#it scares the hell outta me every time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ningvory · 1 month ago

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SCREAM - jang wonyoung

1,740 words // yall i wanted to do kinktober sooo baddd but im so outta ideas and school and work has been draining😔 so instead i'll just write 2-3 more halloween themed fics

CW: noncon -> dubcon, ghostface!wonyoung, big dick wony, bully!reader, a little knife play, choking, backshots, doggy, missionary, a little tit play, mentions of reader getting impregnated, squirting, not proofread lolz

its about 11pm on a friday, 'means girls' is playing on your living room tv while you were in the kitchen searching for a pot to put your noodles in. your parents left for their business trip to wherever, you weren't really paying attention after they mentioned you'll be alone for two weeks and that you had a spending allowance of 5k, which is why you were wearing your new black lingerie set under your fuzzy pink robe.

you were humming a song as you head to the pantry to get a bottle of water to fill the pot with until you heard your phone ringtone go off. you went to mute the tv and grabbed your phone, tapping the answer button. you held the phone up to your ear but you're met with silence.

"hello?~" you questioned, dragging out the word. it was a habit of yours when you were annoyed,

"didn't think you'd pick up." the voice was cheerful, too cheerful to the point where it had you furrow your eyebrows trying figure out who's calling you at this time.

"well, i did. so.." you responded with a little bit of attitude. you were starving and here this stranger is playing on your phone. "listen, who the hell are you and what do you want?" you raise your voice a octave.

"your tits look good in that bra, wish i can see the way your ass looks in the panties." you furrow your eyebrows once more. every window was locked and your curtains blocked any prying eyes from seeing inside.

"um—you must've gotten the wrong number or something. i'm hanging up now." you smile half heartedly, trying to wrap things up, whoever this girl is can probably hear your labored breathing.

"hang up this fuckin' phone and i’m killing you myself!" she quickly responded, you froze immediately. especially after hearing some sort of bang coming from upstairs, “not so tought without your friends here, hm y/n?"

you were assuming this was a silly halloween prank call but she knows you personally! she knows your friends and even your name—you can admit that you were a bitch to most people but you didn't think that someone would break in and kill you for it!

"w-what kinda joke is this? this isn’t funny!" you let out a nervous laugh. no way this is fucking real, this is just a prank, right?

the person lets out a hysterical laugh—almost like she’s gone crazy. "you think this is a joke? was it a joke when you make every single day a living hell for me?" she asked but you remained silent, "now you wanna act like a scared little girl? don't you think its time to get what you deserve?" she asks.

the amount of people you’ve been a bitch too, its hard to guess who this person was. the fact that this persons voice was low and raspy to the point where you couldn’t even identify who’s voice this is didn’t help you either.

"i think we should play a game. i’d advice you listen, if you want to live that is." you can hear her smiling through the phone.

your heart is racing now, you have a gut feeling that this person is in the big ass house somewhere and that promise of her killing you is haunting you.

"fine. what's this game?" you try to put on that tough façade, still holding onto your pride.

"go upstairs. into your room." she commands you and you hate it but all you can do now is obey her words.

you grip your phone tighter and walk up the stairs—just like she said. you walk into your room. your pink led illuminated the room.

"good girl~ now, strip." her praise breaks the silence.

"what?" you whispered in disbelief.

"you heard me, don't make me do it for you."

you sigh, you really aren't sure why she wants you to strip for her. maybe to humiliate you on the internet on something but you comply to her demand, untying your robe and letting it drop to the floor. you stand, praying that’s all she meant when she said strip.

"do you not know what strip mean, bitch?" she questions, noticing that you're just standing there.

you stay silent, tears were beginning to form in your eyes and you let out a whimper, “why? are you some kinda sick pervert?” you demand, looking around the room.

it was silent for a while, it was like she hung up the phone on you. your heart was racing, you were getting anxious, “hello! where are you!? who are you!?” you cry out.

as soon as you asked that your closet door opened, revealing a figure dressed up like ghostface charging right at you. you let out a loud scream, backing up into the wall but the figure used that to her advantage, her long hands engulfed your neck, pushing your head into the wall and tightening the grip, forcing a strangled whine to fall from your mouth as you gasp for air desperately.

tears began to fall from your cheeks, your hands came up to hold her wrists before hitting them, desperately trying to pry them off your neck. she swiftly slapped you right across your face and manhandled your frail body on your bed, choked whines coming from you in the process.

“you look so cute like this, crying and at my mercy.” her tall body straddled yours, under her coat and her skirt, you can feel her bulge on your tummy. no way she’s hard from this.

if you were gonna die like this you might as well see who this sicko is, you removed your hands from the hands that were on your neck and you reached up to the ghost mask, removing it from their head. your eyes widen when you realized who it was. wonyoung.

her soulless eyes looked down at yours, a smile slowly found its way onto her face which made shivers run down your spine. she removed her grip on your neck, but still remained ontop of you.

you inhaled air almost immediately, trying to catch your breath before you can question the girl. but before you could even speak, she held a butcher knife right under your chin, “don’t scream or move.” she spoke menacingly.

“since you can’t seem to follow orders i’ll force you to,” she sighs. she starts to slowly move her knife down to your shaking body. the metal causing goosebumps to awake on your body. she trailed down until she got to your bra, she easily sliced it in half with her knife. “hey! i just bought this!” you spat, your first time wearing this set and it’s already ruined? this really isn’t your night.

“shut up, whore.” she’s quick to bring the knife back to your neck, pressing down on it but not enough to draw blood.

your bottom lips quivers which makes her coo before she gets off your tummy and flips your body over. you yelp in surprise with how easy she’s moving your body.

before you can complain she’s pushing your head into the sheets and placing the palm of her hand to your back, forcing you to arch your ass up in the air. to position muffled anything that you might’ve said and you felt your heart drop when you feel her bulge prodding against your ass.

wonyoung slices your panties as well before placing the knife in her mask. she pulls her boxers down along with her miniskirt. she giggles as she hovers over you of you, large hands pinning yours to the bed before she leans into your ear with a wicked grin.

“i’m going to make you scream.”

“w-wait!” you quickly retort squirming under her iron grip.

she wastes no time before she pushes her cock deep inside your virgin cunt.

it was like the wind got knocked out of you. you can't even make a sound, all you can concentrate on is the burn on your hole being stretched out. she had just pushed in and her cock is already kissing at your cervix, just how big is this girls cock?

wonyoung harshly gripped your hips and pulled out until her cock head was the only length left inside you before violently thrusting forward, letting out a long groan at the satisfaction. her hands left your back to grab your wrists to hold them behind your back, and forcefully yanking you back down onto her cock. she wasn't letting you get out of this anytime soon.

she was using your body like you were her human sized sex doll. drool was running down your chin and down to the valley of your tits and your eyes were crossed over, "for someone that hasn't taken a real dick before--you take it like a cock drunk whore." wonyoung muttered loud enough for you to hear. if you hadn't been too busy cryin' n moanin' on her dick, you would've made a snarky comeback.

she's never heard your voice become this high-pitched but she wasn't complaining, "s-so big! y-you're gonna break me!!" you whined through your tears.

"and you're gonna keep taking it all in your little cunt. even after i impregnate you." wonyoung quickly agreed to your statement, shooting three spurts of cum into your cunt.

you thought she'd be done but her hips never stopped smacking into yours, instead, she flipped you over into missionary. she swiftly picked up your left leg, placing it on her shoulder to reach a deep angle.

she continued to drill into your cum-stuffed pussy, her cock heavily throbbing inside you due to just seeing the lewd sight below her, "like being fucked by a killer, gonna cum all over me?"

"uh-huhh~" your eyes rolled back and your body began to shake. she took one of you tits that's bouncing with her thrust into your mouth, earning a loud moan from you. you suddenly felt a little funny, almost like you had to pee? your body soon went limp before you let out a whiny moan, squirting all over her dick and pelvis.

"at first i was just gonna fuck you and then kill her." she pulls out of your sloppy pussy and grabbed her knife. you flinch at these words, a bit terrified of what was gonna happen next, "but i think i'll make you my cute cock sleeve."

#♡.wonyoung #♡.ive #ive x fem reader #ive wonyoung smut #wlw smut #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung smut #ive smut #kpop smut #g!p

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janiehellion · 7 days ago

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Falling Deep

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon was a quiet but curious young man—shy, inexperienced, and way more innocent than you’d expect. It was just you, him, and... a vibrator.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: VIRGIN!DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / ORAL FIXATION / CUNNILINGUS / SEX TOYS / DRUGS & ALCOHOL / NON-CON ELEMENTS

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.925

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: PRE-APOCALYPSE—ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: @dixongrimesgirl

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Thank you for your patience! I know it’s been a long wait, and I can only hope it was worth it. This might not be exactly what you had in mind when you sent in the request, but I hope you enjoy it.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

The Chattahoochee was a whole different level of disgusting, even for a bar so close to the deep woods of Georgia. Low ceilings, broken lights, and the smell of piss and beer were present in every corner. Regulars stumbled in every night and day, a lot of them already drunk or high, but most of them?

Both.

It was the kind of place that was sticky no matter how much bleach you poured on it and where you could smell the bad life decisions coming from a mile away.

You worked behind the bar, pouring shots of moonshine and avoiding the greedy touches of men like it was just another part of the job. Which, in a place like this, it practically was. Located in the heart of the most godforsaken area of Georgia, it was the perfect place for the kind of people you’d rather not run into at any time.

Safe to say, Merle Dixon had been hitting on you since day one, coming at you with even worse pickup lines while high on who knows what. He'd lean over the counter, smirking, smelling like alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. "Hey, sugar tits, gimme 'nother," he’d laugh, putting a half-torn dollar on the bar like it was supposed to impress you.

"Watch the damn language, Dixon, or that’ll be your last drink for tonight," you’d answer, not even looking up as you poured him another shot.

"Hey, c'mon now," he’d answer you, "don't be like that. Ya know ya wanna gimme a shot at somethin’ else, don't ya?" He'd grin further, which seemed more lustful than charming, his eyes staring at your tits like they belonged there at all times.

You'd roll your eyes and shove the glass across the bar with a little more force than necessary. "In your damn dreams, Dixon. And keep your damn eyes up here, or I’m gonna rip ‘em outta your damn skull," you’d warn, but not entirely without sarcasm. It wasn’t the first time he behaved like that, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

Then there was Daryl, his little brother, always standing or sitting nearby, almost like a shadow, or rather, like someone who didn't belong in a place like that. He wasn’t the type to come up and throw a pickup line at you; hell, he barely spoke at all. Just stood back while Merle tried to flirt with you, as if he was embarrassed to even be there.

You’d catch Daryl looking at you with these sideways glances, his arms crossed over his chest like he was waiting for whatever bullshit his brother might do next. Or maybe he was scared, and he just had no clue what to do with a girl who would throw a bottle at someone's head and talk filthier than any man in the bar.

One night, Merle was high on meth that had his pupils blown wide, and he was drunk as always. "Y'know, darlin'," he slurred, leaning far over the bar, "I could make your night real fuckin' interestin’. Got a little somethin' else with me that’ll loosen ya up for some fun." He took out a tiny baggie—powder—white and unmistakable.

"Fuck off, Merle," you said with a smirk. "Go snort that shit somewhere else, where I don’t have to watch your annoying ass. Ain't your damn babysitter." You were used to it, but he was starting to piss you off more than usual. "And don’t even think about offering it to anyone else inside this hellhole. Last thing I need is you getting the whole damn bar high. Do that outside, with those who are probably shitting all over themselves right now."

Meanwhile, Daryl was sitting on a stool nearby, again, his eyes looking from you to his brother. You couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable he looked, the way he watched Merle and every other person around. There was always something different about him—he was quieter, more... soft. The kind of guy who stood back and kept his head down.

"Leave 'er 'lone, Merle," Daryl mumbled, more to himself than to his brother. But he seemed to be sick of the whole scene. Not that Merle ever listened, or would ever listen to him.

No, Merle just rolled his eyes before shoving the baggie back into his pocket, not even looking in the direction of his brother, keeping his focus only on you... and your tits. "Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just tryin’ to show ya a good time for once." He grabbed his drink and stumbled off, probably to piss in a bush outside, and you were left with Daryl, who still just sat there.

Some time later, you grabbed a dirty rag and started wiping the bar down, side-eyeing him. "You gonna say somethin’, or just keep sittin' there?" You teased, soon throwing the rag under the counter and pouring him another drink.

He shrugged, looking away, clearly not sure what to do with himself. "Ain’t like I could stop him if he tried anythin’," he mumbled, looking down into his glass.

"If he tried, he'd go home without his dick. Not that it'd make much of a difference for him," you said back, smirking at him and trying to get him to loosen up a bit. "You come here just to watch me shut him down every night?"

It was a half-serious question, but you knew the answer. Daryl wasn’t like the other assholes—he didn’t hit on you, didn’t try to grab your ass or tits when you passed by, and never once called you some stupid nickname like sugar tits.

"I… jus' end up 'ere," he said awkwardly, his fingers tapping down on the counter. "Ain’t got much else to do."

"Well, at least you’re not tryin’ to snort coke off my tits or ass," you answered, making him go red in the face.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat, and you couldn’t help but find it kind of adorable.

"You know, since you come here enough, Dixon 2.0," you continued, "might as well help me close up sometime and throw the rest of these assholes outta here. Would get you a drink on the house."

It was just a passing suggestion, a simple idea, but his eyes looked up, like he was considering it, and for once, he actually looked into yours. Not in that drooling, perverted way his older brother did, but with curiosity. "Maybe," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dunno."

"You know what? Just think about it."

And so, the routine went on. Merle would walk in, and Daryl would sit nearby, quietly sipping his own drink while keeping an eye on his brother. And secretly, on you.

Tonight, though? Tonight was different. Somehow, you’d gotten him here, in your home, alone, without Merle, who was probably stinking of booze and piss all over again somewhere. His brother must have gotten his hands on something strong, or whatever it was, it gave you the perfect excuse.

You’d leaned in close while Daryl was mumbling about his brother and told him he should come over; maybe help you with something, and you told him it was important. You hadn’t even needed to lie all that much—he’d just nodded, eyes wide and nervous, and here he was, following you home like a little boy.

When he got to your place, he just stood there, all tense, and moving from one foot to the other like he didn’t know where to put himself. And you—well, you liked watching him squirm and being nervous, knowing well you were the one making him feel like that.

Daryl wasn’t even in the door for five seconds before you threw your bag on the floor, walking inside without saying anything else. No pretenses, no "make yourself at home." You didn’t bother with shit like that. If he was here, he was here on your terms, and you weren’t about to treat him like a guest.

"C’mon in," you said, standing next to the door to finally close it.

You saw him gulp, eyes looking around like he was searching for a quick exit he could use just in case, but finding nothing but trouble. So he nodded, stepping in, his shoulders hunched as he stood there, awkward as hell. Every inch of him screamed that he was nervous, but he didn’t run, not yet. You liked that about him. Quiet, sure, but still stubborn.

Meanwhile, your place was kind of a mess, clothes lying around, bottles on the tables—some empty, some half-full. A few were left over from last week, but hell, you weren’t cleaning for anybody, especially not for him. Daryl didn’t seem to mind, though; if anything, he looked like he was trying hard not to stare around too much, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, his face all red once more, while you kicked off those awful heels that made your feet ache.

"Go on and sit down in my room," you said over your shoulder as you turned around, smirking as you heard his quiet huff. "I'm gonna get outta these damn clothes and put on something more comfortable."

"'Kay," he muttered and nodded again, sounding like he’d swallowed his own tongue.

Once in the bathroom, you pulled off the way too tight top and short skirt in the bathroom, letting yourself breathe for once. That outfit was a real curse; your bra always felt as if it was pushing your tits all the way up to your chin, but it kept the tips flowing, so you kept wearing those clothes.

But tonight? You’d rather die than let Daryl see you in it for too long. Poor boy was already chewing the inside of his mouth and choking on his own words like he might say the wrong thing and die on the spot.

But what you didn't know was that the second you went away to change your clothes, Daryl’s hands started twitching, like his body was on alert between curiosity and unease. A few of your clothes were tossed across the bed, smelling like that bar you worked at—smoke, sweat, and alcohol. It all felt like a place he shouldn’t be at, but here he was, sitting down on your bed and touching your clothes to shove them aside.

He told himself he wasn’t snooping, just trying to figure you out as he sat there nervously. Hell, you were already a mystery to him—a tough girl working in a bar where skirts and shorts barely covered what they ought to and heels high enough to bring any man to his knees.

So here he was, and his mind started running wild, wondering if every woman’s place was like this—half-dirty, with clothes tossed around, magazines piled up, and so much more.

Then his eyes landed on a big box sitting half-shoved under your bed, an open corner poking out like it had been forgotten as his foot bumped against it. He should’ve left it alone, but there was that itch, like he couldn’t look away. Daryl crouched down, sitting down on the floor, his fingers fumbling with the top until it opened up. His eyes went wide, lips parting as he looked inside.

It was filled with... things. Smooth, soft, strange-looking things in different shapes and colors, each one making him more confused than the last.

"What's this stuff?" He whispered, eyes squinting as he picked up a small pink thing with a rounded end. It fit in his hand, smooth but with some weight to it. "This for her... work?" He mumbled, rolling it over in his hand like it might magically turn into something he recognized. Maybe it was a tool, or even one of those weird bar gadgets he didn’t know about.

Another catch of something sparkly and soft shoved down in there made his heart beat faster, and before he knew it, he was pulling out more—the things looking weirder by the second. There was a wand-looking thing, and he held it like it might explode, wondering what the hell you were doing with all this.

"Drugs? Gotta be for drugs," he muttered, frowning as he inspected the box. Could be some kind of injector, maybe? He knew about that stuff—the guys that Merle met sometimes, passing around different things for the good times. But nothing here made sense, and there wasn't any instruction manual in sight.

He looked around like you’d come back any second and catch him, heat burning inside of him as he thought about what this meant. Were you hiding something? Was it… Was it for some kind of secret thing you did when no one was around?

"Damn it, what’re ya up to?" He said, biting his lip, his hand brushing over the surface of the smooth, strange thing, feeling his pulse race at the thought that you did know exactly what these were for.

And yet he didn’t. Not a damn clue.

"Hell’s this?"

He felt a cord between his fingers, pulling it slightly, as if tugging on it might magically make it make sense. Maybe it was for listening to music? But it had no sound, and no little earbuds or anything that he could see.

Setting that one down, he picked up another—an oblong thing with ridges along one side. It looked almost like a flashlight, but there was nowhere for the light to shine from. He pressed his thumb over it, turning it this way and that, but nothing happened.

"What the hell?" It had to be for something specific. You wouldn’t just have random stuff lying around like this for no reason, would you?

Then he found another, rounder one, with a strange little button on the side. He pressed it, flinching a bit when it buzzed all of a sudden. The damn thing nearly jumped out of his hand, and he held it tight to stop the vibrations.

"Damn thing’s possessed," he nearly yelled, feeling his cheeks burn. It felt... weird. Too weird.

And you? You had barely slipped into the bathroom, taking off your work clothes and enjoying the idea of how Daryl would squirm alone for a moment in your bedroom. The way he’d stumbled his way in earlier, not wanting to make eye contact like he didn’t know what to do with his own hands? It was almost way too easy to tease him.

And there he was, practically glowing red, sitting next to the box you kept under the bed. A simple big box—hell, he was behaving so cautiously, like he’d just discovered a bomb or a dead body. But what really caught you was the thing in his hand. A vibrator.

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me," you whispered, loud enough for him to hear. His head moved up, eyes wide as if he’d just been caught robbing a bank.

"Shit!" The vibrator fell out of his hand, hitting the floor, but that was only the start; the thing started buzzing further—vibrating across the floor and right toward your feet. Daryl didn’t move; he didn’t even reach for it. He just sat there, staring at the buzzing vibrator like it was going to bite him.

"Gonna tell me what you’re doin’ with my stuff?" You asked, half-amused, half-teasing, waiting to see what half-assed excuse he’d come up with, as you leaned against the door frame. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out at first.

"I… uh—" he stammered, swallowing loudly, his hands fidgeting like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. "I thought… I mean—thought it was, like, stuff for..." His voice trailed off, eyes looking to the ground, too ashamed to meet yours.

"Yeah? Stuff for what?" You pressed further, stepping forward, taking the vibrator and turning it off, stopping the noise but not the look of pure mortification on his face.

"I… thought it might be, y'know... Maybe it was, uh, y’know, things for... for bar stuff, or somethin’. Yer work." His voice was quiet, like he might get in trouble just for saying it out loud.

"For work?" You laughed and crouched down to sit next to him. "Yeah, Daryl, because every bartender needs a vibrator in her kit. So… You wanna tell me why you’re snooping, or am I just supposed to guess?"

You reached over, brushing a hand along the edge of your toy box, taking in the way his eyes tried to look at each item inside. Poor boy had no clue what half of it was for, but he looked at everything like it might burn him.

"Am sorry! I wasn’t… Jus'… waitin’ on ya an' got curious, I guess," he murmured. "Didn’t mean nothin’ by it."

You leaned in closer, enough that he could probably feel your breath on his face. "Curious, huh?" You asked, eyeing the way his shoulders tensed up. "You don't know what that stuff is?"

"Uh…" He blinked, looking between you and the vibrator like it might suddenly start buzzing again. "Not… really. No."

"Oh, you really don’t?" You pretended to be surprised. "It’s a toy, Dixon. A fun toy. For women. And men sometimes as well."

"That for real?" He asked, voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

"As real as it gets, sweetheart. And judging by that look on your face, I’d bet you don’t have much experience with this sorta things." You raised an eyebrow, daring him to admit it.

He swallowed hard, his eyes dropping back to the floor. "Ain’t never… really..." He trailed off, his whole face full of embarrassment.

"Never what?" You asked, leaning in so close you could smell the cigarettes and sweat on him, and somehow, it drove you wild. "Fucked a woman? Or even fucked yourself, huh?"

"I—" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, a sound that told you everything you needed to know. "I don’t… don’t really know… how… t'do any of that."

"Oh, honey." You leaned back a little. "You look like you’re about ready to pass out."

Daryl trembled, trying to look anywhere but at you, his whole face burning. "I—I jus'… I dunno what to do with... all that," he continued, motioning awkwardly toward the box.

You smirked, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. "Guess no one’s shown you how a woman uses one of these before, huh?" You watched his reaction, loving every little deep breath he took and every embarrassed flinch.

"N-no… But what if... maybe they could've been... for, uh, drugs?" His face somehow went even more red, and he looked ready to sink into the floor.

"Drugs? What, you think I’m hiding some kind of dealer setup in my own bedroom? And especially right under my damn bed?" You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Trust me, they’ll get you high, alright—but not the way you’re thinkin’."

The embarrassment on his face was almost painful to watch as he shifted on the ground. "Like I said, I—I don't... Ain’t never done stuff like that before, okay? I—I mean, I done that with myself... sometimes. But not really... okay?"

You smiled, letting your fingers move over his, watching as his breath stopped, his eyes looking up to meet yours for a desperate second. "Well," you murmured, "maybe I could show you a thing or two. If you’re up for it, that is."

Daryl swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he glanced between you and the box again. He indeed looked like he was about to pass out, but he seemed curious—curious in a way that he couldn’t quite hide.

"Oh, c'mon, I know you want to," you whispered, clicking your tongue, standing up, and taking off your shirt slowly. His eyes looked up fast, staring at you, and he shifted on the spot, pressing his thighs together. That’s when you noticed the growing bulge in his pants—it was more than obvious he was already hard as a rock.

"Damn, Dixon," you chuckled, "you’ve got a real problem, don’t you?" You let your shirt fall down to the floor. "Hey, don’t just sit there looking lost—c’mon, no way you're that scared of undressing a woman!"

He stammered something, some half-strangled "n-no," his hands gripping his own thighs like he had to hold himself back from reaching for you. That only spurred you on, raising your brows as you grabbed him to stand up and guiding his trembling hands to the hem of your pants.

"Well, here’s your chance," you smirked, waiting for him to open the button. You watched his fingers fumble with it, shaking as he pulled down the zipper, and then, when he managed to pull your pants down over your hips along with your panties, his eyes widened like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

"Keep goin’, don't be shy," you whispered, guiding his fingers down your thighs until your clothes hit the floor.

He just stood there, staring, mouth opening like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the slightest clue what to do next. You leaned in close, eyes locked on his, before you knelt down again and took the vibrator out of the box once more, pressing the button and letting it hum.

His eyes shot to the toy, watching with pure terror and fascination, and when you pressed it into his hand again, he held it like some foreign, sacred object he was too scared to break.

"Here," you mumbled, laying down onto the bed, legs spread just enough to give him a view he couldn’t tear himself away from even if he tried, before you pulled him next to you and guided his hand between your legs, pressing the vibrator to your thigh and dragging it higher. "Just like that, Daryl. Feels interesting, doesn’t it?"

Daryl could barely breathe, staring down as if hypnotized, the muscles in his whole body tensing up. When you moved his hand to press the vibrator against your pussy, you felt him stiffen, his other hand gripping his thigh to stop himself from trembling. The toy was vibrating against you, and you let out a quiet, satisfied sigh, glancing up just in time to see the way his eyes stayed on you, watching every little twitch and shiver of your body.

"I bet you’re a quick learner," you teased, reaching down to guide his hand again, moving it with the toy so it hit just right, and damn, if it didn’t feel good. His mouth fell open a little, and he sucked in a breath when you suddenly moaned, pressing yourself harder against the vibrator. His hand moved a bit awkwardly, like he didn’t quite know if he was supposed to be touching you this way, but the look in his eyes said he wanted to keep going more than anything.

You let out another moan, a little louder this time, just to see the way he reacted. His grip on the toy tightened, and you didn’t miss the way he was fighting with himself, clearly struggling to keep himself in check as his cock pressed harder against his pants, his breath coming out faster and shorter.

"Poor thing," you whispered, pulling his hand away for a moment, just to watch him struggle. "Bet you’ve never been this hard, huh?" Daryl's eyes looked at you, wide and mortified, like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. But the look he gave you—so desperate, so needy—only made you want to push him further.

"You wanna see what this thing can do to me?" You asked, not giving him time to answer as you pressed the vibrator into his hand again and guided it back between your legs. "Just keep it steady, like that. Right there." You rocked your hips against it, letting out a shaky breath as the lust built itself up inside of you, still watching as he clung to every little sound that left your lips.

Daryl's eyes were glued to you, his mouth open, and you noticed the way he kept moving his hips, trying to get rid of his hard-on. But no matter how much he squirmed, it wasn’t enough. He was near leaking through his pants by now, his cock being so hard he couldn’t think straight, and the sight of you practically coming undone in front of him had him on the edge himself.

"Feels good, doesn’t it, Dixon? But... don't you want to feel that too?" You taunted, moving your fingers along his wrist, pushing him to press harder and the toy just a tiny bit into you, wanting to let him feel every little tremor that wracked your body. He just nodded, lost for words, breathing hard, his eyes moving between your face and the way your hips bucked against his hand.

"Keep going, just like that," you urged, and he obeyed, pressing the vibrator a little harder, his other hand softly brushing against your thigh as if he needed something to hold onto to keep himself from falling apart. His face was so close now, so flushed, eyes wide with need, lips parted as he struggled to keep his breathing steady.

"Y’know, Daryl," you moaned, "you’re doing a hell of a job for someone who’s never touched a woman before, not even with toys." His face burned, but he kept going, kept pressing that toy against your pussy, completely mesmerized by the way you reacted.

"You like watching me, don’t you?" You murmured, letting out another moan that left him swallowing hard. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed... that you can’t keep your eyes off me and how damn hard you are."

He tried to come up with a response, something about "I... I didn’t mean to..." but his words trailed off, and he was just there, helpless, utterly at your mercy, his hand tightening on the toy as you let out one last moan that left him breathless and staring, before you snatched the vibrator from him and clicked it off.

The little tremor it left in his hand was nothing compared to the way he stared at you now, still holding onto that last bit of control.

"Think you can do it without help?" You asked, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand to your pussy and to make him feel how wet you were, his fingers twitching as they moved along your folds. Daryl nodded but was holding on for dear life and trying not to slip.

"I... I dunno," he mumbled, eyes glued to your pussy.

"Oh, for the love of... here," you growled, placing your hand over his, guiding his touch lower, rougher, until you dragged his fingers exactly where you wanted them. But Daryl was a mess, barely holding himself together, his other hand still clamped over that hard bulge in his pants as he lay there beside you.

"Now, watch closely," you instructed, pressing his fingers just the way you liked it. "Doesn’t take much, does it?" You smiled, letting your free hand move down his chest, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. "Bet you’d come just feeling me touch you."

He whimpered, the outline of his cock pulsing through his pants, a wet spot already forming itself. It didn’t take much to notice the hesitation in his every move, making him so easy to toy with.

You leaned back a little, pushing your tits forward. "Go on and position yourself over me," you dared, and as soon as he did, you lifted his other hand from his bulge to your tits, watching as he sucked in a breath, his hand shaking as if he were holding something he had no right to touch. "Ever felt these before?"

Daryl shook his head, still wide-eyed, his eyes looking into yours for a second before dropping back down, like he was afraid to look too long.

"Then make the most of it." You reached down, pressing his other hand harder against you. "I want you to use that mouth of yours now," you smirked, pushing him down to press his lips against your nipples. His breath was warm and shaky, and he hesitated, his mouth just an inch away from you. You raised an eyebrow, daring him, and after a long, deep breath, he finally leaned in.

"That's a good boy," you praised, your fingers running through his hair, feeling him shiver under your touch. He was so damn easy to play with, each little whimper and moan only turning you on more, urging him to suck and lick, his tongue slow but eager, desperate for more.

"Gently," you ordered, glancing down to see him lose himself, his hands now touching you like he didn’t want to let go. The poor guy was panting, his eyes squeezed shut as he sucked and kissed your nipple, as if the sight alone would push him over the edge.

You soon moved your hand down, feeling the outline of his cock through his pants, feeling him flinch, his breath stopping as you gave him just a bit of what he wanted. "This what you want, Daryl?" You whispered, teasing him and squeezing his shaft just enough to make him groan, his hips bucking, desperate for more. "You do, don't you? But now, I want you to eat me out."

Daryl couldn’t even get out a response, his mouth still on your nipple, but the look in his eyes told you everything.

"Pathetic, but also really cute," you laughed, unzipping his pants just enough to reach inside, your fingers wrapping around his cock and making him gasp, his whole body tensing as you squeezed him. He was thick, hard, already wet from the pre-cum that leaked from his tip, and the way he moaned, quite high, only made you want to drag it out and tease him until he was begging to come.

As you quickly positioned yourself over his face, you could see how he was a nervous wreck the moment your ass hovered above him. "Oh, please, don’t just lay there. Get to work," you teased, lowering yourself down, your pussy brushing against his lips.

When he finally opened his mouth, it was like you flipped a switch. The moment your folds hit his tongue, he moaned, the sound muffled against you. It sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but grind against his face, pushing him harder against you.

"God, you’re a natural," you gasped, encouraging him with your hips. "Just like that, baby. Don’t be shy; use your tongue."

Daryl’s mouth worked hesitantly at first, but the more you ground down, the more confident he became. His face was buried in your pussy, the taste of you driving him wild as he licked and sucked, trying to figure out what made you feel good, and the way he looked up at you, eyes full of wonder and lust, only made you want to ride his face harder.

"Yeah, keep going," you panted, feeling your legs tremble as he finally got into a rhythm. "Good boy, just like that," you moaned, feeling the tension building inside you. He was so focused, so eager to please, and the way he hungrily licked and sucked made you see stars.

"Don’t stop, Daryl. I’m so close," you urged. "Yeah, that’s it," you moaned, pushing your hips down even harder. "Don’t you dare stop. Just like that—yes!"

The way he held your thighs, trying to hold you against him, and the way he whimpered against you—those sweet little sounds pushed you right over. "I’m cumming! Fuck!"

Your body tensed, and you ground down harder again, shaking and feeling him groan against your dripping pussy as you let go and came, completely lost in the moment.

You felt him drink it all in, and you knew he was just as lost as you were. The second you pushed yourself off his face and watched him, face red and lips parted, you could tell Daryl had no idea what to do with himself. Wide-eyed and panting, he lay there as if you’d just dragged him straight into some fever dream he wasn’t even ready for. He seemed so helpless as he tried to piece together the storm of feelings that’d just hit him.

"Still with me, Daryl?" You asked, letting your weight push him further into the bed. His eyes looked down between your legs, then looked away, like he didn’t have the courage to watch.

"Y-yeah…"

He shuddered, that helpless little whine slipping out as you leaned down, your mouth right over his. He was as stiff as a board beneath you, looking both horrified and desperately curious at the same time.

"Think you can handle more of this?" You whispered, one hand moving down and wrapping around his cock as you took it fully out of his pants.

"W-wait," he stammered, trying to close his legs in a last attempt to get some space, but you only held him tighter, giving his cock a slow, teasing stroke. It twitched in your hand, leaking all over your fingers like he couldn’t stop himself.

"Sweetie, look at you," you smiled, swirling a finger over the tip, just to watch him jerk, hips lifting up like he was begging. "So needy aren't we?"

Daryl let out another whimper, his face going beet-red, those shy eyes looking away once more as though if he didn’t look at you, he’d somehow be less mortified.

"Feels so good, huh?"

His whole body was practically trembling with need, and he was leaking—a lot. His cock throbbed in your hand, pre-cum dripping so much it smeared along your fingers.

"Damn, Daryl," you whispered, smirking as your fingers now teased along the underside of his cock. "Didn’t know you’d be this easy, really."

You soon leaned down, your mouth just over his cock; the slightest lick of your tongue along his tip pushed another bit of pre-cum out, and you couldn’t help but laugh, loving every bit of his need.

"Baby, look at you, leaking everywhere," you teased again, wiping the tip with your thumb before bringing it to your lips, licking off the taste. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, you pulled back slightly before leaning up to kiss him, letting him taste himself on your lips.

It made him moan again, his hands reaching out to grip your body as if needing to ground himself. "P-please…" He whispered, but you didn’t give in just yet.

Instead, you reached down, grabbing your vibrator again. You saw the way his eyes narrowed, with pure nervousness all over his face, as you suddenly pressed the toy to his cock, starting at the lowest setting. The buzzing made him gasp, his hips jerking involuntarily against you as you dragged the vibrator along his shaft, right along that sensitive spot just under the head. Every time it brushed up and down, he leaked more against your hand, only making it messier.

"Oh s-shit…" He whimpered, sounding utterly wrecked.

With a smirk, you leaned back and held up the vibrator for him to see, his eyes following it, dazed, and lips parted. "I think that’s enough; otherwise you might explode on the spot," you said, watching his expression drop just slightly as he looked at you switching it off and tossing it back into your toy box all of a sudden.

Leaning up, you gave his lips a slow, lazy kiss, feeling him melt against you, even more needy when you pulled away and slipped back down. And damn if he didn’t start leaking more, a fresh drop of slick pre-cum glistening right there, just begging to be tasted.

"How sweet you are, Daryl," you murmured, slowly moving your tongue along the underside of his cock, not missing the way his hips jerked up instinctively, even though he didn't seem to understand why. One gentle lick. That’s all it took for him to be close again, and he was helpless against it.

"Just relax and enjoy it," you continued, letting your tongue move along the tip of his cock and the desperate little gasp of his driving you wild as he grabbed the sheets, practically sobbing as he tried to hold back.

You wrapped your lips around just the head, barely enough to count as anything. But to him? It was like fireworks going off.

"N-no, I—oh fuck, I can’t—" He breathed out as his head fell back, his body shivering under you.

And when you took him just that tiny bit deeper, that was it—he lost it. Hard. He tried to hold it, tried to push you back even, one hand weakly pressing against your head, but he was already too far gone. The orgasm tore through Daryl, overpowering him completely.

His whole body stiffened, a helpless cry coming from his throat as he finally lost it, filling your mouth with his cum as he came. Before he even had time to process it, you’d swallowed every last drop from his throbbing cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you looked back up at him.

He was still shaking, his mind clearly blown, and when he finally managed to look at you, it was with that same wide-eyed shock.

Daryl just lay there, still in shock, his body trembling as reality sank in. "D-did ya really jus'—" His voice cracked with disbelief all over his face as he tried to wrap his head around what just happened.

You smirked at him, leaning in close, your lips moving softly against his in a teasing kiss. "What’s the matter, sweet boy? Never had someone swallow your cum before?"

He quickly shook his head. "I—I thought ya might get pregnan' or somethin'!" He stammered in embarrassment, his mind racing with the wildest thoughts.

"Oh, cutie. You really think it’s that easy? I'm sorry, but that's not how it works," you laughed, nudging his arm, enjoying the way his shoulders tensed up like he was trying to hide from you. "What? Can’t even look me in the eye after that?"

He opened his mouth, but whatever words he thought he might stammer out just died right there, and his hand went up to scratch the back of his neck.

"I... I didn’ mean to..." he finally managed to say, his voice cracking in the middle, his face still as red as a tomato.

You raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t mean to what? Coming in record time?" You let out a sarcastic scoff, and he near cried, ducking his head as though it would save him.

"I-I dunno, I thought... I jus', I mean—" he stumbled over each word. "Jus' ain’t never been with... y’know, anyone... like that."

"No kidding," you replied dryly, watching him shrink even smaller, if that was possible. "Anyone coulda guessed that, by the way, you freaked the hell out." He winced at your words, but hell, it just made him look all the more adorable, laying there.

When you placed a hand on his thigh, he went stiff as a board all over. "Easy, Daryl," you murmured. "No one’s laughing at you... much."

"I-I’m... sorry," he mumbled again.

"Sorry?" You scoffed, tilting his chin up to force his eyes to look at you. "For what? That you came too soon, or that you actually loved it?"

He tried to look away, but your fingers held him in place. "Both, I reckon," he answered, his voice shaking. It was like he thought he’d done something wrong, like he needed to apologize for being human.

"Nothing wrong with it, Dixon. Means I sure as hell did it right." You laughed, running a thumb over his jawline as he stared back at you.

"Bet that head of yours is just spinning right now, ain’t it?" You said, half-mocking. "Poor, sweet Daryl, don’t know what to do with himself now."

It was easy to see what he still needed—what he wanted, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it. You didn’t have to guess, though. He was desperate for something more, desperate for you to just tell him what to do. It was obvious that he had no experience with women or anything like this, but it didn’t matter to you. If anything, it just made it better. You wanted him nervous.

"Hey," you said softly. "It’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed. Not at all." You could see that he wanted to apologize again, wanting to make up for how pathetic he felt.

"Tell you what," you said, kissing his cheek. "You’ve got a lot to learn, Daryl Dixon. But I think you’re gonna like it. You just need to stop worrying." His hands moved to your waist, but they were hesitant, unsure. "And me? Well, I’m not here to judge you."

You took his hands and placed them back on your body, guiding him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate much, but it seemed as if he was trying to copy the way you had guided him earlier, trying to find some way to make up for what had happened. But that, for now, was enough.

"Don’t worry," you said, grinning at him, "I’m going to teach you."

Because you would. And he had no choice. Maybe that was what you liked most. The way Daryl needed you now, the way he didn’t even know what he wanted, but he was willing to follow you with your help along the way.

And he was only going to fall deeper.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema — (also tagging @darylsdelts as requested)

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fanartist666 · 4 months ago

Text

TW: Discussion of needles, phobias and blood Reader can be anyone, tried to be as gender neutral as possible, just rambling tbh, Price is a big soft baby and needs to be coddled when he isn't spoiling you

I headcanon this man as being scared of needles.

Hear me out, going by Barry's height Price is like 6'3, and just look at the size of him! Yeah he has Ser Harwin Strong vibes and absolutely would beat the shit out of anyone that ever insulted you and he kills people. But imagine if he was unreasonably scared of it, and it gets worse around you.

Not because you're bad for him, or you make him feel unsafe, but the opposite. His walls come down around you, and you make him feel the safest he's ever felt, so instead of gritting his teeth and hyperventilating a little (shutting down very mildly) but getting himself through it when he's away, he's got the safety to express his actual terror around you.

You go with him to get blood drawn, or a vaccination, and the phlebotomist comes out and asks if you can come in because your fucking bear of a husband is bouncing off the walls because he can't handle it.

It wasn't until ten had passed that you suspected there might be something wrong. Maybe he'd passed out, you thought with a soft snort at the absurdity of the idea. John wasn't squeamish, but it shouldn't have taken this long, surely?

"Alright luvvie, see you in a min." John said, kissing your forehead as he left to step into a little consult room. Shouldn't be long, he was going to take you for coffee afterwards, so you took out your phone and crossed your legs in the waiting room chair. The same weird, NHS logo blue and white tones in seemingly every hospital with the sickly green floors. You wrinkled your nose slightly at the stench of antiseptic stinging at the inside of your skull and settled for a five minute wait.

Just as you raised your head to glance at the clock, the door John had walked through opened, and a nurse stuck her head out.

"Is there a (Y/N) Price here?" You stood up immediately, mouth going dry at the thought that something could have gone wrong. It was only a blood sample, what the hell could have happened?

"Yes, yes that's me- is everything alright?" You asked, squeezing your phone so tight your knuckles were going white.

"No need to worry! We're just having a little trouble, would you be able to come in?" You nodded and followed her in. Your eyes landed on your very embarrassed, jumpy husband.

"John?" You asked, coming closer to him but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I don't like needles." He mumbled as you took his hand, immediately feeling his weight against your shoulder. "Apparently when I'm home, I can't cope so well."

"Oh John... Sweetheart, you could've told me." You said, kissing his cheek and taking his massive shoulders under your arms as he pressed his hot, red face into your neck.

And that was how you wound up with your 6'3 200+lbs husband half in your lap, stroking his hair and holding his hand while he had his blood sample taken, and walked out hand in hand. In return for your silence, he bought you a pastry, which you accepted, but promised him wasn't needed. Inwardly you were actually pleased that he felt safe enough with you near him to not force down his fears, to express them and by extension, himself.

If the 141 boys ever saw him with you they'd hardly recognise him, he's the same guy, his personality never changes, but he's a hundred times more expressive in every way.

idk this just kinda poured outta my head lmao

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dixons-sunshine · 16 days ago

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Possessed | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you, @darylssunshine and @lazyneonrabbitt for some of the dialogue on this. Happy Halloween, everyone! Loosely inspired by @angelwings-crossbowstrings’s “Trick Or Treat” fic.

(GIF by @dixonscarol)

Daryl Dixon was a brave man. There was almost nothing in the world, old or current, that could terrify the man you loved more than life itself. He did not scare easy at all, and you were beginning to think that perhaps the man just did not have a fearful bone in his body.

Well, that was before you had suggested a horror movie marathon to celebrate Halloween, and you quickly realised that Daryl could indeed be a jumpy mess.

“Babe,” you began through fits of laughter, “it’s just a movie.”

Daryl grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest as he shifted his attention back to the movie that was playing on the television—a luxury that living in the Commonwealth provided you. “Quit yer laughin’, woman. Ain’t nothin’ funny ‘bout this.” He could feel the warmth spreading across his cheeks, and he prayed to whatever higher entity was listening that you could not notice it. “Can we jus’ finish the goddamn movie, please?”

You simply shook your head, clasping a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles. “Sorry,” you apologised, your words muffled by your hand. “Yeah, we can. Think you can handle it?”

Daryl scoffed and leaned back against the couch, attempting to appear nonchalant. “‘Course I can. Ain’t no fuckin’ wimp.”

Despite his words, the moment the two of you quieted down and turned your attention back to the movie on the screen—Annabelle—another jumpscare happened. It startled Daryl so bad that he instinctively grabbed onto you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he shifted closer to you. If he moved any more, he would be clambering onto your lap, and you found it rather endearing.

Choosing not to say anything, and biting your lip to prevent another laugh from escaping your chest, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, softly trailing your fingers over his arm. However, you barely began offering him comfort when he jumped again, and this time, you could not help the laugh that escaped you.

Daryl grumbled and removed himself from your embrace. He grabbed the remote and paused the movie, before turning back to you. “S’not funny.”

“It is!” you laughed, your hands clutching at your chest as you doubled over. “It’s just… you’re like the toughest person I know! Am I really supposed to believe that a horror film is enough to have you cowering into my lap?”

“I ain’t cowerin’,” Daryl countered with a scoff, but he knew that his words seriously contradicted what you had seen just a few moments prior. “I jus’ dun’ like dolls, s’all, and that bitch s’a haunted one.”

“Wait, seriously?” you asked incredulously. “You don’t like dolls? How come you never told me?”

Daryl shook his head. “‘Cause s’silly,” he mumbled. “I dun’ like them movies ‘bout haunted dolls.”

“Not even Chucky?”

“Nah. Bastard scares the hell outta me.”

“Hun, you could literally dropkick Chucky across the room if he came running after you,” you told him with a light laugh, your eyes sparkling as you looked at your husband.

“He ain’t even s’posed to be runnin’!” Daryl replied exasperatedly. “He’s goddamn plastic!”

“Well, dead people aren’t supposed to be able to run either, and you kill those every day without hesitation.”

The archer let out a small sigh and shook his head. “Yer one to talk. What ‘bout those lil’ spiders ya scream at when ya even so much as see ‘em?”

It was your turn to scoff. “It has eight legs and, like, fifty thousand eyes! That’s not natural.”

“Oh, and a possessed doll is?” Daryl countered, and you knew he had a good point.

“Touché, Dixon,” you conceded with a small smile. You took the remote from his hand and got up, moving towards the small stack of different movies. “How about we watch something else? How does ‘Halloween’ sound?”

Daryl visibly relaxed at that, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Sounds amazin’.” When you popped the movie in and flopped down next to him on the couch, Daryl wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Have I ever told ya how much I love ya?”

“You don’t have to. I know you do.” You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, before pulling away and smiling at him. “Happy Halloween, Dar. I hope Annabelle doesn’t haunt your dreams tonight.”

Daryl groaned, but he smiled nonetheless. “Yer on thin ice, woman.”

“I love you too, Dar.”

Prompt: You’re like the toughest person I know! Am I really supposed to believe that a horror film is enough to have you cowering into my lap?

Taglist: @holdmytesseract @thevegandarkelf (comment/DM to be added or removed.)

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awkward-walking-potato · 1 month ago

Note

could you write a Logan x reader fic where the reader gets injured during a mission (they’re already passed out due to the amount of blood loss at the time) and Logan carries them to safety to then patch and help them, perchance 👉👈?

think of it like a ‘you scared me, I love you and I can’t lose you’ confession when the reader wakes up (and tries to brush off the fact that they got injured). Thanks Potato ;)

You Scared Me

The sounds of battle echoed in the distance, metal clashing with metal, explosions reverberating in the air. But all Logan could hear was the sound of his own breathing—labored, frantic—as he looked down at your unconscious form lying in a pool of blood. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he knelt beside you, taking in the sight of the deep wound that had knocked you out. The smell of blood was overwhelming, but it wasn’t just the scent that was getting to him. It was the sight of you, limp and pale, so far gone that you hadn’t even been able to cry out for help.

"C'mon, kid," Logan muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth. "You’re stronger than this. You’re gonna be fine."

He scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest. The heat of your blood seeped into his shirt, making him feel like time was running out. He had to get you back—had to get you patched up before it was too late.

Logan moved as fast as he could without jostling you too much, his heart pounding harder with each step. His mind raced with every worst-case scenario, every thought of what might happen if he didn’t get to you in time. The thought of losing you—it was too much to bear.

He reached the Blackbird, and with swift, practiced movements, set you down on a makeshift med table in the back. His hands trembled as he worked to stop the bleeding, tying off makeshift bandages, pressing down hard to stem the flow. Every second felt like an eternity, his mind swirling with thoughts of how he should’ve protected you better—how he should’ve seen the attack coming.

After what felt like forever, the bleeding slowed. You were stable, for now, but still unconscious. Logan sat beside you, hands stained with your blood, his jaw clenched tightly. He hadn’t felt this kind of fear in a long time, and it shook him to his core.

Hours passed before you stirred, eyes fluttering open. Your head was heavy, and everything felt numb at first. Slowly, your vision cleared, and you found yourself staring at the metal ceiling of the Blackbird. A dull ache throbbed in your side, and you groaned softly.

"You’re awake," Logan’s gruff voice came from beside you.

Turning your head, you found him sitting next to you, his arms crossed but his face etched with concern. His eyes, usually guarded and tough, were soft as they roamed over your face, like he was checking to make sure you were really alright.

"Logan," you whispered, trying to sit up, but your body protested. "What happened?"

He reached out, gently pressing you back down onto the table. "Stay still. You got hurt—bad. Took a hit during the mission, lost a lot of blood."

You blinked, trying to remember. Flashes of the fight came back to you—the enemy, the explosion, the sharp pain in your side—but it was all a blur. "I’m fine," you said, your voice hoarse as you tried to play it off. "Just... a scratch."

"A scratch?" Logan’s voice was sharp, disbelief evident. He shook his head, his expression hardening. "You nearly bled out. Don’t you dare brush this off like it was nothing."

His tone surprised you, and you glanced up at him, seeing the tension in his body, the way his fists clenched and unclenched like he was barely holding himself together. You’d never seen him like this before—so rattled, so... scared.

"Logan," you started softly, but he cut you off.

"You scared me," he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours. "You scared the hell outta me, darlin’. I thought I lost you."

The weight of his words hit you, and you were left speechless. Logan—the unshakeable, invulnerable Wolverine—had been afraid for you? You tried to reach for his hand, but your body still felt weak.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, guilt creeping into your voice. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Stop," he growled, softer this time. His hand found yours, holding it tightly. "Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault."

He paused, his jaw working as if he was trying to find the right words. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion. "I can’t lose you. Not like this... not ever."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you stared up at him, your breath catching in your throat. "Logan, I—"

"I love you," he said, cutting you off again, his voice raw. "I love you, and I don’t give a damn if you’re tryin’ to be tough or brush it off. You mean too much to me. I can’t—I won’t—lose you."

The confession hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You could see it in his eyes—the fear, the love, the desperation. Logan, the man who never showed weakness, was laying his heart bare for you.

You swallowed hard, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice shaky but sincere.

Logan let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His grip on your hand tightened, and he leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against yours. "You’re not goin’ anywhere, you hear me?" he murmured, his voice a soft growl.

You nodded, your eyes closing as you let yourself lean into him, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence. "I hear you."

Logan stayed close, his hand never leaving yours as he watched over you, his heart finally calming now that you were awake. He didn’t say much after that, but his touch—his steady, grounding presence—said everything you needed to hear.

And as the pain faded and exhaustion took over, you let yourself drift off, knowing that Logan would be there to catch you every time.

#marvel imagine #x men imagine #wolverine imagine #deadpool imagine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #wolverine one shot #wolverine

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the-californicationist · 6 months ago

Note

Hello Cali ❤️. Por alguna razón no te había visto más en mi muro de tumblr y me preguntaba si no estabas aquí, por eso busqué tu perfil y me di cuenta que tumblr me estaba jugando una mala pasada.

How are you??? I'm so busy because I have a loooot of work, pero me tomaré el tiempo de leer todo lo que me perdí de ti ✨✨✨

YOU ARE THE BEST, OK? I LOVE YOU ❤️💍

Quisiera que escribieras un smut de John Price CEO/Mafia con un Reader inteligente y astuto, que queda cautivado cuando John comienza a seducirla, porfis ✨

Anything for you, my friend!! I love you so much <3 <3

Wonderland

John Price is a famous mob boss... but you don't know that. All you know is that you've got a crush on a mysterious, handsome man, and you're willing to go all the way to find out if his bite is as bad as his bark.

The parking garage was dark, and the concrete seemed to hold in the cold like a freezer. It felt like ice on his cheekbone, and not even the blood from his eye socket was enough to warm the skin. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, that odd whooshing sound, and in a distant memory he could recall the first time he had ever gotten a black eye. But, all that was gone now. He had ratted out the one man that no one had dared fuck with in the past five years: John Fucking Price.

Those fucking coppers had said they’d protect him. He even had his people outside his house every hour of every day. How could this happen? He had to admit, he wasn’t even scared, he was just pissed off. Fucking bastards. They’d get what was coming to them. Maybe he’d tell them so. Not like they'd give him any more chances.

“Fuck you, Price. I hope those pigs skin you alive,” he spit out the blood that had began to pool in his mouth, and hoped it hit those stupid boots John was always wearing.

John Price slid his shoe away from the red stain that had began to swell on the ground, keeping his kangaroo leather Berlutis from ruin. The fool beneath his feet had no idea what was about to happen to him, and John almost felt sorry about it, if only for a moment. He and Vinson had been friends once. Hell, he’d even stood up at his wedding.

“Vince, what did I tell you about that bloody mouth of yours? Said it'd get you into trouble, didn't I? Wish there was something I could do for you now, cause you and me, we used to be mates. But, I can't afford friends like you. Not anymore," Price gave the rat a quick shove with his heel and watched as the stain smeared in a thin streak across the cement. He turned to his men,

"Well, lads, I've got a party to get to. You wouldn't mind cleaning things up here for me, would’ya?"

"No, boss," was their quiet reply.

"You'll be sorry, you goddamn pussy!" Vinson was screaming now, "I hope they hang you from the fuckin’-”

Bang! The loud gunshot echoed through the hollow space.

Vinson didn't say anything after that.

"Let's get outta here, Gaz."

"Right away, boss," Gaz opened the door to the limo and prepared to drive John back into the city. There was a big gala at the Genting Casino tonight, and Mr. John T. Price was never late.

He was never early either. In fact, he was perfection incarnate. When he was younger, that wasn't always the case, but after his father died, he had needed to change. No one was fit to rule Liverpool in his stead, and he was thankful that no one had been foolish enough to try. His father had made this town what it is. Liverpool was built by his family, and even though everyone thought the Price regime had grown tired of their reign on the old docks, they couldn't have been farther from the truth.

John had his cut from all of the major casinos, and he traded security in exchange. He owned two of them himself, along with four shopping malls, five bars, three neighborhoods, two apartment complexes, and a golf course - not to mention the property that wasn't in his name. He made sure to give his men plenty of reign over their own enterprises, even if most of them were strip clubs. But, he didn't care. As long as tribute came in every quarter, he never messed around in their business.

He thought Vinson was one he could trust. He'd even given him a car dealership just last month.

"Don't run it into the ground, Vince," he had said.

But, no. What had the little bastard gone and done? Put a tracker on his car and dropped bugs in his office. After everything he'd done for him, that's how he was repaid? To tell the truth, John never liked violence. It was awkward. But, his father had given him fists and showed him how to use them, so there was really no going against it. Violence and fear were vital pieces of the only language that men like Vince could understand. Now, with another family coming to Liverpool, John had to be on his best behavior. Even if 'best' was a little more loosely defined.

As he lit the tip of his last cigar, he reminded Gaz to grab him another few sticks on the way home. Gaz would've never turned coat on him like Vince did. He'd give him the car lot.

"You want the dealership on Sefton street, Kyle?" He offered.

"Sure, boss. Thanks a lot," Gaz smiled, knowing exactly which business he was talking about, "You want me to pull around back?"

They had arrived at the main entrance. Throngs of people were craning around the limo, trying to see who was inside. John thought about it for a second, smushed his cigar tip into the ashtray, and adjusted his tie.

"Nah," he said, "We'll give them the show tonight."

"Sure thing, boss."

Gaz parked the car and leapt out of the cab. His hand was on the door before John could take another breath, and on either side of the door, some of Price’s own foot soldiers took up their posts as bodyguards. When he emerged from the muffled quiet of the limo, it shocked John for a moment to be in such a whirl of chaos.

"Mr. Price, can I get a photo?"

"Over here, please, Mr. Price," a cute reporter was frantic enough to step in front of his men. They picked her up and put her back in the crowd.

John made sure to smile and wave, shake hands with those he had seen before, but he knew it was safer inside.

The manager greeted him warmly and, he noted, by first name,

"John! Good to see you again, mate. We've got just the table for you, tonight. Wait til you see the legs on these girls! It'll be a night to remember."

"I'm sure it will."

"Ah, sorry, but we don't allow weapons past the main floor," the manager's face fell. So did Kyle’s.

Gaz cleared his throat,

"I'm sure you can make an exception for Mr. Price. We'll be very discreet."

It was more of a threat than a promise, and John smiled at his friend's heavy tone. Kyle was anything if not polite.

"Uh, yes, we can certainly make arrangements. Right this way, gentlemen," and now the manager was nothing if not nervous. Perfect.

The night continued as well as it could, but he had never really enjoyed gambling. Why make all this money if he was just going to throw it into the wind? But, he could mingle with the right people here. Except that these weren't his people. He had come as a favor to his long time friend, Alex Keller, but Alex was nowhere to be found.

"Passed out on his missus’ tits, probably!" One of the strangers guffawed at the other end of the Blackjack table.

"He’ll show, don't you worry," another replied.

Well, John didn't have all night to wait on a man to get to his own party. He needed a drink. When he rose to head to the bar, Gaz stopped him,

"I'll get it, boss. No need to bother yourself with it."

The table was silent. The strangers who had been so brassy before were now silent and transfixed on the pair of men at their table, one of whom was important enough to have his slightest whim catered to at a moment's notice.

"It's alright, Garrick. Play my hand, yeah? I'm headed out for a smoke."

"Yes, sir."

John retreated. The awkward stares and weird glances were too much for him to bear. Surely there was a patio around here, somewhere.

By the time he found one, he was disappointed to see it was occupied.

"Oh, beg your pardon. Thought I was alone out here," he said.

To his shock, it was a woman's voice that responded from the shadows. Your voice.

"You're fine. You got a light? Fuckin’ matches are all wet..." You fumbled with the book, striking to no avail.

He smirked,

"I have the fire if you've got an extra smoke."

"Fair trade," you smiled back jokingly.

You were dressed in a clean chef's coat, your hair was pulled up, and you might have been going without makeup, but it was almost too dark to tell. It certainly wasn't casino makeup, that was for sure. John watched as you tugged two cigarettes free from the box, put them to your soft lips, and covered his flame with your hand. Your fingernail paint was pink and chipped. You pulled in the fire of both cigarettes and offered one to him. He took it,

"Thanks."

You grunted in a minimal response.

"So, you're a chef?" He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, giving him the glare he deserved for such an obvious question.

He back pedaled,

"I mean, you work here as a chef. I just thought, with the coat...I mean, where's your big bloody hat? You need the hat."

You laughed. It was wonderful to hear, and he liked the way your mouth moved when you started to speak,

"Yeah, I work here. Have for the past three years or so. Bill signed me on as head chef, and I've been slaving away for him ever since."

"Bill?"

"Oh, he's the culinary manager. Runs all the restaurants in the casino and the hotel. When the last guy disappeared into thin air, they had to scramble to find someone, I guess. What about you? Where's your fancy hat? Based on that Hermes tie, I'm gonna assume you're here with the party."

He mindlessly adjusted his tie, noticing its feel on his neck as she called it out,

"Well, I might be."

"Yeah? You some kind of big-shot?" You eyed him again, challenging him to answer with something more than a yes or a no. You had heard yes and no plenty of times.

"I might be," he wouldn't give in.

"If we keep going like this all night, you might end up being the Queen, for all I know."

You both laughed, but then, you sighed,

"Oh well, Mr. Mystery. Keep your secrets then," you shrugged and turned away from him.

He couldn't have that.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Sarah," you spun back around, "Rachel. Tiffany. Willamina. Might be anything."

You had the audacity to wink at him.

"Alright, you got me, love," he moved a little closer to you, "I'm John. John Price."

He extended his hand and waited for the bad news to sink in. No one who knew his name in this town would be dumb enough to be on a patio alone with him at night. He had dodged the media for a long time, but his trials always managed to get leaked. Twelve accounts of assault and battery, two separate accounts of theft, three murder charges - all acquitted of course. But, still, he was no stranger to ducking the law.

"John? Of all the names," you shook your head and smiled, taking his hand firmly, "Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. You've never heard of me?"

"Oh, Jesus," you lamented, "Are you famous or something? Look, if I'm not in the kitchen, I'm at home asleep. Sorry. I don't even watch TV."

"No, nothing like that, I just - " He thought about it for a moment before you saw him decide to take a different trajectory, “Not famous.”

“Why is it that I feel a little bit like Alice tonight?” You took a long drag and let the smoke fall from your lips, “Like I’m following a white rabbit down a deep, dark hole.”

He chuckled, and you enjoyed seeing his eyes shine with his laughter,

“If you follow me down,” he sidled up to you, his face close enough to yours so you could smell the balsam in his aftershave, “I’ll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

A man’s voice cleared his throat behind you, and you both turned to look at who it was.

“Garrick?” John asked, clearly annoyed.

“Yes, sir. Johnny and Simon made it up. They said they know why Keller hasn’t shown.”

John didn’t answer. He simply turned back to look into your eyes, trying to divine some sort of future from them. He must’ve liked what he saw because the next thing you knew, you were being given a golden key card. Top floor.

Not famous, my arse, you thought to yourself.

“Why don’t you take the night off, love. Come see Wonderland, yeah? I’ll be right behind you.”

“My, my,” you said, palming the card from him, “No one ever tells you no.”

Another smile, a little colder than the first,

“No, they don’t.”

“Maybe I will,” you pulled the tiger’s tail.

“You won’t,” the tiger growled back.

As you watched him leave the small patio, his broad back stretching that expensive suit, his thick fingers flicking his half-smoked cigarette off the balcony’s edge, you were kicking yourself. You knew you were going up to his room, even though something inside of you really wanted to yank this guy’s chain. But, his dark, purring voice had made Wonderland sound so inviting… maybe just one little peek wouldn’t hurt?

You waited a whole five minutes before slinking off to the service elevator, cutting out for the night. No one was making dinner anyway; it was the bar that was slammed. You’d already cleaned and prepped your station, so no one would miss you.

You ducked into the bathroom just before the top floor, getting off on the service side in an empty hallway, checking your face for stray flour or coffee stained teeth. You smelled like a pizza oven, but maybe you could sneak a shower before he showed up?.

What a slut, you heard the angel on your shoulder chastise you.

So, what? The devil’s side replied, indignant.

You peeled the chef’s coat off of your body. All you had underneath was a black tee. It was cropped a bit too high for work, but you wore it anyway. Your black work pants were covered in flour and dried food. You brushed them off as best you could. It would have to do. You shoved your coat into your bag and headed back to the hallway.

Luckily, the main elevator was vacant, as was the hallway, so you wouldn’t run into any other guests on your way to Wonderland.

The angel rolled his eyes. The devil glared at him.

The elevator dinged, and you inserted the gold card, clicking the very topmost button to the penthouse.

You’d been up here before. Sometimes, you picked up cleaning shifts on your off days for the extra cash, so you knew the layout. But, that had been in the cold, hygienic light of day. At night, this floor was a sparkling vision. When the elevator doors opened, huge clear windows reached all the way into the ceiling, framing Liverpool’s city center, looking more beautiful than it ever seemed from the ground.

You took quiet, uncertain steps out of the lift, checking for any signs of life. There were none, so you made your way to the bathroom. Huge black marble monolith slabs were carved in a semicircle, a nautilus that curled around the four separate shower heads, all ready to pour their steaming water down your naked body.

You stripped, stepping into the stream, letting yourself pretend that you lived in this sort of luxury for a moment. A soft lather of soap and a little shampoo later and you were clean. The single-use toothbrush and paste was in the hidden drawer that no guest would ever notice, so you stole an extra set, scrubbing yourself to a minty shine.

A pair of black satin robes hung in the closet, so you stole one, tying it around your waist, fully aware that one stiff breeze and the loose-fitting garment would fly right off of you. The soft fabric lay against your skin in the most sensual way, barely touching you and yet making you feel touched.

You explored the hotel room a bit, avoiding Mr. Price’s suitcase like it would bite you. The kitchen came stocked with ice buckets of champagne, so you helped yourself to one, pouring a glass and lounging by the window, wondering how long you’d have to wait for your date.

Fortunately for you, only an hour had passed and you heard the elevator ding. Out from the dark lift came the man himself… bleeding from his lip.

“John! What happened?” You put down your wine and rushed over to him.

He held you back, waving you off like it was nothing,

“Don’t worry, love. Just a bit of a scuffle, tha’s all.”

“But —”

“Seriously,” he grabbed you by your arms and looked you up and down, enjoying the wide opening of the robe as it revealed your body to him, “You should see the other bloke. Let me get cleaned up. Pour me one of those, would’ya?”

Before you could protest, he ducked into the bathroom, out of your reach. You were left standing there, worried and a little concerned for your own wellbeing. You didn’t actually know this man at all, and here you were, lamb to the slaughter, eager and bleating happily.

While he was in the bath, you decided to do a little research. You searched up his name, and you were finding almost no hits, until you stumbled upon a mugshot.

There he was… the notorious mob boss, ruler of the English underground arms dealing circuit, enforcer and racketeering extraordinaire. And here you were, nearly naked in his room with not so much as a penknife within reach. This guy had been in the armed forces, special forces, black ops — the works. He retired and fell into the armed security world, making a name for himself by pushing out the competition by any means necessary. His father had maintained ties to the dark underground, and now John had taken over the family business, doing shady deals for the government and crime organizations alike. All of it was hearsay, of course, and none of the charges had ever landed a single hit… but you knew the truth.

John Price was the most dangerous man in the world; Liverpool’s crime arena was just a quiet little hobby for a man like him. If he wanted to, he could make you disappear like a magician behind a mirror. Gone without a trace.

What would you do? Would you run? Where would you go? How would you explain your sudden exit? Food poisoning?

Before you could even begin to formulate a plan, John was out of the shower. He looked incredible. His hulking, heavy form was steaming from the hot water, and his hairy chest was uncovered. He’d slipped into a pair of running shorts and nothing else, so his brutal body was on display for you. He was covered in scars, and he was heavyset, but his largeness was from his strength. His core was bulky and strong, and when he moved, you could see the tight muscles rolling around beneath the skin like a snake ready to strike.

He turned to you, but even though he wore a smile at first, the moment he made eye contact, his face fell. Somehow, he knew that you knew.

He sighed,

“What did you see?”

He rushed over to his suitcase but found it still locked, looking back to you quizzically. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. John stepped over to you slowly, deliberately, almost as if he was ready for another fight.

You turned your phone towards him and showed him his own mugshot.

“Thought you said you weren’t famous,” you whispered. Your voice sounded so small and far away, you almost felt like you hadn’t spoken the words.

He smiled bitterly, tossing his towel on a nearby chair and sat beside you on the bed,

“Cat’s out of the bag, then?”

“Yeah,” you looked down at your phone, unable to look him in the eye.

“Go on,” he waved his hand at you, motioning toward the door, “Get out.”

You didn’t move. You should have. Every fiber in your being was telling you to make a break for it. Now was your chance. And yet… you stayed. It was silent for a long while. You could feel his gaze raking over you, hot and heavy. His breaths rumbled in his chest.

“Go!” He spat, “No one’s keeping you prisoner here, girl. That’s me, alright, and the newspapers don’t even know the bloody half of it. Just go.”

You reacted to his volume, shirking back a bit, but you still didn’t stand. You looked at him then, searching for the kindness you thought you saw on the patio just hours before, checking to see if it was still there, if it was even real.

When you met his eyes, his fury was masking a very real pain. He was angry, sure, but the ache of being cast out was apparent, even though you were the one doing the leaving, and you just wanted that bit of brightness back again.

John studied you, watching your every movement, trying to determine what you were thinking but coming up short. He stood right in front of you, his hips inches from your face, and he asked,

“What are you waitin’ on, love?”

A strong thumb lifted your chin, raising your jaw up to look at him again, and he used his enormous hand to grab your face, keeping you there under his will.

“I know you’re afraid of me,” he commented softly, “I can feel it.”

“So?” You replied, trying to keep your tone steady.

His voice was bitter and mocking, and as he leaned forward, you could smell his clean, warm skin,

“You wanna play with the big bad wolf, hm? See if I bite?”

He grabbed you a little too tightly, trying to scare you. It worked, but you tried not to show it. Instead, you decided to place both of your hands at his hips, your palms flat against his warm belly, feeling the dark hair that formed a faithful trail, guiding your eyes down to his waistband.

It was his turn to be surprised. You felt his breathing catch as you moved your hands up along his ribcage, rubbing gentle circles into his skin, petting him like a skittish hound, expecting him to snap.

Letting go of your face, he grabbed your wrist, and just as you thought he was going to stop you, he took your hand and placed it on his chest, stretching your arm all the way up from where you were sat, making you extend your spine as you reached up to him. Your fingers traced the fur that lay flat against his pectorals, and finally, you plucked at his nipples, not allowing there to be any question as to your intentions.

The tip of his wide finger dipped into the silken collar of your robe, swirling around your neck and following it down to the swell of your breast. He didn’t find your peak, but he didn’t seem to care to. He was just exploring.

Suddenly, John moved faster than you could even begin to understand what was happening. He had reached under you, lifting you, and then tossed you back down on the bed. You lay, sprawled, trying to catch your bearings, and then you were covered by his huge form, his wide body casting shadows over your vision, cloaking you in his own private darkness.

His mouth was on you like a hot flame, licking and burning and biting and sucking wherever he wanted to, eager to taste every inch of your skin, the imperfections of a wrinkle or a freckle seemed to go fully unnoticed as he devoured you, sucking you down like his last meal.

You were overwhelmed by the pleasure he was stoking inside of you, and you let a small mewling sound escape from your lips that caught his attention.

“Mm,” he climbed up your body so that you were face to face, “Enjoying your walk on the dark side, love? Think you’re tainted by me now? Or maybe that’s what you wanted, is it? Something naughty, just for a night?”

You didn’t understand his negativity, nor the self-deprecation, so you tried to protest,

“No, I —”

“It’s alright. I’ll show you how to be a bad girl. I’ll teach you, love. C’mere.”

His voice was smoldering and sticky, clinging to your ears with some of that same bitterness from before. But, you didn’t have time to worry about that. He was standing by the bedside again, and he grabbed your arms, making your head and shoulders hang part way off of the mattress. You were left staring at his thick thighs and scarred knees, worried about what he was up to.

Then, all became clear. He had dropped his running shorts, and the fattest cock you’d ever seen hung down, shining with drool, ready to be fed into your mouth.

Your eyes went wide, and although you reached your hand out to try and brace against his legs, it was no use. He supported your head from underneath and bent himself over until the tip of his swollen cockhead touched your lips, the gleaming precome sticking to you like gloss.

Unwilling to be frightened by his aggression, you opened your mouth for him, laving your tongue across his turgid flesh, allowing him to press himself inside of you.

His cock was slick on the head but dry on his shaft, so you did your best to wet him, licking and sucking as he pumped himself in and out, already nearing the back of your throat and not even halfway sheathed.

When he nudged your soft palate, making you gag a bit, you made a noise. You tried steadying him with your hand, and he grunted, grabbing both of your arms by the wrist, holding them above your face, clutched to his hip. Then, he continued to fuck your face, ignoring your writhing gasps for breath.

Your throat tightened around him, but you tried to stay calm. You’d never taken anyone this deep before, but you stilled yourself, ignoring the urge to panic, and you made a point to swallow, feeling your throat squeeze around his head. You could taste him as he painted the back of your throat, salty and sweet at the same time.

That made him moan, and you felt like you’d won some sort of battle. If he was trying to frighten you, it was going to take more than just a little rough sex.

“Mm, fuck… Maybe you are a naughty little girl, aye?”

You hummed, making sure you could feel the vibrations travel through his girth.

He removed himself fully, taking a trail of your own drool with him, gasping from the pleasure of your mouth.

“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he muttered darkly, crawling over you and settling himself between your legs.

You tried to lift yourself back onto the bed, but he kept you hanging there, pinning you down with his strong arm, pressing into your belly with his hand to prevent you from sitting up. Finally, after feeling him kiss and nip at your thighs, teasing you mercilessly, you felt the warm, wet slip of his tongue as it fell between your lips, tasting your throbbing pussy for the first time.

The robe was half-off, and only the tie around your waist was even providing any coverage, and you realized that as he began to eat you, he was yanking off your clothes as well, ripping through the knot of the robe to free you from the fabric.

Now, his mouth moved deeper, and you felt him seal his lips to your pussy, messily drinking you in. As he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth and jaw were strong enough to rock your body up and down on the soft bed, making it seem as if he were actually using his smooth wet muscle as a writhing cock, thrusting it up into you and reaching deep into your hole.

The scruff of his beard was enough to make you want to come, much less the power that he ate you with. Every deep, curling lick sent sparks into your core, making your pussy drip with eager stickiness. It was hungry for that fat, uncut cock, forcing you to imagine how delightful it would be when he popped his giant head into your pink flesh.

You were keening for him. Well, it wasn’t exactly for him, per se. The noises you were making were coming from your throat against your will. If you didn’t scream, you’d pass the hell out, you were sure of it.

“Fuck, that’s it, love. Get loud for me. Ungh… you taste… mmfh… so damn sweet,” he was ruthless, speaking between long suckles from his mouth, commanding you from below.

You wished you could see him, but all you could see from your hanging position was the giant window, looking out across the sparkling city. So, you called out to him, your voice thick with want, with need,

“John…”

That was all it took. He tugged your hips down until he was above you again, prowling over you like some sort of beast, all snarling unbridled lust and appetite. As soon as he was in position — and your body knew he was in position — everything stopped. He stopped.

John looked down at you and became… different. The flirty bloke from the patio was back, and he smiled at you. You smiled back, out of breath and already drunk with hunger, but that was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, making you taste your own musk, and as his soft lips slid over yours, you felt the pressure of his huge cock at your hole, pressing through your folds to reach your hot, soaked center.

You gasped through his kiss, both of you moaning in the same timbre as you felt his heavy dick fit into you for the first time, a sparkling desire swirling within you as every delicious inch of him buried itself in you. He began to thrust himself up into your aching slit, fucking you on half of his length, and then using your own sticky fluid to slip himself the rest of the way in.

“Bloody hell, this fuckin’ pussy… fuck me,” he groaned, wrenching his eyes shut from the pleasure.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He asked, seeking your praise.

“You’re fucking huge,” you didn’t mean to sound so concerned, but there was a part of you that was.

He sat back on his heels, taking some of the pressure away, staring down at your body lecherously, savoring your tits and fondling them in his hands,

“Alright, love?”

“You feel so good,” you insisted, wrapping your hands around his arms as he enjoyed your body.

“Tell me again,” he said, grunting again as he fucked his cock deeper inside of you, reaching a new end before dragging himself all the way back out just so he could start the journey again. He upped his tempo, pounding into you with his weight, the loud smack of his body against yours beating into you like a drum.

“Tell. Me. Again,” he growled his warning, snarling down at you, pinching your nipple to punish you for your silence.

You were gasping for breath. He was so deep now, you could feel the pressure of it in your belly. Between sharp intakes of air, you hissed,

“You… feel.. so… fucking… good…”

“That’s my girl,” he bent over you again and that familiar pressure returned. His cock was too big, and yet you took it anyway. Your body was panic and pleasure all at the same time, and he had you pinned down for the ride of your life.

You weren’t sure how many hours passed that night. He seemed to have the stamina of a much younger man, and every time you dozed off, you’d wake up again to fingers or tongue or cock playing inside of your folds, coaxing you to open yourself up to him. You were happy to oblige, but you were properly fuck drunk. If someone asked you for the alphabet, you weren’t positive you trusted your answer. But, when John Price asked you to open your mouth or your legs for him, you were the top scholar.

A golden, creamy dawn was rising up over the docks as you stared out the window. John’s hand was rubbing your bare back in long, relaxing strokes, and he was leaving soft, lazy kisses down your spine. You knew you were a mess. Your hair was tangled; you’d thrown it up into a messy bun on the second runthrough, done with trying to pretend to be a pristine hot girl. Your body was covered in his marks. Bruises from his teeth and red welts from a delightful slap on the ass or two were painted across you like little tattoos to commemorate your coupling.

“You alright, love?” He checked in on you.

He’d been checking in all night. For all his ruthlessness, he never crossed a line, and he never forgot to make sure you were safe. Sometime in the wee hours, he’d even made you drink a bottle of water and eat some fruit to hydrate, teasing you with grapes like some sort of earthly Baccus.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Looks like it’s time for me to get out of your hair. Not sure I should be seen by the public in my current state.”

“You have work, or…” John looked confused.

You thought about lying to him for a moment. It would hurt so much less for you to just break it off now in the soft dawn glow rather than a painful goodbye over cold breakfast. But, you didn’t.

“No, just… don’t wanna fool myself into thinking this was something that it wasn’t.”

Your truth hung there in the air for a moment, but before he could open his mouth to reply, you heard the elevator ding.

You turned to look at it, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled you off the bed and forced you to the floor. It was so fast that you didn’t even realize what he’d done until your nose was in the carpet. Then, you heard a sharp, snapping pop of something hitting the bed.

You watched in horror as John’s hand reached under the mattress and pulled out a small pistol. He held it like a professional, calm and trained, and shot twice. Then, it was quiet again.

He helped you to your feet, and he was telling you something, but your brain wasn’t registering his words. What had happened? Why were there bullet holes in the mattress? Who had he shot?

Then, you saw it. A man’s body was laying across the door of the elevator. Wanting to descend, the elevator’s alarm wailed, beeping and beeping.

John grabbed your jaw and made you listen to him,

“We have to go. Now. Get your clothes on. Now. Now.”

“Okay…” You couldn’t move. It was so hard to even lift your arms. They felt like solid lead. You just wanted to sink back to the floor. Maybe if you could just…

“Hey! Now!”

He shoved your clothes into your hands and you started to put them on, doing your best not to look at the elevator. John was packing a black bag, half-dressed himself, and checking the windows over and over, looking for something in the streets below.

“There’s no time, c’mon, love.”

You felt his hand cover yours as he led you to the elevator. You watched him ruthlessly kick the body away from the doors and push you inside. Once you were in, the doors closed and you rode in silence with him. You could only hear your heart in your ears.

“...to my car. Stay close to me.”

“Okay…” It was all you could say. No other words even dared to come to mind.

“Hey,” he held your face in his as the floor numbers dropped to the teens, “You’re alright. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Okay.”

The doors opened, and you found it extremely weird that the lobby was empty. There were no workers, no guests, not even a custodian. It was just a big, silent cavern in what was usually a lively casino.

He was leading you out to the parking garage, and just as you stepped into the concrete enclave, you heard the screech of tires round the corner. John stood in front of you and gripped the gun in his hand, but he didn’t move away.

The car stopped in front of you, and you braced yourself, hiding behind your lover as much as you could.

“Get in, boss! They’re right bloody behind us. Soap, shove over,” a man’s voice came from the car. He was in the driver’s seat, and he was wearing a ballcap with the Union Jack emblazoned on the top. In his passenger seat was a man in a black balaclava, and in the back was a bright-eyed man with a mohawk who you guessed had to be Soap.

“C’mon, love,” John shoved you inside just as a black SUV rounded the same corner, the engine roaring when it saw Price’s car.

Gunshots rang out, and you knew some of them had hit the car. You worried for John, but he stood straight up, aiming carefully for the driver, and fired his gun. As if you were in some sort of action movie, the SUV careened off-course and slammed into several parked cars. Men began to pour from it, armed to the teeth.

John jumped in beside you and made you kneel in the floorboards, holding his body over yours protectively.

“How’d they find out? Gaz!” John yelled at the driver, shouting his name when he saw another SUV approaching from the side.

Gaz swerved, narrowly missing being rammed, and sped off down the highway, trying to run from his pursuers.

“No idea, mate, but they think it was us who tore up the warf. Banno’s man must’ve turned snitch. Only explanation.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the masked man sighed, rolling down his window to fire shots at the SUV chasing you down.

“Who’s the bonnie hen, boss?” Soap peered down at you before turning his attention back on the car chase.

“Uh… she’s…” John tried to explain, but you realized that you never even told him your real name, “I dunno.”

“You dinnae ken?” Soap’s brows knitted together.

“Soap! Shut up and shoot, mate,” Gaz turned his attention back on the fight.

“Well,” the masked man grumbled loudly, “She’s stuck with us all the way to Hadrian’s Wall. Heading to Katie’s house. No place else is safe.”

“Aye, good call,” John agreed.

Finally, after leaving the city, your pursuers turned back around and left you to your escape. John helped you back into the seat and checked you for injuries.

“John… I’m…” Your voice shook with fear, and you felt all of that stress tumbling down into your chest, turning into shock and tears.

“Shh, it’s alright, love. I’ve gotcha. I’m… I’m sorry. Should’ve known better.”

“Better?” You whispered as he held you to his chest.

“Aye. Thought I could be a normal man for a night. Hit on the hot bird at the bar, go to a fuckin’ party. But, nothing’s normal right now. I’ve put you in this mess, and I’m sorry.”

You didn’t have a reply, not one that made any sense, and as he held you, you watched the English countryside come into view. Rolling green hills still wet with their dew made everything that had just happened to you seem so far away, but you could smell the gunpowder on his hands as he pet your cheek, and you knew that nothing could be further from the truth.

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ryomens-vixen · 3 months ago

Text

Yandere!Gojo Satoru -Drabble?

❤️‍🩹 CW: Gojo is a Warning, Cheating, Slight NSFW, Yandere Tendencies, threats, dub/noncon?

❤️‍🩹 Word Count: 🤷🏾‍♀️girl idk...no wc today.

❤️‍🩹 Author's notes: This was COMPLETELY out of no where, I was bored and instead of finishing this Toji fic I randomly decided to write Yandere Gojo. So enjoy and don't ask me to write for Gojo 🙄 this is a one time thing...

I don't think y'all understand how TERRIFYING yandere Gojo could actually be- like I'm not a Gojo girlie, but I pay attention to him enough to know this nga is real deal terrifying. Like let's say you and him had a bad break up and he pops up at your house after you blocked him on everything, trying to explain himself and you close the door in his face. Now the RATIONAL thing to do would just be to leave. But Satoru? Chile his only rational thoughts are he either hollow purple the house or simply teleport inside and continue where he left off. Cause what the fuck does he look like letting you go?

Nah, he'll teleport in the house and of course scare tf outta you- and whatchu gone do about it? Nothing, you can't even touch this man. Like yeah you can scream, shout, throw shit at him all you want, but it's not like you can touch the nga. You gone hear him, you gone listen to every word he has to say and even if you do decide to reject his advances he WILL stay in your house, all up in your face, all up in your bed, eating your food, etc. He's gonna make you take him back whether you like him or not, but you not leaving him. Whatchu gone do? He's the strongest, nobody can step to him except Suguru, but where is he? Nobody knows. So really all you can do is deal with him being there, annoying you, trying to talk your panties off, the mood swings I mean really you have to watch what you say to him cause his cheerful mood can switch to unhinged so quick and you know exactly how bad he can get so it's better to just play along with him until you're no longer mad at him.

I mean just the other day he told you he loved you so much but you- you clearly forgot who you were dealing with and slipped up saying you didn't love him. Now why would you slip up and say that to him? Now he's all eerily quiet and you were standing there washing the dishes like you didn't just piss off a monster? Next thing you know he's got your head in the dish water and his dick buried in your pussy, His blindfold restricting your hands, every now in then he feels you pushing your head against his hand he pulls your head up from the water only to ask you in a serious tone of you love him or not. Now... There's a right answer for everything so even if you didn't love him it would be very.. Wise to say you do- unless you want this blue eyed, white haired demon to drown you?

Or the time he caught you swiping on tinder? Are you out of your mind? You have to be- ain't no way you forgot who's in your house. Gojo had half a mind to trap you in his infinite void for a second, but listen- he's trying, he's trying to not be so impulsive, trying to communicate better, trying to not show you how weak you are compared to him. He tried to communicate to you how much it hurts him to see you on tinder, and what did you say to him?

"We're not together so it doesn't matter, Satoru. "

It's something wrong witcho dumbass like do you just forget how much danger you're in fuckin around with Gojo? THEE strongest? The Six Eyes? Head of the Gojo Clan? Now you're sitting here wondering why you can't breathe and seeing stars. He literally took you're phone and shattered it, now he's knocking the Sonic Rings out your pussy. Do you still wanna keep playing with this man? Because after this you're sure as hell going to watch what you say or do around him now.

Only after you get done getting the Chaos Emeralds knocked out your pussy. I mean he is ruthless, turning your ever which way but loose, knees always behind your heads while he's quite literally bullying your cervix, but the way that you're a babbling mess underneath him turned him on even more, but I guess that's you're fault you should have watched what you said, and now here you are getting stuffed to the brim with his cum, those bright blue eyes, that crazied smile stretched across his face, forcing you to make eye contact with him. Gojo enjoyed seeing that expression you were making, he knows he's the only only who could ever fuck you like this, his dick is the best you've ever had nobody could compare to him no matter how mad you were.

"That's right baby, you're my girl, aren't 'cha? Mine, Mine, Mine. You.. Fuck.. You and this pussy mean so much to me!"

"Say it, Y/N, Say you love me baby, say it, say it, say it!"

"Fuck- This pussy s'good, s'good baby, just for me."

"You'll t-take me back, be a family again, you'd like that wouldn't you? Putting a fuckin baby in you- wouldn't you?!"

Out of everything he said that's the only thing that caught your attention, your panic? You were never ready for a baby- But what were you gonna do? Deny him? You've already fucked up denying him a relationship, Yeah he cheated, but in your current situation was it really ever that deep? He never showed his crazy until now and too be honest it was scary and arousing at the same time. But you had to come back to earth before he ACTUALLY baby traps you. Maybe tricking him into giving you a break? You had just the idea, asking him in strangled moans to let you ride it, damn near begging.

Surprisingly- it did work, you were engaging with him instead of fighting against him, Gojo thought to himself as he sat up pulling you on of him. His demeanor seemed a bit more cheerful than deranged like earlier. But now that you've come back to your senses and realized who you're fucking with.. It was time to play along, maybe even reason with him. Once you were on top of him finally able to catch your breath- your fingers interlaced with his, impatient as ever he bucked his hips up into you making you plead with him to wait a second.

*Pant* "Sa- Satoru wait, just a second lemme talk!"

He looked so annoyed, so irritated with you, but way not he'll bite.

"Fine, what more important than me putting this fat cock in your stomach?" Oh that devious look only his face.

"Satoru, you're right, I do wanna get back together, I was just being jealous, Toru- I wanna fix us before we ever consider having a baby, okay? Please?" God he loved the way you pleaded with him, even saying please? Man it made his dick jump, but it also mad him so happy, you wanted to be with him again.

You watched his facial expressions in worry since he hadn't said anything yet. That was until he bucked his hips into you again ... Repeatedly. But at least he had on his usual joyful expression- he seemed happy now. Nothing could ruin it just as long as you were cautious about the things you say or do. There's no use in being petty or angry with him because will always without missing beat show you his crazy.

But you should be glad you don't live in an apartment, because babeh.. The noise complaints y'all would be getting right now, I mean the headboard is literally banging against the wall. Your screams were nothing to talk about either you two were being so loud right now, you were his again and even though he didn't respond to your statement beforehand, his actions would surely speak for him. Like instead of his baby trapping you Gojo pulls out cumming all over your stomach and himself.

"My Girl.. Now how about we try for a baby when you move in with me tomorrow?" He said so cheerfully like it was nothing.

"HUH?!"

Yeah... Gojo Satoru was insane and you're the only person that has EVER seen this side of him. You're stuck with this monster now, but at least his dick is good, right?

Tags: no tags this time we'll see what the algorithm does with this and again do not bother asking me to write more Gojo I literally hate this dude. 💕

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere

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ohtobeleah · 2 months ago

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Logan has been on my mind since Deadpool and Wolverine enough to where I'm finally getting through the rest of the X-men movies. And let me tell you that man needs a hug. For the Logan requests, Logan seems like one that would be told to keep his emotions to himself(being 200 yrs old and all), and not to cry. What if Reader is in the hospital injured where it is serious but they'll be fine, and Logan is just glad Reader is alive and wants to cry but wants to appear strong. Then reader invites him to lay down beside them in the bed and basically tells him it's ok to cry an comforts him as he let's go of his worries

SAME! Except my husband actually sat me down and forced me to watch them.... and Now it's turned into me begging to watch the next movie.

When we look back at Logan's overextended life, we know he's been through a fuck tone of trauma, hurt, loss, and grief. I like to think that although he's incredibly capable of expressing his emotions--with all that turmoil and all that time spent growing up in toxic environments and situations, he's gotten pretty good at remaining neutral in situations others would usually crumble in.

Perhaps you’re Logan's version of Charles Moira McTaggart? You aren't a mutant, you're simply a gifted agent who Logan takes a liking to. The feelings are mutual and everyone knows something is going on. Because no one gets under Logan's skin, not even Wade, like you do, it’s always very buddy-cop when the two of you are together. But the sex is a mirror imagine what that Honda Odessy scene (if you know what I mean)

Logan just stands in the doorway of the hospital room, You're sleeping, or so he thinks. His heartbeat is running rampant in his chest because the sight of you in the bed with all those machines and wires makes his heart ache. The blame is resting heavily on his shoulders as he steps in. Slowly but surely, Logan makes his way to your side. Somewhere he never wants to leave.

“Hi,” You groan as you open your eyes and notice Logan sitting quietly beside your bed in one of those really uncomfortable armchairs. “You look like shit.”

“Looks who’s talkin?” Logan replied. It’s only when you turn your head do you see the tears streaming down his aged face. Years of torture, years of pain written in the lines on his beautiful face. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that right?” Logan admits as he lets out a sigh of relief he wasn’t aware he was holding in. “You almost died in my arms.”

“Not the worst way to go out,” You chuckle through the pain as you move over in the hospital bed. “Come here, you big softy.”

“I–” Logan tries to commute what you’re saying, but his mind doesn’t register the kindness. “What?”

“Come, lay down with me? I’m alright Logan,” You explain as he stands, carefully sitting down beside you only to lay right beside you. “Were you crying?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Is what you’re met with as Logan wraps you in his arms. The gentle kiss he places against your temple tells you a different story altogether. “You scared me, that’s all.”

But you know just by the way Logan holds you so close, with every ounce of love he has in his body, that it’s much more than that.

“I won’t tell anyone you know,” You mumble as you allow yourself to relax in the safety and full security of Logan’s warm embrace. “If you were?” You follow up. The pad of Logan’s thumb runs along your forearm, shaking softly as he tries to fight against the emotions running through his nervous system. “But for the record, you aren’t a robot Logan, emotions are valid, let them out.”

And so Logan breaks, he allows the tears to stream down his face as he kisses you tenderly. Holding you close because he thought for a few hours there that he wouldn’t get to hold you again.

“Ever scare me like that again and you and I are gonna have problems,” Logan growls, but you know what he means when a sob rips through his chest. So you reply with what he needs to hear at that moment. And you mean every word.

“I love you too.”

#captainmoonknight #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #x men fanfiction #logan wolverine #wolverine fanfiction

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munson-blurbs · 1 year ago

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Fast-forward two years, and the little Munson clan is celebrating Halloween with some old--and new--faces.

Warnings: allusion to smut, a lil surprise...

WC: 1.2k

A/N: Happy Halloween! A gentle reminder that requests for the TUI universe are officially open. And thank you to @rip-quizilla and @the-unforgivenn for helping me with this little blurb.

Divider credit to @saradika

Autumn has fully settled into Hawkins, Indiana. The sun sets a bit earlier each evening; green leaves become orange, then red, then brown, before fluttering to the ground and being raked into trash bags. A chill hangs in the air, not strong enough to create frost, but enough to warrant a layer of clothing or two.

Lucky for you, your Halloween costume this year is a long-sleeved olive green shirt underneath a sleeveless brown house dress, high socks, and loafers. Warm, cozy, and perfect for pretending to be Misery’s Annie Wilkes.

Eddie strides towards your shared bedroom, a Ghostface mask pushed up atop his mess of curls. He leans against the doorframe and lets out a low wolf-whistle.

You roll your eyes and grin. “You’re so full of it,” you laugh, adjusting the straps of your dress where they’re twisting on your shoulders. “This is quite possibly the least sexy costume anyone could wear.”

Eddie tuts, pushing off on his bicep and shaking his head. “It’s not the costume; it’s the woman wearing it.” His lips tug upward in a toothy smile. “C’mon, give me a little twirl.” He moves his forefinger in a circular motion to indicate what he wants.

You oblige, slowly turning and offering a 360-degree view of your outfit. “How do I look?” you deadpan.

“Like you’re killing for two.” He presses a kiss to your lips, his palms resting on your rounded bump just as they have ever since you’d started showing. Now that you’re in your final few weeks of pregnancy, he seems to find an excuse to touch it every spare chance he gets. “You’re sure you’re up for trick-or-treating? If you’re too tired or something, you can hang back. Jeff and I can handle the kids.”

It takes all of your willpower not to let out a disbelieving snort. If the two men are engaged in conversation, Harris and Ettie could be halfway to Timbuktu before they even notice they’re missing. “I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “Annie Wilkes wore sensible shoes, which certainly helps. Although,” you scrunch up your nose, “these are kind of uncomfortable.”

Eddie peers down at your loafers and immediately bursts into laughter. “Babe…they’re on the wrong feet.” He cradles your face in his hands and brings his lips to the tip of your nose. “Let me fix that for you, okay?” You sit on the bed while he crouches down, slipping off your shoes and placing them on the correct feet. “There ya go.”

“I can’t see over my belly!” You lament with a laugh, holding out your hands so your doting husband can help you up. “Thank you. I promise I’ll be more useful once I’m not pregnant.”

“I think growing a baby is pretty damn useful,” Eddie murmurs, thumb grazing your cheek, “not to mention how goddamn gorgeous you look while you do it,” he adds, a soft growl inflecting his tone. He would ravish you right then and there if Freddy Krueger himself didn’t appear by his side.

“Is it time for trick-or-treating?”

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie jumps, snapped out of his lovesick stupor in an instant. His hand flies to his chest as his heartbeat steadies. “You scared the hell outta me, Har.” He takes a deep breath before answering his son’s question. “We’ll go as soon as Uncle Jeff and Auntie Viv and Ettie get here.”

Harris nods, the dark gray fedora slipping in front of his eyes. “I wish my baby brother could go with us,” he says with a sigh, swaying his arms back and forth. “When is he gonna be born?”

“Two more weeks until he’s officially due,” you report, gingerly caressing your bump and smiling. Harris has been asking about the baby’s arrival ever since you and Eddie told him he was going to be a big brother. “And then he’ll come trick-or-treating with us next year.”

He beams at this idea, bouncing up and down with enough energy to make you question whether he’s already started eating candy. “I...can’t…wait!” he exclaims, each word more breathless than the last as he acts like a human spring. “Do…you…think…he’ll…like…Skittles?”

Eddie places a hand on Harris’s shoulder to stop his movements. “Baby Brother won’t be able to have Skittles for a long time,” he chuckles, the dimples in his cheeks making an always-welcome appearance, “but if you wanted to share with me, I wouldn’t turn down some peanut M&Ms…”

“Nah, I’m good.” Harris says simply, turning his attention back to your stomach. “It would be kinda cool if he was born on Halloween, though.”

You wrinkle your nose. “But then I wouldn’t be able to trick-or-treat with you tonight,” you point out.

“Oh. Right.” Harris puts a hand on your bump and speaks directly to it. “You stay put until I get my candy.”

Jeff and his family arrive thirty minutes later, clad in their Winnie-the-Pooh themed costumes. Ettie, held in her mom’s arms, is the titular character. Viv makes the perfect Kanga with a Roo stuffed animal hot-glued in the fabric pouch that stretches over her own bump.

“That’s a good look for you,” Eddie snorts when Jeff walks in dressed as Eeyore.

“Right back atcha,” Jeff retorts with a playful smirk. “You’re like a geriatric Ghostface.”

You and Viv share an eye roll at their juvenile banter. “How’re you feeling?” she asks you, strategically ignoring the way Jeff and Eddie are swapping insults.

“Tired of being pregnant but terrified to give birth.” You laugh as you say it but your words are 100-percent true. As much as you’re ready to have your body back to yourself, delivering a baby is a daunting task. “How about you?” She’s due only one month after you are, and the two of you often commiserate about your respective pregnancies.

“Exhausted,” she admits, right hand fingers digging into her lower back and massaging it. “Chasing after a two-and-a-half year-old while being almost eight months pregnant is not for the weak.”

Your lips scrunch up sympathetically. “I don’t know how you do it, honestly.”

As if on cue, Ettie wriggles out of her mother’s grip so she can toddle over to her favorite uncle. Eddie scoops her up, and she greets him with an excited “hi!”

Tears gather at your lash line embarrassingly; the sight of your husband cooing over a young child has your third trimester hormones working in overdrive. You clear your throat and blink them back before anyone can notice. “Who wants to go trick-or-treating?”

Pillowcases in hand, Harris and Ettie cheer loudly as the six–almost eight–of you head out to take on the neighborhood in a conquest for full-size candy bars. You and Viv walk next to them; your husbands lag behind to lock the door.

“You ready to do this with double the amount of kids next year?” Jeff smirks, as Eddie turns the key and jiggles the knob to ensure no one can get it.

Eddie huffs out a laugh. “God, no.” He looks at his long-time friend and grins. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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wishuroses · 2 years ago

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.⠀ ݁ ⸜⸜ 𓂃 𓇼 starry-eyed, neteyam sully.

✶ pairings: neteyam x human!reader

✶ warnings: fluff, mutual pining, reader is a loner but neteyam still loves you, mentions of teyam’s toes (def needs to be a warning), love confessions, definitely not proofread whatsoever, uppercase intended!

✶ word count: 856

✶ a/n: the gears in whatever’s left of my brain are finally turning yes lordt. happy reading! :-)

Contrary to popular belief, you loved being alone. Pandora is beautiful, of course, but with the way you were currently laid on your soft bed, belly first, calves crossed in the air, wrinkled pajama shirt tickling the back of your thighs, and your nimble fingers grasping the spine of the book you were heavily invested in–you’d say you were having one hell of a good time.

Unfortunately for you and your poor, unassuming heart, your me-time was cut short when you heard a loud thwack resound through the air, followed by a multitude of items falling off a nearby table.

You jolted upright, eyes fluttering around the dimly lit room in a panic to make eye contact with–

Oh. It’s Neteyam.

The clumsy boy was already crouched on the floor, stiff hand hovering over a fallen object and staring back at you with wide eyes, like he’d just been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Tey?” Jeez, you’d have to put a bell on him. This wasn’t the first time he’d snuck on you like this, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. “What’re you doing here? You scared the hell outta me!”

“My apologies.” He responded, ever so politely, towering back to his full height to place items back onto your desk accordingly. The ghost of a smile can be heard in his voice.

“It’s okay, Tey. It’s fine.” The sharp sound of a book being slapped on your bedside table permeates the space. “You didn’t answer my question though.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s so late. Way past eclipse.”

Neteyam hummed before turning to you, yellow eyes shining with mirth. “I missed you. Is that not a good enough reason?” he leans against your paint chipped wall, rough accent feeling like warm sugar against your ears.

With a scoff, you flop backwards on your bed, legs and arms sprawled out–something akin to a starfish. No, you thought as your sleepy-soft eyes burned holes in the ceiling, that is not a good enough reason. But you suppose it could suffice.

“Teyam, you know how your mama feels about me.” A pause, a soft shuffle, then the weight of a head dips across the expanse of your clothed tummy. Like routine, you bury your fingers in his braids, nimble tips grazing against parted roots. He gets butterflies every time you do this. “If she finds out you came here, I’m definitely gonna turn up missing.”

(You knew miss Neytiri was never fond of humans, and you understood that–embraced the fact–but you didn’t know what the hell you expected when she nearly launched you off her son when catching your hand wrapped around his wrist, standing a little bit too close. Everyday you thank Eywa for Jake knowing how to ease her out of things. Everyone knew he was her main weakness.)

“..Whatever.” Neteyam figured that was something that might occur, but at the same time, you knew he’d never let anything happen to you–and he made sure to drill that into your head every single change he got.

Your eyes dip down to stare into his, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed almost sarcastically. “Yea whatever. Now get up ‘n help me make a pallet. I just know your knees are screaming for help.”

Neteyam perked up at this, and this time he sat upright. You could tell he attempted to hide his excitement, but the telltale sight of pointed ears eagerly flicking upwards gave it all away. “We are having a sleepover?”

“Yea,” the way your grin eclipsed your eyes had Neteyam’s heart ricocheting against his ribcage, “of course we’re having a sleepover.”

After a few minutes of whispered conversations and sounds of jostling fabric (chatting for five, and it took ten to make sure Tey’s feet weren’t touching the cool laminate flooring–he had passionately expressed how much he hated his toes being cold), you both were laid cozy on the blanketed floor, curled up against each other, Neteyam’s warm body encompassing your much smaller one.

Sleepovers with you rarely occurred, if not rare; he knew you were fully content on keeping to yourself, and he respected that graciously–it would never make him look at you differently, not ever. Not you. Neteyam feels the world fall on its side when he glances down to find you already eyeballing him, looking mutely through thick lashes like he’d just hung the stars.

The exchange was silent–almost as silent as you tended to be–yet it was comfortable. Neteyam could bask in you for hours, no matter what you did or didn’t do.

It was then Neteyam realized he would do anything for you, gift you the moon and a thousand other planets in the solar system if you’d asked him. A pair of lips pressed themselves against the crown of your head, your eyes blinking shut at the action.

“I love you.” He whispered, three-fingered hand reaching to cup the side of your face.

A small smile graces itself across your features, your own hand laying atop his, gently returning the gesture. He knew you loved him back.

You both decide to call it for what it is.

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bratdotcom · 5 months ago

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Stay (The Hell Away from me)

( Billy Butcher x reader || neighbor!au, soft angst, Billy is caught yearning, good ending ♡ )

“You know I can’t stay long, luv. Ye know how it is.” Butcher sighs through his teeth, holding, almost gripping onto his phone. He can feel you hesitate to speak, your side of the line going quiet as you decide what to say. He could picture it clearly in his mind, as if you were right in front of him.

“I just want to see you, Billy.” You reply, leaning your cheek against the screen of your phone. God you missed him. How long has it been since the last time you saw him? Days blurred into weeks, weeks turned into months. Months and months of radio silence.

Butcher juts out his lower lip as he thinks of what to do. Endless possibilities leave his mind, in one ear, out the other. All of them end in him leaving you. But he couldn’t bear to do that. You could’ve just left him for dead on your street, but you didn’t. It’s been a while since he’s met someone as genuinely kind as you.

The world you both lived in was fucked, and Butcher didn’t know if you knew that or not but you made living more bearable for him.

Fuck it.

He sighs again. “I’ll be there in ten.” he says, one of his hands readily grabbing onto the wheel. He puts his phone on speaker as he places it onto the passenger’s seat, wanting to hear your voice one last time before he sees you in person.

You smile, even though he can’t see you. “I’ll be waiting.” you say, promptly hanging up after.

He arrives at your back door, rough knuckles gently knocking against its flimsy screen. Butcher unknowingly sneers as he waits on your back porch. The screen itself looked half-done, barely being kept in place by a rusty-looking metal door frame. He could probably do a better job drunk than whoever the hell installed your screen door.

Maybe one day, he’d come by with his tools, offering to fix your door as an excuse to see you again. Maybe you’d offer him lemonade as a way of saying thank you.

Knowing you, the lemonade would probably be more sweet than his liking, With sugar decorating the rim of the glass.

He’d bear through it. If it meant he could see you.

You finally open the door, hugging him immediately after. He freezes up, not expecting you to hug him so quickly. Your hands run up the sleeves of his trenchcoat, your arms wrapping around the collar. Already, you were caring for him. Without even realizing it.

“I missed you.” you say softly, resting your head against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, every little rise and fall of his breath. His hands gently rested against the small of your back, Butcher was genuinely scared of hurting you.

“I missed ya too, luv.” he says back, the usual gruffness in his tone softening.

Shrugging off his coat and putting his boots near the door, Butcher follows you to your living room. The couch creaks under his weight. He watches as you hand up his coat, leaning against the couch cushions.

As soon as you turn around, he pats his thigh, inviting you to sit in his lap. He wished he could grow used to this. Hell, wanted to grow used to this.

Eagerly, you sit down, wrists perched against his broad shoulders as you kiss his lips. Butcher melts into the kiss, leaning in with his hands resting on your hips.

He tilts his head, the coarseness of his beard rubbing against your chin.

Butcher pulls away for air, a stupid smirk on his face as he sees you catch your breath. “Missed me that much, eh luv? Outta breath all because of me?” he teases, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at you.

“Shut up.” you say back, and he does that. You lean in for more, his hands scoot you closer to him by the hips. Being the man that he is, he pulls away in between kisses to make even more comments. “Can’t get enough of me, huh? Look at you, all desperate f’me like you’ve never kissed anyone else but me before. It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here for ya.” Butcher was admitting things he didn’t even realize he was saying, they came naturally to him.

He was saying things he’d probably admit after at least five shots of jack, things he’d probably never tell to your face.

And yet here he was, saying these things. While having you in his lap.

Pulling away and looking up at him, your eyes soften. “You really mean it?” You ask, mindlessly fiddling with the chain around his neck.

“I..” for a moment, he hesitates to reply. He's pushed away so many people in his life that he was scared of pushing you away too.

“I do.” He says, looking back at you with the most sincerity you've ever seen in his eyes.

“I really do mean it, luv.

#♡ ⊹ ۫ ۪ ꒰͡₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ reblogs n' feedback r greatly appreciated !! support ur local fanfic writers !! ♡ ͡꒱#♡ : billy butcher hearts club !!#{ ♡ dividers by roseraris ♡ }#︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵♡︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵#billy butcher x y/n #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher fluff #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #the boys fluff

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short-honey-badger · 1 year ago

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Better this Way

This one was just for fun. I've been on a roll lately so I hope everyone has been enjoying my works! Again, feel free to ask me anything. I love prompts!

This is preLuffy btw so Shanks had both arms.

Warnings: Just some more smut. drinking too. Shanks falls hard and fast.

Masterlist

Your vision swam, but you weren't about to let that stop you from making it to the privy. You had to piss something awful after having another round of shots with the attractive redhead in the corner of the bar. Shanks, you would learn later, had shouted at you from his seat after watching you down drink after drink with no intention of stopping. You looked lonely, so he quickly decided that he should be the one to keep such a pretty lass company.

The Pirate had been pleasantly surprised when a grin let up your face and his breath was knocked away in that moment. You looked radiant, with flushed cheeks and shining eyes as you sauntered to his table. He gulped and sat up straighter in his seat, and his stomach did flip flops when you sat down across from him and he could really see how your smile truly reached your eyes, the way your nose scrunched playfully at him and asked What're we havin'. Shanks was drawn in by your sunshine attitude and it made him feel warm inside just being near you. He had never felt this way before, and he vaguely wondered if there was something wrong with him.

"Anything that'll get you to stay here with me," Shanks had said and his grin had been dopey. Like a kid finding out his first crush.

You had laughed and shouted for shots be be brought for both of them, and from there, conversation flowed as easily as water. You learned that he was a powerful pirate captain with an equally strong crew. He loved his crew and always fought for what he thought was right in the world. The more he spoke, the more you enjoyed his ideas of true freedom and being out at sea. It was refreshing to find someone so passionate about his ideals.

You told him that you were more of a drifter, content to go wherever the wind took you. You didn't like the idea of being tied down to some island so had stolen away on a ship when you were younger and hadn't looked back since. Shanks had asked if you wanted to join his crew, if only for being such a nice drinking partner, and you were careful to always change the subject back to more natural topics without answering.

Now, hours later, You finally found yourself in the bathroom. You quickly do your business and then go to wash up. You sigh when the warm water rushes over your hands, and find yourself closing your eyes for just a second to enjoy it. You don't hear the bathroom door open and then shut with a soft click, but you certainly feel the pair of muscular arms that wrap around your waist.

"Shit!" you exclaim and jump, scared for a split second before you recognize the now familiar straw hat that Shanks wore, "You scared the hell outta me. What are you doing in here?"

Shanks hums and proceeds to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck. He was well and truly drunk now and it had felt like you were taking forever in the bathroom. Without thinking, he had risen from his chair and had gone to find his perfect girl. And how could you not be in his eyes? You laughed at his shitty jokes and understood his odd sense of humor. He felt his heart stutter and skip every time you sent him even the smallest look. Shanks knows that you are the one for him. No one else had ever made him stutter and blush like some fool before.

"Coun't wait for ya out there," Shanks slurs against your skin, and his arms tighten around your waist, "Felt like you were gone forever," he noses at your neck and grins at the way you shiver at his touch. Oh, he liked that.

You giggle at his whiney tone and lean back into his chest. He was like a personal furnace, "It's naughty to sneak into the women's bathroom, ya know," You admonish with a teasing grin, but Shanks just shrugs his lean shoulders and tightens his grip on you.

"Then let's get outta here. Just you and me," The captain urges. You turn in his arms to look up at him and admire how relaxed and carefree this man is. Sure the two of you had done some heavy flirting through the night, but this wasn't something you had thought would come up. Now that either of you would complain.

"Let's go then. I've got a place at the hotel down the road," You agree and Shanks lights up like a kid on his birthday. He is kissing you before you blink, lips hungry for your own at his groans into the kiss. From there, it becomes a drunken stumble out of the bar and to the hotel down the street. The Red-Haired Pirates see their captain leave and let loose a couple of drunken catcalls to his delight before the two of you slip out the exit.

Shanks has you pinned to the bed the second that the door is locked. He needs to keep kissing you or it feels like his chest would combust. He needed to feel you, all of you, open for him. You gladly surrender to his onslaught, moaning with reckless abandon when the pirate's tongue fills your mouth just right. He pulls away with a stuttered moan of your name, and when you catch sight of his face, the man is frantic with need.

"Lemme suck your cock, Captain," You demand and Shanks makes a broken sound in the back of his throat. He grabs the waistband of his pants and shoves them down and off with ease before rolling to his back. You settle between his legs, licking your lips as you admire the length in front of you. Shanks was not a small man whatsoever. You actually wondered how much of his dick you were going to be able to fit in your mouth.

"Not scared are ya, Baby?' Shanks teases and grips his cock. The head is red and swollen and he nudges it against your soft lips, "You were the one who wanted to suck my cock."

Your cheeks burn at the insinuation that you couldn't take him. You show him how wrong he is by opening your mouth and taking him almost all the way down. You breathe harshly through your nose and clench your eyes against the sudden burn in your throat.

"Fuck!" Shanks snarls and bucks his hips. You gag around him but refuse to move away. You take a second to adjust and then bob your head, swallowing him down with a whine. Precum and drool leak from your lips and the blowjob turns fast and sloppy. Neither of you are sober or patient enough to take your time right now. However, if Shanks has it his way, he'll have all the time in the world to worship you.

The pirate shoves you off his dick just before he comes, gripping the base of his dick tightly to prevent himself from actually erupting like a preteen. You drop beside him with a content sigh and Shanks follows once he has himself under control.

"My turn," He says, and then his mouth is exactly where you want him. He licks your end to end, tongue flattening over your cunt to gather up your slick and lap it into his mouth. Were you really that wet from just sucking him off? The thought had his moaning against your pussy and drinking straight from the source, lips smacking in obscene noises as he positions two fingers at your entrance.

Shanks shoves them knuckle deep at the same time he sucks your clit into his mouth. He pistons his hand, fingers scissoring to get you to loosen up for him. His tongue flicks your clit just right and your hands find his hair, gripping the strands tightly as you rut against his face. The captain pets your twitching walls through your first orgasm of the night and then pulls away. He makes a show of licking his lips as he grins down at you, "Could have eaten you for hours if I didn't want my cock in you so bad, Baby."

You twitch your hips up, hissing when the head of his dick catches on your clit, "What are ya waiting for then?" You ask and Shanks falls to leave a lingering kiss on your lips with a chuckle.

"Impatient, girl," He rumbles and then kisses you again. His lips muffle the whine you make when he suddenly sinks into you, stretching your cunt far more than his two fingers had. Shanks gives you half a second before his own impatience runs thin and he begins to thrust.

Your breath is knocked out of your lungs and you are left to hold on to the redhead's shoulders for dear life as he fucks you. There was no other word to use with how Shanks grips your hips and tilts them just right to have him rutting against your sweet spot. He ruts into you like it is the last day in this world, and you know then that you will never forget this man for however long you live.

"Feel so good around me, Sweetheart," He pants out and rises so that he can watch you wither on his cock. One hand stays at your hip while the other smooths your hair away from your face, "So lucky to have found you," he continues and grits his teeth when you tighten around him. His hips stutter and he loses his rhythm for a second, "Gonna come soon."

"On my knees," You whine when his pace begins to falter again. You didn't want this to stop yet.

Shanks reluctantly pulls out of you and you roll to your knees. Your face is buried in the sheets and Shanks grins at the view he has of your leaking cunt and jiggling ass, "This is nice too," he comments and then enters you with a sigh, sinking in even more in this position. He drapes over your back, pushing your hair aside so that he can pepper the sensitive skin of your back and neck with kisses and love bites. He desperately wants to sink his teeth in and never let go.

You push your hips back to meet his thrust, needing more of him. He massages your hips as he fucks you from the back, "That's it, Baby. Just a little more," He pants out and then slips an arm under your leg. His fingers find your clit and you keen in pleasure at the unexpected touch, "Come on, Cream on my cock," The way he says your name has you coming with a cry and Shanks follows right after.

He pulls out and paints your back with his spend. The hand on your hip grips to the point of pain, but you don't mind. Carefully, you lower your legs and hips to the bed, wincing a bit at the soreness there.

Shanks doesn't go far, simply finding the edge of the sheet and cleaning the two of you up with messy strokes. Both of you are still sticky when he falls to the bed beside you, but neither could care. He curls close, throwing an arm around your waist and tugging you close to snuggle against his chest, "What you again later, "He slurs lowly and you giggle and nod, already half asleep in his hold.

The pirate would wake you twice more than night, whispering sweet nothing as he took you again, slow and sleepy. However, it would be you who woke first in the morning.

Thankfully, Shanks still snoozed away and you took this time to memorize his beautiful face. This man could probably give you everything you could ever want, but you just couldn't tie yourself that close to someone. You were a drifter, just like you had told him at the bar, but guilt still ate at you as you slowly shimmied out of bed and dressed. You tear a blank page from your handy dandy notebook and write a quick note that is left on the nightstand along with the key to your room. You take one last look at his sleeping form as you grip the handle before turning away for the last time. This was for the best, after all.

The sun would be high in the sky and you would be long gone by the time Shanks woke up. He blindly reached for you and frowned when his hand met the cold bed. His eyes crack open and Shanks quickly sits up when he realizes that he is all alone. His chest aches at the knowledge that you left without even waking him and he falls off the bed to rip the room apart as if that would make you reappear.

He spots the note and key as she blankets settle and dives for it, clenching it tight in his fist as he reads it.

Shanks, I'm sorry for leaving without a goodbye. It's better this way. If the seas are kind, then maybe we will meet again.

It is signed with your name and even a tiny broken heart that you had doodled last second. Shanks sits heavily on the bed, head bowed as he thinks. Soon enough, he stands and dresses swiftly. Your note gets tucked into the lining of his hat for safekeeping as he runs for the ship. Like hell would he wait for seas to bring you back to him? You couldn't have gotten very far in a couple of hours, so if he hurried, Shanks could find you himself.

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #smut #red haired shanks #shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x y/n #shanks x you

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