself it was because you were clearly shit-faced, hell, it looked like you were about to fall off your fucking chair. Logan sure as hell wasn’t about to let some weak ass man who didn’t know how to talk to a woman worm their way into your skirt. Which, by the way, looked bloody amazing. He even found himself struggling not to look at you.

Your voice broke through the tense situation as he glared at any man he could see, “L-,” you hiccuped, “Logan. Why do you hate me?” Your question caught him off guard, a look of confusion passing over his face as he tilted his head. Logan’s eyes looked down at where you rested against the bar, face flushed from alcohol, head resting on your arms. Your cheek was smooshed slightly from where it rested between your arm and the bar top.

“I don’t hate you.” He huffed out, looking away as he brought the beer glass to his lips.

“You act like it.” You couldn’t help the drunk pout on your lips, eyes analyzing Logan from where you rested. His jawline, with the mangy beard that somehow looked damn good.

Logon scoffed. He couldn’t help that he didn’t like you. You were bitchy, and sarcastic, and- his thoughts were interrupted by you suddenly leaning into his side, an exhale on your lips.

“I wished I knew what I did to make you hate me so much, Logan.” You drunkenly confided to him, drawing his attention to you once more. Suddenly, he was aware of the closeness between you two. Of how easily you were to banter with, even if it was in an argument. And you were funny. Logan loved when you would call Wade out. His hand moved to rest on the back of your barstool, his hand resting next to your shoulder in case you happened to fall over.

“I don’t hate you, doll.” Logon sighed, looking down as you lifted another drink to your lips.

“I want cookies.” You stated, not paying much mind to his words. Your mind wandered too fast to truly pay much attention. Not like it could anyway, Wade made sure you were drunk. He knew how you got when you were wasted, you were honest, idiotic, and incredibly cuddly.

“They don’t have cookies.” Logan grumbled, hand moving to rub his face in irritation after it set the beer down.

“They should.” You adamantly decided, head slumping against his chest as you looked towards where Wade and Vanessa pole danced together.

Logan mumbled a rough ‘Hm’, his gaze analyzing your flushed face as you watched Wade and Vanessa. He watched you lean forward, reaching for the shot some creep had bought you. Logan reached for it, taking it from you and sliding it to the side. “Alright, that’s enough, princess.”

“What, no, hey!” You pouted with a drunk huff, reaching for the shot. However, Logan’s hand grasped your wrist after he set the shot down, pulling it away.

“Princess.” He roughly warned, hand on the back of your barstool moving to push your shoulder subtly, causing you to lean back into him.

You melted into his touch, relishing the almost body-heater warmth of him.

“Your warm.” The drunk words were out of your lips before you could really stop them.

Logan nodded with a hum, “I know.”

“I want cookies.”

“I know.”

Silence fell over the two of you. Logan didn’t want to admit it, but he felt rather content with you leaning against him- even if it was because of Wade getting you hammered. He enjoyed how it felt, having a gorgeous woman by his side. It was also nice knowing the sight of you leaning into him scared off anyone who thought about approaching you.

The moment was ruined when the song ‘Tragedy’ by The Bee Gees began playing. It seems everyone had been impacted by the release of the latest Beetlejuice movie.

“I love this song!” You drunkenly erupted, grinning as you moved to hop off the barstool, practically falling as you did so. Logan was quick to move, his hand wrapping on your arm to prevent you from falling.

“Where in hell do you think you’re going?” He growled at you, unamused.

“I’m going to dance!” You giggled, hands grasping his as you tugged him to the dance floor. Logan, despite his grumbles, let you pull him along. He didn’t need some creep coming over when you’re less than aware. When you two got to the dance floor, his hands instinctively wrapped around your waist. You were practically next to the stage that Wade and Vanessa pole danced on.

You jumped, you swayed, you did every move you knew- most of which Logan just assumed you made up on the spot. Your arms in the air, by your sides, in front of you, behind you. Logan was almost certain he watched you do the Macarena at some point. He kept a hand on your waist at all times.

“Why ain’t you dancing?” You asked, facing him with a frown, swaying slightly.

“I don’t dance.” He huffed back, unamused.

You flashed Logan your best, and visibly drunk, puppy eyes. After a moment of internal battle, his hands gently rested on your hips, swaying with you just slightly. It was the best you’d get and it’d be a lie to say you weren’t satisfied with the awkward sway. It didn’t fit the music. Not even close, but you got the Logan Howlett to dance with you!

After a moment, your arms moved to drape over his shoulders, closing any distance between the two of you as your head rested against him.

“Lo?” You mumbled softly against him. It was a new nickname, something you had never used before. He felt his heart hammer in his chest for a split second when he looked down at you.

“Yes, princess?” He asked, forcing his tone to be less rough.

“Can we get cookies later?” Your voice was muffled as you drunkenly held him tighter. His heart clenched and he found himself wishing he had cookies with him right then.

“Of course.” He murmured as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your head.

It was a lie to say he hated you. In fact, he liked the way you irritated him. He only hoped that you continued to banter with him. Lord knows he didn’t feel like he deserved it.

[larcenywrites]

His Assistant

Dom!Tony Stark x sub!fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ | Minors DNI | unprotected p in v sex | blowjob | cunnilingus | claiming/ownership kink | Sir kink | light bondage | choking | hair pulling | some degradation | some praise | possessiveness | jealousy | office sex | rough sex | she/her pronouns | afab reader | lots of porn with some plot

Word count: 4.5K

You could probably guess all the nasty thoughts behind that overly polite smile and charming façade. It was embarrassing, the image of you always haunting the front of his brain, and how he schemed nearly every day different ways to get a reaction from you or to get you close. He loved the way he could get you flustered when he purposefully let you catch him shirtless or when he occasionally guided you through a crowded building with a hand on your back or on your arm; or how tense you got when he brushed against you and he could hear your breath hitch; how supportive you were of him when he was having a bad day, and how he wished that sweet smile on your lips was pressed to his cheek instead. 

Or wrapped around his cock, just to help him feel a little extra better. 

After a couple of years of such tortuous feelings and playful chasing, saying he was starting to get antsy was an understatement. He almost felt silly about how quickly that spark of arousal would pluck at his spine when you walked into the room, and how he subtly tried to keep you around for more conversation even when he didn't need anything else and it was time for you to leave. He was a grown man and your boss, so he should have some better self-control! He doesn't even get this hot and bothered when he's actively reeling in a night's lay! 

No, it didn't start out like this. He was actually very professional at first! Well... there was a reason other than friendliness when he so quickly asked you to just call him by his name and not by 'Mr. Stark' (though chaos still internally ensued when you gave him an obedient yes, sir). Sure, he thought you were pretty and had a thought or two about what it might be like to have you under him, but he did that to everyone he met! He's naturally a flirtatious person without even intending for it to go anywhere, so it wasn't long before he succumbed to his amorous nature. You'd probably just shut him down anyway or get a bit flustered, he figured. 

What he wasn't expecting was for you to bite back, and things just sort of snowballed from there. Maybe it was simple fun at first, but he was pretty sure that the playful glint in your eye was anything but innocent fun. 

What made it even worse was that you just doing your job was enough to get him excited. You were his good, obedient little assistant who did whatever he asked, and you always did it good just for him. That was literally just your job that you did almost every single day, and it drove him up the wall. However, you weren't always so compliant, and sometimes that was a good thing! You did help keep him out of trouble here and there, but while he enjoyed you looking out for him, he also couldn't stand it! He always wants his way anyway, but you were telling him 'no'? 

It's fine! It's your job, remember? 

But it never stops him from trying to persuade you. A rush of power when you look away with a sigh and reluctantly agree, the burn of a challenge in his chest when you oh-so-calmly hold your ground. The game is exciting when he doesn't know which he's going to get each day, but frustrating that he doesn't get to reward you for it. 

Or put you in your place.

Though one lucky day for him (and for you), the usual pushback was a little too hard and far too inviting. 

Holding a stack of papers against your chest and rushing around that busy morning, you weren't pleased to find your troublesome boss lounging around at his desk with a shockingly business-related magazine. With your free hand, you gently tugged the periodical from his hands. 

"I was reading that, you know," Tony quipped before eyeing you up and down.

"You can catch up on your reading later," you rebuked, laying his light reading to the side and resting that rather hefty stack of, uh- legal documents in front of him. His attention never strayed as he watched you organize through yesterday's papers. "You-"

"Is that a new dress?" He interrupted you with the obviously more important thing occupying his mind. You finally turned to him with a sigh. Nothing but innocent interest stared back at you with the end of a pen smooshing at his bottom lip; and now that you had a good look, the tie that normally hung around his neck was undone and gracing around his shoulders with a button or two undone for added comfort. You tried not to stare. 

"It is, and it's not for you," you managed to tease before returning to your previous work without a second glance. Your lack of attention dampened his spirits. 

"Then who's it for?" There was genuine confusion in his voice, a furrow of his brow. You didn't have a date, did you? Who could possibly be better than him? Your answer was actually more terrifying. 

"The shareholder meeting you have in an hour," you informed him with an almost mocking cheeriness before turning to him for a moment. "Wanted to look nice." 

Tony stared at you, that cool and collected facade barely faltering aside from the obvious oh shit behind his eyes. It was the same time every year, twice a year. Yes, you've been reminding him almost every day for the past month. It was mostly you that did all the hard work anyway; all he had to do was show up and look pretty and (hopefully) already know most of what was on those graphs and in those surveys. You turned back to what you were doing when he opened his mouth, already knowing what to expect.

"Can you tell them I'm sick?" 

"No."

"Please?"

"No," you said a little sternly, patience wearing thin and still needing to set up the conference room. 

"But you do so much for me," he continued his plea, trying to sweet-talk his way out of it. 

"I let you get away with too much is what I do."

"Then what's one meeting?" He was standing beside you now, facing you with one hand planted on the desk and another hovering at your elbow. 

"One very important meeting," you said, distracted now, realizing that all those papers you had him sign yesterday were very out of order. 

"You can't talk your way out of this one," you interrupted him before he had another chance to talk. He looked at you like a hurt puppy. 

"I can't even try?"

"Tony-"

"Come on," he took a smoother tone now, and you could already picture that soft smile gracing his lips as you felt a gentle touch to your elbow. You turned to him again, noticing that quick pull of a smirk that knew he was winning now that he'd garnered your attention. Well, thought he was winning. 

"Even you don't get paid enough to deal with your angry shareholders." Your semi-serious joke was met with an amused huff. That hand on the desk mirrored the one on your forearm. 

"Then I can make sure you're well compensated," 

You looked away, trying to control the grin spreading across your cheeks, as well as the blush when he seemed to lean in ever so slightly at your reaction. 

"As big as your compensation might be," you started, pausing to fix an undone button or two before working on that burgundy tie. You could feel that hard stare as you ran your hand down the silky material, keeping it flat against him and plucking that gold fastener from the pocket of his shirt. "My job is to keep you in line," you finished quietly. You looked back up at him as you pinned his tie to his shirt, feeling his abs gently twitch under your palm. He glanced down at your hand still pressed into him. His jaw wasn't the only thing getting tight.

"Is that the only thing in your job description?" He tried to spur you on, that soft smile gone when those brown eyes flicked back to yours with an alluring invitation. 

"It won't even take that long," you reasoned, directing him back to the matter at hand as if you hadn't just started a fire. He finally sighed, looking away and head rolling to the side in physical reluctance. As much as he tried to sway you with his touch (and sometimes it worked), he could never resist yours. 

"Okay," he muttered, backing down and returning to his seat, probably upset that you weren't playing with him. In a way, it was disappointing, but today wasn't a good day to waste time fooling around. 

"Do you need anything else?" 

"No," he said bluntly, propped up with a hand on his cheek and no doubt pouting. 

"Okay," you replied quietly. Admittedly, you did feel a little bad, giving him one last apologetic smile that he didn't even see and taking those papers into your arms. "I'll go finish setting up." He nodded, only looking your way once your back was turned and already heading out the door.

You left. Without even stroking his victim card! And so nonchalantly after touching him more than you ever have before and looking up at him in that way that had his imagination running-

He huffed in frustration, but no one was around to hear it. And now he had about thirty-five minutes to mentally prepare for a meeting with people he barely even liked! 

So when he finally decided it was time to show up, there you were: smiling with said people, gracefully faking laughs, and he knew you were being eyed the wrong way. Whatever the guy next to him was talking about, Tony wasn't listening. Instead, watching your every move while some other asshole put a hand in the same place he had earlier to get your attention. He couldn't explain the burn in his chest seeing someone else touching you, and you were letting them! Listening so attentively and getting what they asked for and- he couldn't take it! 

He needed to remind you who you belonged to, or maybe he needed to reassure himself. He saw his window of opportunity when you gathered up an unused stack of papers and hurriedly left to what he hoped was his office. He slipped away, mere minutes away from doing his actual job for once, and was relieved to find you hastily storing things away behind his desk. 

 "Oh, did you forget something?" You asked, unaware of the turmoil floating toward you and worried that maybe you forgot something. Or assumed that his stony glare was simply him about to enter another complaint to the complaint box (you).

Neither was the case.

"I don't like when people touch my things," he said with a low rumble, fingers tapping restlessly on the desk as he brushed up against you. 

You didn't need any context clues when you looked up at that ravenous stare. He was talking about you, like some spoiled child with his favorite toy. And if he wanted to play...

"I don't remember applying for this job to be one of your 'things', Mr. Stark," you replied cautiously, finally looking up at him and unsure whether to regret your words. You could tell you piqued his interest, with an unsure glint in his eyes and an interested head tilt. "And I don't appreciate when they talk back." As if testing the waters, a hand tentatively gripped around your throat. He could feel your nervous gulp against his palm, the faint rush of your pulse beneath his thumb. He had you fragile within seconds. Your eyes couldn't decide where to look, flicking between that predatory gaze and his lips slightly parted in thought. "I fucking own you," he stated calmly, taking his time to observe the features of your face now that he had you close in his grasp. You couldn't help but want to rile him further. 

"Then maybe you should act like it." The stare that had been lingering on your lips looked back at you with malice. The fingers around your neck slid along your jaw, tilting your chin up at a slightly uncomfortable angle like you were an item on display; just for him to handle however he pleased. His jaw was grinding in frustration.

"I have a meeting to get to," he reminded himself, looking you up at down once more as if deciding what to do with you. You were disappointed when his hand left your chin, but excitement welled up in your belly when he instead whipped that dark tie from around his neck with a commanding "turn around." You'd be crazy not to comply (for a number of reasons), but you still hesitated to let him have you so vulnerable. 

One of those things far outweighed the other. You did as he asked. 

Calloused fingers took your hands, bringing them behind your back and delicately lacing that silky material around until it had your wrists tightly bound. Now you couldn't go around playing nice with other men. A shiver followed the palm sliding up your back, his grip quickly engulfing the back of your neck. There was a firm yet gentle pressure pushing at the top of your spine, urging you down. You didn't need to think twice, already weak in the knees and easily buckling under his touch. You were well aware of what was directly behind you as you kneeled before him. 

"Wait for me to get back, okay?" His question was an instruction, back to lifting your chin as he stood in front of you. You looked up at him through your lashes, tied up and on your knees. The sight had his blood rushing, but your meek "yes, Sir" had him restraining every muscle in his body from taking you right there. He cruelly backed away from you, without another word or touch, quickly heading back before he was missed with nothing but you haunting the front of his mind. 

What felt like an hour was really only twenty minutes. A tense, frustrating twenty minutes that had him racing back to you as soon as the important stuff was done. No time for any of that idle chit-chat when he had you so obediently waiting for him in the other room. The opening of the door caught your attention, but the sharp click of the lock had that wave of excitement bubbling up again. You looked up at him eagerly. 

No words needed to be exchanged. Your mouth was already watering as he worked oh-so-slowly removed his belt, the jingling chime of its buckle tapping along your spine. Had your hands been free, you would be tearing at that button and zipper, far too impatient for the sweet time he was taking. He carelessly kicked his shoes to the side. And then his pants. And finally those fitted black briefs that hadn't been so well-fitted for the past hour. The sight of him went straight to your already dripping pussy, watching him stalk towards you as he jerked himself off and still in that now slightly disheveled button-up (which was a little disappointing). You looked up at him with eyes that begged him for permission, and what looked back was probably anything but. But you were eager to finally take that pretty cock in your mouth; so close now that all you had to do was lean forward just a little more…

But an all too familiar hold on your chin stopped you. He was tantalizingly close, a glistening drip of precum taunting you. The pad of his thumb grazed over your bottom lip before giving him a new idea. 

His hand may have left your jaw, but it wasn't to give you permission. Instead, he swiped a thumb over his slit, gathering his dripping slick. You didn't have to think twice about parting your lips for him, letting him press the wet digit to your tongue. You nearly moaned at his salty taste invading your senses, sucking it from his thumb and earning a hissed-out fuck. He should have known his good little assistant wasn't so good after all. He quickly pulled away from you to instead nudge the hot tip of his cock to your lips, still stroking himself and groaning at your tongue swirling around his head. As soon as your lips wrapped around him, he stopped, threading his fingers through your hair instead with a hum of approval with the shallow bobbing of your head. You let him graze the back of your throat before teasingly pulling all the way back, languidly sucking the head of his cock in and out of your mouth with wet sounds that had his dick twitching and nails biting into your scalp. 

You gazed up at him again as you slowly made your way further down, but before you could have any chance to pull back again, he impatiently thrust into you. You nearly choked, not prepared to take him so far but the tightening of your throat he'd waited so long for felt too good to stop. 

"I know that smart mouth can take more," he snarked breathlessly, cupping your jaw with his free hand to keep you still while he face-fucked you. Even running out of oxygen and tears pricking behind your lashes, you couldn't help but hum out a strangled moan at letting him use you for his own pleasure. 

Your nose was pressed into the nicely trimmed hairs of his pubis, holding you there for a few seconds while he caught his breath and nearly pulling all the way out to let you catch yours. Only a few pitiful pants later and he was sliding down your throat again, only this time with a hitch in his hips. The throbbing twitch in your throat let you know he was close, but so did the fist gripping tighter in your hair and the badly restrained groans above you. You let out a whimperish moan when he roughly pulled your head back with a breaking trail of saliva still connecting you to him. He sloppily jerked himself off at your still parted lips, nudging back in to rest his tip on your flattened tongue when you caught on.

"I don't want you making a mess," he said lowly with gritted teeth. It was code for: swallow it all, and he would be watching. His strokes finally slowed when the first bittersweet spurts trickled down your tongue, working him through the rest of his climax while watching you obediently take that pool of white.

"That's my good girl." The hand on your crown came down to cup your face, thumb brushing affectionately over your cheek and wiping away a stray tear from earlier. You could help but to greedily lick over his slit one last time as he pulled away. You licked the leftover taste from your lips as he bent down to capture you with his own, his tongue lapping over yours and stealing what little breath you still had in a messy kiss. A sharp tug on your makeshift restraints ordered you to stand, and you reluctantly parted from him while he so kindly helped you up. 

Though, as soon as you were finally back on your feet, you were not-so-kindly pushed face down onto his desk, the hand holding your wrists against your back promised no mercy. The sight of you bent over his desk was already getting him hard again. It was a fantasy he'd jerked off to in this very office numerous times, and now you were going to give it to him. Your dress was delicately lifted, fingers playing with the wet spot on your panties before tearing them down your legs. The wooden edge of the desk dug into your hips as he lined you up, already feeling him pushing against your entrance. 

The searing stretch had your bound hands flying back to grab at him in a plea to slow down when he finally pushed into you, too eager to lay his claim and watch himself fill you out. The involuntary constriction of your walls had you squirming, trying to give him more room while he impatiently kept pushing further and acquainting you with every vein and ridge. There was no warning or waiting once he reached your end, nearly pulling all the way out before harshly thrusting back in. A hand clamped down on your neck, keeping you where he wanted while the quick pistoning of his hips drove your own into the edge of the desk, mixing more pain into your pleasure but you wanted him to leave his mark.

 He was ecstatic to hear the cry of his name on your lips and see your tied-up hands pressing against him. He was the only thought behind those glazed-over eyes and that's how it should be. Everything you did was for him, and he would make sure you remembered it. Those pornographic sounds he pulled from you got louder each time he bottomed out. 

"Moan like you're my fucking whore," he encouraged you loudly, taking note of the whimpered sigh that followed and the desperate arc of your back as you clenched around him. "Is that what you are? Just for me?" You were ready to answer him, but only a few panted-out moans left your lips. A smug amusement crept into his grin at knowing he had you too fucked-out to answer, but he wasn't going to let you off that easy. That bruising grip snaked its way into your hair, roughly pulling your head back. "I asked you a question," he growled through barred teeth.

"Yes, Sir~" you quickly corrected yourself. He must have been pleased with that apologetic cry, pushing you back into the smooth wood and pumping into you just a bit harder with his free hand grasping at the edge of the desk for leverage. A moan of his own finally left his lips, letting himself get just as lost as you for a moment. "Always so good for me," he panted, this time without that sneer. His words fueled the flame in your core, already so close to peaking with each strong snap of his hips that kept him deep and relentless inside you. 

Tony knew it, too. Your tight heat threatening to milk him for everything he had, and, fuck, that's exactly what he wanted you to do. You felt him place an affectionate kiss to your neck before resting his head against you, the fist in your hair leaving to join his other on your waist. But there were no nails biting into your skin or another grip trying to leave bruises. Hands caressed softly at your sides, lovingly even. It's just that you were taking him so well and letting him be so rough with you that he just had to drop his tough act to adore you a little. Though he never slowed and your legs ached, the sudden softness had you weaker than the roughness did. 

But you knew Mr. Stark always had you ask for his permission before doing anything.

"Sir, please-"

"It's okay, honey, you can cum for me," he softly panted, pleased that you were asking but far too impatient to test your limit right now. "You've already done such a good job." 

It all finally had you gushing around him, giving him your last bit of control while the desperate pistoning of his hips drove you way over your edge. Hot breath fanned down your neck, tongue flicking over your skin when he licked his lips before the pleasant sting of teeth bit into the crook of your neck. He quickly came with you, arms tightly circling your waist as he finally stilled. He didn't even ask, but he wasn't asking anyway; he was making you his- you were his. Besides, you couldn't find a good reason to protest against the hot cum pooling inside you. 

Your hands were flattened against his stomach with how he was pressed into you, letting you feel the slowing rhythm of his breath and the tenseness of his muscles underneath. It was a surprisingly calm end to all that pent-up aggression that already had you sore, and it caused an emptiness when he finally slipped out of you. There was a ruffling sound of clothes, and you'd be lying if you said that the soft jingle of his belt buckle didn't light another spark as you barely noticed him standing right behind you. You expected him to free you from your binds -hoping- but the mixed mess between your legs gave him a better idea. 

You jolted at the strong tongue circling at your entrance, eating you out even with his seed still dripping from you. The added prickle of his facial hair scratching along your sensitive flesh left behind a pleasurable burn, and he didn't care that you were squirming in overstimulation; in fact he wanted to make it worse, overexcited from finally getting to taste you and going straight for your swollen clit. You couldn't really escape, hips still trapped against the desk and the hands on your thighs begging you to stay. He was only satisfied when you were nearly sobbing his name, shakey legs trying to close him out, and once again cumming hard- only this time around nothing. You were given one last cheeky bite to your thigh before he decided to finally leave you be, but not before thoughtfully pulling your dress back down for you and untying you with a gentle kiss to both of your wrists marked with a faint red. Now that you weren't bound and pinned, you propped yourself up on the desk, arching your back in a satisfied stretch to ease the stiffness in spine, and some of that soreness in your lower belly. Tony watched you as he took his seat, already imagining your naked form stretching out in his bed tomorrow morning. 

As much as you would have preferred to lounge around a bit longer, the wooden desk wasn't very comfortable, and, unfortunately, you had a conference room to clean up and Tony had papers to sign. So, you reluctantly stood up, pretending your knees weren't wobbly. Admittedly, he was disappointed to see you back on your feet so soon as if nothing had happened, even if a little shakey. He'd have to find a way to fix that later. 

You surveyed the floor for a few seconds for your underwear before deciding he probably did something with them that you didn't want to ask about. Unbeknownst to you, that was what he used to clean your mess from his cock, but he would've kept them regardless. After sliding your shoes back on, you instinctively turned to him, fighting the urge to take his lips with yours when he looked up at you. Oh, the sin that hid behind those innocent eyes. There wasn't even a trace. You had to look away. "Do you need anything else?"

He smiled at your diligent servitude, relaxing into his chair with a hand on his cheek. He'd make sure to exploit that more later, too. 

"No, but I will need you back at the house when we're done."

[gideongravesbf]

hi :3 and welcome! Here with a request! I was wondering if you could do Wallace wells with a reader who’s pretty shy and awkward when it comes to going to party’s and talking to people? And maybe how Wallace helps them become more comfortable in social settings? Thank you!

yayy first request on this blog :D !!!!! i love this request bc i suck at social intetactions :') and i def need a wallace in my life 2 motivate me 2 step outside my comfort zone

hope u like it !!!

★★★★

wallace is typically super outgoing and social. that's why when he started dating you, he made it his goal to help you become more comfortable in social situations. he needs someone to party with him and who better than the love of his life ?

he starts by inviting you to meet his friends individually. he would probably take you to meet scott first, since scott is also kinda awkward but endearing in his own way. scott probably talks your ear off about obscure video game references.

eventually, he starts inviting you to group hang outs to have you get accustomed to talking to multiple people at once and navigating group conversations.

if those kinds of situations stress you out as well, then he would never ridicule you for it. he'd subtly nudge you into joining the conversation where he finds fit so that you aren't stuck second guessing when you should speak. if you mess up somehow by speaking out of turn or saying something embarrassing or awkward, he'd quickly cover for you and be so smooth doing it that no one else even thinks that you messed up.

once you get to the parties and clubs kind of interaction, he'll practically be glued to your hip. he would never think about leaving you high and dry at an event where you're slightly uncomfortable. he socializes and mingles with you, inviting you into conversations with any stranger he meets at these events so that you don't feel left out.

if you ever express extreme discomfort in a situation or tell him that you're starting to feel overwhelmed, he would quickly excuse the two of you and take you home where he gives you some tlc. he'd make you tea (if you like it) to calm you down and cuddle with you to reassure you that he isn't upset with you for needing to leave.

[turbulentscrawl]

BUNS HEAR ME OUT.

Top 5 most protective survivors with the ‘who did this to you’ trope.

Let’s just say their S/O gets injured maybe in a match and it’s evident by the damage of the body that it’s definitely not accidental as they claim. So we get a “who did this?”

Maybe this could be a HC for you to do one day lol

Oh this one is quick and easy! I did go back and forth on the exact order here, but these are my top 5s. There is some overlap with the one I just did, but for the sake of changing it up a bit we’ll say that in this case your injuries are obviously also not from a Hunter.

Ganji is at the top because I think he’d be the most emotionally reactive to this specific situation. He’s not as severe as Naib in his revenge, but survivors hurting survivors is a big deal. Like, you’re all stuck here, in limbo, suffering, and some bitch thinks they’re going to start turning it into a free-for-all, too? Fuck no. He feels bad about it later, but he is a little aggressive while trying to get you to admit who did it. He’ll soften a bit if it was a genuine accident, but he still thinks everyone’s been here too long for simple carelessness to be an excuse. If it wasn’t an accident? There are unspoken rules here, and if the manor isn’t going to enforce them, Ganji sure as fuck will.

Naib still has to have a place here, but he’s a smidge lower because his anger is more controlled and calculating. His protective urges in general are pretty off-the-charts and, while he can’t do much about a Hunter hurting you in a game since that’s kinda the point, he can do something about a fellow survivor. He won’t press you too hard while you’re recovering, but frankly it doesn’t matter if you won’t tell him how it happened or who did it. He’s spent years of his life digging up information about targets and this is no different. If anything, it’s easier because he knows the culprit was someone else in the match with you.

Patricia comes after Naib and Ganji because her emotions lean towards desperation more than anger or bitterness. She’s been itching for someone deserving to lay her blood curse on, and this is the perfect opportunity. Someone who was supposed to be an ally has hurt her love? That’s rotten. That’s sinful. She won’t leave you be until you spill who did it. She’s gentle, of course, but every waking moment she spends with you during recovery is spent asking or subtly coaxing you to admit what happened. She’ll give up on asking after several days, but will forever be watching to see if your interactions with the others change. If she suspects anyone in particular, they’re gonna have a little chat.

Andrew can’t see what reason a fellow survivor would have to hurt you, but then he really can’t see reason at all when he’s so angry. He’s not nearly as likely as the others to go out of his way for revenge after-the fact, and he’s not intuitive enough to find out who did it if you won’t tell him…but FUCK he’s mad. Andrew just spends the next few days stewing in anger, tense, sucking his teeth, and cursing randomly in quiet moments. If you or someone else from your match tells him who did it, he makes it clear that he isn’t doing shit for them going forward. Oh, what’s that, they got chaired? Downed? Well, guess they’re fucked. He’d rather take the match loss than save their sorry ass.

Orpheus’s exact reaction is going to depend a bit on when you catch him with all of this. Getting hurt in the matches is normal and frankly he’s a bit numbed to it in most circumstances. But this isn’t a normal match wound, is it, dear? Some of his personalities are more reactive than others, and all of them are quite good at digging. He was a detective, after all. In short, he would appreciate it if you told him who hurt you…but even if you won’t snitch, rest assured he will find out. Whatever happens after that depends on which personality is in charge at the time.

[enchi-elm]

✨ weekend wip exposure club ✨

rules: post 7 sentences/a snippet of an unfinished work

I will do you one better, I will just post the whole thing as I'm not planning on taking it anywhere. Thanks, @strangegeology, for the tag!

Unbeta'd, unedited, etc. etc.

tagging @tortoisesshells, @ladysarai, @thenwhatthefukcisthis, @valerileygreen because I thiiiink you weren't tagged yet!

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

one - love

Eames comes across Arthur at the tennis court. He wants to stay back, observe the man from a distance, but Arthur spots him as soon as he’s within view. His game face doesn’t change—if he’s scowling at Eames’ appearance, Eames can’t tell. He might be hitting the ball a little harder and his opponent stumbles as he lunges, sprawling flat against the court as the ball hits the chain-link fence.

Arthur walks to his bag and grabs his towel, holding up a finger and nodding at his opponent. He wipes his face, walking over swiftly to where Eames stands.

Before Eames can make a comment about his tennis whites, or even ask what the hell Arthur is doing playing at a country club, Arthur cuts him off.

"What are you doing here? Whatever this is, I don’t have time for this right now.”

Hello to you, too. But fine, if he wants to get right to business.

“I have a job for you,” Eames says.

“I don’t work for you.”

“No, but I thought you might deign to work alongside me again. For the right price.”

Arthur gives him a wary look, then glances at his opponent, who’s subtly trying to ingest as many glucose tubes as Arthur’s brief distraction will let him.

“I’m busy,” he says, turning away.

“I’ll be at the bar,” Eames calls out, without acknowledgement from the point man.

Arthur goes back to his position, tossing his towel aside en route. His opponent wipes his mouth and gets into position to serve, already grimacing.

Eames watches Arthur return the serve as if he’s decapitating someone.

Eames knows little about tennis and can’t gauge the length of the game before Arthur shows up at the country club, racket and gym bag slung over his shoulder. Eames is deep in conversation with another patron—swindling him blind and leading him on besides—but he gives a thin smile at the younger man’s approach.

“So what do you want?” Arthur asks, and Eames can tell from no tell at all: he won his match.

“Arthur, let me introduce you to Mr. Ian Thorpe. A financier from Atlanta.”

Arthur shakes hands, just this side of civil.

“Pleasure.”

“Your friend’s been spinning me quite the yarn,” the financier says. He’s a forgettable sort of rich—the right colour suit, but the wrong cut. “He’d have me believing in the investment of a lifetime.”

“He’s a crook,” Arthur says, to a chuckle from Eames. “And a liar. But he gets results.”

The man laughs and rises. “Well, maybe I will give you a call then. I’m sure we can find a way to do business.”

“The pleasure is all yours,” Eames says, greasily, packing everything into the lift of his lips that might otherwise be transmitted in a wink. Arthur watches the man leave and takes the other chair at the table.

“He’s not worth your time,” he says.

Eames casually flashes a black leather wallet—not his. “He already has been.”

“I doubt he’ll miss the cash.”

Eames flips it open and pulls out the driver’s license, perusing it. “It’s not the cash that interests me.”

“He’s your target.”

Eames puts away the wallet. “Or maybe just a person of interest.” He focuses on Arthur, a transparent smile on his face. It could mean anything.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to recruit you. If such a thing is even possible—you must be booked well into next year.”

“What’s the job?”

“An oil man. Bit of a twisted one.”

“Let me guess. Inception?” It wouldn’t be the first offer Arthur’s had this month. It wouldn’t be the first of the week. Whoever blabbed—and Arthur has his theories—made sure that their little reverse-heist was on the lips of every extractor in the industry. Not because they’d tried—God, lots of people had tried—but because Fischer Morrow had folded within six months after Fischer Sr.’s death. Even Arthur hadn’t expected such a swift return.

Eames hums, sympathetic to Arthur’s irritation. He must be hearing a lot of it, too. “You know that the men’s world record for the 100 m dash was at a stalemate for 12 years before it was broken? All it took was one man to crack it and it got beat twice again in four years.”

Arthur pushes down the urge to correct him. It was 14 years, not 12. And it took another five years for it to get broken again. But he knows what he’s saying. For the longest time, Inception was only theory.

“Why, did someone else do it?” That would be interesting.

“A sucker born every two weeks, if the rumour mill is to be believed. Personally, I doubt it.”

“Why, ‘cause you weren’t involved?”

“I was going to say,” Eames says, lifting his glass, “because you weren’t.”

The flattery works, for one unexpected second—Arthur feels a warmth in his neck. He pulls out his water bottle and drinks deeply.

“So what is the job? Extraction? I’m not doing more than two levels. I’m not exactly keen for another one of Yusuf’s concoctions.”

“That’s a shame. I can’t get him off my phone. Says he’s never had such a willing test subject. I think he’d work for free if it meant he got another whack at you.”

“Not a chance. Why aren’t you answering my question?”

“Because I’m savouring this time together before you storm off to annihilate some other poor sod on the court.”

Arthur narrows his eyes. “Why would I storm off?”

“Because you’re not going to like how much you’ll want to do this.”

Arthur listens as Eames tells him the job. He gives it ten steady seconds before he stands and walks away without another word.

“I’ll be in touch!” Eames calls and Arthur gives him the finger without looking back.

[aew-kun-age-regression]

The most amount of Headcannons I've ever wrote for a single character!!! Guess my favourite Ghostbuster lol, I love Egon 😂😅

Caregiver!Egon Spengler Headcannons

He's a very neutral individual overall, he can easily be misunderstood and seen as rude or uninterested but he does care a lot.

I feel like the most likely situation for him finding out about your regression is if you didn't tell him yourself is that he found out during a particularly long night in the lab. You being tired had regressed and he had his suspicions from there.

Him becoming your Caregiver was never something actually verbalised, more just a responsibility he was happy to take on and the two of you went from there.

Egon is big on praise, he knows he's not always the most affectionate (although that's not to say never) however he doesn't want you to believe he doesn't care, he makes sure you know how proud of you he is and how amazing you are doing!!!

I think he'd have a tangle toy in his desk (if you guys are at the fire station) or in his pocket if elsewhere for you (and himself)

Watching TV (movies or shows) are a fun activity for the two of you as it doesn't require talking but you guys can if you want to. - he also enjoys reading be that him reading to you, you reading to him or the two of you individually reading in the same area <333

Egon really enjoys being your Caregiver. It allows for him to de-stress from his very chaotic job/life.

As I previously said he really enjoys reading, his voice is very calming and it isn't out of the ordinary for you to fall asleep listening to him read or just talk about something he's currently analysing.

He got the two of you small matching rabbit plushies. You absolutely love yours, keeping it with you always. (Egon also always has his own on him, it's in his pocket. It got slimed once whilst he was on the job.. he was not happy in the process of it being cleaned, no one knew why you were the only one he wasn't being subtly (not subtle at all) grumpy towards)

He often lets you sit with him whilst he works on experiments, he has a box of crayons for you to use - or you can watch him work on his experiments.

No touching anything to do with an experiment. A joke that Peter came up with was "if you can't pronounce it, don't touch it" ..that motto ended up sticking around for everyone in the end. It became a rule for all of them, it not surprisingly stopped quite a few accidents.

He has let you use his jacket as a blanket.

He really likes doing little things for you such as tying your shoe laces or brushing your hair.

With how popular the Ghostbusters became lots of merchandise was made by different people. Egon ends up surprising you with a little Ghostbusters badge.

You gained the nickname of "Mini Ghostbuster"

He is terrible at going to sleep, he is normally quite good at making sure you're okay and getting the stuff you need to thrive (an actual healthy amount of hours of sleep.)

Speaking of making sure you're safe he is very protective over you, even if people don't realise. He's extremely aware of how dangerous his job is and is not willing to let anything happen to you.

He would have a reward chart for you!!!

He does have a habit of sometimes over complicating things. If he ends up confusing you he will try to explain in a better way for you to understand.

He likes telling jokes but he has quite a dry sense of humour. He tries- He's not at all offended though if you don't understand or find those jokes funny. He ends up making it into a sort of game to see who has the best jokes. You win. Everytime.

His go to for a babysitter is Janine. He trusts the others but Janine is typically away from well, most of the ghost danger and so when Egon is out busting ghosts you get to stay with her which is always fun. She would so spoil you!!!

^ She would make a sensory bin that's under her desk, it has a bunch of fidget toys, and other little toys to keep you entertained. It also has a sensory cube that she made you.

I think that he'd actually be pretty bad with keeping you from eating too many sweets. He has a sweet tooth- 😂 marshmallows though.. they are funnily enough off the table.. along with jelly/jello...😬

He would enjoy doing those kids science kits with you!!!

^ Enjoys learning related games for you. Think like numbered or lettered wooden blocks.

He doesn't share food with anyone that isn't you by the way- :D

I think he'd be really good at getting you to settle down for bed.

He got you some chewalry. He makes sure you have it on you always. (If you end up forgetting it's okay because he didn't and he's got it in his pocket for you!!!)

I cannot see him being able to cook - at least not well 💀

When he does act affectionately it's normally away from anyone else. He gives amazing hugs 🫂 — His cuddles are so comforting!!! <333

^ In public/around others he doesn't show as much physical affection, although he isn't against it if you'd like it. He typically sticks to linking pinky fingers!!!

^ He likes ruffling your hair, if you end up huffing at him because he "ruined your hair" he will find it even more amusing.

Forehead kisses <333

He's good at comforting you when it comes to nightmares.

Documentaries are often left playing in the background.

You could so convince him to have a tea party with you!!!

He'd be so patient with you!!!

I don't think he'd be overly strict. He'd be strict enough to keep you safe but other than that- pretty sure Peter and Ray get told off by him (a lot) more than you would- 😂

[v3nusxsky]

OKAY Okay i love the sex pollen fic with Emily. So I was wondering if we could get a part two where Emily and reader would be like. ‘The pollen was quite actually fun. Let’s do it again but this time we know what are we getting into so we’re going to have it under control.’ But guess what they didn’t and it lead to rough and toe curling smut?

Could there also be face sitting and squirting?

Thank you so much and have wonderful pride month <3

Who's in control 18+

*Authors note~ the long awaited part two for my first ever sex pollen fic*

Trigger warnings~ oral face sitting dom Emily sub r squirting strap a vibe praise kink degrading kink daddy kink mutual pinning mentioned

Prompt~see ask^^^^^

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Previously~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course when you awoke and went to meet the team before boarding the plane, Derek couldn't hold eye contact, JJ looked at you both with knowing smirks and Rossi was conversing with Hotch about what could've caused such odd reactions. Spencer was a clueless as ever. "So you two, did the pollen give y/n a reaction?" JJ teased spotting the hickeys on your neck. "N-no?" You whimpered feeling embarrassed and shy at them seeing them. You weren't embarrassed of Emily rather knowing you felt worthless compared to anyone else who could want her. "Daddy? Oh sorry Prentiss, your girl is rather loud I thought you were murdering her" Morgan teased causing you to flush bright red and Emily to come and hold your waist, your back to her front as she kissed your neck, "jealous because my game is better than yours?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Your girl" was going round and round in your head. Being Emily's girl. As you sat on the jet fiddling with your own fingers as you were in your own world remembering the night before. So stuck in your own mind in fact, you even missed the fact the raven haired women had moved to sit near you, only realising when she smoothly slipped her hand into yours. "Hey pretty girl" she whispered to you. Instead of responding verbally you just allowed your head to lull to the side and rest on her shoulder, "hey."

The ride on the jet was peaceful as the two of you caught up on the sleep that you missed the night before. The power nap on the jet allowed you to get through the paper work of the case before grabbing your go bag and intended to head home. "Angel! Wait up" you caught before leaving the pen. "Em?" You whispered, getting lost in her eyes. "Come back to mine? So we can talk."

And that was how you found yourself on the way to Emily's apartment. You allowed Emily to guide you to the sofa as she went around to feed Sergio before coming to join you. "The pollen stuff, can we do it again? But more of us in control?" She murmured watching as you nodded rather shy. "Why so shy angel? You weren't shy last night" she teased and you flushed a bright red colour. "So fucking pretty!"

Your lips soon found one another as if it was a decades old dance. You being tugged onto the other woman's lap as her hands found your skin. And it wasn't long before you were subtly rolling your hips against Emily in hopes of finding some friction. Only when breathing became necessary did you tilt your head, exposing your neck to the raven haired woman who was now happily biting and sucking on your pulse point, adding to the marks that already lay there.

To say Emily was fit was an understatement so there was no surprise when the woman lifted you up and carried you to her bedroom and gently placed you on the bed without losing contact with your throat. "Daddy" you whined hoping she would get the message. "Shh Angel, daddy's gonna take care of you" was mumbled against your throat. Clothes torn from each others bodies as your hands roamed familiar yet unknown skin. "Daddy, please I need to taste you" you whimpered causing a smirk to adorn her lips.

That was how Emily found herself straddled your head gently as you hooked your warms around her thighs. A small tug from you had the older woman sitting on your face, allowing you to lick and suck on the soft skin of her thighs before finally bringing your mouth to where she wanted you. "Oh fuck Angel, god I've wanted this for so long" she mumbled in between curses of overwhelming pleasure.

Emily whined in surprise as your tongue slipped into her soaking hole. Your nose bumping her sensitive clit as her hips ground down against you. "Oh god! Yes fuck me y/n more please" she mewled finally approaching that edge. "Oh god Angel, gonna cum fuck!" Was all she offered before her legs began to shake and she drenched your chin and mouth with her slick.

It took her a few minutes to gather herself before shimming down the bed and spending your legs. Your scent hit her instantly like a freight train. "Oh Angel, did pleasing daddy really cause all this?" She muttered trailing her fingers through your slick. "Oh daddy knows just what to do with you my slutty little fuck toy" her filthy words turning you on even more, so much so you missed her leaning over to grab a small vibrator and a strap that you honestly thought wouldn't fit. "Daddy it's too big" you whined, eyeing the strap on cock curiously.

"I'll make it fix Angel but first we are gonna attach this first okay?" With a nod from you she easily attached the little toy to your sensitive clit and strapped up. "Daddy please" you whimpered as your hips involuntarily bucked upwards, only to feel the vibrations start rolling against your clit. Your whimpers and pleads for more had Emily slipping her thick faux dick into your slick folds. "Oh daddy! Fuck please" you whimpered as she began to move in a rhythm. It was maddening, slow but deep strokes managing to hit your G-spot every time.

But before long Emily's patience faltered and she slipped from your quivering slick hole, flipping you on your hands and knees as if you were nothing more than a mere rag doll. She was quick to re enter your cunt hitting a new depth. "Daddy daddy fuck gonna cum" you chanted over and over, "please god please daddy can I ?" Instead of a verbal response Emily thrusted her cock into you harder and faster than before. "Cum my slutty doll" she purred as you tumbled over the edge.

Fucking you into oblivion was quickly becoming Emily prentiss's favourite pass time. The little whimpers and pleads and mewls of pleasure before you crowed out for her as you tumbled over the edge over and over. Yes, Emily was obsessed with you. So it was only natural the woman kept up her brutal pace as the vibrations rolled mercilessly over your clit. "Daddy! No no no more too sensitive" you stumbled only to be ignored, the toy being ripped of your sensitive bud and you were roughly flipped onto your back once more. Her talented fingers rubbing tight fast circles as she whisper the most filthy yet beautiful words down your ear. "Cum for me darling" was murmured to you causing you to let the coil snap.

"Such a pretty slut for daddy! Gorgeous girl" she praised as your body shook with the waves of pleasure. "Daddy no stop please gonna- I'm gonna" you whimpered before wetness gushed from your abused cunt. "Oh god I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't" you whimpered fearing the worst, that had never happened to you before. "Oh you good good girl! So pretty Angel, you did so good for daddy! I have so many ideas for your slutty cunt Angel" her praise doing wonders in calming your nerves. "Just need to clean you up sweetheart okay?" She murmured and gently cleaned you up as quickly as she could without hurting you. The sheets swiftly changed as you dozed in her bed. And truly she had that crazy un sub and a wild night of passionate sex, months of pining for each other to thank for this moment.

Word count~ 1394

[st4rfckerz]

OMGOMG OK SO IMAGINEEEEEEE

Imagine being in a secret relationship with Anakin, theoretically you’re a senator. You got put on a mission together, him basically acting as a guard or someone to support you on the mission. During said mission, you get into an argument that’s cut short due to a meeting or something like that, but he still has to be close to you. A long day of meetings and debates, Anakins eyes piercing into you but completely avoiding you when you look back.

Once the mission is successful, you decide to go to a pub nearby to celebrate. You go with the few others that came on the mission with you, but over time it gets to the point that mainly you and Anakin are alone. AND THEN some guy walks up. I think you can guess what’s gonna happen 🌝. He starts flirting with you, at first you ignore it but you play along when you see the look in Anakins eyes. If he wants to be a prick you can just find another who won’t be, right? He knows your game, but he can’t help the jealousy that tingles in his chest every time the man speaks a word to you.

“Senator ____, I believe it’s time to head back. We have a long ride ahead of us,” he says, his teeth gritted and the expression on his face tells you that he’s fallen into your game (you will in fact have a long ride (do you get it 🌝)).

Immediately he’s grabbing you and not so subtly rushing you out, and you barely enter your hotel before he’s on you.

“Think you’re funny, huh? Flirting with some prick to make me jealous?”

“Did it work?”

“I think you know the answer to that, angel.”

He’s grind you down on to his hips, a hiss leaving his mouth at the contact. Next thing you know you’re lying down on the bed, completely naked as he teases you. It’s just as painful for him as it is for you, but he takes pride in the way you moan and grind down for the most minuscule amount of friction like a bitch in heat.

“Would you be doing this for him?”

He’d hold you down with his gloved hand, the feeling of the leather rough on your skin.

Soon he’d give in and end up bullying your poor pussy into oblivion with his cock, the feeling of him almost becoming too much.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Small hisses and whimpers leaving his mouth as he claims you, proving to you that he is the only one for you. Not some trash that hangs out at bars and tries to pick up girls.

You’re his.

-🪩

SORRY THIS WAS RUSHED AND KIND OF A BLURB BUT I WNATWD TO SEND IT TO UUUU

anon how do you keep thinking of these things.

(also its so cute that you wanted to share this little thought with me i heart u)

he would be soooo ready to take you home with the sole purpose of fucking you until you forget about the guy at the bar. and he's not stopping anytime soon either, he's gonna make you cum with his tongue, his fingers and his cock.

[kaigarax]

Stars In The Sky

Miya Osamu x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love unexpectedly."

Miya Osamu falls in love like the falling of night over a city. Just like the cycle of day and night, it is certain to happen. While it appears that there is no physical change, everything suddenly feels different.

---

Osamu watches you curiously as you make a house of cards.

Your face is scrunched up in concentration, a slight crease between your brows and a determined look in your eyes. He finds it a little cute how you stick your tongue out slightly from the corner of your mouth.

He moves over slowly until he’s eventually standing beside you.

He can’t remember the last time he saw someone this concentrated over a simple house of cards. He thinks that it was maybe his brother back when they were nine? Back then Atsumu was pouting over losing a board game so he had opted to sit by himself making a house of cards instead spending time with the other children. Accidentally Osamu (or so Osamu claims) tripped and ended up bumping into his brother and sending the entire thing toppling down. Atsumu refused to talk for a while after that.

Osamu wonders if you would be the same. He doubts it. You don’t seem to have a mean or vindictive bone in your body - which is probably why his brother seems to like you so much in the first place. But Osamu does think you would probably pout. Scrunch up your face like you do when you miss a serve during practice but you would be a good sport about it. It’s why he’s taken such a liking to you.

“Don’t.” You say, holding an arm out to stop Osamu from coming any closer.

He smiles mischievously in response, “don’t what?”

“Don’t take another step.” You demand, “in fact, stop breathing for a moment.”

He chuckles, “scared a little breeze will knock it over.”

You slap your hand over his mouth gently, “yes. Now hush you. I need to go find another pile of cards. I know that they always keep at least three different decks.”

“Do ya want help finding it?”

“Mm,” you ponder for a moment, “if you want to.”

“Great!” He takes a step forward at the same time as you. Unfortunately, Osamu had ended up miscalculating the distance between himself and the chair which resulted in the two of you bumping into each other slightly. In an attempt to keep you from falling, Osamu reaches his arm out to catch you. You seemed to have the same idea in mind, only you had reached backwards to catch yourself which resulted in Osamu getting pulled down with you. The two of you stumbling head first into your delicately crafted tower of cards. Osamu smiles sheepishly, “or… not so great.”

You sigh deeply, “guess I don’t need that extra deck of cards anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” Osamu apologised. His arms are held out to either side of you, pinning you between himself and the table you had previously been building your tower of cards on. He feels bad about knocking over your house of cards but feels even worse about the position he’s in now. (Not because it feels bad being pressed against you but because it actually feels rather nice and he knows that it shouldn’t feel this nice. And he feels even worse that he thinks it does.)

“It’s okay,” you reach up and brush his hair out of his face.

Subtly, he leans into your touch, “you sure?”

“Mhm.”

Osamu pushes himself away from you as if suddenly coming to his senses, the tips of his ears flushed bright red. Osamu has never been the kind of person to take advantage of a situation like this (he’s not his brother) and he just knows that the guilt is going to eat away at him if he begins now. No matter how cute he thinks you are.

You don’t seem very bothered by him as you easily pull yourself up and start to gather up the pieces of your collapsed tower. You hum softly to yourself as you realign all the cards making sure that they’re all facing the same way.

Osamu’s immediate reaction is to help you pick up the cards but he imagines that that would only complicate the process. You seem like a rather meticulous person that prefers to have things done a certain way. He knows better than to get in the way of people that like to do things a certain way. Having a brother like Atsumu is bound to do that to you.

“So,” Osamu clears his throat, trying to clear the awkward silence, “do ya do these kinda things often?”

“The magazine interviews?” You ask.

Osamu nods.

“Not usually, but my manager keeps on insisting that I should do more.” You shrug, “something about having to get my name out there more.”

Osamu nods his head in agreement, “it’s a good thing. Makes it easier ta get into places when people already have a pre-established idea of who ya are. Opens up more doors than ya would think.”

You nod in agreement, your attention still on the deck of cards that you so meticulously put back together. Osamu moves over to sit beside you. Sitting up on his instead of a chair like you as he rests his head on the table turned over to look at you. You grace him with a quick look and a small smile when your eyes meet his.

“So, what do ya like ta do?” Osamu asks, a small smile on his face, “part from knocking down card houses.”

“Hey!” You pout as you put the last of the cards away and slip them back into their box, “we knocked down that card tower together.”

He chuckles in response.

You laugh along with him, “I guess I also like to go stargazing.”

“Oh really?” Osamu perks up in response, “I was pretty inta stargazing back when I was young too! Well, I didn’t care enough ta learn the names of stars but I liked lookin’ at em’. A pretty sight.” His eyes sparkle as they meet with your own.

“What do you like about the stars?” You asked.

“I like the meanings of stars.”

“Like astrology?”

“Mm, more like the poetical sense. Like how writers use the stars.”

“Hm?” You tilt your head to the side cutely, confused.

“Like when someone says ‘written in the stars’,” Osamu explains, “it’s usually like another way of sayin’ Fate.”

“An outside force that controls what happens?”

“Sounds less poetic when ya say it like that.”

“Really? I quite like it!” You grin, “to be fated to be with someone. I find it romantic. It’s like the universe is saying that this is the person that you were meant to be with. That this is the person that is best suited compared to all the others of billions of people here on this earth.”

“Not everyone likes the idea of having ta follow predetermined paths. It takes away the concept of agency and freedom.”

You nod, “everyone likes different things and has different perspectives.”

“Mhm.”

“So, what other kinds of star sayings do you like?”

Osamu ponders briefly before smiling, “stars in your eyes.”

“I don’t imagine it would be very comfortable to have stars in your eyes.”

“Not like that~” Osamu chuckles, “it’s more like someone being very hopeful and excited for somethin’.”

“Oh!” You beam, “tell me another, please!”

“Good friends are like stars.” Osamu begins.

“Oh, I know this one,” you add, “you don’t always see them?”

Osamu nods, “even when they aren’t directly involved in your life at the moment ya always know that they’re there. Ya can always feel their presence in ya life no matter how distant they seem.”

“Really? I always thought the saying was more like, ‘sometimes you don’t always notice the stars in the sky just as you don’t always notice who’s being a good friend to you.”

“I suppose that could work. I’ve just never really thought about it like that before.” Osamu watches you curiously, “any other star sayings that ya know?”

You bring a hand to your chin as you ponder for a moment, “the stars have aligned. Like this specific scenario was so lucky that something that rarely ever happens has happened in order to make something like this possible.”

“I’ve never really liked that one.” Osamu admits.

“But you like ‘written in the stars?’ Aren’t they rather similar?”

“‘Written in the stars’ is more like you were meant to be connected to this person no matter what while ‘the stars aligned’ is like saying you got lucky.”

“So, you feel like it undermines all the hard work you’ve done to get to where you are?”

“Yeah, a little somethin’ like that.”

Osamu and you share a smile.

Atusmu never cared much for phrases like that. He always cared more about the direct impact and actions of things rather than the subtleties that came with messages like ‘amongst the stars’.

You lean back in your chair, resting your head back as you take in a deep breath. It kind of reminds Osamu of right before you’re about to serve. He’s really only watched you play volleyball once (because his brother had dragged him there to watch you play) and the way you serve had caught his attention immediately. Don’t get him wrong, you were a good hitter and a decent passer but your serves left him reeling back. Perhaps the best precision that Osamu has ever seen someone around their age have.

What you lacked in strength you made up for in intelligence and tricks. Switching between putting a hard float to a soft one depending on which player your coach instructed you to serve to. The most entertaining thing though was how you had spent the entirety of the game serving the ball to the front half of the court before finally sending a deep and fast ball straight into the chest of one of the girls winning your team the game.

“Do you think you’re a star?” You ask softly.

“Like someone popular?” Osamu asks, “or like an actual ball of gas high up in the air?”

You smile playfully, “obviously a ball of gas~”

“Then yes, of course! Though I’d reckon that Tsumu’s the bigger ball of gas then me.”

“Filled with hot air, hm?”

“Mhm,” Osmau nods before the two of you burst out into laughter.

Your eyes soften when you mention Atsumu. It’s not that lovesick look that so many girls have before but it’s not exactly something platonic either. Or at least Osamu doesn't want to rule any romantic possibilities out. Obviously, he doesn’t want to think that you have a crush on his (annoying) twin brother but he does admit that the two of you are a lot closer than you and him. Not only did the two of you meet each other first but it felt as if there was this distance between Osamu and yourself that he wouldn’t really let you cross. A line that you couldn’t cross.

“I think the two of you are like binary stars.” You say softly.

“Hm?” Osamu raises a brow, “binary stars?”

“A system of two stars that are gravitationally bound to one another,” you explain, “or at least on the volleyball court that’s how the two of you seem. Drawn together in a way that most people aren’t. I wouldn’t say that you need one another to survive to be good… but it’s kind of like you bring out the best in one another, ya know?”

“That’s a very sweet way of putting it.”

“Is it?” You blush, “I was just kinda saying what I thought.”

Osamu smiles softly, “don’t worry. I get ya.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” You ramble, “the last time I said something like this I was given weird looks and I’m pretty sure that person stopped talking to me. I kind of have a tendency to say whatever's on my mind without thinking it through.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Thank goodness for that.” You smile to yourself as you reach into your pocket. You pull out a red lollipop, wrapped in one of those thin plastic wraps. Your eyes brighten as you pull the plastic off and tentatively taste the lollipop before finally popping it into your mouth.

“So, what about off the court?” Osamu asks, “do you think we’re still binary stars?”

“Well, you’re apart right now, aren’t you?”

Osamu smiles at that.

“Here,” you reach into your pocket and pull out a lollipop.

He raises an eyebrow, “hm?”

“You looked like you wanted one.”

A smile forms in the corners of his lips as he takes the sweet treat from you, “thanks.”

Fall in love with someone unexpectedly.

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

CELEBRITY | chapter 7

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

SYNOPSIS: The protagonist has tried everything: acting, modeling, singing. But what got her a front page cover was being seen with a Premier League player. Unfortunately, that’s currently the least of her worries. WARNINGS: smut; kind of dom!ruben; social media post; minors dni.

|[previous chapter]| — |[masterlist]|

CHAPTER VII — THE BRACELET

The air in the apartment feels heavy as Lily and the protagonist stand facing each other. It had been months since they had last spoken. 

The protagonist clears her throat, the effort to speak almost tangible.

"Lily, listen, I... just want to say that... it's okay for us to live together." Each word is a struggle, the bitterness of their past still lingering in her voice.

Lily's expression remained unreadable, her gaze piercing. "Of course it is." She replies, her tone cool. "I've never had a problem with it."

The protagonist feels her anger flare at Lily's nonchalant response. "Really? Because I seem to remember things differently." Her voice is sharp with sarcasm. "Like the time you 'borrowed' my bracelet and conveniently forgot to return it."

Lily's eyes widen as she claims innocence. "You're still on about that old thing? You know I never touched it!"

The protagonist feels a surge of frustration. It was clear that Lily was not interested in reconciliation. And the bracelet was just one example of the many complaints she held against her former friend.

With a deep breath, the protagonist tries to keep her composure. "Well, I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree." She says icily. "But let's be clear, I won't tolerate any more of your games. We're roommates, nothing more."

Lily's smile falters briefly, a hint of uncertainty crossing her face. But it was quickly replaced by a facade of indifference. "Fine by me." She replies, her tone dripping with insincerity. "After all, it's not like we were ever really friends, were we?"

With that, Lily turned and walked away, leaving the protagonist alone with her conflicted emotions. Anger, sadness, and a profound sense of loss washing over her.

It's late, the city is quiet outside. The protagonist stands outside Rúben's apartment, perplexed by his persistent calls. They haven't discussed their relationship, but she goes every time he calls. Before, Rúben used to find any excuse to see her, but now he simply calls, and she comes running, drawn to him despite the unanswered questions between them.

As she enters his apartment, she's reminded of the need for caution. They can't risk photos of her here, not with looming threats. 

So, it's not like it was with Kevin, she tells herself. 

And it isn’t. Rúben's touch is gentle, his kisses soft. He holds her hand as they sit on the couch, watching TV. And it never progressed further than that.

So this time it’s different in many ways.

The protagonist feels respected, like Rúben is giving her time, like he wants to get to know her better. Despite his respect, her mind wanders, consumed by longing. Rúben is respectful, but she knows he would give her more if she asked. Does she dare?

The protagonist shifts subtly, repositioning herself closer to Rúben on the couch. She leans in, her body language conveying a subtle invitation. Rúben notices, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of curiosity.

Without breaking eye contact, she reaches out, her hand finding his and intertwining their fingers. Rúben's expression softens, a silent understanding passing between them. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a tentative kiss.

The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate.

Rúben breaks away long enough to pull her closer, then presses his mouth back down onto hers, deepening the kiss even more. 

Their bodies pressed together, each seeking comfort from the other's warmth. His hand slides up her thigh, squeezing gently at first, but gradually increasing pressure. His tongue pushes into her mouth, tasting her as his hand inches up her skirt.

In the mirror across the room, the protagonist watches herself melt under Rúben's touch.

“I want you.” She whispers breathlessly. "So much"

“Yes, yes, I want you too.” He responds huskily, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her against him. “Let me take care of you."

He pulls off her panties, dropping them on the floor beside the couch, then yanks down her skirt. He's a bit rougher than she was expecting, but she's so horny she'll let him do anything he wants. He unbuttons her blouse, then unclasps her bra and tosses it aside, leaving her completely naked. His eyes wander over her body, lingering on legs, then her stomach, her breasts, finally coming to rest on her face. 

The protagonist moans when he brushes his thumb across her lips, then tilts her head to the side, encouraging him to go further. With a deep groan, Rúben leans forward and presses his lips to hers again.

She closes her eyes and his hands move over her skin, learning her curves. His hands are firm on her breasts and when she makes eye contact with him again, he has a proud smile on his face.

"You're so fucking hot."

His hands slide down to her thighs, gently lifting them, opening her legs wider, until they are spread open in front of him. She moans as he kisses her body, pausing at each breast to kiss and lick, sucking on her nipples, teasing her with small nips before retreating. 

As he kisses his way down, his hand moves up her inner thigh, making slow, deliberate circles. The more he touches her, the wetter she gets.

"I want to see you too. Please." She pleads.

"Yeah? Want to see if you can take it?" He asks, grinning down at her.

The protagonist bites her lips and coyly nods, begging him with her eyes.

"I'll show you." A lustful grin spreads across Rúben’s face as he starts to undress. 

Her eyes grow wide as he lifts his shirt over his head, revealing his lean muscles and athletic body. He bends down and pulls off his shoes, socks, and pants, tossing them aside. Then he steps out of his underwear, his cock already erect.

The protagonist watches with growing arousal as Rúben's hands roam over his muscular chest, down his belly to his cock, which points straight toward her face. She licks her lips nervously. He climbs up on the couch, kneeling in front of her, his hard cock bobbing just inches from her mouth.

"Open your mouth." He says, reaching out and stroking her hair with one hand. When she does as he asks, his member touches her lips and he begins to push it in. The tip slips past her teeth, only barely grazing her tongue. Rúben grins.

"You got it."

Slowly, Rúben moves his cock in and out of her mouth, going deeper each time. The faster he goes, the harder she cries out. She opens her mouth wider, trying to take all of him inside. 

She grips the armrest of the couch tightly, a single tear running down her face. Rúben’s hand is soft on her hair, as he pets her. When he feels her throat start to constrict around his shaft, he puts his hands on her shoulders and slowly eases out of her mouth. She moans loudly as she takes him back inside.

"Take it like a good girl." He breathes.

The protagonist struggles for air as Rúben thrusts himself into her mouth, harder and faster than before. Her eyelids flutter closed.

Finally, Rúben stops thrusting.

"That's good, that's good." He tells her.

When she opens her eyes, she finds him smiling down at her, an approving look on his face. He continues to stroke her hair, looking down at her with such affection and adoration. The protagonist tries to catch her breath, taking deep breaths through her nose as she strokes his cock.

Rúben smiles. "Now come here."

He sits back on the couch and takes her in his arms. As she straddles him, he gently kisses her forehead. He fingers her shortly, claiming that she's wet enough, before lining himself on her entrance. She gasps softly as he pushes himself inside.

It hurts slightly, but he keeps pushing in, until eventually, she sinks all the way down onto him. His eyes close and he sighs.

Rúben rests his hands on her hips, letting her control the pace. She keeps her rhythm slow and steady, moving back and forth on top of him, rocking her hips back and forth as she rubs her clit against him. Every few minutes, she slows her movements and leans forward, rubbing her lips and tongue against his skin, biting his ears, causing him to moan in pleasure.

They stay this way for several minutes, neither saying anything. Finally, Rúben grabs her hips and pulls her up and down faster. She clenches around him, pushing herself down onto his cock, enjoying every sensation. Soon, she can feel her orgasm building, and she doesn't want to hold back any longer.

As she continues to ride him, she grinds her pussy harder, squeezing him tighter. Suddenly, her climax overtakes her. She grits her teeth and shudders, tightening around him. Rúben moans in pleasure as he comes too. They continue to move together for several seconds before finally collapsing on the couch, still joined together.

When they finally get their breathing under control, Rúben looks into her eyes. She blushes slightly.

"You were amazing." He says.

lilyymargaret

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long story short, it was a bad time

sarahck hey, that's my old bedroom! 😭 ⤷lilyymargaret i miss you too 😭 alanejjone baby face mseeker girl, you're an inpiration!

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[aritsukemo]

hii !! can i request a sunny x reader where reader is like vyn richter from tears of themis? here's a brief description if u don't know abt him!

vyn richter has a calm and elegant vibe and nothing seems to be of challenge to him, he's good at observing people's emotions and is very, if not, too sharp at observations, (he's a psychiatrist which explains it), those around him feel at ease and naturally open up to him, displaying their truest self

that's all, thank you!

Sunny with a Vyn Richter!reader

Warnings: This post contains not so vague spoilers for one of the endings of Omori! If you haven't seen the full game yet, I wouldn't suggest reading unless you want to be spoiled! ⚠️

A/N: So I guess this means I'm opening requests now? 😅 I've heard hearsay about this game but have never actually played it. Maybe this is life telling me I should give it a try, hehe~ ( I apologize in advance for how ooc both the reader and Sunny is! )

↪ When you moved to Faraway Town two years after the incident happened, Sunny didn't think much of it. Heck, being as far gone as he was at the time, he probably didn't even notice having completely cut himself off from the outside world

↪ It wasn't until another two years later when Kel finally managed to get Sunny out of the house that he was able to meet you. By that time, you had long become a well known figure in town and made many friends, Kel included, which is how you inevitably met one of his best friends, Sunny

↪ At first, you hadn't made the most lasting impression on him. Yes, you were kind to him, but nothing about you really stuck with him. If anything, he found you a little intimidating since everyone seemed to hold you in such high regards whenever you were brought up. That being said, his first hangout with you was from a distance and Kel did all of the talking for him

↪ At the end of the day, you had opted to walk Sunny home since Kel had to run some errands for his mom. Sunny wasn't fond of the idea but, of course, didn't verbalize his thoughts. Kel wasn't planning on leaving you two alone either, but since you managed to persuade him otherwise, he ended up leaving Sunny in your care, much to the boy's dismay

↪ As you walked side by side, you maintained a one-sided conversation, not at all bothered or discouraged by the fact that Sunny made no effort to answer your surface level questions or say anything at all. Instead, you continued speaking and shifted the conversation to focus on yourself so that he could get to know you better and hopefully give him the incentive to talk about himself..which didn't happen

↪ When you finally made it to his home, Sunny was relieved. It's not that you were overbearing or anything, but he wasn't very fond of walking with strangers..

↪ "I had a wonderful time with you today, Sunny. Remember, if there's anything bothering you, I'm only a few blocks away."

↪ Over the course of a few mere months, you had managed to become a staple in Sunny's life. Everyday you had made it a habit to check up on him and although he didn't answer the door at first, he eventually did and got used to your daily visits. You always brought food, made conversation, and occasionally subtly questioned him about things regarding his health. Usually, Sunny would be put off by this behavior or even a little annoyed by it, but things felt different with you. He doesn't know how to explain it, but something about you just made him feel so safe and comfortable..

↪ That behavior eventually led him to adding a counterpart of you in the false world in his head and even then, they acted exactly like you to the point where his own counterpart feared you'd find out the truth..which you inevitably did

↪ It was a tough, tough battle. In his daydreams, you had always managed to weasel your way into Omori's friend group no matter how many times he reset/changed things. Additionally, he always had the reoccurring dreams of you somehow finding out the truth which inevitably led to Omori having to kill you over and over and over again in order to protect Sunny

↪ But after a while even his counterpart, who was created to fight tooth and nail to keep the truth hidden, fell victim to your comfort and could no longer hide anything from you which led to Sunny becoming rather..distressed. It was even worse that you noticed his distress irl

↪ That day was the first time in a long time Sunny ever let someone in completely. He told you everything. What happened, his daydreams, all of it. He fully expected a negative reaction from you, I mean, he looked and sounded crazy, but.. You gave him a smile and kept a steady grip on his hand instead..

↪ "I figured something like this was the case.. Oh, don't get me wrong. I had no idea of how deep this went, but from what I heard from the others I was able to piece most things together on my own.. Either way, I can understand why you would keep things under wraps. Such a traumatizing situation like that must have been hard on both you and Basil..hm. Regardless of everything, please know that I'll always be here for you, Sunny."

↪ And that was the day you sold every ounce of your future free time to him lmao-

↪ After you made it clear that you don't think differently of him for what happened, Sunny has been glued to your side. He comes to you for just about everything and he'll pretty much do anything if it meant he can be in your presence. Going outside and hanging out with you and Kel, running errands with you, and more!

↪ Little by little, you helped him however you could in order to hopefully better his mental health. You could somehow always tell how he felt despite his neutral face so he could never hide anything from you. He became just a tad bit more talkative ( Not to anyone else, he was pretty much the same towards them ) and thanks to your help, got little better at conveying how he felt. It wasn't great, but it was progress and that's all that mattered to you

↪ When everything hit the fan, you were away on a family vacation and when you came back, you were informed that Sunny and Basil were sent to the hospital and immediately payed them a visit. You were just a little worried, moreso for Basil than Sunny since Basil wasn't as willing to open up to you despite your many efforts, but that slight unease soon went away when you visited Sunny

↪ He didn't tell you what happened or why his eye was covered in bandages, but he did let you know that he told Kel and the others what really happened to Mari. You were so proud of him and made sure to let him know of how proud you were that he was able to overcome everything on his own. You weren't expecting him to crack a smile

↪ You were truly the best thing that could've ever happened to him, he thinks

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx