#like okay i can admit where it goes wrong but it goes right so much for me đđ
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[Image description: A digital drawing based on the film Knightriders. There are five different objects on the page, drawn across a diagonal. At the bottom right of the piece, there's a motorcycle which has a front modelled after a Medieval shield. Above this, there's a similarly styled helmet, which has a visor and a plume on the top. Below this, there's a sword which is pointed downwards. Above the two items, there's a mace with its chain leading off of the view of the page. Further above, there's an exaggeratedly big ornate crowd. These elements are drawn with a dark green and all coloured with a flat blue-grey. There's a red outline around the objects, although it is not flush to them. The background is a bright orange.]
Inktober - Day 10 (Nomadic)
Film - Knightriders (George A. Romero, 1981)
#inktober#inktober 2024#knightriders#knightriders fanart#digital art#truly a masterpiece (to me)#like okay i can admit where it goes wrong but it goes right so much for me đđ#my two fave romeros are this and martin (probs martin more still)#when i get back to comics there are some ideas i have for this film#but yes masterpiece but also dont expect the craziness to be the fact that they are medieval reenacters who joust on motorbikes#whatever everyones deal is is the crazier part#love them <3#also the ending is insane to me (like ending section really - you'll know when it starts)#song of the day is swords of a thousand men by tenpole tudor#banger lol
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slumber party
in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid
fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu
âOh, there is no way.â
Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you.Â
âWhat? Is itââ
You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?
But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before theyâre back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough.Â
Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.
But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.
One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.
Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bitâŠÂ abrasive, sometimes.Â
âItâs fine, Iâll justâIâll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their roomââ
Just then thereâs a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement.Â
âOh my god! You guys too?â
âWhat?â You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesnât comment.Â
âMe and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.â
You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them.Â
âWhat about Morgan and Garcia?â
Spencer snorts.
âSomething tells me Penelope wouldnât be too torn up about it if that's the case.â
âHotch and Rossi?â
The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.
âI donât even⊠I canât picture that.â
âCan we please not try to picture it?â
âGreat. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.â
âThanks,â Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. âIâll⊠I can take the floorââ
âItâs fine, Spencer. Iâm not going to make you sleep on the floor. Weâre both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? Itâll be like a slumber party.â
âIâve never had one,â he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up.Â
âThen Iâm happy to be your first,â you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, Iâll be gentle. âDo you want the shower first or can I?â
Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesnât realize heâs doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you.Â
âYou can have it first,â he says, meeting your eyes again. âJust donât do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.â
âAw. But I love doing that. Itâs my favorite part,â you tease, scooping up your bag once more.
Twenty minutes later youâre emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie.Â
âNice outfit,â Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish youâd been prepared for. Really, you wish youâd known ahead of time youâd have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. âI had no idea you felt so passionately about⊠Scooby Doo?â
âShut up right now,â you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can.Â
âWhat?â Heâs laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. âItâs a good look for you.â
Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. Thereâs really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks.Â
From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up againâa cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if heâs almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long itâll be before heâs out again. Itâs ridiculous how impatient you're gettingâand by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy.Â
âI think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.â
The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamasâtonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneckâas well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft.Â
âYou were sitting here waiting for me?â He chuckles, and honestly youâd been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly.Â
âMaybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?â
âHa-ha.â He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. âYou took the better side of the bed.â
âUh, yeah. Iâm the woman. I get to do that.â
âWell you should know that if an intruder breaks in, Iâm not fighting him off. Youâd probably have a better chance than me.â
âAnd my chances will be even better if heâs distracted with you first.â
âSo Iâm just bait?â He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait.Â
That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest.Â
âI hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.â
It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back.Â
âCall me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.â
âI just donât see how youâre even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that youâre crepuscular?â Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow.Â
âObviously nobody has told me that.â
âIt means yââ
âIâm most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?â
âI am,â he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. âIâm just⊠you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.â
You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly.Â
âIâve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.âÂ
You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you.Â
âThis is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.â
âGood thing weâre not going to sleep yet.â
Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features.Â
âWeâre not?â
âOh, my god, Spencer,â you snort. âIâm not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?â
He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table.Â
âBut itâs late. We should go to sleep.â
âAt slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally canât keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I donât make them.â
Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness.Â
âI appreciate the effort,â he says, and your eyes havenât adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, âbut unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.â
âYouâre no fun,â you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until youâre flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum.Â
Spencer doesnât respond.Â
Itâs silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesnât slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy.Â
In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.
The mattress squeaks.Â
You do it again.Â
Another squeak.Â
A second goes by, and now youâre intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can.Â
âWould you stop that?â Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but youâre already devolving into a fit of giggles. âIâm going to smother you with this pillow,â he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words.Â
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry. Iâm just not in the mood to rest.â
Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark.Â
âWhat are you in the mood for?â He asks flatly, and youâve won.Â
âTell me a secret,â you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. âSomething youâve never told anyone else.â
âI donâtââ
âShh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.â
âI donât have any secrets,â he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. âNone that youâd want to hear.â
âOh, now thatâs just not true. Youâre an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.â
Youâre only sort of kidding.Â
âIâŠÂ fascinate you?â
âCompletely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what youâre thinking about. But youâre very⊠hard to read, sometimes. I think itâs because youâre a Scorpio.â
âThe position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.â
âFine,â you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. âBut that doesnât mean you donât display the archetypal Scorpio traits. Youâre all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowableâŠâ
âSexy?â He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. Youâd hoped he would catch that one.Â
âHey,â you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. âYouâre supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I wonât let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.â
âWhen have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?â
Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile.Â
âStop flirting and answer my question, Reid.â
With the amount of times youâve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. Itâs so pitch black in the room, you canât see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when heâs tired and speaking this lowly, which youâve never heard before.
âAll the secrets Iâve never told anyone are just⊠depressing.â
Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you.Â
âNot very good slumber party material, I think,â he laughs self-consciously.Â
âYouâd be surprised.âÂ
The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than youâve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and supportâeven if it doesnât always seem that way when youâre teasing him.Â
âDo you have any secrets youâve never told anyone else?â He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you.Â
And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those heâd elected not to share only a moment ago.Â
But you donât bring those up.Â
Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. Youâve really never told anyone this, and itâs perhaps more vulnerable than youâd realized before the words were already leaving your mouth.Â
âI, haveâŠâ You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. âI have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.â
âYou do?â Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face.Â
âYes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. Heâs an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?â
âFamily annihilator from Houston?âÂ
âCorrect. Heâs in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the OâHara and Diangelo families.â
âYou have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?â
âHeâsâI mean, I wasnât expecting to share a room with someone.â
âSo heâs in your bag.â
âYes,â you seethe, âand I will not be introducing you to him. He doesnât do well with men.â
âYou are genuinely psychotic.â
You huff.
âFine. Iâm sorry I told you anything.â
Youâre about to roll over onto your other sideâbut Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently.Â
âYouâre right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.â His tone is surprisingly teasing, and youâre so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you canât muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesnât seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. âIâm sorry I donât have any secrets for you.â
The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimesâitâs like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He canât control it. He canât be anyone other than who he is. Maybe thatâs a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. Itâs not exactly a secretâanyone on the team would be able to tell as much. Youâve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that.Â
âItâs okay,â you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. âYouâll think of something. âCause, yâknowâyouâre stuck with me for at least a few more days.â
âOh, god,â he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you donât mind. Youâll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. âGoodnight.â
âSweet dreams,â you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#criminal minds imagine
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hi! i just remembered a scene from friends where chandler says to monica it's ok she's high maintenance cause he likes maintaining her and i think this is soooo spencer and bombshell!reader coded. you're ok with writing this as a request? love u jadey
ty (ily)!! fem!reader
Spencerâs feet ache dully with each step he takes, but you have your hand in his, and youâre pulling him along with a smile. Your smile could cure anything, he thinks stupidly. Itâs completely outside of his beliefs, goes against every book on medicine heâs ever read.Â
âWhy are you frowning?â you ask, swinging his hand as you turn the corner together.Â
âIâm not.âÂ
You step closer, arm stuck to his arm, nearly one body walking together against the summer breeze. âYouâre frowning, Spence. You have a very obvious pout. It is so so cute.â You lean in to kiss him quickly, his heart turning to a pitter-patter under his ribs.Â
âIâm tired,â he explains, not wanting you to think his bad mood has anything to do with you.Â
âYouâve had a long day, thatâs why. When we get back to your place Iâll give you an incredible foot massage and everything will be okay again.âÂ
âI donât want a foot massage. My feet donât even hurt,â he lies.
âDonât bother.â You untangle your fingers from his and wave him away. âI know all your tells, baby boy,â âhe laughs through a wrinkled noseâ ânothing gets past me.âÂ
âWhyâd you choose a dry cleaners so far from your apartment?â he asks. You couldâve picked the one beside work, which has a yellow pages worth of fantastic reviews. The one second closest to his place is new but raved about at length. This dry cleaners is nearly twenty-five blocks away.
âThey do things exactly how I like it, I guess. I never have to worry about it when I give them my best clothes, and itâs kind of expensive if they were to accidentally ruin something, right?â You have expensive taste; you like things sturdy, fitted, and fashionable.Â
âDo you think I should get someone to do my laundry?â he asks.Â
âYou can afford it. But maybe not. Thereâs nothing wrong with your own washing machine and a steamer.â You side eye him carefully. âMaybe Iâm over the top.âÂ
âYouâre high maintenance,â he agrees. âIs it expensive, getting your clothes dry cleaned all the time? I could pay for that.âÂ
âWhat? Why would you pay for it?âÂ
ââCos weâre together?â Heâs more worried than dry about it. âIâd like to pay for your manicures and your hair, too, but I didnât think youâd let me.â
âAnd I wonât⊠sâkind of nice you want to though. Really nice, um.â Youâre blinking funny. âI think thatâs more of a husband thing. You really want to pay for me to get manicures?âÂ
Spencer pays for lots of your stuff because he loves you. Good food mostly, but treats, clothes, anything he might think youâre interested in, actually. He likes to spoil you. You tend to spoil him back, if not with money then affection. âI like maintaining you.âÂ
You curl your arm through his. âThatâs a funny way to say it.âÂ
He laughs at your obvious delight. âI like taking care of you,â he admits. âYou like being high maintenance, it makes you happy, and I like making you happy.âÂ
âThank you very much,â you say, softer now as your hand works up his neck and you turn his face to you, the sidewalk and the streetlines melting away under your warm touch. âYou make me happier than you know.âÂ
His cheeks turn pink. He doesnât need to see himself to confirm. Itâs a high statistical probability.Â
âKiss?â you ask, voice still soft.Â
Spencer walks you back nearer to the side of a building and out of the way, his hands at your neck and waist as he leans down just a touch to close your gap. He acts selfishly, perhaps, taking your hand from his face in order to hold yours in both of his without anything in the way of it. He kisses, he breathes you in, his head tilting more heavily to the side as the kiss lengthens, lingers. Youâre like a flower in his hand, blooming slowly under the effects of a little heat.Â
âWhat if you pay for my dry cleaning,â you begin, a smile evident in your voice though Spencer keeps his eyes closed. Tracing the hill of your cheek with his fingers just a moment longer. âAnd I pay for yours?âÂ
Spencer thumbs along your jaw. âI donât want anything from you, just you.âÂ
âWell, what if I treat us to some Indian takeout tonight?â you ask. âWould you eat that? Or am I enough to sustain you, my love?âÂ
He could enjoy being taken care of in turn, he thinks.Â
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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indebted
dark!joel x f!reader. one shot.
main masterlist | ao3 | kofi
summary: you're having a bad day. one you think is getting better once a rough around the edges man comes to your rescue. you didn't expect it would takes such a sharp turn for the worse. first person pov reader. 9.2k words.
warnings: 18+ MDNI! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! NON CONSENUAL SEXUAL ACTS, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, pervy, sleazy, and foul mouthed joel. degradation, sexual favors, forced oral and piv, virgin reader, corruption, innocence, and daddy kinks featured. biiig ol' age gap (reader's age not mentioned other than "young" but i imagine her as 18-20 as she has a relatively immature attitude, imagining joel 50-55), this is not for everyone and that's okay. i'm not responsible for the content you consume.
a/n: i had some hormonal induced insanity and came up with this. i had a great time trying out a new pov for writing fic! enjoy him as much as i did, friends đ€ and thanks @joelstummy for the amazing freaky beta work!
Iâll be the first person to admit now that what Iâve been doing is stupid. Dangerous. Idiotic. The list goes on. I can hear my fatherâs stern, militant voice in the back of my head, telling me as much. Except now he likely wonât get the chance to relish in it because Iâm going to die here. Way out here where nobody will find my body, and Iâll be just another person that went missing in the QZ, never to be seen again. But this time, itâs not some sleazy FEDRA scheme and coverup or a smuggling deal gone wrong.
Itâs utterly and completely my fault.
Sneaking out wasnât meant to become a habit, but after the first few times, I lost the fear and adrenaline that had burned hot through my veins at those first steps of freedom. I craved it again, so I kept going further. And further. Away from civilization as I knew it, until the cluster of buildings known as the Quarantine Zone became a tiny speck in the distance. Out here was desolation, nothingness, only abandoned buildings to explore. The infected were another story, but I started to learn routes that helped me avoid encounters with them.
It helped clear my mind after a while, this newly found sense of adventure. All Iâd ever known was a cage, a walled city that had become so mundane I felt my insides starting to rot from the listlessness of it all. My father was important - top in the rankings - I knew that, and it was all the more reason to keep me safely locked away while the city stirred with chatter of an uprising against FEDRA.Â
He never bothered to check on me much, anyways, making my little forays quite easy. Once Iâd persuaded enough people with ration cards, theyâd shown me the tunnel leading to freedom. Well, that tunnel, then another, a ladder to climb back up to the surface, and only then could I go through a precarious hole in a chain link fence. That was the smugglerâs route, they said, an easy ticket to getting in and out without being noticed.Â
Iâd been abusing it, staying out for days at a time, never able to drink in enough of this quiet solitude that was of my own choosing, not my fatherâs. I couldnât quite figure out what hole inside of me I was trying to fill, but Iâd be damned if I stopped trying.
However, today seemed to be my last chance to try at all. His footsteps had been quiet - so quiet - approaching behind me. An old store, full of half decayed plushies, molded candies, and other adorable things from lives long put in the past, had called to me, distracted me. The arm around my throat, constricting, the other coming up to put a hand over my mouth. A dirty, putrid smell encompassing everything as I sputtered against him. This is it, Iâd thought. What a waste.
I scream and fight against the strong hold he has on me, a nasty sneer right against my skin. âWhatâs some fresh meat like you doing waaaay out here, huh?â a dark voice rattles into my ear.
I scream behind his dirty palm in response, kicking my legs back at him. I should have learned more self defense, but who needs it when youâve spent most of your life safely tucked away with your family name as your biggest protector?
âYou smell good⊠real goodâŠâ The creepâs voice buzzes by me as he takes a deep breath in, making me shudder. One swift kick and Iâm sure this is it, the one to knock him senseless and let me escape. Heâs smart for how distracted he seems to be by my scent, and heâs one step ahead of me. My legs are kicked out from underneath me as I rear one back, and I fall to the ground, the man coming down with me to sit on my back, straddling my body in a fluid motion. He grips my hands behind my back, leaving me helpless in my fight, kicking and screaming. Iâm ice and heat all at once, my body burning in a frozen blaze, my fight or flight quickly turning to fawn as his weight presses down on me.
âYou can have anything in my backpack, anything! Please, let me go! I - I donât want any trouble,â I choke out pathetically, hating how my voice comes out in shaky waves. This isnât how to appeal to people like this, people who have lost their sense of humanity, evident by the way heâs now grinding himself down onto my jean clad asscheeks.Â
A laugh comes out of him that would haunt me as evil incarnate for the rest of my days if I wasnât so sure that I was going to die at the hands of this man after he was done with me. âWe both know I donât give a fuck about any damn backpack of yours. I donât want any trouble either, sweet cheeks, I just think youâd have a lot of fun with me and my friends. But mostly me,â he replies with the hint of a wink in his voice.Â
My stomach clenches, sickness rolling in that is only furthered as the man leans down, cloaking me with his large form. I canât turn enough to see him, to even know what this violation of a man looks like, but his energy is beyond hideous as I catch a glimpse of his yellowing teeth in a grin before he pushes my head down to the cracked linoleum tiles. My hair tangled in his fingers, he holds me down hard, and I struggle to breathe as he crushes me beneath him.
âNow, are you gonna come easily, or do I need to do things the hard way? Either way is fine with me, for a fine piece of ass like this. In fact, I might prefer it the hard way, but weâd hate to ruin this pretty skin of yours, wouldnât we?â He says slowly, pressing the cold blade of a knife to my throat.
âO-okay, okay,â I acquiesce, stopping my squirming, just needing a bit of room to breathe, my lungs heavy inside my chest. My panic only makes my chest tighter, even when the man leans back the tiniest bit. I had hoped that my sudden compliance would get that knife off my throat, but it hasnât. âJust donât hurt me⊠pleaseâŠâ I whimper.
He lets out a long, ragged sigh. âAfraid I canât promise that.âÂ
Iâve never felt fear like this, such certainty that I was about to be ruined, my life as I know it changing without a chance to even look back. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for it, for anything heâs about to do next, finally accepting that there isnât any appealing to scummy men in a scummy world. But nothing comes except for a muffled crack ringing through the air, and then a thud as the entire weight of my adversary falls on top of me, crushing. Something warm has splattered on my skin, my face, then starts to coat my jacket, seeping through. I shake violently, begging my body to catch a full breath under the weight of him.Â
Then as suddenly as it happened, it stops, the body yanked off of me and tossed to the side with ease. The deafening thud of his entire weight onto the ground is stark. I flip over and scramble backwards, grabbing the knife that had fallen from the manâs hand in his swift, final moment. Holding up a shaky hand, I grip the knife tightly, looking up to face a brutish, tall man with overgrown hair of chestnut and gray. A trim beard with the same coloring wraps around his tightly set jaw. Heâs all wide shoulders, thick arms, broad chest, and my senses go on high alert again. His gun is practically still smoking as it hangs at his side, an active threat.
âYâalright?â he drawls, thick and deep, echoing through the abandoned shop. One step closer to me has the knife practically flailing as I struggle to calm my hands, a strained hum alongside my shaky breathing the only sound I seem capable of making.
âPut that thing down,â he says calmly, almost exasperated. His stance slackens, one knee pushed out as he sizes me up. Iâm likely the most miserable looking thing heâs seen in a while, Iâm sure. âYouâre harmless.â
âH-how do I know youâre not with him?â I blurt out.
My gruff savior lifts his brows incredulously. âThat guy?â he asks, motioning impatiently to the dead body only a foot away. âThink Iâd be puttinâ a bullet right in his skull if he was my best buddy?â
My eyes dance over him as I think. He has a point, and he did just save me from whatever debauched things that strangerâs mind had been conjuring up.
âY-yeah, you have a point,â I finally say. He steps closer, and this time, I let him, putting the knife down. He motions with an authoritarian air for me to push it away, and I obey immediately, flinging it across the room.Â
âPoor fucker died with a hard on, didnât he?â The man muses as his boots thud on the way over to the body, kicking it slightly as if to check, letting it roll back before turning his attention on me. âNow, are you usually this stupid, cominâ into hunter territory, or what?â he asks, reaching a hand down to me, presumably to help me up.
âI didnât knowâŠâ I mumble, letting his hand hang there. He doesnât snatch it back right away, although I can tell he wants to, that heâs already beyond exasperated by his day and the last thing heâd wanted was a damsel in distress like me. I hate that heâs proving all the things Iâd been trying to disprove about myself by coming out on these solo trips into the great, big outside. Iâm weak. Dependent. Needy. It makes my skin crawl with self loathing and frustration.
âDidnât know, huh? So just clueless, then?â the man spits out, staring down at me with darkened eyes that make me turn my head away in shame. At my sullen silence, he seems to soften a little. âIâm Joel,â he says, an offering to go along with his outstretched hand.
I sigh, taking it and telling him my own name. Iâm up on my feet, dusting myself off and looking at him shyly now. I donât know what people are supposed to say when someone saves their life, so I just mumble, âThank you.â
Joel snorts, nodding in acknowledgment as he crouches to pat down the body, seeming to come up short of anything interesting. âDonât thank me yet,â he says, standing back to his full, towering height, glancing around with sharp eyes. âWe should move.â
I might be as stupid as he says, because I wordlessly start to follow him towards the door. His hand stretches out behind him, open and inviting me in as he checks outside the door with a careful peek, his gun held tightly in the other. I stare down at it in disbelief. âCâmon, I donât bite,â he sighs, that perpetual vexation in his tone again as he twitches his brows at me. âNeed you close by. Anâ it seems you have a tendency to go where you shouldnât.â
My cheeks grow hot at the harsh truth of it, and I grasp his hand without any further objections, marveling for a moment at the way it envelops mine. All calloused and hard, mine soft and unused for labor of any kind.Â
âIâve got a safehouse not too far from here.â
âA safehouse?â
âItâs already gettinâ dark. There ainât no way weâre making it back to the QZ today, princess,â he retorts quickly, the pet name mocking on his tongue.
âHowâd you know?â I ask softly, disappointment pressing in on my shoulders.
He chuckles out more of a snort, pulling me around a bend, slowly leaving behind the dangerous territory that Iâd unknowingly encroached on. âYouâre a FEDRA princess if Iâve ever seen one,â he tells me, and my heart sinks that I was so easy to read. Iâd seen how capable this man Joel was, but damn was he was astute, more than Iâd given him credit for.Â
I chew at my lip. âFair enough,â I mumble under my breath, letting him take his well earned win. The longer I hang onto Joelâs hand, letting him expertly weave me through the barren streets, the safer I start to feel. He knows where heâs going, a practiced route heâs taken countless times, and it hits me then that this man is a smuggler. He has to be.
âAre you a smuggler?â I ask pointedly. âIâve heard that people like that come in and out of the QZ.â
Joel falters for just a brief second, giving me a wily grin. âLook whoâs readinâ who now,â he says with a dry chuckle. âAinât gonna run and tell your daddy, are you?â
I shake my head, pressing my lips together in a smile. âI can keep a secret.â In fact, I like keeping secrets from my father, hence the sneaking out, so Joel can count on me to never rat him out.
His amused grin in response lights a little flame akin to friendship inside of me. This grumpy old bastard could smile after all. âJust through here,â he says, letting the smile drop, taking a sharp left down a street just as a sprinkle of rain starts to fall on us. Itâs a less urban area - more like a neighborhood - sprouted with apartment buildings and abandoned, vine covered cars. Itâs my favorite thing about all the exploration Iâve been doing, seeing the way nature can reclaim anything and make it her own.Â
The cracked street below us makes me tread carefully, lagging behind as Joelâs hand tugs me along urgently. We turn down an alley, Joel whipping his head left to right before dragging me behind him, finally dropping my hand to open a door that leads right into a tiny lobby and a stairwell. He runs a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back some - a rather handsome look for him, now that Iâm thinking about it. I try to ignore that thought as his voice booms through the empty room.
âUp,â he commands, gripping my hand again and leading us up the stairs.Â
My stomach sinks a little when he takes out a key, unlocking a padlock on one of the apartments numbered 405 and pushing the old, chipped door inwards. I have no reason not to trust Joel, he saved my life afterall, but I canât shake the nerves I feel from being in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar man. Itâs quiet here, likely nobody in the vicinity but the two of us.
âHome sweet home,â he grunts out, dropping his backpack and gun holster near the door and shrugging off his damp jacket, leaving him in a plain tee shirt that hugs his muscular frame. Itâs a small, cramped apartment with a living room and kitchen directly next to it, a little window cut into the wall, peering in on the living room from above the stove. It looks as if itâs left exactly as it was years ago, full of furniture and clutter, only a vessel for Joel to use without making it his own at all. I peer past to see a small hallway I can only assume leads to a bedroom and bathroom.
âKnow it ainât the palace youâre probably used to, but weâll be safe anâ dry here,â he say, and I roll my eyes behind his back. If Joel thinks that I live in a palace, heâs clearly misunderstood the state that the QZ is in. My fatherâs house is spacious, sure, but itâs just as dilapidated as the rest of the city. The only difference is the level of protection afforded to our homes.
He ambles into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets with a clatter, then comes back moments later with an open can of beans and two forks. Iâm still standing in the entryway, unsure of what to do with myself.
âHungry?â he asks gruffly, and I shake my head, wide eyed. Iâd lost my appetite the minute that man had grabbed me earlier, and I couldnât seem to get it back. Joel shrugs, digging in with a messy forkful of from the can. âYour funeral,â he says, chewing.
Joel sinks down onto the couch with a tiny groan, setting down the can on the side table next to his armrest, giving the other cushion an expectant look. âWell, you gonna sit your ass on down anâ tell me why the hell I had to save it today, or what? Why the hell youâre wanderinâ around like itâs a free for all out there?â
I flinch slightly at his harsh tone, but gingerly step my way into the room, unzipping my jacket and shedding it. For the chill outside, the temperature inside the apartment is more comfortable than Iâd expect, my skin welcoming the change. Joel eyes my thin tee shirt, and I feel a flash of heat sweep my skin before I feel the prickle of goosebumps, knowing my nipples are poking through the fabric. His eyes catch there before he promptly averts them.
I sit precariously next to Joel on the loveseat, pressed as far away as I can from him, not wanting to cramp his personal space. But he seems to have no problem with that anyways, his legs spread wide open in a comfortable stance, leaned back against the cushions. He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut for a moment as he awaits my answer.Â
âI was⊠exploring,â I say simply, cringing at how ridiculous it sounds coming out of my mouth. Who leaves perfect safety to wander around in a dangerous world on purpose? For no other reason than curiosity and a sudden, rebellious sense of defiance?
His eyes snap open, head pulling up from the couch, turning my way. âExplorinââŠâ He mulls on the word, slowly licking his lips before pursing them. âYouâre tellinâ me I had to save a FEDRA brat today âcause she was explorinâ? You really are stupid. âCourse you are, look how young yâare. Look how fuckinâ... sheltered.â Joel throws his hands up, landing them on his thighs with a soft thud, sighing. âCanât even blame ya.â
I pluck up every bit of courage I have, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. âLook, it was really nice of you to save me and everything, and I do thank you for it. Iâm sorry if I messed up whatever⊠smuggling stuff you had going on today, but Iâd appreciate it if you didnât call me⊠stupid.â The last word is quiet, mousy, and I turn my head down, eyes shining with unshed tears that I silently curse myself for. My fatherâs voice rings through my head - you stupid girl! - making me shudder.
Joel sucks at his teeth. âHit a nerve, I see,â he says passively. âAlright, Iâm sorry kiddo. I just mean, youâre puttinâ yourself at risk doinâ what youâre doinâ, and it ainât a smart idea. Yeah?â
âYeah,â I sigh out, relaxing a little. âI just needed to get away.â
âFrom your dear old daddy?â he teases, picking up the can, shoveling several more bites into his mouth. I go silent, picking at a thread on the couch rather than answer him. âAh, another nerve, I see. Daddy issues. Couldâve guessed that one.â
âI donât have -â
âSweetheartâŠâ Joel interrupts, looking at me from under his brows, pulling his lip between his teeth, seeming to look at me in a fresh light. It sends my skin tingling, the way he eyes me, a glint in his stare. It seems to prove his point, the way a pet name from a middle aged man seems to immobilize me against my will. I want to slap the smug look off his face, but I have no grounds to do so, only grumbling quietly with my cheeks blazing in embarrassment. A prickle of something else works its way deep into my belly, something warm at how his scrutinizing eyes flick over my body, the lines in his face set, showing his age, his experience.Â
âTake a piece of advice from a man probably as old as your daddy, then. Trust me when I say that outside those walls ainât the place to find what youâre lookinâ for. The sooner you let go of that notion, the better off youâll be.âÂ
Frustration blooms hot in my chest, overpowering whatever the hell that sudden, unwanted feeling was. Iâm tired of people dictating what I can and canât do, what Iâm capable of. âPeople do it all the time - smugglers - you would know,â I retort. âIâve been doing it for months. Never had a problem until today. It was just some bad luck.â
âBad luck? Really? Youâd be that manâs newest little cock sleeve if it werenât for me savinâ your ass,â Joel growls, standing up off the couch. I wince at his vulgar language, the picture it paints in my mind of what life might have been like if Joel hadnât happened to be in the right place at the right time.
âI - I know - Iâm sorry,â I blurt out, feeling my hands start to go shaky. âThank you, Joel, I really - I really do owe you. Everything.â
âLike I said, donât thank me yet.â He steps over so that heâs in front of me, using his boot to part my legs, scooting them apart and standing between them. âThink I did all this out of the kindness of my heart, did you? Didnât think that maybe I was after the same damn thing as buddy boy earlier?â
Iâm like a fish out of water, the way my lips move with no sound coming out. âJoelâŠâ I breathe out in warning, in questioning. I see his arms strain in his t-shirt, hands flexing open and closed.
âI canât say the thought ainât crossinâ my mind now. You are mighty pretty. And you do owe me a favor. One big olâ gigantic favor, for savinâ your backside.â He brushes his fingers along his jeans, palming his crotch for a brief second before leaning forward, caging me in on the couch with hands on either side of me, pressing into the cushions. My heart hammers in my chest so loud I expect Joel can hear it, can feel the fear taking hold of me. He bares his teeth above me like a wild animal, and now Iâm certain he can smell my fear too, that he thrives on it.Â
âYou know what? Maybe you were bound to find what you were lookinâ for outside those walls. Maybe thatâs what you needed, is it? Couldnât find any love from daddy back home, so you wanted to find someone to turn you into their own personal little play thing. Poor baby just needed some attention, did she? Sad, really.â
My hands tremble, my words lost as I can only breathe in shaky little breaths, shaking my head violently. How can this god forsaken day keep getting worse?Â
âPlease -â I mumble out, bringing a jittery hand up to my mouth. Joel slaps it away, gripping my chin harshly at first, inspecting me before his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. Iâd think it was gentle, caring, even, if not for the nasty look spreading across his face, the grin that darkens it along with his eyes.
âTime to put this pretty thing to better use and show how grateful you are to olâ daddy Joel,â he says, using his free hand to deftly unbuckle his belt, the jangling sound like a death knell, making my throat go dry. âPromise Iâll be much better than he wouldâve been earlier. People say Iâm⊠a generous lover.â His drawl is slow and calculated, voice deep with lust, the sly smirk turning to a triumphant grin as he chuckles, amusing himself.
He grips the top of my head, pushing me to slide down the couch cushions into a slump as I struggle, powerless against a man of his strength. He positions himself higher up to bring the giant denim bulge right in my view. I wince, trying to turn my head away as his zipper comes undone, his hand grasping deep into the fly of his jeans, yanking his cock out. When it springs free, I gasp as he lets it slap me in the face. Hot, throbbing, and massive, leaking a shiny bead of precum that had ended up somewhere on my cheek. I sit stunned and held in place by his rough hand.Â
The cold hard fact hits me that this is the first time Iâm ever going to experience intimacy of any kind. Hell, Iâve only had one kiss before, and it was when I was ten years old, with a boy belonging to one of my fatherâs friends, a name I canât even remember now. The first penis Iâm ever seeing is right here, right now, in a context I have had zero control over. Itâs thicker than Iâd imagined one could be, softer too as I look at the skin of it. Veins run along the sides and bottom, all leading up to an imposing, angry pink head at the tip, practically bursting as it awaits me. Itâs magnificent and terrifying at the same time, nothing like what Iâd expected based on the half-assed health classes provided by schooling in the QZ. Sex has always had a shroud of mystery for me, and I never imagined that all those secrets, long awaited, would be uncovered like this. A dingy bedroom, a man likely almost three times my age, and me as an unwilling participant. Desperation swiftly grips my chest as I realize I actually have no clue what goes on behind closed doors between two people, and I have a feeling Iâm about to find out in the crudest of ways.
The fearful innocence I know is about to be stolen from me causes tears to sting at my eyes, fat little droplets that instantly start to roll down my cheeks, leaking onto Joelâs large fingers still gripped around my chin. I start to struggle, my body seeming to catch up with my mind, loud warning sirens of DANGER! DANGER! finally blaring out in a panic. When I squirm, Joel plants one of his knees into my body, keeping himself balanced while still being able to hold me down.Â
âDonât cry now, honey, itâll only make him harder.â He sneers as he strokes his cock, slapping the head against my closed lips a few times. He wrenches my jaw down, forcing it open. âNice ân wide for this big boy, there we go,â he says, not waiting a moment longer to barge his cock past the opening while he has it.Â
He groans loudly as he shoves several inches in right from the get go, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. The hand that had been holding my jaw presses in on my shoulder, holding me in place. Iâd have nowhere to go, anyways, with his knee on my thighs, his entire body caging me in, the cushions giving me no leeway to the way his cock is forcefully intruding, inch by inch down my throat. The taste is all consuming - a little salty, a little ripe, tasting like days of Joelâs old sweat, but itâs not completely bad, not what Iâd have expected. Itâs heady in a strange way, clouding my mind as I try to cope with the fullness in my mouth.Â
The next moment I sputter, my eyes popping open wide, flooded with tears as he hits the back of my throat. I try to gasp for air and I find that I canât. This is torture of some form, it must be. Full panic follows, where I try to move, but every avenue is pinned down in some way by Joelâs massive body. I weakly flap at him with my hands but it barely even deters him from rocking his hips in and out, choking me again on the thrust inwards as the back of my throat tightens, gagging around his thick girth.Â
âOpen up, relax your goddamn throat,â Joel hisses at me, keeping his cock pressed fully to the back of my throat, constricting any airflow I was hoping to have. I finally breathe shakily out of my nose when he pulls back just enough, only to slide it in slowly, his eyes carefully watching me. I glance up for the first time at him from below, hoping to find any shred of humanity he might have for me, but Iâm met with an icy, dark gaze clouded with lust, power.Â
âGonna fuck your face now, like the dumb little slut you are. This is what stupid girls get for wanderinâ around by themselves. This is what they ask for.â He punctuates the last words with a sharp thrust inwards, my entire body convulsing with the gag I sputter out around him, drool pooling around my stretched lips. I would whimper if I could, if I even had the air to do so.Â
Joel is relentless for the next few moments, rapid thrusts in and out of my mouth, my head held conveniently in place against the couch cushions for him. He groans deeply, his pleasure evident while Iâm just trying to get my next breath in. I time them expertly, learning as I go, letting him continue to take from me to gain his own pleasure.Â
âThatâs it, thatâs right, youâre turninâ into quite the good girl,â Joel mutters above me, rolling his hips with vigor and making me gag again. I can feel drool dribbling down my chin, my neck, landing on my chest, and it makes me feel ashamed, embarrassed, and a twinge of something else. I canât tell as Joel grunts, pumping himself in and out of my gruesomely contorted jaw, if the fact that itâs something even remotely sexual has me feeling things I shouldnât. My cheeks burn hot as my eyes continue to water - how much of it is crying and how much of it is just my bodyâs response to him hitting the back of my throat, I donât know.
Then he surprises me by slowing down, languid strokes of his cock in and out with sloppy sounds, a soft hand landing on my head, stroking before bundling my hair in his fist tightly. âKnew youâd have such a filthy little mouth for daddy,â he coos, rolling his hips forward a little further, touching the back of my throat with his cock.Â
My body spasms a little when he keeps pushing, grumbling quiet groans of approval. My eyes squeeze shut, leaking out an onslaught of tears. I donât want to see the aftermath if it ends up that itâs one gag too many and the inevitable happens. But to my surprise, he keeps slipping down, intruding on my throat. I try to keep my trembling body still, wanting to keep my throat relaxed, terrified of what might happen if I fight this. Can a person die this way? Could I really choke to death on this manâs dick?Â
âJesus fuck. Lord have fuckinâ mercyâŠâ Joel breathes out as he pushes even further. âSwallowinâ him down, arenât ya? Feel me right in here, I bet.â I flinch when he touches his hand to the column of my throat, wrapping his fingers softly around the flesh. When he starts to retreat, the choking is back in a second, but Joel holds me by the throat, keeping my neck craned back, returning to the brutal way heâd been abusing my mouth. I groan and sputter and try to cough through all of it, my mouth stuffed full over and over again before I can get a breath in.Â
Heâs relentless, and then it stops all at once, his cock popping out from between my lips with a wet, lewd sound. A stream of drool follows, a gush that dribbles down onto my already soaked shirt, and I cough violently, my hands flailing to clutch at my chest.Â
As soon as the pressure of Joelâs body lifts off of me, Iâm scrambling to somewhere, anywhere else, my limbs stiff and achy, my jaw panging with a soreness Iâve never felt before. He stands in front of me, one hand shooting out to grab the collar of my shirt before I can even get fully off the couch, pulling me close.
âDoes it look like youâre done showinâ your gratitude yet?â he growls out, gripping the back of my head and forcing me to look down at his cock, still standing at full attention, shiny and dripping with saliva. I swallow hard, the lump painful on the way down. Joel shakes my head for me, the burn at my scalp making me wince. He presses his hips flush with mine, forcing his erection against my thigh before slipping it between them. He leans in close, hot breath ghosting over my face before his lips brush mine.
âYou do make a pretty cocksleeve, yâknow. Suckinâ cock like a cheap whore, wonder if you take it the same way in your cunt.â
I whimper, shaking my head, the tears non-stop as they roll down my cheeks. âPlease⊠donât. You donât have to do thisâŠâ
Joel scoffs. âIf I put my hand down your pants to that pretty little snatch, tell me I wouldnât find you wet right now.â He punctuates the words with a sharp pull on my scalp. I cry out, lip quivering, trying to shake my head. âDonât lie tâme after Iâve been so, so generous tâyou today.â
Iâm spinning around, a dizzying sensation, Joelâs strong bicep brought across my chest as his other hand delves below my waistline, plunging deep, right to my cotton panties, bypassing the waistband of those, too. Without care, without any sense of boundaries, his fingers explore, slipping through my sensitive slit with ease. I yelp, squirming at the intrusion, and Joelâs deep chuckle behind me confirms what I already knew, what I was beyond confused by.
âThought so,â he says gruffly, then he cups my entire mound, giving an almost comforting sensation, holding his hand tightly pressed to it. âNothinâ to be upset about, weâre just havinâ a little fun, payinâ off your debt to dear olâ Joel, okay?â
I shake my head. âI - I shouldn't be here⊠it shouldnât be like this,â I whisper in a cracking voice, hanging my head low as the tears just keep coming, damn them.Â
Joelâs fingers start to move slowly, just starting with one, stroking gently up my lips, spreading my slickness around. Iâm surprised that it feels good, a pleasant little tingle zipping right to my core that I quickly lament, hating myself for it. âWhat shouldnât be like this, hm? That you shouldnât like my cock down your throat? Itâs perfectly natural, doll,â he says, somehow soft and condescending in the same breath.
âA-all of this,â I whimper, âPlease, j-just let me go. I w-wonât say anything, I wonât do anything. I justâŠâ
Joel quietly shushes me, letting his finger do the talking for a moment. It drags up to my clit, rubbing tiny, enticing little circles. I bite my lip hard, enough to taste copper, trying to suppress the moan climbing its way up from my chest.Â
âItâs okay, itâs okay that it feels good. Itâs âsposed to. Good little sluts like you donât know any better, donât care what it is thatâs gettinâ their panties wet. Desperate,â he growls, fingers sliding through the slick mess thatâs now drooling onto the cotton. âJust relax, let it happenâŠâ I feel his breath, hot on my ear, before he nibbles, biting down hard on the earlobe, tugging it with his teeth. It bursts out, the whimpering moan Iâd been holding back, just as he pinches my clit at the same time as the bite.
He laughs. He has the nerve to laugh and it sends a shiver down my spine, my brain muddled and confused and turned on by the eroticism at play here. He soothes me by nuzzling my neck, taking a long, deep breath in. I squirm as Joelâs hand retreats, and I wonder for just a moment, a brief, all consuming moment, if maybe heâs seen reason. When his fingers find the buttons of my jeans, my heart plummets to depths previously unknown as he unbuttons them, pulling the zipper down slowly, the only sound in the room his harsh breathing right on my neck.
âPlease, I gave you what you want already,â I beg once more, feeling it fall on deaf ears as Joel tugs my jeans down, revealing my pink cotton panties. Theyâre my favorite pair - were my favorite pair - a rare find in a world like this. Pretty pale pink with a nice lacy trim and a little bow at the front. Only now, theyâd belong to Joel.
Joel clicks his tongue in approval of the sight, pulling his head back to peer at my underwear from the back before his hand grips my ass, jiggling it roughly. âOh, youâre jusânot getting it, are you? You feel this?â he asks angrily, letting me feel the hard length of his cock pressed to my ass cheeks, threatening to slip between my thighs. âThis means you didnât give me nearly half of what I want yet. Heâs still achinâ for ya, princess.âÂ
I grit my teeth, hating the pet name, the way heâs using who I am to mock me. Itâs a low blow. I hated everything to do with being associated with my father - I knew he wasnât a good man - and I hated most that it was so obvious to a stranger which echelon of society I belonged to. If I was so important, where were they now, huh? I want to scream those words at him, but instead I just feel my legs tremble underneath me, my knees feeling like jelly as they almost give out on me.
âPlease!â I struggle against his hold, but it only makes him grip my ass tighter, hard enough to bruise. âI-Iâm a virgin,â I suddenly squeak out, unsure of why I say it other than some last ditch effort to deter him. My heart pounds as he stills, dead silent with his hand grasping my ass like itâs his next meal, like he owns it.Â
âWell ainât it my lucky day. Shit, thatâs why you were sputterinâ all over my damn cock, ainât it?â he says as the epiphany dawns on him, laughing. My cheeks blaze hotter and hotter, hating that Iâm even embarrassed at my lack of experience and skills, like I have some sick need to impress him. He notices my tension, my head hanging low as I cry new tears, and says, âHey, hey, nothinâ to be ashamed for. In factâŠâ His hand fists in my underwear, tight and unrelenting. I feel his cock press against my ass again, harder than ever before it slips between my thighs. âMakes me awful excited,â he purrs, bringing his mouth to my ear again.
I only give him a timid whimper in reply, squeezing my eyes shut as I realize there is nothing I can do to stop this man. He thinks Iâm a cheap whore, and he loves it. Iâm a pure virgin, and he loves it even more.
He squeezes me tighter to his chest, my back starting to sweat through my thin tee shirt. âThe hell were you savinâ yourself for anyways? Marriage? A sweet pussy like this?â At my silence, he cups my pussy hard, letting the dampness of my underwear soak into his palm. âAnswer me!â he barks out.
âI - I wasnât! I donât know!â I cry out, trembling.
âWell,â he says, fisting my panties again, starting to pull them down. âMâhonored youâd let me be your first, sweetheart,â he drawls, and I nearly scream at the insinuation. Iâm not letting him do anything.Â
I start to put up more of a fight, useless against his thick arms holding me so tightly. Cool air touches my ass and the space between my thighs as he manages to shimmy my panties further down even in my struggle. I clamp my legs shut in defiance, roaring out a strained grunt as I keep trying to squirm out of his grasp. He huffs in anger, trying to subdue my writhing body before he pushes it towards the couch. I land hard, banging my knee on the hard edge that supports the cushion, wincing and trying to catch my breath. Iâm practically in position for him already, ass pressed out towards him, on my hands and knees.
âGonna make me do things the hard way, are you?â He scowls, his free hand fisting in my hair again, pulling me close. His breath is hot over my shoulder, the sensation vile against the skin of my cheek, stained with tears. âBeen too long since I found a pretty virgin like you. Anâ ruininâ this perfect, pure little cunt is jusâ the cherry on top of a perfect day fâme.âÂ
I feel his hard cock twitch against me, a reminder of whatâs to come. The movements are quick for how bulky Joelâs body is, let alone his age, as he exchanges the hold across my chest for my wrists, bundling them behind my back. I cry out at the strain, the awkward angle heâd twisted them to, fighting him again until a hard smack lands on my ass. I scream through gritted teeth, not giving up the fight, but another thwap! rings out through the apartment, making me falter. My tender flesh screams at me in agony when he lands another spank, even harder this time, then another, until Iâm crying unrelenting, fat tears.
With me rendered motionless, Joel presses down, bending me over, my balance tricky with my hands behind my back. My face nearly touches the couch, but Iâm precariously held up by the wrists, the strain already making them ache. The warmth dripping between my thighs betrays me as my ass stings in residual little pulses, so raw and sore but spreading a pleasure through me that Iâve never known before.Â
I donât have time to dwell on it before Joel is grasping one hand on my hip, notching himself at my entrance. âPromise youâre gonna like this, that youâll never be able to think of anyone elseâs cock but daddy Joelâs,â he spews gruffly in my ear before he thrusts hard, one swift motion to bury himself inside of me. I scream out, the searing pain between my thighs making me wonder if Iâm being split open for good, if itâs possible that some things are just too big to fit in certain places of the body.Â
âFuuuuuuck,â Joel hisses through his teeth, making the tiniest thrusting motions to ensure heâs buried deep. Every movement pierces me with a new sting as my body desperately tries to adjust, to accommodate the horrible, overwhelming intrusion. âYou were not kiddinâ, sweetheart. Tightest fuckinâ pussy Iâve ever been in.â
I sob, unable to speak, unable to move as Joel thrusts brutally from the get go, his hips snapping with force, crashing into mine hard enough to bruise. The lewd sounds we make disgust me, because I know Iâm part of those sounds, my body enjoying the filthy things heâs saying, the way heâs taking me without remorse. He pulls himself out, clicking his tongue as he peers down between our bodies. âChrist, you are one sexy little bird. Poor little virgin bleedinâ on daddyâs cock.â
The thought horrifies me, making my stomach turn. âPlease,â I cry out, my body rocking with the motions as he starts to fuck me again, the strain on my wrists as Joel uses them to help thrust himself inside of me starting to gnaw deeper into them. Iâm like a ragdoll with the way heâs jerking me by my wrists, my body having no choice but to flail in time with the movements so that he can press himself deep on each cruel thrust inwards.
âYou want more? You begginâ already?â Joel grunts between his heavy breaths, sounding so cocky it makes me want to spin around and punch him. I settle for gritting my teeth instead, feeling my body slowly but surely melding into his. When Joel presses me down further, forcing an arch in my back, I whimper when his cock hits something sensitive, deep, primal. Fuck, is it something.Â
âOh, thatâs it. We got her now, donât we?â he says from above, continuing to stroke his cock along that spot repeatedly. I feel myself losing my will to fight, hating the pleasure but feeling myself lean into it slightly, my hips pressing back to meet his nearly against my will. âYou ever come before, sweetheart?â He leans in a little closer to ask the question, the pistoning of his hips slowing the slightest bit.
I refuse to answer, tears pooling in my eyes. I donât want him to take this from me, I donât want him to know anything about me. He jerks my wrists at the same time he slams his hips into me, and I whimper loudly, feeling the way heâs surely bruising my insides.Â
âIf you ainât figured it out yet, the rules are that you answer me when Iâm askinâ you a question if you know whatâs good for ya,â he spits out, and I shake my head, letting it hang limply.
âUse your words. Say âno, daddyâ,â he says with sinister condescension, stroking his own ego.
âN-no⊠daddyâŠâ I say, my tongue revolting against the words, bile climbing up my throat.
He moves his hand to my head, stroking carefully and softly. âOh, thatâs a shame. Thatâs a daaaamn shame. All pent up, yâare. But daddy will make it all better.â He sounds deranged, sick, like he truly believes that Iâm thankful to him for what heâs doing to me. I canât answer, my mouth gaping open just as he releases my wrists, letting me fall to the couch with a thud. My open mouth gets a mouthful of the cushions, making me sick over the fact that itâs probably full of god knows what due to its age and whatever things Joel seems to get up to in this apartment of his.
I blink as Joel grips tightly at my hips, wondering why he suddenly trusts my hands to be free, when it happens. He thrusts into that spot again, harsh and unforgiving, and I nearly see stars behind my eyes as the head of his cock punches against things I didnât even know were there. Thatâs why. Iâm incapacitated at this angle, brutally forced to enjoy the pleasure washing over my body as Joel takes from me, actually giving in return this time.
I bite my tongue hard, not wanting to give him any satisfaction for the tiny moans that are growing louder in my throat, desperate to be let out.
âLet me hear you, princess. Daddy doesnât do with quiet girls. I can feel you clampinâ down on my cock, know youâre lovinâ how I use you up like you were meant for it.â
I shake my head in protest, but a strangled sound escapes past my tight lips when Joel slams into me harder than he has yet, puffing hard as he fucks me like a greedy animal. He chuckles through heavy breaths, little whispers of thatâs it, come on, take it, flow freely from his nasty mouth.Â
I feel myself slip away, further gone from reality as the warmth spreads from my pelvis into my belly, coiling tight. Everything tingles, set on fire, the spot where Joel handles my hips with his fat fingers practically burning with a constant mix of pleasure and pain. I cry out when Joelâs cock pulls that feeling out from deep inside of me again, half a sob and half a moan as it crescendos, waves of pleasure crashing over me.
Joelâs grunts of approval, so brutish and debauched, sends a new wave of arousal through me. I tremble, eyes squeezed shut with my body completely out of my control, taken over by this boundless bliss. Itâs unlike anything Iâve ever felt before: heavenly warmth worlds above any of the pleasures Iâve known. This had to be what Joel was referring to, urging me towards, telling me he wanted to make me come. This had to be what I was missing out on all these years, hiding myself away. Was this the reason sex was so coveted, so sought after? Was this feeling⊠the reason heâs doing what he is to me right now? Â
It feels like itâs never ending, my body so rigid as it spasms yet pliant as he fucks into me harder and harder. I loathe the noises Iâm making that intermingle with his as I squeeze my eyes shut, enjoying it.
âFuck, fuck - thatâs it - f-fuck knew youâd love it. Come on my cock, baby, thatâs right.â Joelâs string of praises reach my ears as I come down from my high, limp and yielding to whatever it is he wants to do to me now. I have no fight - my bones turned to jelly, my body sore all over, my throat scratchy from the way heâd assaulted it earlier. I only have it in me to give the rest of myself over, whether I like it or not.Â
âS-so fuckinâ tight, lettinâ me take your virginity like a good little whore,â he punches out, pounding into my sensitive cunt like itâs saving his soul, like itâs the only thing he could ever care about. Iâm on the precipice of coming again, my nerves still frayed and on edge from the last one. A smaller but still powerful climax takes over, my body shuddering and tight, milking every last second of the pleasure.Â
âGonna blow my load into this pure little pussy, make it mine - fuck - gonna fill you up like the cocksleeve you are. P-probably never want to be without my fuckinâ load drippinâ out of you again. I-Iâm close, fuck -â Joel rambles as he ruts his hips deep, one final thrust and a grunt, and I feel him stall, pulsing into me.Â
Itâs all suddenly very still, an eerie quiet settling over the room. My entire body burns hot, the only thing keeping me from collapsing is Joelâs hands still anchored on my hips as he leaves his cock inside of me, plugging me up. I want to cry again at the sudden, overwhelming shame I feel, but I canât give him the satisfaction. I canât.
Joel pats my ass a few times, pulling out. I tremble hard, falling forward onto the couch without his hold, instantly curling in on myself. I resent the way Iâd noticed how empty I felt the second he was gone, how cold my body was without his warmth pressed into it. I dare to peer up at the sick man who stands above me, catching his breath, watching just as the last bit of his softening cock gets tucked back into his jeans. He swipes a hand across his forehead, gathering sweat, staring down at me with a darkened expression, grinning cockily.
When he plops down on the couch next to me, picking up the can of beans heâd been eating before, my mouth hangs open in surprise at how casual heâs acting. I watch his face shine with sweat, his breathing still labored, but everything else about his attitude would indicate he didnât just force himself on me.Â
I try to keep my expression neutral for my own safety as I feel something leak out of me, not even wanting to give him the smug satisfaction of having to confirm my suspicions about what it is. I do my best to position my body so he canât see between my legs as I try to pull my underwear up from where they sit near my knees, my jeans following. Joel only gives me a knowing glance as he takes a bite, conscious of the fact that a part of him sits inside my now soiled underwear, and a part of me now sits inside of his soul.Â
He shoves the can my way and I shrink back at his sudden motion, not taking it from him. âEat. I ainât havinâ you all weak and despondent for the next time.â
I feel my heart sink down past my ass, my stomach plummeting along with it as nausea overtakes me, a dizzying sensation clouding my vision. He couldnât have said what I think he did. I - Iâd paid my debt, whatever it was he thought I owed him for saving me when I didnât even ask him to. For saving me and then doing exactly what that man had planned to do anyways under the guise of a caring, noble rescuer.
âN-next timeâŠ?â I manage to make my mouth move, my throat to produce a sound, pushing the question out in a voice that doesnât sound like my own.
âKnow you said not to call you stupid but my house, my rules, anâ sweetheartâŠâ He looks at me under his raised, expectant brows. âMy stupid, stupid girl. Did you really think that would be enough? That Iâd get an opportunity every man dreams of - an untouched, perfect pussy like yours, to keep all for mâself, and throw it all away?â Heâs creeping closer as he speaks, shrouding me on the couch with his huge frame, caging in where I lay, my body wound as tightly as it can to itself to block whatever heâs thinking of doing next. âNow you donât think daddy is that dumb to let you go knowinâ all that, do you?â
I sit stunned silent underneath him, wide eyes fixed in a tortured gaze on his rugged face, but his hand squeezing my thigh is warning enough for me to shake my head, stuttering out an answer. âN-no. NoâŠâ I whisper.Â
Two approving pats on my cheek send Joel slinking back slightly, his dark, unhinged eyes staring holes into me as they roam over my body. Despite nothing even visible - my chest hidden underneath my arms and legs clamped tightly - I feel violated, objectified.Â
Terror rips through my chest as reality settles in slowly but surely. I look at the man Iâd trusted once, whoâd shown himself to be a friend, or at the least an ally, currently feasting his eyes on me like Iâm a product. Which now, I suppose I am. A whore. His whore.
âNow,â he says, licking his lips, that hungry gaze already returning, a bulge appearing in his jeans and stretching the fabric. âAll Iâve got to do is decide just how long Iâll keep ya for.â
dividers by @/saradika-graphics!
#fic: indebted#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#dark!joel miller fanfiction#dark!joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#x reader#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#dddne joel miller#dead dove joel miller
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MCU Characters x Reader (Part.1)
How they react when you are angry with them (Part.1)
Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker (Tom H.), Stephen Strange & Thor Odinson
I'm back in my MCU era, thanks to Agatha All Along, so expect a lot of MCU headcanons, feel free to request those!
Tony Stark
- When youâre angry with Tony, heâs a little stunned. Heâs used to being able to charm his way through things or brush issues off with a joke, but the moment he realizes youâre genuinely upset, he feels the ground shift a little. Tonyâs mind races, calculating what he did wrong, and for a second, he considers ignoring the problemâbut not with you. You mean too much to him, and he canât stand the idea of pushing you further away.
- He doesnât immediately know how to apologize, so he leans into his classic defense mechanism: humor. Heâll try to make you laugh, throwing out quips, hoping youâll crack a smile. When that doesnât work, he gets a little awkward, mumbling things like, âThis is why I avoid real feelings, you know?â as he fumbles through an apology. Heâs not used to admitting fault, but with you, heâs learning to swallow his pride.
- Tony goes all out when he realizes he needs to make it up to you. Heâll throw himself into making amends, maybe even a little too extravagantly. Expect some grand, over-the-top gestureâa private jet to Paris, a limited-edition piece of tech heâs been tinkering on, or a fancy dinner in some exclusive place with an outfit heâs bought just for the occasion. Heâs not subtle, and he knows it, but heâll do anything if it means a smile from you.
- When the big gestures donât work, he takes a different approach. He shows up at your door, looking strangely vulnerable, with something small and meaningful. Maybe itâs a handwritten letter heâs scribbled out, confessing how much he hates it when things arenât okay between you two. Itâs raw, real, and completely unlike Tony, but he means every word. This time, he wants to show that heâs willing to put the ego aside for you.
- Once you finally let him back in, Tony wraps you in his arms and doesnât let go. Heâll joke that heâs not letting you get mad at him again, and maybe throw in a flirty quip about âtesting his limits,â but thereâs something deeper there too. Being loved by you has changed him, and heâs willing to work on himself for the first time in a long time. With you, Tonyâs found a softness he didnât know he had, and heâs not going to risk losing it.
Steve Rogers
- Steve Rogers doesnât like conflict, especially not with you. When he realizes youâre angry, he immediately wants to address it and resolve it, hoping it wonât escalate. He tries to have a calm, level-headed conversation, but he can see that maybe itâs too soon. Steveâs patient, though; heâll give you space if you need it, even if it pains him to let go for a while.
- While youâre cooling off, Steve takes time to reflect, replaying the situation in his mind, wondering where he went wrong. Heâs his own worst critic and can be hard on himself, especially when it comes to you. Heâll try to see things from your perspective, understanding that sometimes his old-fashioned sense of right and wrong can be rigid. Heâs willing to bend if itâs whatâs needed to bridge the gap between you.
- When he approaches you again, heâs soft-spoken and earnest, offering a sincere apology. There are no excuses, no justificationsâjust him, owning up to whatever hurt you. His gaze doesnât leave yours; he wants you to know he truly means it. And as he speaks, he promises heâll do better, vowing to always listen to you and consider your feelings.
- To make it up to you, Steve chooses something simple but thoughtful, probably something he knows you love. It could be as quiet as a walk through your favorite park or as gentle as a handwritten note tucked into a book youâre reading. Steve understands that sometimes, itâs the little things that mean the most. Heâll give you the space to talk, letting you vent if you need to, always steady, always attentive.
- Once the air clears, Steve is more affectionate than usual, holding your hand, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, grateful to be back in your good graces. He values trust deeply and doesnât take your forgiveness for granted. Steve knows relationships take work, and heâs fully committed to making it work with you, one respectful conversation at a time.
Natasha Romanoff
- Natasha doesnât like it when things are off between you two, but sheâs used to people being mad at her. Initially, she tries to shrug it off, acting like she doesnât care, maybe even trying to ignore it. But youâre different. Youâre not just anyone; youâre someone she actually trusts, and seeing you upset with her hits her hard.
- Natasha is far more comfortable dealing with enemies than emotional confrontations, so when she finally comes to you, she does it in a roundabout way. She might casually ask, âAre we good?â as if itâs not a big deal, but the nervous tension in her voice betrays her. Sheâs not great at apologies, so her attempt is awkward but sincere. Itâs clear sheâs trying, even if she doesnât always have the words.
- To make it up to you, Natasha doesnât go for big gestures but rather something deeply personal. Sheâll take you to a place she lovesâa quiet spot on a rooftop, a hidden cafĂ© she discovered, somewhere she can let her guard down. Sheâs careful, almost shy, as she opens up a little about herself, sharing stories she rarely tells. In her own way, sheâs letting you know how much she values you.
- Natasha doesnât usually do comfort, but sheâll go out of her way to make you feel loved and safe. Maybe sheâll surprise you with breakfast or bring you something she knows youâve been wanting. She pays attention, after all, even if she doesnât always show it. Little by little, sheâll find ways to let you know that sheâs there, committed to making things right.
- When you finally forgive her, Natasha breathes a sigh of relief, leaning in for a hug that lasts a beat longer than usual. Sheâs not big on words, but sheâll whisper something soft and sincere, just for you. Natashaâs fiercely protective, and after a falling-out, sheâs even more attuned to making sure you feel cared for. Sheâll stay close, a steady presence at your side, her quiet way of showing just how much she values you.
Bruce Banner
- When youâre angry with Bruce, heâs instantly anxious, worried heâs done something terribly wrong. Conflict isnât his strong suit, and heâs painfully aware of his capacity for anger. Heâs cautious, almost timid, when he realizes youâre upset, giving you space and time. He doesnât want to make things worse or risk saying the wrong thing.
- Bruce spends time overthinking the situation, dissecting every detail. He questions himself, often getting caught in a loop of self-blame, wondering if heâs ever really been suited for a relationship. But even though heâs scared of confrontation, he values you too much to leave things unresolved. He wants to show you that heâs willing to work through whatever the issue is.
- When he finally comes to you, Bruceâs apology is soft, heartfelt, and a little self-deprecating. Heâll stumble through his words, not wanting to sound defensive, and thereâs an earnestness in his gaze as he tries to convey just how much he wants to make things right. Heâs not perfect, but heâs open to listening and doing better.
- To make it up to you, Bruce goes for something intimate and personal. He knows you appreciate small gestures, so heâll show up with something that reflects his feelings for youâmaybe a small book he thinks youâd love, or a little experiment from the lab that made him think of you. Heâs shy about it, maybe a little embarrassed, but itâs his way of showing he cares.
- When you finally forgive him, Bruce visibly relaxes, wrapping you in a hug as if he never wants to let go. Heâs careful, soft, and almost tentative, savoring the warmth of your embrace. Bruce cherishes the trust you give him and is deeply grateful to have someone willing to weather his insecurities. He might even joke, âYouâre way too patient with me,â but the gratitude in his voice is genuine.
Clint Barton
- When Clint realizes youâre angry with him, his first reaction is a mix of regret and a slight laugh. He canât believe heâs managed to mess things up this badly with you, of all people. He knows he tends to joke around a bit too much, so he tries to laugh it off at first, but when he sees how serious you are, his grin fades. Heâll look a bit awkward, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing heâs got some work to do.
- Clintâs never been one to give big, elaborate apologies. Instead, heâll pull you aside, speaking quietly and genuinely. Heâll admit that he messed up, explaining that sometimes he forgets to take things seriously or considers othersâ feelings the way he should. Itâs a simple, heartfelt apology, showing his honest side that not many people get to see.
- Once heâs apologized, Clint is all about making you laugh. Heâll start cracking jokes, doing his best impressions, and even pull some ridiculous faces just to get a reaction out of you. Clint knows humor is his best weapon, and heâs shameless about using it if it means making things right. Heâs determined not to let you stay mad at him for long, no matter what it takes.
- When his jokes donât quite cut it, Clint switches gears and puts effort into something he knows will mean a lot to you. Heâs a guy who pays attention to the little things, so heâll show up with your favorite takeout, a warm blanket, or maybe even a funny book he picked up just for you. He knows that itâs the small gestures that can speak volumes.
- After things settle down, Clint wraps you in a warm, comfortable hug, one arm wrapped around your shoulder, making you feel like everythingâs back to normal. Heâll joke about how lucky he is that you put up with him, throwing in a wink, but thereâs a hint of seriousness behind his words. Clint doesnât take his relationships for granted, and heâs grateful youâre in his life, even when he messes up.
Bucky Barnes
- Buckyâs heart sinks when he sees that youâre angry. Heâs used to pushing people away, and now that heâs got you, heâs terrified of losing you over a misunderstanding. Buckyâs first instinct is to retreat, his mind already whispering that maybe he doesnât deserve this, doesnât deserve you. Heâll avoid confrontation if he can, hoping things might smooth over on their own.
- But when he realizes he needs to talk to you, heâs hesitant, nervous, almost as if heâs bracing himself for rejection. Bucky approaches you carefully, speaking in a low, almost shy voice. He struggles with apologies, but he looks you in the eyes, opening up about how hard he finds it to express his feelings. Heâs used to running, and being with you is the first time heâs tried not to.
- Bucky tries to make it up to you in the most low-key, thoughtful way possible. Heâs not one for grand gestures, but heâll do something meaningful and heartfelt, like leaving you a note explaining how much you mean to him or bringing you something that he knows you love. Heâs nervous about whether itâll be enough, hoping you can see the sincerity in his actions.
- When he feels things softening between you, Bucky relaxes just a little, offering his support in any way you need. Heâll stay close, maybe cooking a meal for you or sitting quietly with you, sharing a comfortable silence. He wants you to know that heâs there, without needing to say much, because heâs always believed that actions speak louder than words.
- When you finally forgive him, Bucky is beyond relieved. Heâs more open with his affection, drawing you into a tight embrace, his touch lingering as if heâs afraid to let go. He knows he doesnât have many people he can count on, but heâs grateful that he can count on you. Buckyâs still working on believing he deserves happiness, but having you in his life makes him want to try.
Sam Wilson
- Sam immediately notices when youâre angry, and his first instinct is to find out whatâs going on. Heâs straightforward and doesnât like tension hanging in the air, so heâll ask, âAlright, what did I do?â in his calm, genuine way, hoping youâll be willing to talk it out. Heâs good at reading people, but he wants to hear it from you directly.
- Sam listens intently when you explain whatâs bothering you, nodding and giving you his full attention. Heâs respectful and thoughtful, making sure you know he understands where youâre coming from. Heâs not the type to dodge blame; if heâs at fault, heâll own up to it right away. Thereâs no defensiveness, no excusesâjust an honest desire to make things right.
- To make it up to you, Sam takes you on a simple, meaningful outingâsomething where the two of you can connect and have fun. Heâs all about shared experiences, so maybe itâs a long walk, a favorite food spot, or even a small adventure heâs planned just for you. Heâs careful, attentive, making sure the focus is on you and helping you feel valued.
- When things calm down, Sam offers a mix of humor and reassurance, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and promising to do better. Heâll look you in the eyes and say something like, âI donât like seeing you mad. Tell me if I mess up again.â Heâs genuine and open, showing you he wants to grow from this experience and be a better partner.
- Once everythingâs back to normal, Sam goes the extra mile, making sure youâre laughing and relaxed. Heâs always there to lift you up, pulling you in for a warm, affectionate hug and giving you his full, unwavering attention. Samâs presence is solid, reassuring, and heâll make sure you know just how much he values having you in his life.
Peter Parker (Tom H.)
- Peterâs heart sinks when he realizes youâre angry with him. Heâs young, a little clumsy with emotions, and absolutely hates the idea of upsetting you. His mind starts racing, thinking of everything he could have done wrong. He gets a little panicked, maybe even rambling apologies before he knows whatâs going on, hoping youâll give him a chance to explain.
- When you tell him whatâs bothering you, Peter listens carefully, nodding along with wide, earnest eyes. Heâs genuinely sorry, his voice soft as he stumbles through an apology. Heâs never been great at handling relationship tension, but heâll try his best to make sure you know how much he cares and how sorry he is for letting you down.
- To make it up to you, Peter goes for something heartfelt, maybe even a bit awkward, but completely sincere. Heâll show up at your window with a little homemade gift, something quirky and thoughtfulâperhaps a playlist he made just for you or a funny little gadget he put together in the lab. Heâs earnest, a little shy about it, hoping youâll see how much effort heâs putting in.
- Peter spends extra time trying to lift your spirits, using every ounce of his playful personality to make you laugh. Heâll crack jokes, do silly impressions, or even attempt a bad dance routine just to get you smiling again. He knows heâs a bit of a dork, but he doesnât mind if it means cheering you up. Peterâs all about making you feel comfortable and loved.
- When you finally forgive him, Peterâs face lights up with relief. Heâll pull you into a warm, enthusiastic hug, holding you close and babbling about how heâs âthe luckiest person in the worldâ to have someone like you. Heâs young, optimistic, and just incredibly happy that youâre not mad anymore. To Peter, youâre his world, and heâll always do whatever it takes to make you feel special.
Stephen Strange
- When Stephen realizes youâre angry with him, heâs a bit taken aback. Heâs used to being right and doesnât often see things from othersâ perspectives, so it takes him a moment to understand the weight of the situation. His initial reaction might even be a little defensive, but he quickly catches himself, knowing that with you, he has to try harder to listen and understand.
- Stephen struggles with apologies, often trying to explain away his actions or getting caught up in technicalities. Heâs intelligent and analytical, but that doesnât always work when emotions are involved. Eventually, though, he manages to offer a genuine apology, admitting that heâs not always the easiest person to be with and that he respects you enough to take responsibility.
- To make things right, Stephen will probably use a bit of magic to create something special just for you. It might be a small charm to keep you safe, a little illusion to make you smile, or even a glimpse into some place youâve always wanted to see. Itâs his way of saying he cares, using the one skill he knows best to bring you a little joy.
- As he tries to smooth things over, Stephen is careful, more attentive than usual, and visibly trying to understand your emotions. He may not be great at expressing his own feelings, but heâs willing to try if it means keeping you close. Heâll listen to you, nodding thoughtfully, and maybe even opening up a bit about his past mistakes and how much he values you.
- Once you forgive him, Stephen is visibly relieved, though he keeps it subtle. He gives you a small smile and pulls you close, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he wraps his arms around you. He might even joke, âGuess I need to work on my bedside manner,â but thereâs genuine affection behind his words. Stephen knows heâs lucky to have you, and heâs determined to keep learning how to love you better.
Thor Odinson
- Thor is visibly surprised when he realizes youâre angry with him. Heâs naturally cheerful and doesnât take most things too seriously, so the idea that heâs done something to upset you takes him off guard. At first, he tries to brush it off with a booming laugh, but when he sees the seriousness in your eyes, his smile fades. He immediately wants to fix things, willing to do whatever it takes to get you to smile again.
- Thor is quick to apologize, his voice earnest as he promises he didnât mean to hurt you. Heâs not one to overthink things, but heâs deeply sincere, and his apologies come straight from the heart. Heâll look you in the eyes and tell you he values you and never meant to cause any harm, his words laced with the kind of honesty that only Thor can deliver.
- To make it up to you, Thor goes all out. Heâll sweep you off on a grand adventure, maybe a spontaneous trip to Asgard (or at least what remains of it), or heâll bring you somewhere beautiful and awe-inspiring. Thor loves to celebrate life and wants to remind you of all the incredible experiences the two of you can share. His enthusiasm is infectious, and he hopes that a bit of excitement will make things right.
- As you spend time together, Thor is extra affectionate, showering you with praise and hugs. Heâs genuinely sorry and makes sure you feel loved and appreciated, maybe even telling you tales of his own mistakes and what heâs learned from them. He might tease himself a bit, but itâs all to make you laugh and remind you of his dedication to you.
- When you finally forgive him, Thorâs smile lights up the room. He laughs, pulling you into a bear hug, lifting you off your feet, and spinning you around. Thereâs nothing subtle about his relief and joy, and heâs not afraid to show it. Thor values you immensely and will do everything he can to make sure you know how much you mean to him, promising that heâll try to be a little more mindful in the future.
#tony stark x reader#steve rogers x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#bruce banner x reader#clint barton x reader#bucky barnes x reader#sam wilson x reader#peter parker x reader#stephen strange x reader#thor x reader#thor odinson x reader#mcu x reader#mcu headcanons#mcu headcanon#mcu imagines#mcu imagine#mcu#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel headcanon#marvel headcanons#marvel imagines#marvel imagine#x reader#headcanons#avengers x reader#avengers headcanons#imagines
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pretty. â shopping for your wedding gown went a little wrong.
tw/cw: tooth rotting fluff, not proofread, fluff/crack, reader wears a dress + satoru calls them his future wife âmasterlist
you smile and place your palms under your chin, wondering how you got to this point. your snowy haired fiancĂ© is currently twirling around with a custom tailored wedding gown⊠which he wasnât going to be wearing on your wedding day anyway, because he would never hear the end of it from his first year trio. okay, yuji probably wouldnât have said anything, but nobara and megumi would bully him out of his own wedding. without a doubt, 100 percent.
your mind tried running through the events that had unfolded over the past two weeks, finally stopping at where everything started.
-
âpretty.âÂ
those were the only words that satoru gojo had to say the moment the both of you had found the perfect wedding dress for you. detailed right down to the final bits of the dress, it matched you perfectly with your favourite flowers weaved into the design, just the perfect length⊠it was everything you were looking for.
the sound of your soft laughter brought him out of his awestruck expression. âthank you, but as much as i love it, it feels just a little uncomfortable.â you sounded a little disappointed, and satoru couldnât help but notice every little shift and movement you made⊠especially that mischievous look in your eyes and grin plastered on your face the moment you thought of a âsolution.âÂ
âmaybe you should be the one in a dress at our wedding. iâm sure the strongest can handle a little bit of discomfort.â Â
now, you and gojo had known each other for probably more than a decade. he knew better than anyone else that you were joking. but you were basically challenging him with that last sentence, right?Â
he abruptly stood up from the couch he was sitting on once you had gotten to changing out of the wedding gown before marching off to one of the nearby employees and asking about any dresses his size, only to be met with the response of, âthis is an unusual request, but there are quite a few dresses that would compliment you-â the employee coughed a few times before continuing, â-but we are closing soon, so there might not be enough time to try them on-âÂ
âi'll take all of them.â
âpardon?â
âincluding the one my future wife chose. okay thanks!â
the total came up to about 1.2 million yen. for a dress for you and those 3 gowns the employee picked out, it horrified everyone present at the counter. everyone but him, of course.Â
back to present time, thatâs how you found yourself being the one and only audience member for your belovedâs fashion show. for a good reason, you wanted to chew him out for spending that recklessly. then again, this is the same guy who decides to buy two of the same items no matter how expensive it is âjust in case the other one goes missing.â
you sigh softly before turning your attention back onto him. heâs currently trying on the final dress, and has finally got rid of the sunglasses. you canât help but admit that he actually looks good in the dress, sparkling with all the right types of gems and jewels, paired with his now visible long eyelashes, he looks pretty.Â
âso? how do i look!!?â satoru asks with enthusiasm, spinning around you in circles.Â
âhmm, maybe i should be the one wearing your suit that day instead,â you jokingly say to him. he understood, laughing before ruffling your hair.Â
âas if iâd let you.â a comfortable silence filled the air afterwards, being broken afterwards by satoru confessing, âi dream of seeing you wearing that in front of me at the altar, you know?â
your eyes at this. you werenât expecting him to say something like that so sudden.Â
âi can wear it at night when-â satoruâs sentence was cut off by a light punch to his gut.Â
âhell no.â
by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.
@rninies still can't write fluff unfortunately, writing this fried my brain
#signed by aireia!#gojo satoru x reader#jjk gojo#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#gojo x reader
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hi!! i saw you taking request so here is an idea :)
fem!reader and spencer in an established relationship and they really love each other but they get into a fight. they both say things they dont mean so reader rushes out and while driving away she feels sorry and calls spencer but it goes to voicemail. she starts to send him one saying how sorry she is and that she loves him but is cut off with a loud crash. spencer gets the voicemail and hears about her car accident and rushes to hospital, you can end it however you want hahah. im sorry if this is too much but i feel like you are the only one who can do justice to this <33
guilt ridden | spencer reid
summary ; reader and spencer get into a silly argument that ends in hospital trips and a lot of apologises.
warnings; fem reader, established relationships, arguments, cm things, car accidents and hospitals, arguments, spencer being an ass and reader also being an ass which is all forgotten when things get serious, kinda rushed. angst, happish ending, hurt x comfort kindaish.
an; im sorry this took me so long and im sorry if its horrible. i really just wanted to get this one out of the way bc i rlly enjoyed the idea!!
âIâm sorry, Iâll be back in the morning at some point so I donât want you to worry and I know you will probably be pissed right now and that okayâ You should be. I am too, but I am sorry. I didnât mean it â I shouldnât have said it but it was just, in the moment I wasnât thinking.. Im sorry Spence. I loveââ
There was the sound of a gasp, then a bang and then it was silent for a minute until the voice message ended itself. The sound sent goosebumps along Spencerâs arms and sweat to build up over the back of his neck as anxiety made its bed in his stomach.
His entire body went cold as he stood in the kitchen â The same place he had been standing when the stupid argument took place before you grabbed your keys and walked out, muttering how if he was that sick of you, youâd get out of his way before the door slammed behind you.
He had thought about following you and telling you to stay but in the moment he was just angry. So angry. Not even entirely at you, just everything.
He had just gotten home from a case after being away for a week â a case where they couldnât save the victims. It was one that affected Spencer more than he wanted to admit, all he wanted was to come home and shower.
Then he got home and you immediately hugged him and rambled on about how you missed him and normally â any other time he would adore the feeling of your arms around him, he would breathe in your scent and breath it back out before going on about the case.
This time was different, everything was too much. The grasp of your arms made his body tense rather than relax, your scent was suffocating mixed with the smell of the food on the stove and the candle lit in the living room. It was all just too much.
Not because it was you, there was nothing wrong with you. It was just the day built up, and it was too much for him.
So he pushed you away and began his way to the bedroom wordlessly, where he showered, and eventually came back a little more relaxed â only now you were the one in the bad mood.
Which ended in an argument between the two of you, you called him childish and immature, he called you suffocating and needy.
Neither of you meant it.
But that didnât stop the hurt that seeped in and the tension that grew between the two of you. Until you were shaking your head telling him to go fuck himself, grabbing your keys and walking towards the front door.
Spencer regretted his words almost immediately when the door slammed shut and didnât open again. He didnât mean it but he couldnât bring himself to follow you yet â he needed to calm down and he was sure you did as well.
He didnât ignore your call, not on purpose. He was unpacking his stuff when his phone rang from where he had left it in the kitchen. Finding it ten minutes later to hear the voice mail you left, well he had never felt a more intense ache in his chest.
Something was wrong, seriously wrong. He tried calling again and again to no avail as the call went straight to voicemail every-time. He texted you as well.
He was in his car moments later, driving to the nearest hospital because if you were anywhere â it would be there. He heard the ambulance sirens on the way and they did nothing but build the tension in between his muscle and bones.
It wasnât until an hour later of waiting and pacing around in the hospital waiting room that someone came to tell him that you were here â stable, but in a lot of pain.
He had never felt something like this. Every bit of his mind went blank as walked fast towards the room the nurse had directed him to. His knees felt like jelly and he felt sick to his stomach.
That sick didnât compare to the one he felt when he saw you lying in the hospital bed, fading in and out of consciousness, a doctor by your side. You were bruised and bloodied and Spencer didnât think he could stand for another minute as his legs carried him towards the chair next to your bed.
âHoney.â His voice came out a gasp.
But all the same concerned and guilty. Your head turned slightly towards the sound of his voice and he was almost sure his heart broke at the sound of pain that left your lips when moving.
âSpenceâ You were hardly audible, voice small and so quiet, full of hurt. Genuine pain, you were in genuine pain that you wouldnât have been in if Spencer had just pulled his head in and didnât act like an absolute idiot.
It was hard to think about the argument now, how it felt like everything at the time and nothing now. His hand reached out for yours as he tried to ignore the tears that burned in the back of his eyes.
âIm so sorryâ He mumbled out. It didnât even begin to describe the amount of guilt he felt burnt into his stomach, and every inch of his body. He felt sick to his stomach and was almost sure he was going to throw up. âIm so sorry- God Im sorryâ He couldnât help the series of apologies that streamed from his lips, still they didnât even slightly cover the blame he took in his mind.
âSpenceâ You said again, almost as if you were unable to say or think about anything else. Despite the pain medication that you had been given â everything hurt.
âIm right hereâ Im right here.â He repeated, moving the chair in closer, he saw a soft sigh leave your lips despite it being so quiet he couldnât hear it. He saw your eyes closed and for a moment he genuinely felt his heart break and drop, until they opened again.
You squeeze his hand slightly, it was soft and gentle, all the energy you could muster up put into doing so. âI know. Im sorryâ You apologised and it hurt Spencer.
It genuinely made him feel pain in his stomach that you were lying in a hospital bed in an abundance of pain and yet â apologising to him for an argument that seemed so insignificant now.
âDonât.â Spencer shook his head.
âDonât apologise, I was an assâ I deserved it. you- You didnât deserve this. God please donât apologise.â He almost begged.
The words died on your tongue. Whatever you were going to say now a second thought as you realised Spencer was going to drive himself insane with the guilt and blame of this.
âIts not your fault.â You huffed out.
It was enough to sooth a small part of Spencerâs mind, your voice outweighing the one in his head that held him responsible. Your comfort the one he needed. His hand squeezed yours back.
âI love you â So much. You arenât suffocating or needy in the slightest.â He felt the need to let you know. God if something happened to you and the last thing youâd heard him say was that he thought you were somethingâ anything other than the most important person in his life and the one who he turned to for everything, the one person he truly loved and adored
Well he would never forgive himself
âI love youâ You muttered back weekly, shuffling over on the hospital bed despite the pain that coursed through your body in doing so you made room for him. âLay with me?â You asked.
He huffed something out before shaking his head, standing up and lowering himself onto the hospital bed. He was careful of your injuries and any pain you may be in as he wrapped his arms around you.
âI love youâ He repeated as he placed a soft kiss on the corner of your shoulder. It made a sigh leave your lips, before turning your head to face him.
âI love you.â
#criminal minds#criminal minds show#criminalmindsfans#spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#spencer criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x oc#criminal minds one shot#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid angst#spencer reid smut#spencer reid criminal minds#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid
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18+ - Spite/Rook/Lucanis - Playing Cards
This was supposed to be a sweet romantic conversation where they define the throuple and it turned out to be... extremely filthy smut. Uh, sorry. And/or enjoy.
A03 Link. Female Rook. 18+ Spite/Rook and Spite/Rook/Lucanis. DAV spoilers.
---
"It's all right if you fall asleep, you know. Spite and I can... play cards or something," Rook brushes her fingers through Lucanis' hair, combing through it gently. He sighs, a satisfied, happy noise, but the corner of his lip tugs down.
"I do not think he wants to play cards," He murmurs quietly. Rook's hand stills in place. Cracking an eye open, Lucanis peers up at Rook, shifting and pushing himself up on an elbow.
"We haven't really talked about him. Whether he's okay with..." She gestures between them. Rook had taken the outburst of Spite's wings wrapping around them as a sign that Spite was at least fine with what was happening, if not particularly enthusiastic. Maybe she'd been wrong?
"Okay is one way to put it," Lucanis mutters with an annoyed huff. He's not meeting Rook's eyes, instead tracing circles on her inner thigh in a way that makes heat shoot up her spine. He'd just finished fucking her into her chaise- making love to her, really. Her legs will still weak from it, and already she can feel herself starting to ache for more.
Dangerous.
"Lucanis?" She asks tentatively, by way of seeking further explanation.
"He wants you, Rook. Has wanted you. For as long as I have," Lucanis lays back down on her thighs, closing his eyes, "And you know, I'd wanted you for a long time."
"How long?" She asks, teasing, because she has to know.
"Since we got coffee in Treviso," He answers, "Maybe since you entered the Ossurary, to be honest. But Maker, you made this little noise of pleasure when you took your first drink of that cioccolata calda that went right to my cock," Lucanis groans, just from the memory, and presses his fingers against Rook's hips. "I hadn't felt anything like that since well before I was locked up. It tore right through me. I wanted you then," his voice goes soft, "But it didn't take long before I realized that I wanted more than that, too."
Okay, hoo, stop getting distracted, Rook. "And... Spite?"
"He didn't know what it meant, at first. But he caught on quick," he sighs, "I was thinking about you a lot. About all the things I wanted to do to you. With you. Some of it bled over to him, I think."
Rook smiles at him, a careful, soft look. "So... Spite wants me too. Sexually. How do you feel about that?"
Lucanis groans, a different kind of noise from the one that he'd made only a few moments before. "How do I feel? How do you feel?" He pauses for a long moment, and Rook can only assume Spite is saying something in his ear. "Yes, yes. I know you wouldn't hurt her." Another long pause, and Lucanis adds a stern, "Hey."
"Ordinarily, I wouldn't consider having another... person in the relationship," She admits. This is unsteady ground, and she wants to be careful not to offend either Lucanis or Spite. She wants both of them to be alright with their relationship, and doesn't want either of them to feel hurt or left out. "But he does share your body, with no indication that'll change any time soon. There's a good possibility you'll be together for the rest of your life, Lucanis. So in a way, he'll have to be a part of the relationship... in some capacity, anyway."
She takes a moment to think. How does she feel about Spite? About Spite, wanting her? Embarrassingly, she finds the thought leaves her warm. How different would be be from Lucanis? She swallows.
Lucanis sits up fully then, moving to take his place on the chaise beside Rook. He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, cupping her face in his hands.
"When you were gone... Spite was devastated. I mean really torn up about it. I hadn't realized how much he liked you too- really liked you, until then," Lucanis seems to take a moment to collect his thoughts, "Ever since he pulled you into the fade to get you to deal with my- our issues, we've felt more like partners. If you're not averse- if the concept doesn't frighten you-"
"You have never frightened me," Rook says, looking him in his eyes, "Either of you."
Lucanis smiles then, relieved, and kisses her gently. When he pulls back, it's seems he's gathered the courage to finish his sentence.
"I don't mind sharing, if it's the three of us," He finishes, a little nervously, "I don't know exactly what it will mean..."
"But we can figure it out. Together." Rook smiles too then, taking his hands in hers and pressing another kiss against his mouth, slow and deep.
The kiss starts slow, but it doesn't stay that way. At first, the press of Lucanis' mouth against hers is languid, as though they have all the time in the world. And then, a shudder seems to run through Lucanis. And he is pushing forward, biting at Rook's lip in a way that makes her gasp in surprise.
Lucanis- no, Spite- seems to want to devour her. He hisses against her mouth, his kisses clumsy and demanding. Rook can barely breathe he's so insistent, licking into her mouth as his hands grab her hips and pull her body closer to him. Spite's eyes flash a brilliant violet, wings in a matching shade unfurling out from behind him.
"Wanted this," Spite groans against her mouth, biting at Rook's bottom lip in a way that makes her weak, "Wanted you."
"I wanted you too," She admits, and he moans, a broken noise of need.
"Smell so good. Like caramels and jasmine and Lucanis," He groans again, and the fact that Spite seems to not only be aroused by her, but by Lucanis as well, makes Rook's skin feel alight with heat.
"Are you going to take me, Spite?" She asks, her voice breathy with need as she wraps her arms around his neck, "Are you going to make me feel good? I want to make you feel good, too."
His lips press back to her skin, this time against the column of her neck. Where Lucanis had kissed with reverence, Spite bites and nips and sucks until Rook is twisting and moaning in his arms.
When Spite leans back slips a hand under the waistband of her panties, Rook realizes that she's still an absolute mess from her earlier round with Lucanis. Rook's cheeks burn as Spite drags two fingers along her slit, slicking them with both her and Lucanis' cum. When he pulls his hand back, he looks at his wet fingers with interest, his pupils blown wide and dark.
Grabbing his wrist, Rook raises the fingers to her mouth and drags her tongue along the digits, licking them clean. She pops his fingers into her mouth, sucking at them and moaning around his hand, keeping her eyes locked on Spite's the whole time. He shudders, taking his other hand and dragging it down the back of Rook's head in a strangely gentle gesture.
When Rook draws the fingers out of her mouth, Spite uses his free hand to yank her underwear down and pull it off of her. He is already so hard- despite her and Lucanis having finished not that long ago, Rook notes- and with a fluid motion, he presses his two fingers back to Rook's cunt. The fingers enter her easily, as wet as she is, and push Lucanis' cum deeper insider of her. With a surprisingly careful motion, he pumps his fingers into her, curling them inside as he'd watched Lucanis do earlier in the evening.
Rook whimpers, a high keening sound, and Spite tilts his head in interest at the noise. This time, when he withdraws his hand, he brings it to his own lips. Keeping eye contact as she had with him, he sticks his own fingers into his mouth, sighing in pleasure around them as he tastes both Lucanis and Rook together.
"More," He groans. Before Rook can even fully register what he's doing, Spite has laid on his stomach and settled himself between her legs, and is licking a long line down the length of her cunt. She nearly squeals, the sensation so hot and her body so oversensitive, and Spite huffs out a laugh in response against her skin.
"Going to want to taste you. Forever," He moans against her cunt, wrapping his arms around her legs to keep them splayed open for him. He buries his face between her thighs, mouthing against her cunt like he really is trying to devour her.
The sensation is almost too much. If not for Spite holding her legs in place to keep her from squirming, she'd be writhing against his mouth. Holding her as he is, his mouth is an onslaught against her, a torrent of pleasure she has no respite from, that has her quickly approaching orgasm.
"Spiteeee," Rook whines, "Fuck me, fuck me, please."
"No," Spite responds, grinning against her skin, "Later. Want this. Taste."
He returns to eating her out, his nose nudging against her clit back and forth, and Rook can't help it. She presses against his face desperately, and when she notices that Spite is grinding his pelvis against the chaise, too horny and turned on just from eating her cunt to stop himself from rutting against it-
She comes with a cry, throwing her head back as the orgasm rockets through her. It shivers through her body, leaving her feeling boneless and satisfied, and Spite watches her come undone with no small amount of pride.
"Now," He says, still grinning as he pulls back, his eyes hungry with need as they rake over her body. "Now?"
"Please," Rook repeats, opening her thighs to him, and beckoning him forward.
Spite's hands fly to his pants, but despite the lack of a belt, he seems to struggle with undoing the fly and button. For just a second, Spite's frustration gives way to amusement, as more assured hands deftly and confidently undo the pants.
"There you go," Lucanis groans, sliding his pants and underwear down his hips. His cock, already red and leaking and so hard, springs out. "You know, I really underestimated how hot it would be to watch him make you come. You are such a mess."
"Fuck, I know," Rook whimpers, reaching out, "Come on, please."
Lucanis chuckles, before violet once again overtakes the colour of his irises. Spite growls, crawling up over Rook, until his cock is flush against her cunt. Unable to stop himself, he slides it against her folds, teasing her by grinding his cock against her cunt without entering her.
"Oh, Maker-" Rook groans, rocking her hips up. His cock is slick with her now, and strands of hair wet with sweat from exertion fall onto his forehead. Finally then, he presses against he entrance, and pushes in, drawing out a long, broken cry from Rook.
"Yes," Spite groans out, "Yes, yes! So good."
Unlike Lucanis had, Spite doesn't wait until she's used to the stretch of his cock to start moving, or take things slow. But at this point, Rook doesn't need him to. What she wants is to be fucked within an inch of her life, and Spite seems to read her mind.
As soon as he's fully inside of her, he pulls out almost all of the way, and then snaps his hips, driving his cock back inside of her. He fucks her deep, his hands on her hips, keeping her in place.
The sounds coming out of Rook's mouth are entirely outside of her control. She doesn't even know entirely what she's saying at this point. She's keening, whimpering out the words, "Yes" and "Spite" and "Pleasepleaseplease." Everything she's worried about, everything that could happen the next day, seems a million miles away. Here, she's able to fall apart completely.
After one particularly loud moan, Spite pulls out, flips her onto her stomach far too easily, and enters her from behind.
Rook presses her face into her pillow, muffling a guttural sound pulled from her lips. From behind, she feels Spite grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her head up.
"No. Want to hear you," He grunts, rutting back into her. She gasps, her cunt clenching around his cock, so close to coming again as he fucks her into her chaise. She can tell he's close himself by the stutter of his hips, and the way that words begin to slip from his lips. Snaking a hand to her clit, she grinds forward against her fingers.
"Mine," He breathes, punctuating the word with a thrust. "Mine, mine. Ours."
And with that word- the feeling of her hair, wrenched in Spite's grip, his body leaning over hers, and his cock pressing so deep inside of her- Rook comes for a second time. Spite follows her, spilling into her with a surprised gasp and a long groan.
She collapses onto the chaise, face down, and Spite lays heavy across her back.
"You're heavy," She complains after a long moment. Spite makes a noncommittal noise, and doesn't move.
But then, with a sigh, Spite rolls off of her. It takes Rook a second to realize that Lucanis is back in control, as he reaches out to smooth down her hair where Spite had grabbed.
"That was good?" He asks, a bit tentative. Rook turns and looks at Lucanis, a complete, bleary eyed mess.
"Yeah. But if you ask for a turn now, my legs might give out completely," She answers with a lazy grin. Lucanis grins back at her, eyes shining with affection.
"Just a kiss, then?" He asks, and Maker, Rook could never deny him. Pushing herself up, she kisses him softly, and he sighs against her mouth, contented.
"You think he liked it?" Rook asks, and Lucanis rolls his eyes.
"If he hadn't fallen asleep immediately after finishing, I think he'd be back in between your thighs right now. I'm pretty sure that if you hadn't been more insistent he fuck you, he'd have stayed there until I couldn't speak the next morning." Lucanis rubs circles into Rook's back, and with a soft chuckle, they both settle back onto the chaise. Rook yawns, pressing her head against Lucanis' chest.
"I think I might sleep through the final fight tomorrow. This is too comfortable. Sorry, Minrathous," She mumbles, already feeling her eyelids droop.
Lucanis laughs, and she can feel the rumble of it as she lays on his chest.
"Tomorrow night, we will all be back here again. I will kill a God to ensure it. Multiple, if I must," He whispers, before they drift off to sleep.
#spite dragon age#rook x spite#rook x lucanis#lucanis dellamorte#lucanis x rook#lucanis x spite#dragon age#dav spoilers#dav#dragon age the veilguard#da: the veilguard#i have no idea if this is in character im so sorry#my writing
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best friend!patrick zweig who is totally not in love with youâŠ
headcanons with a plot <3
warnings: mentions of sex, kissing, marijuana, smoking, casual touches, jealousy, and silent yearningggg
- insists that he drives you home even if youâre the slightest bit tired. you yawn at his place- youâre not driving home. he says itâs to keep you safe but really, he just wants more time with you.
âitâs like twenty minutes out, iâll drive, itâs nothing.â
âiâm perfectly fine to drive! i just yawned, iâm not tired.â
his foot is down. âyeah, thatâs not happening.â
âyouâre going to take a bus home? patrickâŠâ
âiâll take a taxi if it makes you feel better?â
âuh huh.â
- he follows the sidewalk rule. heâs never heard of it before but he does it, just on his own.
- saves you the last slice or even bite of anything heâs eating thatâs worth it. he orders a really good burger, the very last bit left is yours. ordering a pizza, the last slice is yours. even a slice of cheesecake, the last bite is yours. bonus points to him for making sure the last bite contains all elements of what he had. the burger has all toppings left on the last bite, the cheesecake has the crust and the caramel drizzle, etc.
- doesnât get why you choose such shitty men to go out with and waste your best dresses for the wrong eyes. he plays it off as caring about you, but heâs jealousss
âi have another date tonight with tony,â you tell him. he looks up from the can of ravioli heâs opening.
âtony with the hair or tony with the fake hair?â
you tsk, âwith the hair.â
âthe guy with the weird moustache who runs the laundromat? really?â
âheâs nice!â
âjust nice shouldnât cut it. and doesnât he have the weird butt-chin thing? come on.â
âhe treats me well! compliments me, pays for thingsâŠâ
âyeah okay, with the laundromat money, youâre sure itâs not going on credit?â
by the end of the conversation heâs telling you that you look nice, a little defeated, but he means it. he canât talk you out of it truly without first admitting he likes you and secondly, admitting to you he likes you.
- heâs always down to spend time with you. he might say heâs busy but heâs not. and when he is, he moves things around just to see you, but he wonât tell you that.
- he buys the drinks you like just to keep them in the fridge. he buys more every time he goes out so the stock of it keeps growing and soon enough itâs taking up two shelves in his fridge.
âiâm going to make something to eat for dinner,â you say, opening the fridge. and the fridge is near-full of your favourite drink. he usually gets it for you, youâd assume he just had a few but no. he has so many. and the thing is, he doesnât like the drinks. so itâs just really weird. thereâs a million of your drinks and then in the empty spaces, ketchup, mustard, milk, ground beef, cheese, and two red peppers next to the can of opened redbull. what for? who knows. you walk back out to where patrick is sitting and he looks up from his phone.
âwe can get groceries. donât have much right now,â he reaches for his keys and you laugh just a little, which stops him. you hold up one of the drinks and he just stares at it, knowing you know about the shelves upon shelves of it. âthey were on sale, fuck off.â
- any time youâve slept at his place he either gives up his bed and sleeps on the couch, or if you fall asleep on the couch you always wake up the next morning with a comfy blanket over you and a proper pillow under your head. he wonât move you, heâs too afraid to wake you. or on nights when you know youâre staying over or even on a whim, heâs used to giving you his clothes to sleep in because he knows you like the fit of them. theyâre comfortable.
- without you coming over, patrick wouldnât do any of his chores. heâs only motivated by the idea that you might come over and think heâs a slob. you already know heâs a slob, but he does a good job at hiding it. it always smells a bit like febreeze when you come over and not that you mind it- it smells good. but it canât mask the slight cigarette scent and the scent of his cologne which is without a doubt on every surface heâs ever layed on.
- heâs the guy you can go to for honest opinions because heâll always shamelessly side with you. a fight with a friend who was clearly in the wrong? he doesnât even try to see the other perspective, heâs on your side no matter what. your ex and his new girl? he thinks sheâs ugly and a downgrade and heâs an asshole for posting the grocery store flowers he got for her. heâs jealous, but heâs good knowing your ex fumbled you.
âtheyâre yellow.â
âhe got her yellow chrysanthemums?â
you chuckle and look at him. âyou know what flowers those are?â
âsaw them the other day at the store. on sale, $5. same ones, look at the wrapping.â he says, pointing at the laptop. âheâs broke and she doesnât even know it.â
you laugh. heâs glad to hear it.
- when you go out to bars he pays for your drinks. says you deserve it- you do come over and cook all the time so why not?
- patrick is known to crack a few jokes but when youâre serious, so is he. youâre upset? heâs listening, he wonât make fun of you unless he knows itâll make you feel better. heâll sit next to you, let you talk, cry, get really angry, get really sad. heâs there. and heâll comfort you in whichever way you need. itâs his softer side, the one you bring out. lets you lean against him, heâll even hug you if you ask.
- heâs a GOOD HUGGER. he gives amazing hugs, they are so enveloping, so comfortable. his arms wrap all the way around and not only do his arms squeeze you the perfect amount of tight, but his hands as well. heâs always warm but not hot, and he smells like good cologne and slightly of cigarettes. heâll take any chance to hug you and youâll gladly have it.
- struggling not to think about fucking you when youâre trying on dresses for a date. heâs thinking âwhat will these guys think when they see you?â and his mind is on one thing that theyâll be thinking. but his mind is on it too, when you come out in a little black tube dress and you ask him if itâs too short. itâs too short for sure.
âwhat about the cleavage though? too much? not enough?â
âhm?â heâs not paying attention to your words.
âthe cleavage. too much?â
âyeah. maybe try a turtleneck.â
yeah yeah itâs wrong to think about sex with your best friend, but the dresses, each shorter and showing more skin than the next weâre making him so incredibly horny. he doesnât do well with that. goes home and fucks his own hand at the thought. helps to distract himself from the fact youâre out on a date with someone else who might actually get to take off that dress :(
- heâll show up at your place with whatever it is you say youâve been wanting and he will make a night out of it. wings? heâs at your door with them in an hour. drinks? yeah he stopped for a six pack of whatever he grabbed. heâs always down to get food. you want to go out? heâll pick you up to go get whatever it is youâve been wanting. a good excuse to actually work on bulking. not that itâs date-like.
- heâs got a photo of you in his wallet. itâs a platonic thing, he swears to the girl he takes on a date. sheâs pretty but sheâs not you. the photo of you sitting pretty with a potted plant doesnât give off âavailableâ and yeah he kisses her but she is not you. he leaves early and calls you on his way back. heâs pretty sure heâs fucked forever because heâs realizing he only wants you.
- heâs protective at parties. heâs already watching you dance and have fun but when you come there with him and start flirting with guys it provokes him just a little more than it would if he were sober. heâll walk over and slip his arm around your shoulder or even your waist if heâs had enough to drink and heâll ask the guy how heâs doing and heâs 100% running interference pretending heâs just out of it from the alcohol and it isnât the fact heâs jealous.
âhey man,â patrick usually greets the guy, hand resting on the small of your back. heâs always got a big smirk on his face, tongue against his cheek. âwhatâs up?â the move usually scares the guy off and you playfully hit or elbow him, but itâs worth it.
- his doors are always open to you. you have a key if you need it. so when you show up, soaked from the rain, upset over tony the laundromat guy being the dick patrick was so right about him being (despite not knowing the guy at all), he wraps you in his arms and he listens to the whole story. youâre complaining about genuine men being so hard to find and heâs sitting right there. he just brings his hand to rest against his jaw and looks off to the side at something as you continue speaking and heâs listening, he just hates what heâs hearing.
- heâll take off whatever jacket heâs wearing if youâre cold. he wonât be happy about it- or look happy about it, but he might be a little happy about it⊠heâll complain about what heâs going to do in the cold but the sweater or jacket is on you within five minutes of your ask.
- heâll begrudgingly do whatever you ask of him. like he does not want to get up at 4:50 in the morning and drive to the hilltop to watch the sunrise. he wants to stay asleep, snoring in his bed, but you wake him up and he hates it, but itâs you and itâs the sunset so he goes with you. but in his still-tired state all he can seem to focus on is the light of the sunrise hitting your skin. heâll either do it super slowly or begrudgingly, sometimes he might even say no. but it never stays a no.
- again. canât stand that you keep giving your time to men who donât know how to treat you. he goes to the bar, he drinks about it a little, he talks to the bartender about you. the bartender knows you by name, knows your favourite album, knows you go out with guys who arenât him, and he knows youâre beautiful, having your features described by a drunk patrick who uses his hands a lot to gesture. itâs weird when you go to the bar with patrick another night and the bartender already knows your name and the drink you want.
- drunk patrick uses all the self control he has not to tell you he wants you. he almost lets it slip with unfinished sentences. does everything he can to fend himself off, but heâs very close to you when heâs drunk, his already-bad spatial awareness so much worse while impaired. his face always close to yours, nose sometimes hitting yours, he comes so close. hands reach for your waist when heâs near you. you donât mind it- it doesnât make you uncomfortable. itâs a different feeling. you manage to wrangle him into his bed and make him drink water. heâs talking to you like there are important things you need to know before he absolutely passes out.
âif that tony guy comes around again i hope he knows i owe him a broken nose,â heâll say and heâs grinning and youâre just rolling your eyes at him, heâs so stupid. âyou have to stop dating these guys, fucking douchebags. i know iâm not much better, but at least i donât wear axe body spray and pick you up in a beat up honda.â
âpatrick, you drive a honda,â
âmine isnât beat up.â he says. so honest. you laugh at him and hand him back the cup of water. but he says it, âyou deserve more than that kind of guy. want you to have someone who really gives a fuck, you know?â
âif i could find one,â you say. half-oblivious, half-looking for him to say something thatâll have meaning. itâs the first time his drunk mind is telling him the feeling in his chest is heartache. oh my god, he feels like such a girl- he just grins, dimples on his cheek crawling all the way up. he covers his face.
- when youâre hanging out with mutual friends, smoking, talking, heâs always taking the seat next to you. your friends all know heâs into you- most of them suspect youâre already dating on the down low, the way you guys are so close. youâre sitting on the couch and his arm is up on the back of the couch behind you, your hand sometimes resting on his leg, you have your own conversations on the side and youâre laughing and leaning toward each other. itâs obvious. heâs obvious. YOU are obvious. and oblivious! painfully.
- patrick will shave his beard for your birthday. heâll trim it regularly but on your birthday he shaves it all off, itâs an annual thing. bare-faced and you find it so so fun to see him without.
- the dress you wear on your birthday is a little too perfect. the mix of you and your hair done and your makeup and the intention of drinking with your girl friends and asking him how you look before you leave. you usually ask him before you go out. heâs going out with you and your friends, but he comes over a little early, just how things are. heâs always honest.
âyou look⊠wow.â heâs looking at you. youâre standing in front of him, little dress, perfectly fit to your body. and youâre smiling, doing a little spin. and youâre beautiful and god youâre so fucking hot. patrick fears for the possibility of his sober thoughts becoming drunk words later. youâre already unbearably fucking beautiful what is he going to do with himself?
- heâs a touchy drunk. not with everyone, not the same way he is with you. when he drinks his hands are magnetic to you, resting on your hands, hand on the small of your back, your waist, your arm. like i said before, youâre used to it, you donât mind it, but itâs different when heâs staying somewhat sober because heâs afraid of how heâd act if he had more than three shots. he wouldnât do anything youâre not comfortable with- itâs not that, itâs the fact heâs scared if he drinks tonight that you in your element, dancing, laughing, having fun in that little dress would provoke him to spill all of his secrets. heâs got a stoic form of self-understanding heâs taking to prevent anything dumb from falling out of his mouth under the influence.
- he does, however, fend off the creepy guys or just the assholes who try and buy you more drinks or even talk to you. he wonât let them get so far as to ask for your name. you whine but he just tells you, âyou wouldnât want to talk to them sober.â and youâre like hmm true. the defender position includes closing your tab, getting you home, and getting you inside safely. and usually you take care of him when heâs drunk or high, but he takes the opportunity very seriously. before heâs helped you get to bed but this particular time youâre asking him to undo the zipper on your dress and youâre lifting your hair.
heâs not going to tell you no, so he undoes the zipper and in seconds youâre stripping in front of him unabashedly and he turns around, arms folded, grinning to himself because of course this was happening. he is not an asshole, so he wonât turn around until youâre dressed, but when he turns around youâre only in one of his shirts that heâs been wondering where it went- and your underwear and youâre asking him to come sit with you because itâs still technically your birthday (itâs not).
he will, but he doesnât want to stick around too long. despite the lack of alcohol, thereâs still a pull to tell you how he feels, but thatâs girly. and youâre drunk. he puts you to bed after making you drink water.
- heâs the kind of guy to keep a condom in his wallet- heâs never going to use it, itâs probably expired and worn in front his wallet being in his pocket but he has it in there. in fact itâs right behind the photo of you.
- he also has a stolen street sign in his living room from when he was on tour after high school. itâs custom for all guests visiting his place to slap it before they enter the room. if you donât, thereâs no consequences, but itâs just wrong not to. he will, however, catch YOU on it if you forget. holds you to it in whichever way he can.
- heâs totally debating on kissing you almost every time heâs with you. itâs getting progressively worse every time heâs with you he swears heâs going to do it but he doesnât want to. (he wants to sooo fucking badly, itâs insane). any time you pass him by, every time you say his name, when you sit next to him, when youâre talking to him about anything, engaging with him, looking him in his eyes. itâs a struggle not to.
and youâre friends, longtime friends so the casual touches get to be too much, even. you cup his face with your hands saying he needs to shave and heâs only staring at your lips.
or you sit sideways next to him on the couch facing him and your hand is on his shoulder and youâre so close to him when you talk he really could just reach over and kiss you.
you sit on his counter while heâs making spaghetti and youâre eating the shredded cheese out of the bag and itâs weird but the height your at, it would be perfect.
- you are the cause of his biggest grins and most laughter. you donât even have to try. he enjoys your company more than anyone elseâs. platonically, romantically, in every way. you are his best friend. you get him on a level even art didnât.
- heâll pick you up whenever you need him to. doctors appointment, from a friendâs- so when your self-proclaimed final attempt at a date ends up terribly, heâs the first person you call. youâre all pretty for another piece of shit and patrick has to pretend heâs not happy the guy was so weird. you get in the car and his eyes fall on your collarbone and your thighs and you yourself catch it. his eyes. you pull a knowing little look. âshut up,â he says, driving away without even letting you get your seatbelt on.
- heâs not a door holder very often. maybe for old ladies and kids, and the occasional friend, but heâs holding every door open for you. he even opens the car door for you most times. get back to his place, you donât want to go home yet, he holds the door for you on your way in. you hit the street sign on the wall before flopping down on his couch. it smells like citrusy febreeze and a bit like his cologne. out of his personal needs of restraint, he tosses you one of his comfy shirts and shorts so you can be out of that little dress. and after you take them to his bathroom to get changed, heâs still feeling the same way about the way you look. it was not the dressâ fault.
- the thing with patrick and other women is heâs never been afraid to go up to a girl, hit on her, heâs hardly been afraid to kiss a girl. heâs pretty confident all around but you are so different. the need to kiss you is all-consuming. he wonders if he should talk to you about things first when heâs never considered more than the flavour of a girlâs lip balm in the past. you make him nervous, sitting there in his clothes. i say there, but youâre next to him, hair behind your ears, talking about how you think youâre done with dating and youâre going to wait until the perfect guy falls into your lap. youâre playing some angle but heâs thinking that itâs a good thing. the conversation turns to joking, heâs teasing you, you tease back itâs just normal.
- of course patrick has a snack pantry. if he doesnât have groceries, he has snacks. at a random point in conversation you tell him you could really go for an oreo right now and heâs so on that. so you both take a trip to the kitchen and youâre looking in the cabinet and you find the oreos and share them while continuing to talk at the counter. youâre going on about how strange your date was and how you felt if you stayed youâd be on a true crime document and the conversation begins to turn to thanking him for coming to get you. but like mentioned before, heâd always come get you. didnât matter how far you were but he wouldnât say that.
âitâs different, itâs not like you picking me up from the dentist, itâs you picking me up when i know you were busy.â you say. he smiles because he really wasnât that busy- he was just out with friends of course heâd drop them for you. âi just want you to know iâm grateful is all.â
âdonât need to be-â he says with his mouth full of oreo. âit was nothing, i was nearby anyway.â he wasnât. he sped. in his honda.
âyouâre so weird,â you giggle. âwhy canât you just be normal about people thanking you for things you do? you go out of your way far too often.â
patrick chuckles to himself, shutting the package of oreos. he doesnât do it for anyone else. âhow do i be normal about it?â
âyou could say âyouâre welcomeâ, maybe?â you say. he nods. âi say iâm grateful for you and the things you do for the people you care about, namely me and you say âyouâre welcomeâ.â
âweâre rehearsing?â he straightened himself as if getting ready and you pressed your hand to your forehead, smiling. âgo for it. say how grateful you are for me and the things i do for you. only you.â
âso stupid, just say youâre welcome.â you giggle, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. he grins, a sly grin, dimple on full display, gorgeous. he turns away from you to put away the oreos (if you werenât there he wouldnât have put them away). he shuts the cabinet door. âpatrick?â
âyeah?â
and heâs met with your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.
- the way patrick kisses is very passionately. thatâs who he is. he kissed a lot of girls in high school, met a few on tour that were worth making out with. his kisses are full of passion. but this kiss is from you, so he receives it like a gift. surprisingly politely. heâs never ever been caught so off-guard by a kiss. he didnât see it coming at all. itâs a small kiss, a few seconds of lips fitting together perfectly, but you pull away. his face stays close to yours. heâs never had a kiss like this before. in the crowd of girls heâs ever kissed. itâs never felt like this. and it was so small.
âiâm sorry,â you say, hushed, but youâre smiling, so how sorry are you? he grins and in an instant, youâre kissing again, deeper, more, hands in his hair and his on your waist, holding tight. itâs all heâs thought about for a month on end. thereâs something better than drugs and itâs this, patrick thinks. your back against the pantry door, him against you.
- heâs never been so in need of a kiss before. heâs never been kissed like this before. itâs somehow everything heâs ever wanted and everything heâs never gotten from every girl heâs ever kissed. and the thing about patrick is, like mentioned, heâs a moderately horny guy but this to him is all he wants. he only wants to kiss you. a few minutes pass and heâs doing something heâs never done and thatâs talking it out with you. but as soon as he admits he likes you, heâs telling you to shut up because youâre giggling and itâs adorable and you canât be calling him out on his crush like thatâŠ
- you admit to being a little oblivious and maybe admitting to repressing feelings because you werenât entirely sure- and heâs instantly on making fun of you for it. he makes fun of himself for not seeing it sooner or for making a move sooner but thereâs no room for apologies between another kiss. a kiss full of laughter where you just canât stop laughing but you also wonât stop kissing him and itâs kind of perfect.
#challengers#patrick zweig#challengers x reader#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig headcannons#patrick zweig headcanons#tinytennisskirt#patrick zweig fluff#josh oâconnor#challengers fic#blurb#patrick zweig blurb
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"TAKE A LOOK IN MY EYES, CAN YOU FEEL THE TENSION?"
kinktober '24 | warnings: enemies who fucks each other + reader is called as: "miss president" + they're literally enemies + p in v
ryomen sukuna was notorious for being a trouble maker at your university, for fuck's sake he doesn't have any proper bone in his body he's always having the time of his life, fucking girls in vacant classrooms, always out for after school fights, he believes it's for the "thrill" and he's always been a pain in your ass, he's you call him "pain in the ass sukuna" with how much trouble he's dragging you, both of you are just so opposite at everything, but they say "opposites attract" and fucking hell why is it right?
"this is the 3rd time the two of you got in trouble, do you want me to expell both of you!?" the principal's voice roared thru his office. you flinched as the principal shouts, you're standing beside the one and only fucker who got you dragged on his mess, "no, of course not." he responds, making the principal's brows twitch. "I'm so disappointed on you miss president. how can you not prevented this to happen?" the principal said, "the two of are going to clean the basketball court as punishment. this is the last time I'll be seeing the both of you here. get out. the two of you GET OUT!" the principal screamed, you saw him getting red with frustration, which you found funny.
"this is all your fucking fault" you huffed, with furrowed brows, "my fault?" he twitched, "it's our fault dumb bitch." he huffed back, you gasped, "call me bitch one more time i swear you fuckin' monkey" he smirks, "okay...biiiiitch" and oh, all hell breaks loose. you threw the broom on the floor before marching angrily towards him as he awaits with a devious smirk, but before you could punch him, the principal walks in, almost catching you red handed... "what's going on?" you quickly retrieved your fist and jabbed sukuna on his side "fuck-ing ouch!" , "nothing sir! he was telling me a joke! righttt?" "no you-" you jabbed him once more and he winced in pain, "yeah, yeah, and then the frog jumped out the window!" "OH hahahaha! that's so funny sukuna" you laughed, while shooting deadly glares at him, "oh is that so? very well then I'll leave you two be." the principal squints before going out.
you took a deep breath before picking up the broom "let's get this over with." "why do you hate me that much, hm?" he sighs angrily, "cause you're a pain in the ass, you're a frat boy, you're ugly, you act like a stupid fucking monkey and the list goes on"
you saw his eyes twitch as you enumerated his flaws, "are you fucking blind? ugly? where? fucking bitch."
the two of you were always at odds, constantly trying to outdo one another in everything. Whether it was in the classroom, on the sports field, or in any other aspect of life, you and Sukuna were rivals...
but there was always an underlying tension between the two of you, a spark of attraction that neither of you wanted to admit it was bad and you knew it. it was a dangerous game with fire, this constant push and pull, but neither of you could resist.
"close the damn door before you head out airhead" you shout, picking up your bag from the floor, "why should i?" he hissed, "just do it fucking hell!" you shout louder, "fuck you!" sukuna shouts back "no, fuck you bitch!" you spat back before walking out. after the incident, you didn't saw nor heard of him for a week, which is a fucking relief, but for fuck's sake why's destiny always ruining good things for you?
"WHAT the hell is wrong with the two of you?!" the principal shouts, "this is the fourth time, i need the two of you to work on your attitudes, you two are INSANE, who in their right mind would fight Infront a teacher?!" "the principal adds, "it wasn't my fault i swear!" you tried to justify, "sure, it wasn't your fault." "tell him sukuna." you screamed, "tell him what?" he scoffs, "get the fuck out of my office, NOW!"
the both of you were punished to clean the rest room and locker room for a whole semester, after the heated you both are now in the locker room,
"fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU why do you need to ruin my day?! you're bat shit crazy! get a life for fuck's sake!"
"can i use you for that?" sukuna smirked
"go fuck yourself"
and the argument between the two of you goes on and on, that it turned into a physical altercation, "fuck you" you shout, "you wanna fuck me that badly?" he laughs, shoving you to the ground, "go to hell, fucker!" you spat, kicking his knees hard "I'll drag you down with me bitch." and before you knew it, you were pinned against the floor, sukuna's lips crashing down on yours in a fiery kiss.
"what-the fuck, mhmm.. are you doing-" you paused between kisses, "you're pretty when you shut the fuck up, -you mnnn, should do that-fuck- more," "oh-ngh why don't you shut the fuck up too?" you groaned, unbuttoning your blouse off, it was like a switch had been flipped, all that pent up frustration and desire exploding between the two of you. clothes were quickly discarded, sukuna's hands roaming over heated skin as you both gave into the pool of undeniable lust and pleasure, "fucking hell, you're so good, fuckkk, you smell so sweet, i wanna destroy you so bad.." sukuna lets out a shaky moan, "s-shut up- airhead" you whimpered, arching your back as you feel his member sliding in, your eyes rolls back in the deepest depths of your skull, while sukuna's hands roam freely on your body, "you infuriate me -so ugh fuck!-much" you babbled, "yet you can't even resist my touch" sukuna chuckles, "c'mon miss president, your face's flushing so hard"
"s-hut up!" you struggled to form a word, in that moment, all previous hatred and animosity were forgotten as you both lost yourselves in each other. bodies moving in perfect sync as you both reached new heights of pleasure.
"f-fuck sukunaaa- yes just like that- mhn-" you cried, "can you say "please" miss president?" "go fuck- yourself!" sukuna laughs before he lifts your leg up and placed it on his shoulder, "fuck you're squeezing me so fucking tight" he says, pounding his hips to yours, "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckkk!" you yelped, "gonna cum, miss president?" "oh-nghhmm, yes yes!" sukuna grinned, stretching your leg further to it's limits, "fuck-" and with the last final thrust both of you came to your climax, you can feel his member twitch inside of you as he shoots thick strings of cum in you, "this never happ-" *KNOCK KNOCK*
"hello, is someone in there?"
...
taglist: @catobsessedlady @tojis-ball-sack @sukunawhores @sugoroo
#haruchi-slit#jjk#jjk smut#haruchi slit#jjk headcanons#smut#jjk polls#jjk smau#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen#sukuna jjk#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#sukuna x reader#kinktober
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Hiii can you write a Jason Todd x reader where the reader asks Jason to teach her self defense and Jason has a hard time with it because he imagines her getting hurt
omelet.
Blue : Thank you very much for asking, I hope I did what you asked and in a coherent way, if you didn't like it please leave an ask or comment in a respectful and kind way.
Sinopse : Jason x reader, he teaches you how to fight but it all ends up going wrong.
At first, Jason is a little hesitant, knowing the dangers that come with getting involved in such scenarios. Jason wouldn't want to see you get hurt, but he'd be willing to help you anyway..
Jason Todd would be careful, just making gestures so you could pick it up and practice..
From how to punch someone, kick a man in the right places or escape from a robbery.
Already placing the mat on the floor, he went over the techniques with Hoce a few times to remember how and when to use them in combat..
"Okay, you know how to defend yourself now here I go" he says in a firm tone for you to prepare yourself. When he goes for you, everything happened so fast you didn't know how to run, fight or anything like that but in desperation or maybe just out of pure adrenaline you kick him right in the middle of the balls in defense.
Jason's eyes widened comically as his foot connected with his most sensitive area. He let out a gasp of pain and doubled over, his hand flying down to clutch his groin. "Holy shit!" he choked out through clenched teeth. "Thatâwasn'tâforâkickingâmeâinâtheâballs," he breathed, his voice tight with pain. "Jesusâ"
You covered your mouth with your hand, your eyes wide. "I'm sorry," you said, worried about his situation. "When you told me to prepare myself, I went in desperation."
Jason was still crouched down, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to deal with the initial pain. He lifted his head and looked at her through narrowed eyes. "You're doing great, babe, just try not to use your feet next time?" he murmured, his voice cracking with pain..
Holding back your laughter, you grab an ice pack and place it on the sore spot, still worried about your situation..
Jason watched you walk away, still holding back a laugh. He leaned against the wall, still looking uncomfortable due to the pain in the area in question.
When you came back, you handed him an ice pack, and he frowned as he put the pack away. "That was a little brutal, you know? I bet any guy who messes with you will think twice," he complained, but again with a playful tone in his voice.
"You're the one who taught me this technique," you say in a playful tone, soon seeing him sigh in relief at the cold sensation between the injured area.
Jason looked up at you with a serious expression, although his body relaxed a little with the relief caused by the cold.
"Yes, I did," he admitted, "but when I said 'use all the tools at hand,' I forgot to specify that it didn't include my testicles."
"Oops" You tried not to laugh, you didn't want to give the impression that you were having fun but the situation so far made you laugh so much that you ended up falling backwards on the mat. "Sorry babe-" You tried to hold back your laughter but without success the sound echoed in the place.
Jason looked at you, still with a slightly irritated expression, as you tried to contain your laughter. But when you fell backwards onto the mat and the sound of your laughter echoed through the room, he couldn't keep his seriousness. A small, mischievous smile appeared on his lips.
Before the two burst out laughing.
Jason bent down to where you lay on the mat, still laughing. âYouâre a pest, you know that?â he said, but there was a note of affection in his voice. He sat down next to you, the laugh still trembling on his lips.
They both laughed all afternoon that day, and after he recovered he engraved in his mind to never let you be scared when they went to train hand to hand.
#jason todd reader#dc fanfiction#jason todd angst#jason todd x reader#jason todd#jason todd imagine#dc fanart#jason todd comfort#jason todd x y/n#jason todd headcanon#ao3feed#ao3#arkham knight#arkham knight x y/n#dcu#arkhamverse#arkham asylum#daddy's good girl#gothic#gotham#laughter#humor#jason todd headcanons#jason todd x you#red hood x y/n#red hood fanfiction#red hood fluff#jjk fluff
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I would love to do a request if you would like! Some sort of Spencer Reid x Reader where the reader is super bad ass, tough, doesnât show much emotion is kind of cold to others but has the biggest soft spot for Spencer!! đ«¶đ»
thanks for your request lovey, I would love to write more of this pairing if you have any more requests ⥠fem!reader
"Here comes the ice queen," Morgan mutters, turning his chair away from the walkway.Â
You walk down the steps from Hotch's office. Whether you were praised or reprimanded is anybody's guess âyour face never gives anything away. Spencer doesn't necessarily agree with the way Morgan's categorised you, but he isn't wrong either. You're like Hotch in temperament, if Hotch were soft on only Spencer.Â
That might have something to do with why Spencer won't call you cold. You're never cold with him.Â
"What did boss man want?" Morgan asks.Â
"If it were your business, Morgan, I'm sure you'd already know." You don't say it spitefully, but it's far from a warm answer.
Spencer honestly asks just to piss Morgan off, "Everything okay?"Â
You visibly soften. Walking past Morgan without notice, you pause by Spencer's desk, your voice quieter, gentler. "Don't worry, Spence, everything's fine. You still reading that book about sex crimes in Arizona?"Â
"I finished it. Doesn't take long."Â
"No, you're fast," you agree. "What are you gonna read next?"Â
It's amazing how swiftly you shift gears. Your body language totally changes, your shoulders slouching toward him, your hand open and resting on the back of his chair as if you might touch his hair. Morgan shoots Reid a look that says, What is happening right now?
"I was thinking about reading up on the Milk Killer, from 1954. He tried to give his victims blood transfusions high in lactose in an attempt to cure intolerance."Â
Even Spencer admits that that sounds boring, but your face lights up with genuine interest. "That could be good. You'll have to tell me how it goes."Â
"Sure." Spencer squints at you. "You have something on your face."Â
"Yeah?" you ask, and Morgan goes wild behind you, dipping back in his chair in disbelief at your breathless tone. "What is it? Can you get it for me?"Â
You bend a little and Spencer wipes the lint from your face sweetly. He wonders if he should be blushing, your affection for him as clear as it is, but for once, Spencer Reid feels smug. He can melt someone that Morgan can't. "All gone," he says. Smugness aside, you're a friend (and maybe a little more than that).
"Thanks, Spence," you say, popping a kiss against his cheek. "You saved me from embarrassing myself."Â
Morgan clears his throat. You barely move, your hands twisting behind your back. "Hey, lovergirl," he says, making himself heard.Â
"What, Morgan?" you ask, finally looking away from Spencer's pinking cheeks.Â
"You have something," he says, pointing at the corner of his mouth.Â
"So?" you ask indifferently. You turn back to Spencer as though nothing occurred. "Do you want to go to the movies again this weekend? They're playing a silent film. I think you'll like it."Â
Spencer smiles genuinely. It's not his main concern, but it's definitely an added bonus to hear Morgan's sighed, "Are you kidding?" as he nods vehemently.Â
"I'd love to," Spencer says.Â
"Okay. It's a date," you say, smiling at him so nicely it feels like he can't breathe.Â
"What's a date?" Emily asks as she returns from the kitchenette, eyebrows jumping.Â
"It's a marker used to denote the day or month within a year," you say primly. "I have to go make copies for Hotch."Â
You don't say goodbye. Morgan likes you, really, in the same way you like Morgan, so he gives Spencer a dazed look followed by a small smile. "Good luck with that."Â
Spencer looks over his shoulder to follow your figure as you carry a box of reports to the photocopier. "I don't think I need luck," he murmurs. You glare at the copier, clicking one of its buttons aggressively. "She's nicer than you guys think."Â
"Sure."
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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Hii can I request Sophia x reader academic rivals? đ„ș u can do whatever u want w the plot pretty much please and thank u so much <3 :)
àŒ*Â·Ë ACADEMIC RIVALS LOVERS?
đąophia đaforteza x đn!reader. (no pronouns used). đenre. fluff, angst if you squint đąypnosis. our two favourite academic rivals have a lil fight, but the situation turns bad, and people realize their feelings. đŠđ . 824 đđŠ . mentions of being hospitalised (sophia), a little angsty!
đote! this is a little messy since I wrote it during one of my breaks, but please lmk if you want like a part two cuz I really liked this plot!
---
This is purely fiction and is not meant to interpret how the idols act in real life!
,, not proofread + english is not my first language ! àłââ·
At this point it didnât even matter if you were better than everyone, you just had to be better than her. It started off very simple, both of you wanted to be better than everyone, academically that is. Eagerly waiting to get tests back and see who got a higher score, a smug grin on one's face when they got a better result than the other. No harm in that right? Wrong, thatâs what started all of this.
Sophia walked towards me with her head held high, her uniform as neat as ever and her hair styled in a way making her look almost angelic. Wait, what? âWhat were your results?â She said, slamming her paper on top of my desk, I shook out of my daydreaming to answer her. â96.â I said while looking down in my maths book, trying to solve an equation but still focusing on what she would respond. She looks away and a teasing smirk spreads on her lips, and moves the finger that covered her results, 97. âGuess Iâm just better than you huh?â She said proudly, staring down at me âJust because you got one point more than me doesnât mean youâre better than me.â I said, pouting a little at her accusation.
Lately Iâve been feeling kind of⊠weird? Even if Sophia gets a higher score than me, I canât find it in me to give a fuck. âWell, youâve been slacking off a lot lately, Iâve gotten higher scores than you on the last four tests. So, I think that makes it obvious who's smarter!â Sophia states like it was the most obvious answer to what I said. Staring at her for a moment, I reply. âI've been busy okay, not everyone has that much free time to spend on studying, and you're talented in general, no wonder you get high scoresâ She looks shocked at my statement, then she smirks a little, âDid you just admit that I'm smart?â She looked proud in some way or another, âNot what I meant Sophia, but whatever floats your boat.â I grab my things from the desk and walk outside the classroom to my locker, a little frustrated at the whole situation. I did miss her response,
âI study that much so you won't think I'm stupid.â
A week goes by, no Sophia in sight. She missed two assignments, she's usually here every day. Even if she's sick, which I don't get why she does, but still. Did something happen to her? Was it something I did?
âYou've been zoning out for the past like, three periods, what is going on with you today?â Lara, my best friend asks. âDo you know where Sophia is?â I ask, not really thinking before I ask. âWhy do you want to know, don't you guys like, hate each other?â She looks at me with a very questionable look, suspecting something I cannot grasp, âYes? No? I don't know Lara, but do you know where she is?â I say, a little confused and concerned. She looks at me with sad eyes before replying, âY/N, Sophia got really sick out of nowhere, I heard she's at the hospital.â My eyes blew wide at the shocking news, why didn't she tell me? No, why would she do that? We're not even friends.
â
Am I really doing this? I think to myself as I open the hospital doors and stumble up to the kind-looking man in the lobby. I strike up a casual conversation with him as he guides me to a room, I thank him quickly before he scurries away.
There in the little window on the door I see her, Sophia's sitting down on the bed. Her hair is a mess and her clothes look ridiculous, it looks like she hasn't slept for a few days too. I gently open the door and her gaze falls upon me, it's easier to see her face now. She looks tired, really tired. âHeyâŠâ I say, she looks away from me and cuddles up in her sitting position. âWhat are you doing here?â she tries to sound annoyed, but it just comes out in a tired huff. âI heard what happened, I⊠was worried about you. I brought some notes from the classes you missed.â She looks shocked at my confession, she relaxes her posture and her gaze becomes soft. âThank you⊠I really appreciate it.â She smiles a little as she grabs the papers I handed her, our hands touching softly.
I look at her, really look at her. For the first time actually having time to admire how pretty she looks, how perfect her flaws are. âI just came to give you that⊠so if you don't need anything else, I'll go.â I turn around to walk away, grabbing the door knob and turning it around, âWait! Will you⊠please stay with me a little longer, I need it.
I need you.â
this is so messy I'm sorrrrryyyy!! I wanted to post something today at least :((
#-`âĄÂŽ- Lia Writes!#katseye x reader#sophia laforteza x reader#sophia laforteza#katseye#sophia#touch#debut#im pretty#tonight i might#my way#megan katseye#lara katseye#manon katseye#sophia katseye#yoonchae katseye#daniela katseye#x reader#kpop x reader#katseye angst#katseye fluff#kpop fluff#kpop angst
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SO DIM THAT SPOTLIGHTâŠ
for, Mâ maisie, or maybe even miya osamu; my twin, my superstar, and my biggest blessing.
inarizaki doesnât need memories, nor do they need to rely on their team manager; everything that matters happens in the court anyways. but, the week youâve disappeared from practiceâ they canât help but find themselves missing you.
fem!reader, atsumu kinda clingy, writeen on 0 hours of sleep, sum1 MIGHT be ooc⊠AESPA FANS RISE
inarizaki doesnât need their team manager. theyâre very adamant on their independence, especially atsumu. sure, itâs nice to be coddled after a long day of volleyball, but itâs merely a bonus! they donât rely on you, definitelyâŠ
âwhereâs s/o?â atsumu frowns, looking across the gym for you. âcoach said she had a family emergencyâŠâ kita says, a hint of worry in his voice. osamu tilted his head in worry. âfamily emergency? is something wrong?â
kita sighs. âcoach didnât give any further details.â to this, atsumu whined. âwhaat?! is she okay?!â he yelled out, going on a path that goes nowhere. âhe just said he didnât get any further detailsâŠâ suna deadpans.
âwell, we shouldnât dwell on it right now. next week is the inarizaki winter festival⊠weâve been instructed to create a promotional video with our most flashy moves as to get more people to support us during nationals.â kita explains.
atsumu rolls his eyes, hearing what a ridiculous idea it was. âsetting up a video⊠we already have a crowd full of fans⊠we should be practicingâŠâ he mumbles, not that anyone in particular cares to comment on.
âright⊠well, i think we should shoot atsumuâs shots first since heâs is the most popular after allâ kita says, preparing the camera while ginjima had set up the tripod. âjust⊠do a strong spike serve, okay?â he instructs as atsumu bounces the ball, preparing for his shot.
atsumu takes a deep breath, preparing for his shot; the look on his face so serious, youâd think he was in an official match. he throws the ball into the airâŠ
before miserably missing the shot.
the silence in the gym so thick, you could cut it with a knife. until osamu broke the tension with roaring laughter. âhah! what happened to being so perfect all the time?!â osamu points at him, laughing like a middle school bully. âshut your trap! i was just thinking âbout somethinâ!â atsumu yells back, angrily marching to retrieve his ball. âthinkinâ âbout what?! about how âya canât even serve properly cause your dear s/o is gone?!â osamu scoffs, not particularly set on admitting how much heâll miss your presence this week. still, he doesnât have much time to think about that before atsumu steers straight into osamuâs path. âyou..!â atsumu huffs, grabbing osamu by his shirt collar and wrestling him.
omimi runs in between the two of them, trying to break the fight as suna records the two, turning to kita. âmaybe thisâll make good promotional content, everyone loves to see these two fight...â and in response, kita can only sigh at sunaâs nonchalant attitude, pressing a palm to both of the boysâ chests. âfighting wonât do anything. stop it, please.â he says, unknowingly placing a somewhat hostile tone in his words, scaring the twins into backing off of each other.
despite whatever complaints the team had, the week passed by fairly quickly and soon enough, it was the inarizaki winter festival. there were snack carts, game booths, and of course, on one of the main screens, starred the boyâs volleyball team promotional video. and, exactly as kita said, it persuaded many girls to come support the team by the time nationals starts.
as the miyas inattentively chatted with the girls carrying fans with their names on it, both their eyes roamed the festival for an excuse to leaveâ when the stage announced a name they were all too familiar with.
âwhen is s/o returning? itâs already been a week, and she hasnât returned, much less answer any of our callsâŠâ kita asks, clearly worried for your wellbeing. coach kurosu canât help but let out a slight smile, waving off the boyâs concerns. âsheâs fine. in factâŠâ he trails off, turning to the stage.
confused, kita furrows his brow, and follows his gaze as to what he could mean.
âand, without further ado..! s/o from class 3-4, performing a solo cover of supernova by aespa!â
even from how scattered they were across the fair, they all froze, looking for each other as if to silently ask âis this real..?â. the lights slowly flashed onto you, as you sang the lyrics in what they could only think would be recognizable korean. hell, even if it was absolute nonsense, youâd still sound amazing.
your distinct and sharp dance moves were complimented by the cropped black tee and the baggy jeans you wore, making you look absolutely graceful as you danced. even the very fact that you were able to wear those kinds of clothes in the middle of december was commendable enough.
sparklers popped from the edges of the stage, as if you were at your very own solo concert, the lights dimmed to from white, to purple, to blue, as confetti streamed down. and when it came to an end, the audience roared in cheer.
you waved to everyone and bowed respectfully before running off the stage. the entire team was more than shocked to see that, âfamily emergencyâ, as if! almost every single one of then dropped what they had been previously doing and ran to the back of the stage, ready to praise you.
âs/o, that was incredible!â atsumu yelled, giving you a big hug before yelling at you. âwhyâdya leave us for a week?!â he huffed. âahaha⊠practice, of course! coach had to cover for meâŠâ you giggled, shivering a bit from how cold the snow was. âyou⊠donât wear revealing clothes in winter, youâll catch a coldâŠâ osamu sighed, wrapping his tracksuit around you.
kita went over to you, observing your condition. âiâm glad youâre well, s/o. i was starting to get worried when you wouldnât answer our calls. your performance was amazing.â he smiled. aran agreed, greeting you with a soft slap on your back. âyou did great! the way you did this..! and then suddenly you..!â he fumbles, imitating your dance moves.
it seems heâs exhilarated just by watching you performâŠ
and finally, suna makes it over to the backstage, giving you a thumbs up and a smile. âyou did great. i only recorded halfwayâŠâ he says disappointedly, looking over the clip he took. âpfft, thatâs okay, sunaâŠâ you shrug. âiâm really glad to be back with you guys, thoughâ you smile contentedly.
aran glared at you as if you dishonored his family, âwhat are you even talking about?! with moves like that, you shouldnât be stuck being a volleyball team manager; youâve gotta become an idol! in front of millions!â he encourages you, before atsumu argues back. âhaah?! like hell! sheâs gotta stay here with us!â
âitâs her life, she should have control over what she does in life.â kita says, in an attempt to mediate. sadly, his attempt falls on deaf ears as the two argue like a married couple bickering on their childâs future.
you laugh, missing the chaos in your life. âhahah⊠i donât think iâm gonna perform again anytime soon⊠it was terrifying, not to mentionâ so much effort. for now, i guess iâm stuck here with you guysâŠâ
that wouldnât be a problem though. not when itâs you.
inarizaki doesnât need the memories. cherishing the present is much better anyways. but, maybe it is pretty nice to have a team manager. especially when theyâre as talented as you.
#haikyuu x reader#haikyu x reader#haikyuu#haikyu fluff#inarizaki#inarizaki x reader#kita shinsuke x reader#aran ojiro x reader#atsumu miya x reader#osamu miya x reader#rintaro suna x reader#kita shinsuke#kita shinsuke x you#kita shinsuke x y/n#aran ojiro#hq atsumu#miya atsumu#atsumu x reader#haikyuu atsumu#atsumu fluff#atsumu x you#atsumu x y/n#miya osamu#osamu x reader#haikyuu osamu#hq osamu#osamu fluff#osamu x you#suna x reader#suna rintaro x reader
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Drew and Y/N are friends with feelings for each other and they argue since Drew is stupidly trying to make her jealous, Y/N doesn't like his behavior, she wastes no time on this kind of drama. Pleaseeeeeeeeeee <3
Childish Game
Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader
Warnings:Â N/A
Pronouns:Â She/Her
Word Count: 0.7K
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Every brush of their hands. Every met eye contact. Every laugh they can pull from each other. The friends know that it isnât normal to feel the little flutter at every single one of those things, but they have never acted on the feeling. Drew is head over heels for the girl and he doesnât know what to do about it. His flirting goes unnoticed. Y/N always has the eyes of every man in the room on her and it makes the green-eyed monster rear its ugly head. Drew just wants her attention and he only knows one way to get it.Â
He has been ignoring her; she knows it. When she got to the party, she made her rounds greeting people and as she approached Drew, he didnât so much as look in her direction. He continued talking to the woman in front of him. Sheâs taller than Y/N. Her hair is styled perfectly and has a shine that says there is product running through it. Her lips are glossy with tinted lipgloss. Y/N waited to see if maybe he was just going to finish his sentence before addressing her, but he didnât turn toward her at the end of his sentence. She left his side once it was clear that she wasnât going to get a response. During the whole party, he remained by the other womanâs side, even though he invited Y/N here himself. It becomes clear to him what he is trying to do and she wonât tolerate his childish behaviour. She isnât going to acknowledge what he is doing, storming right past him as she leaves for the night. Her head shakes and she can hear her heels clacking against the pavement as she walks to her car. Soon, his footsteps mix in with hers.Â
âY/N, Pumpkin, where are you going?â Drew yells, chasing after her. She continues to walk without so much of a glance in his direction. She gets to her car and uses the fob to unlock the door. She tugs at the door, which is promptly shut again by Drew. âI asked you a question,â he points out with his hand still on the car door. She has to turn toward him, âWow, does the Drew Starkey finally have time to acknowledge me? I feel so honoured. Thank you so much!â He can hear the venom dripping off of her voice, yet he still feels victorious. âAwww. Pumpkin, are you jealous?â he chuckles, thinking she is teasing him or something. Â
âOh, you wish. But I see right through your little game, Drew. Honestly, itâs pathetic that you think this is going to do anything,â she criticizes. She tries to pull the door open again. He doesnât let her. He plays dumb, âI donât know what you are talking about.â âRight. You know, I thought you actually liked me. This proved me wrong,â she confesses, shaking her head. She gives up on trying to get into her car and crosses her arms to close herself off. Drewâs face falls, âNo. Pumpkin, I do like you.â âIf you liked me, then you wouldnât have done something that would hurt me,â she argues. He takes a step forward, âI didnât mean to hurt you. I just wanted your attention. Every guy in that room is always looking at you and I was hoping you would be looking at me.â âDrew, you and I both know that I wouldâve been looking at you without a care for anyone else already. You didnât have to flirt with her for that. If you liked me, you wouldnât have played this game. You would have asked me out on a date,â she explains, dragging her foot on the ground. He tries to rest his hand above her elbow. She jerks her arm away from him. âOkay, I admit. What I did was stupid. Iâm sorry, but I just⊠I just wasnât sure if you did like me.â
Y/N lets out a low laugh, âYou werenât sure if I liked you? You are the only person who can call me by a nickname. You are the only person that I let touch me without me initiating it. You are the only person that I would drag myself out of my house on a Friday night for. And if you didnât know those things meant I liked you, then maybe I didnât know you as well as I thought.â She grabs his wrist and tears it away from her vehicle. She gets into the car without looking back as she drives back home. Tears blur her vision. Drew screams into the night, realizing how stupid his mistake was.
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife
#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x you#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey fic#drew starkey one shot#drew starkey oneshot
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003. opposite
pairings: paige bueckers x fem singer! reader
word count: 564
warnings: none i think
suâs notes: 3rd chapter GRRRRREEEE this poor girl somethings always gotta happen when she goes out.. đ this kinda reminds me of deja vu by olivia rodrigo too đ anyway hope u guys likeit i love this song so much
series masterlist
she looks nothing like me, so why do you look so happy?
âWanna eat out?â Azzi asked you, her eyes still on the game in front of her.
Youâve gotten slightly better in the past two weeks while you were staying with her. You did have enough money to get a place of your own, but no one had brought it up.
Azzi didnât want to admit it, but she enjoyed your company. She wouldnât mind if you decided to live with her permanently.
You looked up from your phone screen. âYeah sure. Where are we eating?â
âWe can go to the pizza place a few blocks away?â
You stiffened, the memories with Paige flooding your head. âUh-â
âFuck, sorry. We can always go somewhere else-â
âNo itâs fine!â
Azzi placed her controller on the table. âYou sure?â
âYeah. Iâm gonna have to get over it eventually.â
â
You walked into the restaurant, the warm air immediately hitting you both.
The waitress looked up at the two of you. âTable for two?â
You nodded as you both followed her to your booth.
âWanna share?â Azzi asked as you both got settled.
âCheese?â
Azzi grinned. âYou know it.â
âOne four cheese pizza please.â The waitress wrote down your order while nodding.
âAny drinks?â
You shook your head. âJust water thanks.â
âMe too.â The waitress nodded and walked away.
While waiting for your food, you and Azzi engaged in conversations about random topics and joked around.
âI never said that!â You laughed loudly, making people look at you weirdly.
âYes you did! I remember it very clearly. You were like-â
Your attention went to the door as the door chime echoed throughout the restaurant.
Your smile dropped, making eye contact with the blue eyes you knew too well.
âY/N? You okay?â Azzi placed a hand on your arm.
Paige mirrored your expression with her arm around her exâs shoulders. Well, girlfriend.
Azzi looked over her shoulder. âOh.â
âOne cheese pizza?â The waitress smiled warmly and placed the plate on your table.
âThank you.â Azzi smiled awkwardly and turned back to you. âYou wanna leave?â
You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from Paige. âItâs fine. Letâs just eat and get out of here.â
Azzi looked at you sympathetically before nodding and grabbing a slice.
She tried to distract you with some small talk, but it didnât really help when Paige was in the booth right next to yours, giggling and looking as happy as ever.
âPaige stop!â Her girlfriend giggled, wiping the tomato sauce off her cheek.
Paige scoffs. âOh please, you still look pretty.â
You felt like your heart shattered into a million pieces. What hurt you the most is that Paige wasnât even wrong. She was gorgeous.
âAzzi, iâm sorry. I just canât-â
She nodded, raising her hand as the waitress from earlier went up to you guys.
âCan we get this to-go?â
She smiled warmly. âOf course! Iâll be right back.â
Thank god the service was fast. Less than two minutes later, the waitress brought your take-out bag as Azzi handed her a twenty dollar bill.
âKeep the change.â
âThank you so much! Have a nice night.â
âIâll try to.â You mumbled under your breath.
Azzi nudged your shoulder. âLetâs go.â
You glanced at Paige one last time, to find her already looking at you. You could tell from the pained expression in her eyes that she wanted to make things right with you.
You sigh and look away. âLetâs go.â
and i know now, even if i tried to change, that somehow youâll end up with her anyway.
#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers angst#paige bueckers#uconn wcbb#uconn#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#uconn womenâs basketball#uconn x reader#wcbb x reader#wcbb#wnba#wlw#Spotify
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