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the-californicationist · 4 days ago

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Cali Cali bo-bali banana fana fo-fali me my mo mali! Cali!

I'm three Budweisers in and got an itch for alpha Price with a sudden need to breed (yay! Surprise rut!), and there's his sweet smelling omega neighbor who he's been keeping at arm's length because he's a professional dammit and has complete control of his urges, thank you very much.

Honestly, I just wanna see Mr. "I'm Married to My Job" lose it and show back up on base abashed and mated, and also ridiculously proud of his lil omega's claiming bite, because "she turned into a wildcat, lads. I couldn't stop her." *wink-wink*

Or not. I'm happy with any smutty Price fic you bestow on us, really. I'm just being weirdly specific because— alcohol = horny thots. 🍺😏🥴🫠

Drunken hugs 🫂 from Random Thot

RTG!! You are the most amazing person, and every time I see your pfp on AO3 or tumblr, I just get all gooey inside. Thank you for the ask! I wrote (and fully deleted) this fic three times because I wanted to get it right. I just pray that I could deliver. <3 <3 Hope this is what you were hoping for!!

MDNI/NSFW -- TW: damsel in distress, ABO dynamics, knotting, fuck-or-die scenarios, CNC, fluids, PIV sex, female OC

Glory, Glory

It was his last beer of the night, and he was ripping it apart. Curling, soggy shards of the torn label were stuck under his thumbnail, darkening the translucent edge and making it look dirty. They littered the sticky, lacquered bartop like ugly snow, falling in a tiny, chaotic mess. His hands were more than just dirty, the captain thought to himself as he used his wide thumb to itch at the glue-covered glass, rolling little, paper shards away from the smooth surface to reveal the amber liquid swirling within. The captain’s hands; they were covered in blood. Not innocent blood, but blood all the same. They’d never be clean again.

But, that was the job, and he was good at it. His hands were a direct reflection of his hard work. Killing evil bastards kept the world safe. Some poor sob in a factory could clean out the glue-painting machine that pasted these fuckin’ labels on all of these bloody beer bottles because of one unshakable truth: John Price was good at killing evil bastards.

Unfortunately, the killing would need to wait until after the mandated leave window closed again. His argument with Kate still grated inside of his head. He could almost hear her harsh, Yank accent in his ears.

“What do you want me to tell payroll, John? You can’t be here. You’ve got too many days. Go home. See your mom.”

“I see her plenty, Katie. Let me run that ops gig with Keller. C’mon. I’ll do overwatch,” he tried his best to weasel his way back into a bit of active duty.

“You’d be the world’s most expensive overwatch. Hell no. Here’s your ticket,” she shoved an envelope in his hands, “...and your money,” another envelope, “Go the fuck home, Captain. That’s an order.”

An order. More like a toothless threat.

But, alas, here he was, staring at a freshly shaved, buzzcut version of himself in a filthy pub mirror, undressing bottles left and right.

“Another, mate?” The barkeep pointed to his almost-empty drink, making a slight grimace at the paper graveyard that was sprinkled across his bar.

“No,” John sighed, pulling out a few notes from his wallet, “I’m off.”

“Happy Christmas,” the barkeep took the bills and didn’t bother to look up again, setting himself to sweeping the torn strips off of the surface, preparing for the next paying customer.

“You, too,” John muttered, tugging his black wool beanie over his ears before braving the classic cold, wet, and windy Liverpudlian night.

He didn’t live far. John’s mum had kept up his loft down by the docks, but it certainly didn’t feel like home. Home wasn’t real. Not anymore. As he walked along the Mersey’s edge, he peered into the black water, wondering if he’d ever truly go home again.

All of a sudden, he heard a shrill scream. Every sense that had been dulled by his lager was now as sharp as a blade and set on its edge. Again, a high-pitched shout pealed through the night air, beckoning him back to his heroism. That keening was the sound of some evil that needed stamping out, and he was hungry for it.

He sprinted through the warehouse district, chasing the noise of scuffling, ducking behind alleys and abandoned garages, looking for the source. Finally, there was a flash of red that caught his eye, so he ran towards it, his mind making sense of the scene in front of him.

Voices were jumbled and mashed up together, barely registering in his mind.

“Out here in a fuckin’ heat. Dumb bitch! C’mere.”

“She’s got a knife!”

“C’mere, you little slag. Get –”

In the middle of three huge, stinking Alphas, a tiny Omega was struggling, arm outstretched, brandishing her knife at them to keep them at bay. John came up behind the biggest one, some bald fuck with a dirty coat, and dropped him, cracking his spine in two places with well-placed fists, and breaking his jaw on his way down to the ground, leaving him groaning on the concrete.

One of his mates, a older man with thick, black eyebrows, lunged at Price, a look of indignant surprise on his face. The Omega screamed, her red coat yanked back over her face by the third man, her knife clattering to her feet. Price focused on Mister Eyebrows, dodging a lazy haymaker before popping him twice in the nose, drawing out his blood and knocking out at least two of his front teeth. Then, John grabbed him by the collar, pulling his jaw into his raised knee and listening to the satisfying splash as he fell into a murky puddle.

Finally, he set his sights on the last Alpha of the pack whose ropey arm was looped across the Omega’s neck, choking the air from her lungs. He growled at Price, his scent turning to rancid fear,

“Stay back! She’s mine, you big bastard.”

The captain had nothing to say. With a practiced ease, he side-stepped her assailant, breaking the elbow that controlled her throat, making him release her immediately. The evil bastard stumbled back, hand outstretched, bargaining for his life,

“Wait, wait. I’ll share her with you, how’s that? I’ll even let you have first go!”

A deafening howl came out of his mouth as Price’s boot heel made contact with his kneecap, forcing it to snap at a terrible angle. John’s hand shot out and grabbed the man by the hair on the crown of his head, tugging cruelly at his scalp. Without mercy, John slammed his face into a nearby bollard, and the howling stopped.

It was quiet again aside from the Omega’s trembling breaths. She had recovered the knife and was now pointing it towards John with shaking hands and wide, determined eyes.

“You alright, love?” Price asked, holding his hands up in a sign of peace, edging towards her in gentle, predictable steps.

“Y-yeah… Stay! Stay right there,” her voice was bright and clear, and he could hear her strength laced through her words. He stopped in his tracks, respecting her wishes.

“What are you doin’ all the way out here, darlin’?”

“They dragged me over here from Baltic Fleet,” she straightened up, getting her bearings, wiping the blood from a small cut in her cheek, “Fuckin’ bastards. Thank you, by the way.”

“Jus’ doin’ my job,” Price shrugged, waiting for her to lower the knife even further before he continued his approach.

“Police?” She asked, a little confused.

“Not exactly,” Price smiled, offering a hand out to her, “John Price, Captain of His Majesty’s RAF service.”

“Oh,” she studied him for a moment, and then her eyes fell to the hand, ready to bite but deciding to shake it instead.

When he touched her skin, Price felt her fever. Shocked, he tightened his grip, not meaning to startle her but too surprised by her temperature to ignore it.

“Christ, love. You’re burnin’ up.”

As quick as a flash, she yanked her hand out of his grasp and retreated back towards the wall of the warehouse behind her, scooting her way towards the corner to get out of his range, ready to bolt. She didn’t respond, but John watched as she wiped her brow, dotted with sweat and covered in concern.

“Hey,” he moved forward again protectively, “You can’t be out here alone. Not like this. At least let me walk with you. I’ll stay ten paces behind. It’s not safe.”

“I’m fine,” she said with more strength in her voice than what she was ready to produce.

“You’re not. You’re in a bloody heat. When did it start?” He watched as her knees began to tremble, and against her obvious wishes, he helped her sit on the warehouse deck, letting her keep the knife so she could feel safe.

“Yesterday…” She closed her eyes, trying to shake it off, “It’s… I’m fine. It’s never this bad.”

Now that he was close to her, Price was smothered by the scent of her body. The Omegan glands in her neck smelled like thick, wild honey, and her heat was mixing with her aroma, turning an already sweet smell into a lucious, decadent gourmand, pulling him in like quicksand.

“C’mon,” he helped her up, “Where’s your place? I’ll get you close.”

The clang of her knife made him glance up to see her eyes closed and her mouth slack. She was out, too weak to withstand the fever and the physical exertion.

Price felt his body react to her need. He was filled with rage, white and hot, at her situation. Those goddamn monsters were trying to take advantage of her in this vulnerable state. She should be home in her nest, being taken care of by her Alpha, covered in soothing oils and cool compresses, her needy little cunt stuffed full of his knot, staving off these symptoms and enduring them for her. Instead, she’d been hunted, chased, made to fight for her dignity out here in the middle of the docks. Something else inside Price’s chest curled around his anger.

Possession.

He tried to shake it off, knowing it came from being unmarked, but it had been so many years as a lone Alpha that he knew how to control it. Or, at least he thought he did.

Now, though, he found himself pulling at the neck of her coat as he held her in his arms, invading her privacy to check for a bite. He felt the shame wash over him as he covered her skin back up. He had no business searching for a mating bite. She was not his Omega, and he was not her Alpha.

After a few minutes out in the chilled wind, he made it to his apartment. Thankfully, it was late enough that his neighbors weren’t outside to witness what looked like a literal kidnapping, and he shuffled her inside without much trouble. Price lay her down on his long, leather sofa, careful to rest her head on the soft arm. He went to the kitchen to retrieve a cold rag and pressed it to her forehead, hoping to hold back the fever for as long as he could.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Wake up,” he whispered, trying to gently shed her coat and sweater, peeling her layers off to bring her temperature down to a more manageable level.

She moaned, her eyes wrenching shut even tighter, her face twisted in pain,

“My head…” She sighed, desperate for some relief.

“I know, love. C’mon,” John propped her up a bit, moving the rag so that the coldest parts would be against her skin, “What’s your name? I can find an address. Do you have your purse?”

“They… took it? I don’t… I dunno…” She muttered, obviously having a hard time stringing her thoughts together, “I don’t feel so good.”

This was not ideal. Price knew what came next. A high fever, exhaustion, fatigue, nausea, increased heart rate, and then…

“Alpha?” Her eyes were open, glassy and dark, the pupils fully blown, looking up at him with an outpouring of unfathomable need. Her scent rolled off of her in mind-altering waves, shoving Price’s carefully-built walls out of the way and sending shocks of desire straight to his heart and his fat, growing cock.

“No, baby. I’m not your Alpha. Who is he? Can you give me a name?” John asked, checking her coat pockets in a rushed panic. He was running out of time.

“Alpha, please… I need… Help me, please,” her shaking hands reached under his jacket and shirt, her knuckles rubbing against his furry belly, her strong fingers digging around for his belt buckle, getting right to the point.

Price felt the room flex around him, and he tried to breathe in air that wasn’t saturated by her vanilla spice, searching in the deepest recesses of his mind for some semblance of his self control.

“Easy, love. I can’t m–mmngh!” Her mouth slotted over his as he tried to protest, stopping his heart and his words at the same time.

She was heaven. Her smell was making his skin tingle all over his body, down his arms and up his legs, rushing to his central, sacral core. And her taste was even better. His little cinnamon roll, so sweet and warm, burning for him like a flame, hot and ready to scar him for life.

“Mngh… Love, mmm… Wait…” Price held her back, using more force than he thought he should need, surprised by her sudden power.

“John…” He met her eyes and found a particular clarity within them. She was coming out of her haze. But, it wouldn’t last. This was his final chance to keep her from doing something she would regret.

“Darlin’, I can’t. I’m not your Alpha.”

“You smell like you are,” she mewled, rubbing her wounded cheek across his engorged neck gland, spreading his scent all over herself.

“I can’t,” he moved away from her, trying to hold her in his arms for comfort rather than to bask in her expressive heat, “My work… I can’t leave you here, pretty girl.”

She sobbed out, trying to hold back from writhing against his body, doing everything she could not to make it harder for him to turn her down. Her eyes were rimmed red and pink from exhaustion, and she was staring down at her own hands, vibrating with tremors, slurring her words,

“Just lock me in the bath. I’ll run cold water. I’ll be fine…”

Something ancient and feral snarled in Price’s mind.

No.

“No,” he said, involuntarily, the voice in his head escaping from his throat.

“Please… I can’t stop myself… I want your knot, Alpha. Lock me up before I do something to you… Something you don’t want…” She could barely put two words together. Every thought was a struggle. He was losing her again.

He grabbed her and held her to his chest, clutching her like water in his palm, using all his strength to keep her with him,

“I want you, love. I want… Fuck, I need you.”

All of a sudden, the energy around their bodies stilled. That cracking, sparking electricity that bound them together was roiling just beyond John’s consciousness, ready to surge. But, he stayed perfectly still, waiting to see what she did next. She locked eyes with him and leaned in close, as if she would kiss him. But, she didn’t. She dipped her head down until she found his Alphic gland, swollen and bruised purple from him holding back his lust, nuzzling at it with the tip of her nose, rooting against him, testing his patience, checking to see if his temperament was true. Then, when he let her sniff him in his most potent spot, when she knew his soul was as pure as his scent, that he was true, she sucked his flesh between her lips, drawing his musk onto her tongue.

She’d accepted him. He reeled from it, unable to hold back a groan, his cock jerking against his zipper, thrashing to escape, flooding with hot blood and threatening to fill his knot before he’d even had a chance to taste her.

John pulled her mouth off of him and stared at her eyes again, in awe of her beauty, his mind swirling and yet perfectly sharp, begging her darkly,

“Give me your neck, Omega.”

The ritual had begun, and as she swept her hair away from her shoulder, pulling it around her back, she bent for him, arching her head down in a submissive bow, revealing her Omegan mating line. It looked like a keloid scar, the raised skin swollen and painful, like a pounding vein that ran from below her earlobe down to the top of her shoulder, full of her hormones and thick with her magic. One bite, and he would be in her thrall, pliant to her every whim, beholden to her needs until her heat had run its course.

Price had never given his bite to anyone. It had been easy to abstain. In fact, in his youth, he had a hard time understanding his mates’ commitments to their Omegas, scoffing at their lack of duty to their stations, doubting their commitment, and - moreover - doubting their loyalty. He remained a captain through and through, and he’d never made room for anyone or anything else. But, here he was, his teeth aching in his jaw, bigger and sharper than they should’ve been, his every sense heightened and taking her in like a drug, compelling him to punch through her delicate flesh and suck her nectar deep into his belly.

The feeling of her skin against his lips was enough to send a chill through his body. He was cooling from the inside out, and his body needed her heat. She was forcing a rut to take hold in him, and he could feel himself changing for her. Then, he bit down as hard as he could, breaking the thin seal of her mating line with ease, feeling the searing mixture of her oil and her blood filling his mouth and throat like a ripe plum, wet and sweet, and promising pleasure if he chose to swallow her.

He drank from her for as long as he dared, taking her in long, slurping gulps, letting her essence coat his throat, feeling the hot fluid burn inside of his chest and down into his stomach where it pooled and lingered, warming him up from the inside out.

“Alpha…” She moaned, raising her hand to cup his cheek as he sucked her life into himself, rubbing her thumb so softly over his shut eyelashes that he barely felt it.

John pulled away from her, his eyes fluttering open, her bright orange blood iridescent with her mating oil, making the red cells burn bright like a fresh-cracked yolk, gleaming, trapped between his teeth like gold. He watched it drip down her chest, staining her clothes, and he began to tear them off of her. She let him, limp and mute as he peeled her open, making her naked and pulling her into his arms.

He carried her into his bedroom, kicking open the door and busting the bolt through the strike, splintering the wood and not giving a shit about the damage. John lay her in the middle of the mattress and set to surrounding her with whatever softness he could find; his shirts, his blankets, even his scarves. Anything warm and comfortable was added to the nest, giving her as much support as he could before standing back to admire his work.

She eyed him from her recumbent throne, commanding him with her gaze. John stripped off his shirt for her, raking it up his back and over his shoulders, feeling as if he was moving his body for her and only for her. All of his motions, even his ragged breaths, were only escaping from his lungs because she wanted them to. His buckle clattered apart, and he popped open the button of his jeans, lowering the zipper in a sharp, metallic rip.

Once free, his heavy prick flagged, leaping forward and pulsating for her, proudly showing her his gleaming head. He was drooling an unrelenting stream of iridescent precome, his balls tight and full of Alphic oil, ready to coat her warm insides with his shining sex.

John climbed onto the bed, his face focused on her wet mound, admiring the plumpness of her, imagining her - in every delicious way - like a tender peach. He crawled to her, his mouth still stained neon orange from her gland, and he smeared her wet quim all over his lips and tongue. He wasn’t licking her so much as he was wearing her like warpaint, moving his nose and cheeks through her to ensure he was soaked in her heady slick, his body making wild, unbridled choices purely on instinct.

“Yes, baby, please…” Her voice went straight through him like a bullet, tightening his cockhead to an uncomfortable degree, and it jerked against the mattress in protest. Her hands were in his hair, scratching through his scalp, encouraging him to sink his tongue deep inside of her hole.

John obeyed, helpless to her desire, his mind wiping clean and being rewritten by her will. He was swimming in her scent, drenched in her slick, and gasping against her pussy, his eyes fixated on her form as it writhed above him. When she met his eyes, she bit the inside of her lip, crying out for him, rewarding him for his prostrated fealty. Then, she began to rock her hips against his jaw, fucking herself on his face, and he let her use him to her heart’s content, staying strong and sure, allowing his body to be used, objectified and glorified by it.

When she began to come, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He followed his tongue inside of her with two of his thick fingers, pressing against her walls, pushing her over the edge. She bolted upright, wrapping her thighs around his face, smothering him with her body, trapping him breathless between her legs. Her whole being trembled for him. He could feel the shimmer of her very soul, rattling and writhing with her siren-like keening. And just when he started to see spots in his vision, needing air just a little less than he needed to please her, she lay open for him, blooming outward like a flower, releasing him from a limbo he longed to return to, oozing with a stream of rainbow-tinted come, the Omegan oil within her womb escaping to advertise its promises to her mate.

Without knowing why, John found himself lapping it up from her pulsing hole like a hound, swallowing mouthful after mouthful and grunting with each pass of his broad tongue.

“John, I need... Please, put your knot inside me. I’ll be good…” She begged, tears shining at the corners of her eyes from her come-drunk bliss, her hands plucking at her nipples and trying to soothe herself down from her high.

“My pretty girl wants this knot, yeah?” John grinned devilishly, dipping his finger into her over and over and licking it clean like she was a jar of endless honey, “Wants me to breed this gorgeous cunt…”

At that comment, she spread her legs even wider for him, opening up for him like a blossom for the sun, ready to take whatever he had to give her. It was mesmerizing for John to see her like this. Everything about her was filled with intoxication and need. He was just a vessel for her pleasure, pouring himself into her to make her full again. Dizzy and drunk with adoration, he notched his girth at her entrance, struggling to fit even his cockhead within her.

“Fuck… so bloody warm…”

Her body was burning him with every millimeter he sank into her, the heat of her tight sex in such high contrast with his cool rut. It felt like he was swimming in a roiling pot of sugary caramel, clinging and cloying and sticking to every part of him, and yet it was not enough. He needed more. His hips thrust forward, savage yet steady, reaching deep inside of her like an anchor, rushing to settle himself within her darkness.

The way his Omega cried out this time was different, and it snapped him to her attention, his mind immediately sensing a new need.

“Love, tell me what you need.” He purred, his mouth kissing her lips and her neck, lapping at the now-healing wound his own fangs had made, talking to her between long licks of his tongue, “Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“You’re so big. I’ve never…” She sounded ashamed.

Price slowed to a creeping pace, focused fully on her face,

“Never had a knot before?”

She shook her head, her eyes full of worry. John wrapped her up in his arms, dragging himself out of her slowly before filling her up again as carefully as he could.

“Tha’s alright, baby. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“Feels like I’m burning alive,” she sighed, her brow furrowing with distress, “John, I need… I don’t know how…”

“Look at me, alright?” He helped her focus her eyes on his, “Don’t… Just stay with me, right here. You’re gonna come for me, and then… I’ll give you what you need.”

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice so small.

Price set himself on a path with a purpose. He used his hand to rub small, rhythmic circles beside the rigid body of her clit, coaxing her pussy to drop even more slick around him, using every ounce of willpower he had left not to let his knot slip inside of her prematurely. His thrusts were jerky and restrained, but he felt her begin to rock back and forth with his hand’s movements, bringing her closer and closer to her glowing joy.

“Good girl,” he praised her, watching her as she began to fall apart around him, “Tha’s my good little Omega. Come for your Alpha just like that. Just… mmf-fuck! Like that! Holy fuck.”

The feeling of her slick pussy clenching and twisting around his cock’s tugid body was enough to make him see stars. He felt almost sick with pleasure, his whole core lighting up like a roaring fire, spitting and aching to bury himself within her.

At the end of her crescendo, he felt himself let go of the chain, and he rutted his knot inside of her, humping himself forward ruthlessly, his body contorting itself to fit her needs. His knot sealed him within her, and although he was not yet orgasming, he was filling her with his come, the creamy flow of it spilling out of his tip, filling her hole and coating his prick from inside of its hungry little sheath.

“Your come… I can feel it inside of me. Oh, my God,” she sighed with some sort of relief, her eyes rolling inside of her head, her arms losing their strength, and her back arching towards him, lifting up as if she would float right into Heaven.

And just like that, her fever began to abate. With his knot stuffed inside of her, locking his seed within her hole, his Alphic oils could soothe her heat, bringing her back to the realm of consciousness and delivering her from her wild state.

“John,” she lay back, her hand pressed to his cheek.

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he bent forward on his elbows and kissed her mouth, chastely at first, and then languidly, exploring her taste. When he did finally pull away, she was awake and alert, sated and happy. He smiled down at her,

“Hey, pretty girl,” he whispered, wiping her hair back from her face.

“Hey,” she smiled back at him, wrapping her ankles around his back for comfort, not knowing that it was just enough to set his cock on edge again, his Alphic instinct rejoicing at the feeling of being trapped by his mate.

“You alright?” John asked, a tinge of worry at the edge of his voice.

“I am now, thanks to you,” she sighed, tucking herself in beneath him, rubbing her hands along his ribs and the soft fur of his back and arms, feeling every bit of him as if she was seeing him with her touch, “You saved me, Alpha.”

“Aye,” he nudged her jaw with his nose, asking her wordlessly to give him the vulnerable softness of her neck. She obliged, and he spoke to her between sucking kisses, “All mine. My Omega. Innit that right, baby?”

She was practically lambent beneath the scrutiny of his possession, rolling in it like a wave in the sand, captured by it and surrendering to the riptide of his unbreakable grip. She nodded, humming her ascent, her expression turning a little rueful right at the end of his kisses. The sorrowful timbre of her voice broke his heart,

“I’m grateful. But, I know this isn’t what you wanted, and I’m so sor–”

“No,” he kissed her words away, feeling his length throb inside of her, urging him to kiss her again, “No, love.”

“I won’t bite you,” she promised, her gaze still full of apology, “You won’t be stuck with me.”

“Bite me, Omega,” he bent his head and buried his face in her shoulder, giving her his gland in total surrender, “Go on. I’m yours.”

“John…” She hesitated, but he could feel her body flood her hole, excited beyond measure at the thought of binding him to her as her mated Alpha.

“Go on,” he commanded in his smoky growl, holding her tighter and bracing for the ecstasy of her teeth.

He felt her lips first, and his balls tightened, ready to fling him into a messy orgasm as soon as he felt his gland shatter in her mouth. Her Omegan teeth wouldn’t break the skin, but he knew she was strong enough to crack the shell around his swollen node. The anticipation of her bite was wrecking his mind, and he was gasping for breath by the time he felt her jaw set itself against him.

“Baby, please…” He whined in her ear, his hips thrusting in short, jerking thrusts, unable to move much with his knot still trapped up inside of her, holding his gushing come in her hole, pushing it into her womb from the sheer volume of it.

Her teeth connected, and he could hear his unbroken shell give way beneath her strength, the hormones inside of it rushing through his system like wildfire, burning through his veins and making him scream for her. At the same time, John felt his core throw him into a raw orgasm, his whole body trembling above her, wringing himself from the inside out.

“Alpha,” she sighed, licking his neck to comfort him, “My Alpha…”

“Yours, baby. All yours.”

— — — — —

The new trainees filed out of the gym, sweaty, bloody, and eager to be out of the captain’s sight. Price had run them ragged, forcing them to spar with practice weapons, pitting them against each other in a strained, exhausting competition. Ghost and Soap sat with Gaz as they eyed their commander, their eyes glued to the fresh bite mark on his neck, shocked into a silent stupor.

“I cannae believe it. Mated? To which lassie?” Soap asked, dumbfounded.

“I didn’t think he’d ever take a mate,” Gaz marvelled.

“I thought he was savin’ himself for marriage,” Ghost quipped, earning himself a scuff from Soap.

Price made his way across the mat, pulling his sweaty shirt off his back to trade it for a clean one. The red welts and nail-marks across his shoulders and down his belly made Gaz let out a low whistle. But, his commander’s glare stopped him mid-note.

“Wha’s that, Garrick?”

“Nothin’, sir. Just… admirin’ your battle scars,” Gaz smiled, wishing his two teammates would stop snickering so loudly.

“Looks like a hell’uva fight, Cap,” Ghost added, looking everywhere but into Price’s icy eyes.

“Wha’s her name?” Soap asked outright, skipping over the double entendres and going right for the point.

Their captain sighed, zipped up his gym bag, and stood in front of his three officers, glaring down at them with a look that was on the border of dead-seriousness,

“If I told you that, lads, I’d have to kill you.”

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loaksky · 1 year ago

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i don’t celebrate thanksgiving, but could you guys imagine college!ellie taking roommate!reader home to jackson because she’d be alone for the holiday? short lil oneshot to get back into the groove of writing. do i hate this? yes.

recommended songs: alabama haint — penny and sparrow + what once was — her’s

warnings: language, a few brief mentions of family issues, suggestive content (kissing among other things) + mild sexual content, a lil misunderstanding and angst bc who am i if i don’t ??, CONFESSIONS because i’m a sloot for them. i think that’s it? not proofread ofc heh

it’s the weekend before thanksgiving, sunday to be exact, and ellie’s packing her backpack for joel’s. the energy in the the room’s a little off despite the fact that you’re normally reserved, and even though the two of you have only met this year, ellie’s learned to read you pretty well.

“you goin’ home for thanksgiving?” ellie asks absently, trying to make small talk as she rolls a sleep shirt and some pajamas haphazardly to stuff at the top of her bag.

there’s a pause that makes her brain itch before she sees the way you shake your head from where you’re hunched over a textbook at your desk.

“my family’s all over the place right now,” you answer honestly.

and ellie doesn’t know if you mean that figuratively or literally, but the lack of emotion in your voice tells her that maybe she shouldn’t pry. she can’t help it, though. because you’re her sweet and quiet roommate who’d been serious (and maybe a little scary) at first, but turned out to be a goofball with a little bit of prodding.

so seeing you like this, checked out and maybe a little stressed, ellie treads cautiously.

“so you’re gonna stay here?” she asks.

you don’t even spare her a glance.

“yeah.” your shoulders shrug. “no point in dropping so much money for a plane ticket if i’m going to be sitting home alone anyways.”

ellie makes a noise in the back of her throat and you throw look over your shoulder.

“sorry,” you offer softly, smile sheepish. “that was a little depressing.”

ellie shakes her head.

“no, i get it,” she assures you. “my family’s not really...”

you blink at her as she trails off.

“conventional? i guess?”

another quiet blankets the two of you and ellie’s speaking before she can even filter through the repercussions of her next words.

“you’re always welcome to...y’know...come with,” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “it’s not even a two hour drive.”

you hope ellie can’t tell that your cheeks are burning.

“you don’t have to, of course,” ellie blabbers. “but joel’s cool, so’s my uncle and his wife. it’d be nice, i think. and jackson’s pretty fun around this time of year...”

“i don’t wanna imp—”

ellie breathes a laugh.

“don’t,” she warns you, tips of her ears burning. “you’re more than welcome, seriously.”

it’s how you end up in the passenger seat of ellie’s old 4runner, heater on blast while sublime plays on the radio.

the car ride had consisted of ellie munching on cold fries the two of you had picked up from mcdonald’s before the interstate and you finally opening up about how your parents are divorced and how the holidays are a lot more stressful than they are pleasant.

ellie really feels for you, definitely knows the feeling losing her mom at a pretty young age and being adopted in middle school by a single, bereaved father. she tells you that they’d found each other when they needed the other the most.

and you don’t particularly know why you’re so nervous when ellie finally takes the exit off the interstate and you guys make your way through the suburbs. perhaps it’s the domesticity of meeting her family, or that you’re over a hundred miles away from familiarity, but your fingers are trembling when she turns into the neighbourhood and cozy brick homes line the frost-laden streets.

she’s pulling up and parking on the curb in front of a warm two-story that has a blue pickup truck and a gold SUV in the driveway when she notices.

“hey, hey,” she whispers, noticing the way you’re wringing your hands to stop the shaking. “you okay?”

her hands are warm when they close over yours and her thumbs is brushing over your skin soothingly.

“i’m being dumb,” you admit.

ellie’s eyes are crystal clear under the setting sun.

“don’t say that,” she says softly. “you wanna take a second?”

you swallow and shake your head.

“no, we can go,” you assure her.

she’s searching your face for any tell, but when you offer her a soft smile, she’s leaning back in her seat and nodding. before she completely pulls away, you’re stopping her.

“thanks, ellie,” you say gently. “this was really kind of you.”

she flashes you an easy smile, squeezes your hand a final time before climbing out of the car and rounding the front to help you out.

and truthfully, you realize you were nervous for nothing. because when the door swings open to reveal an older man aged with smile lines and greying hair, ellie seemingly softens infinitely.

“hey, kiddo,” he greets, crushing her in a hug so tight, she’s spluttering out a laugh.

“joel, i can’t breathe,” she wheezes.

you’re standing there awkwardly, backpack slung over your shoulder when joel finally loosens his hold on ellie and glances over her head.

“who’s this?” he asks, but the smile he wears is knowing.

“________, my roommate,” she introduces quickly, cheeks warming an awful shade of red as she begs every force above that joel won’t blow her cover.

because, okay, maybe ellie’s talked about you on the phone way more times than she’d care to admit out loud. talked about how intimidating you were at first, then graduated to talking about how you were actually so cool. and maybe she’d brought up the fact that she thought you were pretty. like...super pretty. and that maybe she was crushing a teensy bit.

“nice to meet you,” joel replies simply, sparing ellie this time around.

you let go of the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding onto, offering a smile that makes ellie wonder if she’ll survive the week with you in such a new proximity.

“nice to meet you, too,” you almost whisper, relaxing as he reaches for the backpack slung over your shoulder.

“here, let me take this for you,” he says.

and it doesn’t take you long to realize where ellie gets it from. her kind spirit and fierce yet gentle heart. joel is soft-spoken, a little rough around the edges, but a warm energy that radiates through the home he’s made for himself and ellie.

it makes infinitely more sense enter tommy and maria, her uncle and aunt who tell you the silliest stories about the starry-eyed girl in her youth over dinner. who bring out her boisterous laughter when they sing old 80’s music over dishes and evening TV.

“your family’s so cool,” you say in awe, wrapped in one of her coats she’d dug out of the closet under the stairs.

you’re nursing a mug of hot chocolate that steams in the icy air of jackson on her back porch.

ellie breathes out a little laugh.

“they’re something,” she jokes, watching you over the rim of her mug.

you make her heart thud hard in her chest as she takes you in, bundled in pieces of her that make her think that she wouldn’t mind making you hers.

“i miss times like these,” you whisper.

ellie shifts closer, catching you by surprise when her thumb swipes over the curve of your top lip.

“sorry,” she hums quietly. “you had...uh...”

you let out a hollow laugh and shake your head, tell her that it’s fine as a silence blankets the two of you.

“i’m glad you like them,” ellie admits softly. “sometimes i get a little self-conscious because, y’know, everyone expects a nuclear family and...”

“i’d take this any day,” you assure her, and the true implication of your words is latent, but something hopeful pricks her tummy.

i’d take this any day...with you.

and locking eyes with you usually scares her, usually makes her queasy with nerves because there’s always something searing in your gaze, but it’s like you see each other for the first time, no barriers.

ellie’s so close she can feel the warmth of your body coiling and drawing her in. her breath’s caught in her throat as she chances a glance at your mouth and her own lips begin to tingle.

she’s on the brink of asking if she can kiss you, but the back door is sliding open and two familiar faces are surfacing.

“williams!”

ellie’s daze melts away as she shifts to put distance between the two of you at the arrival of her friends.

“jess!” she calls. “dina!”

the moment clings heavy, but ellie writes it off. maybe she’s jumping the gun, reading too much into tender moments. it’s colored on your face, though, as she stands to meet her friends halfway, that the two of you are tethered and you feel it too.

ellie’s friends are another reflection of her character. they take you under their wings in the days leading up to the holiday with jesse teaching you to ride his minibike and dina telling you stories of their childhood while excitedly painting your nails pretty shades of autumnal colors because both jesse and ellie vehemently decline.

joel graciously relinquishes his kitchen to the four of you the day before thanksgiving. lets you guys gather around and bake an array of different desserts for tomorrow’s dinner over a few beers and winecoolers.

perhaps ellie’s a lightweight, you come to find, when she’s a lot more giggly and rosy-cheeked than she’d ever let anyone see. she’s feeling a little bubbly and you definitely don’t help the fact when you gaze upon her so fondly as you smear away the streaks of flour across her cheek.

jesse and dina are merely observers, watching with knowing grins as ellie practically melts against your touch.

and as the desserts cool on the kitchen island and the two of see jesse and dina out, ellie can’t keep her hazy eyes off of you. the two of you vote on a movie and she’s taking her usual seat in the right corner of the couch. it starts out with the two of you on opposite ends, but as the film plays, the space between you and ellie diminishes and she swears you can hear the way her heart’s pounding behind her ribcage with your ear pressed to her chest.

it’s uncharted territory considering ellie’s never been big on physical touch and she can’t even be sure that there's anything there, but you have to know. ellie’d mentioned past girlfriends, wasn’t really subtle when it came to wandering eyes on campus, hell, she’d even—

suddenly your arm’s tightening around the narrow of her waist and you’re nestling impossibly closer and christ, ellie can’t help herself when the coarse pads of her fingertips brush your jaw to catch your attention.

your gaze is illuminated by pixels and there’s a hitch in your breathing as you search her features for any hesitation. it’s long gone, you find, when ellie’s mouth is slotting yours, lips warm and tongue still flavored with sparkling wine.

ellie kisses like you’re air and she needs you to breathe. it’s almost embarrassing, way her body reacts to your proximity, how hot she us under the collar and achey as you move to straddle her. her fingertips are skimming down your spine, past the small of your back to take a—

your teeth sinking in the plump of her bottom lip and the way your soft palms find purchase against the rigid expanse of her tattooed abdomen is sobering. has her bony fingers cupping the flesh of your jaw.

“wait, wait,” she whispers, chest heaving and breaths shallow as she looks up at you.

the dust is starting to settle and you take in ellie’s kiss-bitten lips, swollen and slick. her pupils are blown wide, sweater riding up to reveal reddened flesh like you’ve branded her. you lean back.

“fuck,” you whisper. “fuck, i’m so sorry.”

ellie’s mouth is drying.

“why are you sorry?” she whispers.

you seem to chew on your words, eyes teary and expression scared.

“why are you sorry?” ellie repeats, not caring enough to mask the hitch in her voice as she pries.

“you’re always so fucking good to me, ellie,” you whimper. “you’re a great roommate and an even better friend and—”

ellie blows out a deep sigh, falls slack against the cushions as she levels you with an indiscernible look in her eye.

“don’t do that,” she breathes.

“ellie.”

“c’mon, you know me better than that,” she says, tone tinged with annoyance. “you don’t have to let me down easy. you can be honest.”

and color you confused because how couldn’t she fathom that you’ve fallen and head first at that? she’s reading it all wrong, you realize, when defeat shutters over her pretty face.

“i—”

the floorboards outside the den creak and ellie’s pushing you off just as the door squeaks open to reveal joel’s aging face.

he reads the room a moment, decides to blow by the sheen in your eyes and ellie’s rigid posture.

“tommy and maria are leaving, kiddo,” he says. “if you wanna say bye.”

ellie nods, stands and leaves you in the television-illuminated room.

you realize she won’t come back for you when the telltale sound of the front door closes and the stairs seem to groan under her weight.

it’s half past two in the morning when you slip from the den, glass of water condensating on a coaster as you try to collect yourself on the screened-in deck out back.

the icy chill stings your lungs, makes you gulp in breath after breath. the night’s starting to dawn you, the gravity of the situation overwhelming you enough to choke.

“fuck,” you whisper, that familiar feeling of dread squeezing your chest.

meanwhile, ellie can’t sleep. has been staring at the ceiling of her childhood bedroom for the past two and a half hours. you’re all she can think of. pliant curves of your body settling over hers to fit like you two were made for each other, the smell of your subtle perfume, the taste of your mouth.

and she wants to be annoyed, angry at the fact, but she’d brought you all the way here, extricated you from your comfort zone and showed you parts of her she wouldn’t dream of revealing to anyone else.

she recalls the resignation in your tone on the drive up, how you’d divulged the dysfunction of your family and the troubles you carried with you as a result. it’d be your first holiday with someone other than yourself for a while and she’d be damned if it soured because she couldn’t push her feelings aside.

the tv’s off and the blanket’s folded when she musters up enough courage to enter the den again, heart sinking to her ass when she slides back into the kitchen and finds that the sliding door to the back deck is cracked ever so slightly.

she’s seen you in a lot of ways these past eleven-odd months she’s known you, but she’s never seen you like this, hands over your heart and chest heaving like you’re trying to ground yourself.

when your watery gaze swings to her, ellie’s melting, cushion sinking as she settles next to you.

“sorry,” you whisper shakily. “i don’t—”

ellie’s shifting to face you, arms winding around your shoulders as one hand comes up to cradle the back of your head.

“let’s talk about it later,” ellie offers softly. “we can just go to bed for now and—”

“i really, really like you, ellie,” you say in one breath, and it has her body locking up, the audible catch of her inhale sounding near your ear.

“but?”

“no buts,” you admit. “just that i don’t want you to think that i kissed you because you’re being nice to me. well, i guess you’re always nice to me. it’s one of the reasons why i…”

and ellie doesn’t mean to tune you out, but you’re so fucking cute and so sweet and she shouldn’t have doubted you or herself because you’re hiccuping and shivering and—

you taste better the second time around. now ellie’s a little less unsure, still a little nervous because you’re the first girl to make her feel like this and she doesn’t want the bubble she’s built around the two of you in this corner of her little world to burst, but kissing you feels so right.

she’s dragging you back inside, past the den and up the stairs, and maybe the two of you do things you shouldn’t in her twin size bed in her childhood room when her dad’s only a few walls away, but she can’t help herself. not when you’ve always been an arm’s length away and she can finally have you.

it isn’t until the two of you lay under the dim glimmer of the glow-in-the dark stars pasted to her ceiling, her face pressed in your neck, that she says it.

“i really, really like you, too,” she whispers. “i realized i didn’t say it back.”

but it’s not like she needs to. you knew that already.

neng ©️2023

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams #ellie williams au #ellie williams tlou2

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bombuni · 7 months ago

Note

wooyoung with the most sweetest & obedient gf ever !! he’s just can’t help but be a little mean & tease you, especially when you’re whimpering & begging to cum all over his fingers ;(

contains: wooyoung x fem!reader, mirror sex, wooyoung being a lil shit, kind of dacryphilia

minors dni

Wooyoung’s right hand trails down your side, inching slowly over the expanse of your skin. His hand delicately kneads the warmth, his touch sending vibrations through your body that make your eyes shut your eyes in pleasure. His breath tickles your ear when he chuckles as you.

Wooyoung rests his hand on your thigh, “Open your eyes.”

He watches you through the mirror on front of you. You feel at home in Wooyoung’s lap, cunt rubbing against the ridges on his pants. When he feels you start to rut, he stops you to make sure the only pleasure you feel comes from his hands.

Your eyes open as soon as the command leaves his mouth. You meet his eyes in the mirror, hungry and devoted all the same. He knows he has you all to himself; that you’ll grovel at his feet. He likes to have fun with that fact.

Your slick shines in the light. Wooyoung licks his lips at the sight, the pit in his stomach settling insatiably inside him. His hands itch to touch you, to catch the tears that fall from your eyes as you cum. He enjoys watching you wriggle, though. Like a cat toying with his little mouse, the sick smirk grows on his face when your hips jolt at the feeling of his fingers sliding through your folds, spreading your juices all over yourself.

You’re a mess. The anticipation is too much. Your breathing only grows heavier the more his fingers play with you, like he’s figuring out what makes you feel good. Wooyoung watches the tears well up in your eyes the more time he wastes sliding through you.

“Y-youngie…” The silent cry barely makes it through your lips, your throat constricting when his fingers pause on you, right at your clit.

The devious look in his eyes makes you swoon and sweat, “Yeah, baby?”

“Need you,”

He’s breathless, “You have me.”

You shake your head. You know he knows what you mean and it frustrates you all the more. You take it all the same, though.

He knocks his head against yours, bringing your attention back to the mirror in front of you. His eyes shine like he’s admiring a piece of art, a fond look enveloping his features. There’s still a spark, though. A familiar, torturous spark.

His eyes trail yours in the mirror, “Look at you, baby. So fucking pretty. ‘S why I like to take my time with you,”

You whine.

He tuts at you, “What? Is admiring you a crime?”

No, you want to say, you’re just being mean.

You’re shaking, biting back your tongue because you know if you snap once Wooyoung will return it tenfold. You try to behave.

His giggles send a wave of humiliating pleasure through you, “You look like you have something to say,”

“Please let me cum, Youngie.”

Your voice is whiny and pleading. A single tear slips down your cheek and it immediately breaks whatever resolve Wooyoung had stored for the night.

He matches your desperation now, like he’s been holding himself back this entire time, “Fuck, I love when you beg for me, you’re so good,”

Wooyoung squishes you against him, the hand wrapped around your tummy pulling you impossibly into him. The other hand plays with you. He gathers your juices between his fingers just to make it messier, dirtier. Your pussy squelches under him, sucking his fingers in as he rams them in. His breath hitches against your ear at the sight of you broken and teary eyed under him.

His hips rut against you, matching the speed of his fingers. You want to watch him in the mirror, but the pressure of everything you’re feeling is too much for you to even open your eyes. Wooyoung watches enough for the both of you, studying your fidgets like it’s a movie.

His desperate whines increase when he feels you tightening and spasming. Wooyoung likes to think he knows your body better than you do at this point, and he kisses along your jawline to remind you who’s bringing you to your high.

“You wanna cum for Youngie? Know you know how to-you’re so good, come on-“

His incoherent rambles cut off as you moan, shaking in his hands and let your cum cover his hands as proof of how good you are for him. You held out and followed his rules, and knowing that in the back of your mind just makes it all the more euphoric.

bom note: anon u are insane. thank u for this. also i was terrified this got accidentally deleted bc im writing this straight up on here and it glitched (i live on the edge) so i will upload it now ..

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez smut #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x you #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung smut

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dadsbongos · 10 months ago

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CAN U PLSSSS WRITE A CUTE DENJI FIC OR HEADCANON/DRABBLE?? honestly idrc care which it is (obvi longer is preferred but i understand and am open to whatevs u give)

like about reader (fem) has a journal and in it she wrote about her dream dude, but like perfectly described denji and accidentally left it out and while they were hanging out or something cuz they besties he sees it and realized like "dude, that's me!" or something and then like a fluffy confession or something IDK that's just what i have sprinting through my brain rn 🤓

also maybe a lil kiss 🙏

thank you for giving me a denji idea... been fiending to write for him and just had 0 ideas

word count - 1.5 K / warnings - fem reader, not proofread!!, au where makima dies and denji just gets to be happy with special division 4 and they are familycore

~~~

“And the point of this is…?”

“I dunno,” Himeno answers honestly, shrugging, “I read somewhere that you can tell a lot about someone from their partner.”

“None of us are dating,” Aki huffs, fingers itching over the protrusion of his lighter in his pocket.

“Their preference in a partner,” Himeno groans in annoyance, gesturing out to the collection of papers in front of each of you, “Besides, what else do we have to do right now?”

Fair question, no matter how junky the science behind Himeno's apparent reading, not one of you had anything better to do. A storm was raging outside the Hayakawa apartment, all of Special Division Four having pooled there before the clouds even rolled in. Before Kobeni could shyly crawl out from the rambunctious crowd, there was lightning and thunder and an ear-piercing flood warning blasting on the television.

So, Aki swallows the rest of his complaints and puts his head down with the rest of your division. His pencil sprawling over the paper Himeno slammed in front of him to describe his ideal significant other. A tedious task he's all too eager to bullshit through as soon as Himeno is finished staring down at him.

Denji is tapping the eraser of his pencil against the kitchen island, eyes straying around the living room. He worried his bottom lip between knifepoint teeth; only stopping when he tastes iron. Even Power has started writing.

Even you have begun writing. He wonders what you're writing. He wishes he could stretch his neck and take a peek without being obvious. He wishes he could read it at all.

Denji draws a stick figure that takes up a quarter of the page, dragging the lead back over the chest to add breasts. He glances at you through the side of his eye before adding hair and a small smile. And the black hair tie snug around your wrist even though he's only ever seen you lend it to Kobeni and Angel. Now he really can't avoid it: Denji has no idea how to write.

Hopefully he can just coast with a bland drawing and let everybody think he's as shallow as they probably already believe. But when he lifts his head to glimpse at everyone else's pages, Himeno is already freezing him solid with her icy glare. Denji tucks his chin to his chest and subtly twists in the island stool to look at your paper again.

Bullet points go five lines down the page; and the only thing he can make out is one of the few characters Aki’s taught Denji at his request:

愚か. Stupid.

Denji's eyes bounce back up to your face, eyes a little gooey and smile all soft. He knows that goofy look well, it's how he finds himself everytime he thinks about you. Before he can lose himself in that, he's jealous. You're making that lovestruck face over some stupid guy that Denji can't even write a strongly worded letter to.

Denji writes one of the other few things Aki has taught him. Your name with a bold arrow pointing down at the stick figure.

Then he erases it. He scrubs the pink bud over your name so hard he tears the paper in half. A loud shirrr dragging every eye to his hunched form, shoulders hiking higher over his face at the increased attention.

“Hark! The fool cannot even spell!” Power cackles, “Show me his words! Show me his mistake!”

“Power,” you chide, as though she's a fitful toddler and not a horrific Fiend, “Be nice. You can't write either.”

“Liar!” she points at you with a shaking finger.

Kobeni shyly taps Power on the shoulder before pointing at the paper overflowing with Power's manic ideals of a partner, “Anything else…?”

“Honesty!” she glares at you sharply, “And unwavering devotion!”

“Right…” Kobeni mutters unsurely, neglecting her own paper as she continues to scribble on Power's.

“Ignore her,” you scoot your stool closer to Denji and he manages to flip his page over before you can see the drawing, “Do you need help?”

He’s nodding before his mouth can even pop open, eventually he manages to sputter alongside it, “Yeah, yeah!” taking full advantage of his new opportunity to squish right against you at the island, “Can you write…”

Patiently, you await his request and he can feel his heart pumping in his throat every time you bat your lashes at him all sweetly. Your pen leaves jet black dots as it dips in your weak grasp, Denji has lots of words to describe you and all of them knot together on the tip of his tongue, tangled and lashing to fall from his lips at once.

Ultimately, he settles for the least descriptive, “Nice.”

“Someone nice,” you nod and scratch that onto his paper, “I like that.”

Denji feels his whole body go junky with sparks of electricity, blood boiling hot at how you feel comfortable enough to drag your paper into his full view. You point at your top bullet point, nail tacking loudly into the surface when his eyes don’t immediately stray from your face to the words below. Your bottom lip is sucked between your teeth as you study his reaction, leaning your face even closer to his.

Though you’re blurry and jumbled in his peripherals, Denji can still make out the upturn of your lips. He looks over the rest of the page, desperately searching for any other words he can make out and mold himself to. That, or cope and make up some ways in which he’s at least comparable to your dream man.

He can make out: Pretty.

Do you think Denji is pretty?

He sees another one he recognizes: 歯 -- teeth -- but there’s two characters before that he’s useless against.

Denji has teeth.

“Sharp,” you whisper into his ear, tingles raising along his pale flesh.

“Huh…?” Denji turns to look at you, heat rising far up to his ears.

An airy, almost delirious, giggle floats into his ears as you circle the two mysteries before teeth, “Sharp,” then you circle teeth, “Teeth. Sharp teeth.”

“You like guys with sharp teeth?”

“Love ‘em.”

Denji swallows harshly, shakily pointing to the next bullet point, “What’s that mean?”

農民を尊重する.

You press ever closer towards Denji, leaning your chin on his shoulder, “‘Respects farmers.’”

“I respect farmers…” he mutters dumbly, “I love their work.”

“I know you do.”

Denji blinks down at you, his thick lashes beating on his rosying cheeks and spiky teeth punching back into his lip. His breaths are short and hard, red overtaking his cheeks like a flustered little Kewpie doll. So precious and sweet, ready to crack beneath your palms. He’d trust you wholly, and you know you’d treat him well. He knows, too. You’re nice.

You laugh at his stunned face, posture rigid. The sudden shock making his shoulder jab up into your jaw uncomfortably -- you find it terribly charming.

“I like girls…” Denji sighs out in a tremble, eyes trailing down your face, “I like girls with soft lips.”

“Do you?” you inch closer, by now long forgetting the presence of your friends and colleagues in the apartment. Teasing is fun, but teasing Denji is just the best.

“Mhm.”

After an awkward pause, Denji follows the quiet hum with,

“Can I… kiss you?”

You nod against his shoulder, chin digging down into the bone. Denji stretches his neck to kiss you -- and your lips are even softer and more sugary than he imagined. His hands scratch out to cradle you to himself, continuously parched no matter how much of you he has to drink in. Warm hands and arms around you, clinging and wrapping and pulling. Wincing from the prickle of Denji’s teeth against your lip, you cinch a hand around the chest of his shirt and wrench it towards you -- pulling Denji closer along with it.

“You like me?” he utters against your lips.

Pulling back, you flip around your paper and sear your index nail around a very recognizable word, “My ideal partner. I was a little scared to share at first…”

Denji almost jumps right off the stool, ready to coop you in his arms and swing you around fully in front of his roommates and coworkers. Instead he laughs in full disbelief to himself, reaching down to squeeze your other hand in both of his. You’re briefly concerned he’s cutting off blood flow before the joy of his pure excitement overtakes that concern.

DENJI is big and plain over the very top of the page.

“What changed your mind?”

You snicker right into his ear and reach out to flip over Denji’s paper, torn at the top, “I could tell you felt the same, pretty boy.”

Denji squeezes your hand even tighter, giggling almost feverishly before he’s sliding off the stool, “Wanna go make out in my room?”

“Thanks for having the decency to move now,” an unpleasant sneer breaks Denji’s cloudy dream-turned-reality.

“Fuck you,” Denji hisses at Aki.

“I think it’s cute!” Himeno pushes at the back of Aki’s head, “Focus on yourself!”

You let Denji drag you from the kitchen island and towards his (and Power’s, not that she’ll be allowed in for the next however many hours) room.

“So, you really think ‘m pretty?” Denji’s voice teeters just on the edge of snarky, but his skittish, red frame speaks louder.

“Prettiest,” you coo, kissing his cheek.

The affection has him seconds away from blurting out an awkward, ill-timed: You’re really my dream girl.

#denji x reader #denji fluff #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #denji x you #denji x fem reader

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gaysindistress · 1 year ago

Text

Limits of a Fae Heart - one

All ive been reading is ACOTAR fics for the last 9 days so here’s a lil something for our shadow baby boy Az. two | three | four | five | six

“We’ll take it from here,” a rich smoky voice calls from behind me. The two sentinels shuffles around, nervous with this new arrival and both reach for the swords strapped to their hips. I look over my shoulder to see a shadowy figure emerging from the treeline. From this distance, all I can tell is that it’s a towering form blurred by a vaporous mist that blends in with the darkness around us. A shiver pricks up my spine at the sight of the mist as memories of the King of Hybern’s men chasing me come flooding back. They never spoke to me, only jeering and laughing, so I know that this figure isn’t one of them but the fear still finds a home in my stomach.

My hand itches to reach for the black blade I used to wear but there’s nothing. I have no weapons and am only clothed in a thin white nightgown, making me feel vulnerable in a way that I detest. All I have is my body language and my words so I straighten my back and square my shoulders before turning to face the figure.

“Stop where you are. You are not welcome here,” the taller sentinel shouts to the shadowy figure and it stills a few feet from me.

I can’t see much without the sun but the lightning illuminates enough for me. The first thing I see is the small smirk that plays on parted pink lips, revealing straight white teeth.

“I am welcome anywhere that I please,” that stupidly smooth voice response and my eyes tear away from the lips to meet a pair of stunning hazel eyes that I will never forget. From beneath long lashes, the most soul piercing eyes make me their sole focus. In them green outer rings fade into golden brown pools that reminds me of the trees back home. Something about them warms the freeze that’s set into my body while also setting off every alarm bell inside of my head.

“Leave before we escort you back to your court of nightmares,” the sentinel shouts again but neither the figure nor I acknowledge her.

The figure takes another step towards me so I can see more of him as the sky streaks with more flashes of lightening. My eyes fall to the ground from the bright light and they land on his feet. Black leather boots cling to his legs while leathery scales act as a second skin and protect every inch of his body. He’s wearing Illyrian fighting leathers.

The recognition of my people’s armor stings worse than it did when I was cut down.

His skin is a golden tan, only furthering my suspicion that he’s Illyrian but the massive wings that sprout from his back are the true indicator. I pry my eyes from them and continue to take in every detail as I reach his face. Short dark hair falls over his forehead and curls over his ears as the sharpness of his face becomes too perfect. He is tall and sculpted, honed muscles seem to make up his entire body. Everything about him is too perfect, too sculptured, too attractive. The hair on the back of my neck stands on high alert and I find myself backing away from him without realizing.

The sentinel voice breaks my trance, “Shadowsinger, leave at once.”

His smirk turns into a devastatingly beautiful smile at the mention of his name as his eyes shift over to the men but they find me again within seconds.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Y/N,” he says to me and me alone. Once again a hand is offered to me but this time I want to take it and I almost would have if someone hadn’t seized me from behind. I let out a shout, albeit cracked from being silent so long and struggle against the strong arms that encircle me.

“Quiet, we’re helping you,” a low male voice whispers into my ear.

“Don’t move,” he mutters to me and pulls me further away as the sentinels frantically look between the two Illyrian males and me.

“Hold onto me,” he instructs as he flares his wings out and spins me so we’re chest to chest. This male has the same hazel eyes and tan skin as the other but there’s a roughness to him. He winks at me, no doubt teasing me for staring and then he shoots up into the sky. He takes us high above the island that I must have been buried on and only stops to hover when we are a safe distance away. Below us, the sentinels and the other male are but specks of light and dark.

A flash of lightening strikes close to us and the male holding me curses under his breath. He mutters an apology to me before we’re encased in a cloud of black mist and my knees meet cold stone floors. I tumble out of his arms, gasping for air and gagging all at once. His muffled chuckle makes me more angry than I am sick and I clamor to my feet. Searching for something to use as a weapon, I find a vase on a nearby table and hurdle it at him. He ducks and the other male appears behind him, subsequently being hit with the vase. He’s able to cover his face and it shatters on his forearms, sending shards of clay everywhere.

A third male voice calls out, “I specifically remember telling you to not piss her off, Cassian.”

A shudder races across my body at the sound of his voice. The High Lord of the Night Court comes to stand beside the rough male, Cassian while the other, the one the sentinels called the Shadowsinger brushes off hits of clay.

“I didn’t do anything,” Cassian says with his hands held up in defense and shakes his head. “We willowed here and she probably got sick, hence throwing the vase.”

The High Lord arches a dark brow and turns to the other male, “what about you, Azriel?”

Azriel.

The Shadowsinger. He is name is Azriel.

Now I can see that the black vapor around him are really shadows, twisting and moving around his body. They reach towards me as a hum begins to vibrate in deep inside the void of my chest. Long ago a similar hum lived there but the male it was tied to had done terrible things and destroyed it. The golden warmth that once filled me was stolen when he betrayed me and left me to bleed out on that island.

I narrow my eyes at the shadows and Azriel sucks in a sharp breath, causing them to flinch away. Rhysand glances between us, obviously sensing the internal conflict happening between us and opens his mouth to speak.

“You should’ve left me alone,” I hiss before he can say anything.

Azriel stiffens and Cassian steps closer to him. Rhysand clears his throat and speaks, “we need your help.”

“Whatever trivial matter you’ve gotten yourself tangled in isn’t any of my concern. You should’ve left me alone on that island.”

“You were stuck between…” Rhysand tries again but I interpret him.

“I may have been stuck between this life and the next but at least I wouldn’t have been mates with yet another male who just wants to use me.”

Azriel blinks slowly at me and his jaw tightens at my words. Cassian and Rhysand both draw in sharp breaths. They shoot confused glances to each other before Cassian grabs ahold of Azriel and attempts to drag him away.

Rhysand steps towards me, placing himself between me and his brothers. His voice is quiet and softer than I expected as he asks, “You have a second mate?”

I don’t answer but my fleeting glance to the silent male behind him is enough.

“Impossible,” he mumbles under his breath with a shake of his head. His piercing violet eyes find mine, searching my hallow ones. “That’s impossible.”

#azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #azriel spymaster #spymaster #limits of a fae heart az x reader

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aquaquadrant · 7 months ago

Note

grbbrgrr. scurries toward you. I offer thee pathbubs fluff, fresh from my mind fortress.

Patho. falling asleep with dbubs’s clock to his ear.

gives you a cupcake skitters away

(offering received, considered, and accepted. however, i have substituted your fluff for angst. i hope this is satisfactory.)

~*~

"watch this!" dbubs shouts, before leaping off the cliff into the water below.

<player>dat -7063fdce-39ac-4a12-d836-a990c45b2bb0

patho leans back just enough to avoid being splashed. the water in this jungle lagoon is clear and blue, brighter than most bodies of water he comes across. tall, thick trees surround them on all sides, creating a natural barrier from the mobs of the jungle. it’s a beautiful place, and one of his favorites to visit when he’s here.

155 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 17/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 28 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -12,683.952 / 39.11563 / 253,589.263 block: -12,683 39 253,589 chunk: -791 15 7,849 facing: south (towards positive z)(1.5/5) client light: 6 (0 sky, 6 block) biome: error:crimson jungle local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 16/247 + 0/8

dbubs surfaces with a gasp, his wet bangs plastered to his forehead. “did you see that?” he crows. “that was- i must’ve done a- a complete 360 spin about five- no, ten times! world record, first try!”

“oh, yeah,” patho agrees with a smile he doesn’t feel. “yeah, that was very impressive.”

they’re almost out of time.

patho has known this since he woke to find a little weeping vine attempting to burrow into his arm, right at the seam where flesh meets metal. this is an event that only happens when he’s overstayed his welcome, and the jungle can no longer tolerate his presence without trying to claim him. that vine was easily removed, putting off the inevitable for a few more days. but he can’t ignore the sudden restlessness that overtakes him now, a buzzing in his very core that fills his mind with static and his limbs- organic and mechanical alike- with the powerful urge to move.

it’s hard to explain, his need to wander. it’s like every moment he’s not traveling, he can almost feel the infinite borders of hels expanding, spreading into new horizons, and the thought of staying put is unbearable. it doesn’t matter if he actually goes beyond the loaded chunks or not- a feat that’d take years, to be sure. just getting on the move again is enough to quiet the itch.

(it didn’t use to be this way. it didn’t start until after he built his communicator into his new arm, fusing himself with it- but he’ll never admit this, never confront the possibility that it might’ve been a mistake. it’s easier just to leave.)

besides, he still enjoys the various business he gets up to with the other denizens of hels. his services as a redstoner and a data analyst are in high demand, and he has a reputation to uphold. he can’t throw all that away to stay here. that just wouldn’t make sense. it wouldn’t be logical.

patho reaches for the clock at his hip. it was the first gift dbubs gave him. early into patho’s first stay, dbubs decided he needed a clock of his own, so he’d always know when it was time for them to sleep. based on its position, nightfall is only a couple hours away.

“well, c’mon!” dbubs pesters him, his haughty voice echoing off the smooth walls of the cliffside. “what’re you- what, are ya scared of a lil water? huh? just- you just try and beat my record, you- i bet you can’t!”

“alright, alright,” patho chuckles, shrugging his jacket off. “you asked for it…”

won’t be long, now.

~*~

that night, patho leaves his eye on.

dbubs, curled beside him, notices this immediately, and deep down, he knows what it means. it took a while- how long, he isn’t sure- for patho to grow comfortable enough to turn his cybernetic eye off while they slept. but ever since then, he does it every night… up until the last night. every last night, like clockwork.

already, dbubs can feel the familiar weight of sleep trying to take him. caught in the jungle’s day-night cycle, he has little choice in the matter; he sleeps every night without fail. but he fights it anyway, biting back a yawn.

“tomorrow,” dbubs starts quietly, “uh, do you wanna- i- i had this idea for a new build, a perfect build, of course, and i’m gonna need a- a super smelter, for- uh, for all the terracotta-“

“dbubs.” that solitary red eye gazes out from the dark. “you know i’m not made for staying.”

dbubs shies away from the words like an insect from sudden light. “and- and so i was thinking,” he continues, as if patho hadn’t spoken, “we could do a uh, you know, maybe a bamboo farm? for the- for the fuel? i- my perfect redstone prowess could make this easy- easily, of course, but um�� i uh- euugh, you- you know they always say, sure enough, that two brains- uh, two geniuses, genii, are better’n one.”

“yeah?” patho breathes a soft, empty laugh. “is that what they say?”

“and- well, yes! yes, of course!” darkness creeps in from the edges of dbubs’s vision; he clings tighter to patho. “and… and uh… n’you can learn all ‘bout my new… new dbubs redstone clock… pat- patented design, a‘course…”

“of course.” patho’s lips brush across his forehead. “better get some rest, then.”

dbubs struggles to keep his eyes open, but it’s as if his lashes are lined with iron. he presses his face in the crook of patho’s neck, breathing him in, that redstone-and-gunpowder scent; bitter and metallic.

“don’t,” he murmurs, consciousness escaping him quickly. “please…?”

“night, dbubs.”

the jungle sleeps.

~*~

far from the jungle, patho lays down in a shallow cave carved from netherrack.

168 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 15/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 27 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -11, 987.629 / 30.91778 / 252,896.204 block: -11,987 30 252,896 chunk: -780 15 7,835 facing: east (towards positive x)(1.5/5) client light: 2 (0 sky, 2 block) biome: error:nether waste local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 5/247 + 0/8

he’s put enough distance between himself and the jungle that he’s confident he can sleep for a few hours before setting off again. the surrounding biome is one he’s well familiar with; barren and empty. with a wall put up to shelter him from mobs, he’s finally safe enough to turn his eye off.

that won’t be the case anymore, once he gets closer to the more populated chunks. the risk of being caught with one eye nonfunctional is too high. it’s just something he has to deal with.

(of course, he could’ve built a cybernetic replacement that simply functioned like the eye he lost, but he thought himself clever and built in a data processor to provide him with valuable information, giving him an advantage over anyone else in his field. so this is the price he pays for it.)

he reaches for his clock. there’s only a couple hours left before the sun will rise, unseen beyond the bedrock ceiling, and dbubs will wake to an empty bed.

but for now, patho tucks the clock to his ear and closes his eyes, letting the steadfast ticking finally lull him to sleep.

~*~

#hermitcraft #hels to pay au #HTP fic #helsmits #pathbubs #my writing

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katsu28 · 2 years ago

Text

to be alone together

pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

summary: steve has to work on valentine’s day, but maybe it’s not as bad as he thought it would be

warnings: none, 1.8k

a/n: u know i had to do a lil something for my steve girlies too <3 went for a more steve centric pov bc he is the definition of pining simp

navigation

(gif credits to @harringtondaily)

“Kinda sucks that you gotta work tonight.” Robin’s voice through the phone pressed to Steve’s ear was staticky, but still provided a good distraction from the empty video store around him.

It was Valentine’s Day and Steve had been at Family Video since opening, watching couple after couple come in to pretty much clear the romcom shelves, and yeah, he was a little bummed about it, but there was no point moping around about it any longer than he already had been.

“It’s whatever, honestly. Not like I had any plans to begin with.” He sighed, shifting the receiver so it was wedged between his cheek and shoulder as his fingers drifted down to fiddle with the pen on the counter absentmindedly.

“Steve, that’s sad.” Robin replied. Steve wrinkled his nose, a slightly offended noise escaping the back of his throat. “No! I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that you should be out and about, having a good time.”

“You know what’s actually sad? You talking to me instead of paying attention to your date.” He shot back, only half serious. “Where’s Nance?”

“Oh she’s right here. Say hi, Nance.”

Steve heard a faint ‘hi Steve’ in the background and he returned the greeting. “What are you guys doing tonight?”

“She made this really fancy pasta thing for dinner, we’re just waiting on the chicken to finish in the oven and I thought I’d see what was going on with you.” Robin sounded casual, but he knew this was her way of checking up on him since he was the only one on shift all day and she knew how he felt about today.

“Rob, I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you, but I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Why don’t you just close up early, come join us for dinner? We have more than enough food.”

“You’re seriously inviting me to crash your romantic dinner date with your girlfriend?” He snorted, rolling his eyes playfully. “What does Nancy think of that?”

There was some shuffling on the other end, a bout of silence, then Robin was back on the line. “She’s giving me a weird look, nevermind. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t my best idea.”

“I love you both, but you know I can’t.”

The bell above the door jingled softly, drawing Steve’s attention away from his phone call and to whoever just walked in.

Shit. It was you.

You were dressed like you were supposed to be on your date, not here, hair and makeup done up all pretty, floaty dress in his favorite color swishing around your knees as you made your way into the store. It made him wonder if you chose that color on purpose, but he knew that you didn’t. You couldn’t have known you’d be seeing him tonight. Wishful thinking on his end though.

“Rob, I gotta go,” He blurted, straightening up behind the counter.

“Wait, what—”

“I gotta go, she’s—someone’s here, I gotta help her.”

“She? Oh my god, wait! Is it—”

“Have a nice date, tell Nance I said bye!” With that, Steve hung up, slamming the receiver onto the base with enough force to send it skittering a few inches. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Steve!” Your previously downturned lips lifted into a smile, one that had Steve’s heart thudding a little faster in his chest. It always did. “I didn’t know you were working tonight.”

See, you were also part of the reason he decided to take the extra shift today, but through no fault of your own. You’d mentioned earlier in the week while you were hanging out with him and Robin that someone had asked you out for tonight, and Steve didn’t really know how to feel about it.

You were friends, but had Steve been harboring a crush on you since pretty much the first day you met? Yes.

Did he feel an itching sense of jealousy that you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him? Also yes.

Would he do anything about it? Probably not.

Okay, so maybe he knew exactly how he felt about it. Hell, he’d picked up an extra shift to distract himself from it.

“Yeah, I got called in last minute." A lie. "Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” A casual, not at all hoping that it crashed and burned question. That would be mean. (But also a little gratifying for him.)

You chuckled, a tad bitter as you leaned forward, propping your elbows on the counter, the action sending a whiff of your perfume his way. Steve’s knees almost gave out. “Supposed to, yeah. But the guy never showed up.”

Steve had to fight a noise of surprise. What kind of dumbass would skip out on a date with you? “Really? That’s—that sucks, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. Wasn’t really looking forward to it anyways.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t really know him that well, honestly. He was a friend of a friend, asked me out in front of a bunch of people, and I didn’t really wanna turn him down and make it awkward.”

“You’re way too nice, Y/N. And he’s an idiot for standing you up.”

“Thanks, Steve.” You smiled warmly at him, patting his hand. Steve had to pretend his pulse wasn’t racing right now. “What about you? Why’re you here and not out with anyone?”

“I, uh—I didn’t really feel like going out tonight. Don’t think I’d be a very good date anyways.”

“Oh, you’re just being modest. What girl wouldn’t wanna spend Valentine’s Day with Steve Harrington?”

The one girl he wanted to spend this day with, he thought. You.

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered.

“Well then they’re idiots too.”

A small smile quirked his lips. “Thanks.”

“Hey, I just came to pick up some movies and spend the rest of my night shoveling down ice cream, but since we’re both here now and alone, d’you wanna…be alone together? Grab a bite to eat or do something?”

Steve’s shoulders slumped defeatedly. “I’d love to, but I—I can’t. I gotta stay here til the end of my shift, Keith’s been on my ass about taking off early and as much as I hate the guy, I don’t wanna get fired.”

“Oh, okay. Don’t worry about it, I’m, uh—it’s cool.” Was he hallucinating, or did you look disappointed?

“Would you maybe wanna, I dunno, stay here? We can watch whatever you want and I know where Robin keeps her work snack stash. That way we can be alone together and I don’t get chewed out again?” Steve blurted hopefully. He was honestly expecting you to say no. Why would you wanna spend the rest of your already shitty night with him in a dingy video store? But then your face split into the biggest smile and you nodded, rocking forward on the balls of your feet earnestly. “Go pick something out, I’ll grab the snacks.”

You scurried off to browse the near bare shelves, leaving Steve shaking his head amusedly in your wake as he watched you skim the tapes with a look of utmost concentration. He slipped into the back room to grab Robin’s last unopened bag of chips, making a mental note to buy more before tomorrow’s shift before returning to the video area.

He skimmed the store, spotting you in the romcom section, and when he made his way over, you were contemplating the last two tapes on the shelf.

You beamed at him upon spotting him. “Pretty in Pink or Sixteen Candles?”

“Am I allowed to say neither?”

“You said whatever I want, Steve.” You said pointedly, propping your hands on your hips.

“I did, didn’t I?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. You let out a hum of pleasure, sliding your chosen movie off the shelf and wandering towards the TV in the corner. Steve hurried after you quickly, plucking the tape from between your fingertips and running away, not unlike a child would.

“Steve!” You huffed, whirling on your heel. He grinned mischievously at you, waving it in the air like a taunt. You caught up with him within seconds, lunging for the tape that he held up above his head and away from your outstretched hand. Your body was pressed against his as you reached for it, as you leaned against him in a fruitless attempt to overpower him. “Steve, gimme the tape!”

“No!” He laughed, but that laughter very soon trickled off as soon as he realized your proximity. You were so close, he could see the color of your eyes clear as day, looking right back at him. You’d fallen quiet too, as if you’d come to the same realization.

You were nose to nose, faces a hair’s breadth away from each other, the stolen tape in Steve’s hands long forgotten. Every fiber in his body was telling him to pull away, because the longer he stayed here the weirder it would be when he finally did manage to retreat, but no matter how hard he willed himself to move, he couldn’t. Instead, his eyes flicked down to your lips. Your breath hitched almost imperceptibly.

“Steve?” You whispered, gaze darting around his own face.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Steve dropped the tape immediately, closing the gap between you and pressing his lips against yours. His hands came up to cup your face, holding you firm but kissing you soft, like he was preparing himself to pull away if you did. But from the way you were returning his kiss, how your hands clutched at the front of his vest to keep him this close, it didn’t feel like you’d be pulling away anytime soon, and that spurred him on even more.

One hand slid down to settle at your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss just a little bit.

Steve’s lips felt tingly when he pulled away, tasted of your cherry lip gloss when his tongue darted out to lick them. He was sure to have a little bit on his mouth now, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Not by a long shot. Cherry might’ve just become his new favorite flavor.

“I really like you.” He breathed, chest heaving against yours. Your lips curved into a soft smile—the same smile that nearly sent Steve’s brain short circuiting every time it was aimed his way.

“After that kiss, I’d sure hope so,” You replied, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt as best you could. “I like you too, just so you know. Part of the reason I was so okay with my date ditching me. He wasn’t you.”

Steve could only beam at you, going in for another kiss. In his excitement, he missed his mark, hitting the corner of your mouth instead, but he didn’t care. The girl he wanted all along actually liked him back, and it only took one failed date and an extra shift to find out.

Maybe working on Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fic #stranger things #joe keery #if u saw me say goodnight earlier don't look at me #what is it with me and posting when i should be sleeping #is anyone awake #does anyone even read tags anymore tho #anyways if you've gotten this far hi thank u for reading i love u #MWAH #ok im actually going to bed now #goodnight <3 #happy valentine's day besties

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elusivecagedmockingbird · 10 months ago

Text

Play It As It Lays

[taehyung x reader] [1.5k smut: mirror sex, creampie, unprotected sex, virgin kink??, really just porn with a lil bit of plot; Taehyung is a famous Cellist who was hired to tutor OC.

Just a self-indulgent fic.

People said to never meet your heroes.

You'll be let down, they say.

But you would beg to differ.

And beg, you do.

With your bodies sitting naked on the couch, Taehyung has you facing the mirror and the sight of your petite frame slotted between his bulging naked thighs shoots up your arousal. Your perfectly intertwined limbs could inspire a whole series of shunga artwork.

Calloused hands grip each of your knees and push them wider apart before a hand returns to cup your dripping sex.

"Please," you whine. The words that fell from your swollen lips were almost incomprehensible because of how breathy and timid it sounded.

But that was just one of Kim Taehyung's effect.

The man lives up to his reputation in the Classical music industry—charisma just as alluring as people described and his presence calls for attention, not because he, himself, demands it, rather there is something lingering in his aura that just lures and pulls you into him. And when he looks at you, it's a mixed feeling of intimidation and desire to keep his eyes on you.

And to you, it makes you want to defy him. You itch to see if you can crack that calm and stoic demeanor of his.

Taehyung only hums in response to your plea and you feel his chest rumble on your back. It's close to an hour and yet all he did with his finger was tease you. Everything he has done was all build-up, never the climax.

"You're so delicate." His lips graze your ear as he whispers to you. His body is so close, you hear the wet smacking of his tongue inside his mouth as he speaks. He dips his fingers inside your pussy as he presses his thumb on your nub, leaving you shuddering in pleasure. "And so sensitive. My pretty virgin," he tsks. "You're making a mess, darling."

You mumble out a half-hearted apology to which he snorts at. You struggle to keep your tears at bay. Frustration and defeat are obviously written on your face. If only you knew how to touch yourself, you would've done the job yourself. But no. You can play with yourself all you want, but you've never experienced an orgasm. And none of what Taehyung does to your body now matches the pleasure when you touch yourself.

And so, you remain at his mercy.

It was torture to be teased, but the way Taehyung's arm muscle clenches and your body twitches has your attention stuck to the mirror. It was as if his hand was a bow and your body held the strings that create the most beautiful melodies.

His right hand pushes in and out of you in timed intervals and his left hand grips your neck, arms across your body to hold you close to his. It was oh-so-intimate.

But of course, this was also a way for Taehyung to restrain you.

"Take it," he lectured when your body thrashed around from sensitivity. "The pleasure is tenfold if you endure it. Just like playing the cello—a sublime piece is achieved from laborious and seemingly endless revisions. So, take it."

The growing warmth between you has you both sweating—the smell of sex in the air grows potent by the minute, pushing you further into your shared haze.

You don't mind that all Taehyung does is play with your body. He can do whatever he wants to you for all you care. But you also have this feral need to learn about his body—play with his cock and grip it as tight as you hold your instrument in place between your thighs. You want to hear the sounds he makes as you play with his body. He has been hearing you chant his name with moans and sighs in different pitches; it's his turn to sing.

You focus on Taehyung's hand disappearing and reappearing from your cunt. The velvet couch that carries your bodies is vandalized with your slick and his precum. His hands are truly just as skilled in playing the cello as it is in flitting around your body. You can almost taste it again—your sweet peak.

But you can't come like this. Not yet.

Your hand halts Taehyung's movement, tongue darting to wet your lips, "S-stop," you stutter. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, one eyebrow raising in question. And so, with your senses still muffled with lust, you try your best to answer clearly, "Wanna cum on your cock, sir.”

Your legs wobbled as you changed positions—you're now kneeling on the floor with his thick dick right on your face. You gulp at Taehyung's size but also swallow the pooling drool in your mouth.

You ought to thank your parents for hiring Taehyung to give you private lessons. Albeit this isn't the lesson they had in mind, you personally think this is more… beneficial for you.

Without wasting another second, your hand grips his base to erect his cock and you run your warm tongue from his balls to his slit. The man above you throws his head back as air is expelled from his pretty lips. He leans his body backward, arms propping him up and he sets his eyes on you. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you?"

You only respond with a smirk; smug eyes refusing to look away as you make a big show of sucking his tip like it’s the sweetest lollipop.

You're halfway there, you encourage yourself. You want to see the moment you break him.

Mimicking a move you watched on porn, you wet your hands with your slick before returning your hold on Taehyung's dick. With one hand stroking him up and down, your other hand caresses his balls within your palms like two delicate marbles.

Taehyung curses. You were sin incarnated.

Determined to get more from him, you push your head closer to his crotch, deep-throating his cock.

Unexpected and unprepared, Taehyung makes a guttural wail; his arm shoots up to hold you by your hair and his body reflexively sits up and pushes his cock at another deep angle inside your mouth which pulls another moan from the man.

You fight the urge to gag, and your eyes start to flood with tears. You could only claw at Taehyung's thighs.

Taehyung was quick to gather his wits and then chuckled at your state. His hand on your hair moves to cup your face before smudging your mascara as he wipes your tears before they fall.

"Come up," he instructs as he pulls his cock from your mouth. A plop is heard, and a string of your saliva mixed with his precum lingers from your lips. Taehyung's hands take control of your hips—his bruising hold guides you to sink down to his cock until you take all of him, pulling a pained moan from you.

Taehyung is a tight fit, and you fight through the initial discomfort as you move your hips. You teeter between the stinging stretch and warm addicting pleasure.

With a satisfied groan, Taehyung gently guides your head to level your sight with the full-length mirror and holds you in place. "Take a look at yourself. You look as heavenly as you sound," his voice in your ear is so soft and saccharine, you believe him. "And see how well you take me like a good girl," he praises, the tone switching to a little bit strained as your pussy clenches—the pain morphing to lust and desire. His hand goes back to your hips to help you ride his cock. The minimal movement gives you both pleasurable tugs, you can't help but moan.

With his thighs now caged between your own, you momentarily bend down to kiss his knees. Your action has him throwing his head back once again. But his eyes trail down to your curved spine all the way down to your ass perched on his hips.

Deciding that you've adjusted to his cock, Taehyung bounces your hips on his cock. The sight of your arousal creaming around his crotch has him salivating. As much as he wants to lick you clean, he badly needs a release. It's a miracle he lasted almost more than an hour.

You plant your feet on the ground and start moving at your own pace. Each slam of your ass on his thighs reverberated in the room as if cheering you on as you bounced faster and harder on his cock.

A contrast of warmth and shivers washed over your body as Taehyung laid open-mouth kisses on your back. As he reaches your neck, he sucks on the soft flesh to claim you, mark you—so you remember this night which will be the first of many. He promises.

You grab and tug at his hair to pull him toward your puckered lips and he obliges. The echoing sound in the room is no longer just your skin slapping but the smacking sound of your lips as you breathe each other in.

"Sir-r, I-I’m close," you stutter out between kisses amidst overwhelming pleasure. Taehyung meets your thrusts halfway. And as your pace increases, so does the frequency of the moans of the man behind you.

With a powered thrust, your body trembles as you climax. Taehyung follows not long after—your pussy spasming around his dick has him shooting up his cum inside you as he wraps you in his arms.

People who warned you to never meet your heroes, clearly never had the privilege of meeting Kim Taehyung.

#taehyung fic #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #bts smut #bangtanwritershq #bts fic #kim taehyung #bts v #taehyung x y/n #bts v x reader #taehyung smut #bts taehyung #smut fanfiction #bts fanfic

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funkin-news · 10 hours ago

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ninjamuffin newgrounds post!

tl;dr

fuck ads!! use adblocker whenever you can!!

the crew tries to make fnf as ad-free as possible, not just the game but where you download it- it's why it's on itch/newgrounds and not anywhere that offers ad revenue

that being said, fnf mobile will likely have a free version which... will have ads. they will try not to make the ads too obnoxious

(there will be an ad-free paid version too!)

extra note from me, not the post: if you're an android user you totally shouldn't use youtube revanced and purpletv or anything for mobile youtube and twitch adblockers. it would be such a hindrance to the advertisers. ha ha

full post copied below ⬇️

greetings and merry xmas newgrounds

on my brain for a very long time has been advertisements. Something about ads that stick in my brain ever since I came across this little thing from Lichess.

In due time, unfortunately this post will become a bit hypocritical, as we will eventually publish FNF onto mobile, and that will very likely have a free ad supported version. Hopefully that doesn't undermine my thoughts too much, however FNF is more than just me and my brain! Not everything I say goes in terms of FNF decisions! So with all that being said, let me begin shouting about everything I hate about ads.

I use adblocker on everything, and you should too. UBlock Origin has been my reliable go to. Online ads are especially an insidious breed. I'll try not to be some tinfoil hat, but I do often wonder what the internet would look like if the online ad model *wasn't* fruitful back in the early days of the internet. Would Facebook, Google, etc. have an arms race to the bottom to get infinite amounts of data on every single person ever? Would social media algorithms optimize for a different experience other than *spend as much time as possible on our site*? Ads have existed before Youtube, Google, internet though. They exist on TV, on subways and buses, on radio, in newspapers. I think for the most part my deep hatred of ads is for online kind, I do think there can be "irl" ads that I find very unpleasant. Going on a subway or sitting at a bus stop, I think people deserve more dignity from their city public transit than to have something sold to them! I don't think an ad free life should be only reserved for those who can pay for spotify premium, youtube red, etc. I think everyone should be entitled to that DIGNITY.

X (the everything app, formerly Twitter ) has a Premium subscription that costs 10$/month (CAD), and they will only give you *half* the ads in your feed. How generous of them. I will be dramatic, and say that I look at ads with disgust. I hope to think I'm somewhat justified, as most ads look like dogshit, and are pretty worthless.

For a very long time (and currently, as of writing/posting) FNF has been entirely ad free. We did stand up to putting it on other web portals that offer ads and ad payments/rev share, because we do somewhat want to be part of the change we'd like to see in the world. We want to believe in a world where someone can put out a free game on itch/newgrounds, and have the development be supported purely off donations (which FNF was supported by that in the early days / first 6 months of development!). We definitely could have made much MUCH more money if we put FNF on websites that offer ad rev share, but we didn't, and I hope that doesn't fall on deaf ears.

However we do promote our own things from within the game, Kickstarter, merch, etc. I suppose I'm less upset or even thinking about that, I think there's a big difference if we had a lil Kickstarter trailer in-game that played, opposed to having an in-game advertisement for some fuckass mobile game or some cosmetics or somethin. We specifically are still curating what we are putting in the game with our lil links to merch, kickstarter, etc.

We also provide the soundtrack on Spotify / streaming services, which do indeed get money from ads. I think I'm so detatched from Spotify ads and being angry at them, since I've been spotify premium user even at the brokest poorest in my life... i need them album downloads!!! I do think that's an aspect where there is an adfree alternative, which is Bandcmap, where you can listen to the FNF OST as much as you want, and if you pay some coin, you can download it in high quality!

My thoughts on FNF mobile with ads is that they will make me very unhappy and deeply sad. I do sincerely apologize to those of you who would be unable to play FNF on anything other than a mobile device, and aren't able to get the full mobile version, so you become punished with ads. We do hope to not be obnoxious with mobile ads. If you have a computer, even a shitty busted one that runs slow, I personally hope you end up compiling the mobile version yourself to get past ads. The thought of that lets me rest easier just a little bit. The FNF will be proudly open source forever.

There will also be a paid version of FNF mobile, that will have no ads. Pay for that one if you please.

#fnf #friday night funkin #fridaynightfunkin #og funkin news

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mappingthesky · 2 months ago

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in honor of halloween, enjoy a lil sneak peak at the halloween segment of my upcoming college au ::)

It’s the weekend after midterms, and they’re on the way home from a Halloween party.

Jane has flimsy angel wings over a barely passable excuse for a white dress, and a feathered headband bobbles above her hair. Nymphia’s got on this little black catsuit with a tail that Jane keeps tugging on. She could’ve been more creative with this costume, but neither of them had really wanted to go in the first place.

It was a last minute decision on Nymphia’s part. Jane had agreed, because Jane always agrees with Nymphia. It’s as simple as that.

“Did you have fun?” Nymphia asks. She’s lined her eyes with these little black crystals that are starting to itch, and her cat-eared headband is giving her a headache, but Nymphia doesn’t care. She’s got Jane’s hand clasped in hers. Nothing else matters.

“Not with them,” Jane says, swinging Nymphia’s hand as they walk.

She’s talking about the group of girls who they hang out with sometimes, the ones who want them to take shots and try to pry their secrets away from them, who shriek when some shitty pop song comes on and try to persuade them to dance, an offer that Jane always scoffs at. It’s not the girls’ fault. There’s no room for anyone else between Jane and Nymphia.

“I had fun with you,” Jane smiles.

“Yeah,” Nymphia says. “You were my favorite part.”

Jane is always her favorite part. Years from now she won’t remember losing at beer-pong to a sorority girl who took the game a bit too seriously, or the guy who’d thrown a jack-o-lantern off the front porch, or the Soundcloud rapper who’d tortured the entirety of the party with his own music for half an hour. Those memories will fade into forgotten oblivion, but she’ll remember these meaningless little moments forever: her and Jane tucked into a corner, laughing at all of it. Jane and Nymphia giving fake names to anyone who tries to chat them up. Some guy asking why he can’t steal Nymphia away for a few minutes, Jane answering because she’s mine. Nymphia has never liked the sound of something quite as much as she likes the sound of that.

“We’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to this campus,” Jane declares, and Nymphia wholeheartedly agrees. She pities anyone who isn’t them, anyone who doesn’t get to see the way that Jane glances over, halo bobbing high over her head, and says, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Jane doesn’t need the wings and the halo. She sort of always looks like this to Nymphia.

#literally just a snippet from a longer work that will surely make more sense in context!!! but it happens to be halloween themed so <3 here #happy halloween bbs ::)#i miss writing for u all!! feels like forever since i’ve shared words!!!#so many good things on the way i promise u :3 #me posting this 6 minutes before it is officially november 1st (in my time zone) is crazy #she writes #planymphia

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daydream-cement · 2 years ago

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Organs in the Wash Ch. 6

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Authors Note: Ruh-ro. BIG THANK U TO @bri-sonat for being my lil beta <3

WARNINGS: kidnapping, mentions of blood, violence

“We have officers waiting by the back alley and there will be two in a disguised car in the front. There is no way he is getting past us. All you need to do is wait up in your apartment. From his letters, he has been keeping tabs on the place.” Adrian explained as you sat in his passenger seat. The car was parked out front of your apartment and you were struggling to pull together the nerve to head up.

“Where is Miranda?” You ask quietly, looking up and down the sidewalk through the driver side window, wondering where she could be.

“Constable Hilmarson will be watching from an observation spot we have set up from across the street. She will be able to keep an eye on you.” Adrian pointed over to an internet cafe which sat on the corner and you were relieved at the idea of Miranda being inside. You wished you could see her beforehand, but from Adrian’s tone, he seemed to be in a rush.

With a deep inhale and exhale, you pull at the door handle and swing the car door wide, stepping from the car onto the street. Your heart was pounding in your ears and the thought of your legs giving out passed through your mind as you circled behind Adrian’s car and stepped up onto the sidewalk. It had been a week since the intruder broke into your apartment and you couldn’t say you were itching to return after such a short passing of time, but the police had put their faith in you, Miranda had put her faith in you, and you didn’t want to disappoint. You just wanted this to be over. Approaching the door to the apartment building, you reach out and grasp the door handle, flexing your fingers around the brass. If Miranda hadn’t known about you coming here, she would be furious.

She will be across the street. She will be across the street. She will be across the street.

You kept repeating the phrase in your head as you willed yourself to open the front door and begin your ascent up the stairs. Had your apartment building always felt this suffocating? With each step a pressure was building in your chest. Surely a panic attack wasn’t far off.

You kept waiting to hear Miranda’s voice from the bottom of the stairs, telling you to come back down so she could take you home. Her voice never called and now you were standing before your apartment door, unsure of what awaited you on the other side. Was he already inside? Did he have cameras waiting to catch you returning home? How long would you have to wait for him and his hunting knife to come and find you? Twisting the door handle, you push open the door.

All you could do now was wait.

-----

“Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?” Miranda came barreling into the makeshift headquarters Adrian had set up in the internet cafe. She was ready to scream and destroy anything in her path to find you.

Miranda had arrived home nearly an hour after you left with Adrian and she completely tore apart her apartment trying to find you. She checked every square inch of her apartment, growing more and more frustrated with each passing minute. Eventually all of her frustrated yelling and commotion drew the attention of Robin, who was feeling extremely guilty for leaving Miranda out of the loop. She had known Adrian was planning on using you for bait, but what she hadn’t expected was the visceral reaction from Miranda. Guilt overcame the smaller woman and she admitted everything to Miranda, trying to keep her calm as she did so, but it was to no avail. Miranda stormed down to the stake-out site with the sole intention of making Adrian pay for even thinking of putting you in danger like this.

Now she towered over him, hands gesturing wildly with each angry word, “Get her out of there now because if you don't, then I will!”

“You better watch yourself, Hilmarson!” Adrian stood and puffed his chest, but there was nothing that could have helped him dominate the argument physically when compared to Miranda’s height.

Miranda snarled, slamming her hand down on the desk to her right, “I better watch myself? This is absolutely fucking ridiculous! I’m going across the street right now and getting her myself!”

She had attempted to walk away from him, but he caught her wrist, “THE HELL YOU WILL! I have the opportunity to trap this son of a bitch and you won’t jeopardize that!”

“You have the opportunity?! Why you selfish, son-of-a-” Jerking her arm away, Miranda clenched her fists repeatedly considering striking her boss before deciding against it.

During this entire fight, Robin had circled the arguing pair to watch the live camera footage of the apartment over another officer’s shoulder. Everyone must have been so distracted by the commotion between the detective and constable to even notice you were no longer sitting on the couch.

Robin gave the constable sitting before her a firm whack on the shoulder, “Where did she go? Check the other rooms! Quickly!”

Miranda was over the constable’s other shoulder in a flash, observing the camera footage diligently to catch a glimpse of your face. That glimpse would never come. As they looked through the camera in the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and living room, there was no sight of you or anyone else in the apartment.

Miranda didn’t need to see any more, she tore from the room, ignoring Robin and Adrian calling after her. She was unconcerned with everything around her, not checking for oncoming traffic as she sprinted across the street. Cars honked and drivers yelled from their windows, but Miranda could care less. Wherever you were, she was going to find you if it was the last thing she did.

Adrian quickly attempted to radio the undercover officers positioned around the apartment and none of them had seen you, or anyone else for that matter, exit the apartment. You had vanished into thin air.

Miranda was skipping steps as she made her way up to your apartment. Her mind was thinking of worst case scenarios, all ending with her never seeing you again. Pulling her gun, Miranda wanted to proceed with caution, but the thought of you alone with a killer made her reckless. She threw open your apartment door, gun at the ready as she began scouring your apartment.

Ducking in and out of each room, Miranda could see no trace of you, let alone any sign of a struggle. The one indicator another human had been there, however, was a short letter.

A letter written entirely in Deseret.

𐐔𐐨𐑉 𐐝𐐮𐐼𐑌𐐨 𐐑𐐲𐑊𐐨𐑅 𐐙𐐬𐑉𐑅,

𐐌 𐐲𐐹𐑉𐐨𐑇𐐨𐐩𐐻 𐐷𐐭 𐐸𐐰𐑌𐐼𐐮𐑍 𐐸𐐲𐑉 𐐬𐑂𐐲𐑉 𐐻𐐭 𐑋𐐨. 𐐆𐐻 𐐲𐑋𐐷𐐭𐑆𐑆 𐑋𐐨 𐐸𐐵 𐐷𐐭 𐑃𐐫𐐻 𐐷𐐭 𐐿𐐳𐐼 𐐻𐑉𐐮𐐿 𐑋𐐨 𐑅𐐬 𐐨𐑆𐐲𐑊𐐨. 𐐜 𐐰𐑌𐑅𐐲𐑉 𐐮𐑆 𐑅𐐬 𐑌𐐨𐑉, 𐐷𐐯𐐻 𐐷𐐭 𐐪𐑉 𐐺𐑊𐐴𐑌𐐼 𐐻𐐭 𐑄 𐐹𐐪𐑅𐐲𐐺𐐮𐑊𐐮𐐻𐐨𐑆. 𐐣𐐯𐑌𐐨 𐐲𐑂 𐑄𐐨𐑆 𐐬𐑊𐐼 𐐺𐐮𐑊𐐼𐐮𐑍𐑆 𐐸𐐬𐑊𐐼 𐑋𐐬𐑉 𐑅𐐨𐐿𐑉𐐮𐐻𐑅 𐑄𐐰𐑌 𐐷𐐭 𐐿𐐰𐑌 𐐨𐑂𐐲𐑌 𐐮𐑋𐐰𐐾𐐮𐑌.

𐐜𐐮𐑅 𐑀𐐩𐑋 𐐲𐑂 𐐿𐐰𐐻 𐐰𐑌𐐼 𐑋𐐰𐐳𐑅 𐐸𐐰𐑆 𐑋𐐨 𐑀𐑉𐐬𐐮𐑍 𐑋𐐬𐑉 𐐰𐑌𐐼 𐑋𐐬𐑉 𐐺𐐬𐑉𐐼 𐐺𐐴 𐑄 𐐼𐐩. 𐐑𐐲𐑉𐐸𐐰𐐹𐑅 𐐌 𐑇𐐳𐐼 𐑋𐐭𐑂 𐐪𐑌 𐐻𐐭 𐐩 𐑌𐐭 𐑅𐐮𐐻𐐨 𐐶𐐯𐑉 𐑄𐐯𐑉 𐐹𐐲𐑊𐐨𐑅 𐑁𐐬𐑉𐑅 𐐿𐐰𐑌 𐐫𐑁𐐲𐑉 𐑋𐐨 𐐩 𐑉𐐩𐐪𐑊 𐐽𐐰𐑊𐐮𐑌𐐾.

𐐔𐐭 𐑌𐐪𐐻 𐐶𐐲𐑉𐐨. 𐐟𐐨 𐐶𐐮𐑊 𐑌𐐪𐐻 𐑅𐐲𐑁𐐲𐑉 𐑊𐐫𐑍... 𐐊𐑉 𐐹𐐲𐑉𐐸𐐰𐐹𐑅 𐑇𐐨 𐐶𐐮𐑊. 𐐌 𐐸𐐰𐑂 𐐶𐐩𐐻𐐼 𐑅𐐬 𐑊𐐫𐑍 𐐻𐐭 𐐺𐑊𐐨𐐼 𐐸𐐲𐑉 𐐵𐐻 𐐰𐑌𐐼 𐐿𐐪𐑉𐑂 𐐸𐐲𐑉 𐐷𐐭𐐹𐐨... 𐐌 𐐸𐐩𐑂𐐲𐑌'𐐻𐐨 𐑋𐐩𐐼 𐐷𐐭𐐹𐐨 𐑋𐐴 𐑋𐐴𐑌𐐼 𐐷𐐯𐐻. 𐐌 𐐶𐐳𐐼 𐑊𐐲𐑂 𐐻𐐭 𐐫𐑁𐐲𐑉 𐐷𐐭 𐐸𐐲𐑉 𐑊𐐬𐐿𐐩𐑇𐐲𐑌 𐐻𐐭 𐐹𐑉𐐲𐑂𐐴𐐼 𐑋𐐴𐑅𐐯𐑊𐑁 𐐶𐐮𐑄 𐑋𐐬𐑉 𐐲𐑂 𐐩 𐐽𐐰𐑊𐐮𐑌𐐾, 𐐺𐐲𐐻 𐐌 𐐺𐐯𐐻 𐐷𐐭 wouldn'𐐻𐐨 𐐨𐑂𐐲𐑌 𐐺𐐨 𐐩𐐺𐐲𐑊 𐐻𐐭 𐐼𐐮𐑅𐐴𐑁𐐲𐑉 𐑄 𐐿𐑊𐐭𐑆 𐐶𐐮𐑄𐐵𐐻 𐐸𐐲𐑉 𐐸𐐯𐑊𐐹.

𐐢𐐲𐑂𐐮𐑍 𐑌𐐩𐐺𐐲𐑉,

𐐞𐐨

A letter Miranda snatched from the countertop to begin translating with the exact book she and you used weeks ago to translate the phrase carved into Maya Wren.

Miranda was struggling to translate the text without you, but she pushed onward, taking notes in her little notebook and sounding out the words as she went. A flurry of police officers moved around her, attempting to assess the scene, but she wasn’t responding to any of their enquiries or comments. She was far too focused on the task at hand. After nearly forty five minutes, Miranda was sure she had an assemblance of a translation.

Dear Sydney Police Force,

I appreciate you handing her over to me. It amuses me how you thought you could trick me so easily. The answer is so near, yet you are blind to the possibilities. Many of these old buildings hold more secrets than you can even imagine.

This game of cat and mouse has me growing more and more bored by the day. Perhaps I should move on to a new city where their police force can offer me a real challenge.

Do not worry. She will not suffer long... Or perhaps she will. I have waited so long to bleed her out and carve her up... I haven't made up my mind yet. I would love to offer you her location to provide myself with more of a challenge, but I bet you wouldn't even be able to decipher the clues without her help.

Loving neighbor,

Miranda read and reread the translation, trying to pick out the clues Z was referring to. She circled the portions she found to be the most relevant: ‘the answer is near’, ‘old buildings hold more secrets’, and ‘loving neighbor’. He had to be in this building or at least one nearby.

Too bad Adrian was too concerned with the phrase, ‘perhaps I should move on to a new city’ to even bother listening to Hilmarson’s theory. From there he spread out Sydney police officers, putting them at all of the major exits of the city.

——-

Miranda slammed her hands down on the wheel of her car repeatedly with Robin in the passenger seat shaking her head. There was no calming Miranda’s rage and Robin had taken her out to the car to keep her from throttling Adrian, “Fuck him! Fuck this! Fuck everything! She is out there ALL ALONE! With a killer! She is in one of these buildings and no one will listen to me!”

“Miranda.”

Miranda wasn’t about to be interrupted by Robin, “No! I’m not done! Everyone always thinks they are so much smarter than me because I am only a constable, but I am PERFECTLY CAPABLE! I’m going to find her damnit, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Miranda!” Robin tried once more.

“Stop trying to interrupt me! I’ll go at this solo if I have to! I don’t-“

“Miranda! I want to help you, but I need you to… calm down so we can get to work.” Robin interjected a little more harshly this time, needing her partner to give her the opportunity to speak. She winced when she used the words ‘calm down’, knowing it was the last thing Miranda wanted to hear. With Miranda now quiet, Robin trod lightly, not looking to be the cause of another outburst, “Now… where do we start?”

——-

“Wakey, wakey, little bird.” A hand gripping your face while lightly shaking your head back and forth woke you from a dead sleep. You hadn’t even opened your eyes yet and your skull was pounding from the pressure of being concious. The entire left side of your face was damp with drying blood from your kidnapper striking you repeatedly with a pipe, you assumed.

The memory if him entering the apartment and overpowering you so suddenly lingered at the forefront of your mind. Where had he even come from? One second you were alone and then he stepped from the hall closet. Had he just been waiting there the entire time? And where the hell were the police officers Adrian promised you?

“Let’s open those eyes and have a little chat, shall we?” That voice was all too familiar and you should have recognized it that night when he tried breaking into your apartment. The serial killer was your landlord.

He dropped your face and your chin fell against your chest. Slowly prying your lids apart, you stare down at his shoes. Your hands were tied behind you to the back of a chair and your legs were tied to the chair’s legs.

He begins his own monologue, recounting the deaths of the other women, just to give you some context for your own upcoming death. “Maya’s death was too easy. All those odd hours she kept? Brought her right over here and I could really take my time with her. And then there was Abbey from upstairs. Remember her? Or did they not tell you it was her lying on that slab in the morgue? And then there is you… You got away from me once because of that big, beast of a woman. Are the both of you dating yet or is this a will they won’t they thing? I guess it’s not like it matters anymore. You know, they say it’s bad practice to kill your tenants, but I’ll get a new batch of ladies soon enough.”

Miranda had told you Maya was the first victim, but no one told you who the second body belonged to. Abbey was the person who interrupted your first kiss with Miranda as she ascended the stairs to her apartment. Had no one connected Abbey to the apartment complex? If you would have known Maya and Abbey had died, then you wouldn’t have been in your apartment the night he tried killing you. Had Miranda hid this from you?

Your lack of response to his silly villain monologue spurred anger inside of him. He grabbed at your hair, twisting it in his fist to make you stare up at him, “You are a terrible conversationalist. Do you know that?”

You weren’t in any position to be openly defiant with him, but you sat there silent and unwavering. He seethed for a moment, but a smile began growing on his face, “Oh… I’m going to enjoy this.”

#miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #top of the lake #gwendoline christie #fanfic #gwen christie #organs in the wash

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tyunkus · 2 years ago

Note

this might be a bit cliche ..but thinkin about how all of them need to jerk off before each show which is one thought in itself except taehyun needs to make someone else cum before every show. so all the makeup nd hair artists have this lil competition between them that he doesn’t know about.

like who got the most orgasms this month? who got caught by another member? what technique did he use on you this time? and when he finds out about it…he just loves it. that y’all are talking about him, making it a lil competition.

so he decides to get in on the fun and he keeps track of how fast he’s made each of you cum. he knows who takes a bit longer, who cums rly quick. and he tries to make it a competition with himself. like the shortest he’s needed to make someone cum is three minutes, twenty two seconds and he tries to beat that every time.

so one day he picks you and, of course, you’re aware of this record and he puts a stopwatch on in a place you can see and you’re trying your best to beat that record so you can rub it in all the other makeup and hair artists’ faces. but he just feels so good that you kinda don’t want it to end.

i’ve always had this lil idea and have always wanted to turn it into a full fic but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ maybe i will someday

HAKJSHDSJDHS!!!!! taehyun who gets off on pleasuring u is so real. something about watching his partner squirm n listening to their pretty gasps and moans, knowing they're all for him, because of him just turns him on so much fuck!!!!! somewhere somehow during his career hes made it a habit to make someone cum before concerts n the itch to make someone feel good always quadruples before he performs.. & to be honest hes always had his eye on you - youre sweet, fun to talk to, always cracking jokes and to be honest for the past month while you fuss over his hair his gaze has been fixed upon you in the mirror and hes just been thinking about how you would look falling apart on his tongue.

and well with the whole "competition" going on, he supposes now is the best time to get his hands on you! just imagine!! you're leaning back against the wall in one of the empty changing rooms backstage, hips lifted n chasing the warmth of taehyuns tongue!!!! taehyun kissing your clit while he runs his hands over the swell of ur ass and rubs circles into your hips with his thumbs! taehyuns tongue dipping in ur folds all warm n soft before flattening out against u, he wants to taste all of u!!!! n then eventually he'll get u so wet that he just dips a finger into you, then two, pumping steadily, moaning so hot against ur cunt - he pulls away after a while then rises wobbily to his feet, fingers still buried in you, but hes using his other hand to prop your hips against him so he can fuck into you deeper. "sorry, baby," he murmurs against your ear. "can't come on my face, as much as i want you to. can't put all your hard work to waste, huh? 's okay. i'll just make you come on my fingers, okay?" and you just nod at him, too fucked out to respond or even remember that hes technically supposed to be getting you off as quickly as possible - what he doesnt tell you is that hes slowly getting addicted to all your moans and reactions and expressions, so don't be surprised if he tries to drag it out a little !!!!!

#taehyun smut #taehyun hard thoughts #taehyun hard hours #txt smut #txt hard hours

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liminalpebble · 1 year ago

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Loki request: Loki and reader getting mani-pedis together.

Hello my dear @eleniblue! Thank you for the prompt. This is wayyyy outside of my usual style, but was a really great challenge so I hope you enjoy it.

CW: No smut, just one f-bomb, I think. Surprisingly wholesome considering what I usually write. But let's say Minors DNI to cover my ass.

Word count: 800 (lil shortie)

Very soft and bisexual Loki x gender neutral reader (just friendship, deeper feels if you squint), soooo fluffy

----

Wrapped Around Your Finger

“NO, Loki...no way,” you said between swigs from your water bottle. You'd been training in the Avengers' gym with him all morning, and now, a sweating, exhausted, hungry mess, you weren't in any mood for your fellow Avenger's antics.

It wasn't fair that what was an intensive, back-breaking regimen prescribed by the Black Widow herself was simply a walk in the park for his Asgardian body...and what a fucking body it was. But, as you had a thousand times before, you pushed the thought away.

“Darling....why not? Be a bit of a hedonist with me. Why must you insist on being so responsible and stoic?”

You gave him a warning glare and replied, “Because you only give me those sad puppy eyes and call me 'darling' when you're about to get me into trouble.”

He came closer to you, towering over you, but grinning that Cheshire cat grin that always disarmed you. He leaned down and purred into your ear with a mischeivous whisper, “Come on. Let's have a bit of fun, eh?”

That was the final straw. You knew you were wrapped around his lovely pale finger, with its shiny black nail.

----

“This...this is new,” you said gingerly, sinking your feet into the warm bath (which admittedly, felt amazing) and slid back into the comfortable leather chair. “I've never had a manicure or pedicure before,” you admitted.

“How could you not! It's so delightfulll,” he said drawing the last word out in a low purr. “Truly, since I've taken up residence on Midgard, this has been one of my favorite discoveries.” He sighed wistfully, eyes wondering around to take in the tastefully decorated high-end salon. “After losing my royal status it scratches a rather delicious itch to have someone waiting on me hand and foot in a luxurious setting.”

You rolled your eyes. “Have you always been such a diva?”

“Well, yes.” he said, without a hint of shame, surprised that you would even ask.

You giggled as the smiling technician began working a tickling pumice stone over the soles of your feet, and Loki chuckled along with you. He reached over and held your hand, meeting your eyes, and saying with surprising sincerity, “It really is good to hear you laugh again.”

Grinning you said, “Well, I have to admit. This is sort of fun, but it feels weird to be...well...waited on. Some of us aren't royalty.”

“Well, for now you can feel like you are. I knew you'd warm up to it,” he said just as two more technicians came over to begin on your hands. The one working on Loki's nails took up a friendly chat with him. He was clearly a regular.

After a bit, he looked thoughtfully back to you. “I wanted to do this for you as a gesture of gratitude. Of all of our colleagues, you've been the only one who listens to me and accepts me willingly, rather than out of begrudging necessity. Dare I say, you rather like being around me?” he said with peaked eyebrows and a bit of fragile hope in his voice.

“I do,” you replied, meeting his eyes. “I like our lunch dates, and how you drag me shopping, or to the movies. You even make training more tolerable. You get me out of my comfort zone.”

He scoffed. “My dear, we both know you can't be left to your own devices when it comes to fashion. You'd probably live in those...what are they called...'sweatpants'? How many novel experiences would you forgo if not for my encouragement?” he said, as he raised his long lovely hand and inspected his now perfectly shellac-ed nails. They gleamed like black patent leather with a layer of twinkling emerald glitter and gold flake; a striking contrast to his porcelain skin.

You gave him a knowing smirk. “You're fishing for compliments, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Indeed I am, poppet,” he confirmed, again, without an ounce of embarrassment.

“Your nails look spectacular,” you said, knowing he wanted more. And he gave you a disappointed look, hungry for more approval.

“And I am very glad to have your friendship. In fact, I might even say you're my best friend. The misfits of the team need to stick together, right?”

“Indeed they do,” he agreed with a regal nod. “And darling...”

“Yes?”

“I am also very fond of you,” he said, those big pale aquamarine eyes glimmered with confusing, exciting implication as they met yours.

Then he pulled back, smiling in faux-innocence, saying lightly, “Now...all finished. To brunch. Shall we?” and offered you his arm.

@queen-paladin @littlespaceyelf @goblingirlsarah @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @sweetsigyn @peaches1958 @muddyorbs @gigglingtiggerv2 @peacefulpianist @coldnique @holdmytesseract@infinitystoner @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @glitchquakee @ladyofthestayingpower @marcotheflychair @sarahscribbles @sailorholly @tripleyeeet @acidcasualties @alexakeyloveloki @icytrickster17 @chokeanddagger @joyful-enchantress

#lovely asks #loki fanfic #loki drabble #sas #lovely mutuals #loki fluff #Mew Mew the mango says hi

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soleilnomoon · 1 year ago

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Sooo.... there's no way I could ever resist submitting a request in one of your events. +_+ Been hurrying to get up from bed for this, I hope I'll still catch a slot :D so excited you're doing this!!!!

Can I please have some mangos and strawberries, with a Mai Tai (Ace)? <3 I'd love to listen to any combination of the songs #3, #9, #39, #43 (sorry, but this SCREAMS of Ace; also any variant of it, like talking to a 3rd person about it), #38 (couldn't resist the combination). OMG. It's soooo hard to choose....! There's so many combi-ideas! +_+ I absolutely love this! Thank you so much for doing this event! :D

omg hiiii 🥰️ that pic is killing me 😭😭 lmaooo *shakes u* so i rewrote this like 10x i think, but it’s finally done and i am v excited for you to read it. also i’m so happy you requested, you always pick good prompts lmao anyway, ty for being patient 😊 as u know i’m slow as hell when it comes to writing — also the fluff almost killed me!!!! 💗

3.5k words (pls pls i know i know!!!! it's not my fault, i blame ace), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; fluff (it's there i promise, somewhere) & smut (and angst that u didn't ask for <3); modern au! feat. ace being a menace as usual, reader in denial (serious serious denial) of her feelings, reader's a lil shyyy ok, public sex, (slight) public exhibition, public sex, choking, rough sex, hand job, oral (m receiving), ace being shirtless is a warning, childhood frenz 2 lovers (who am i), mutual pining, reader is foolish & needs to be honest, ace needs to calm down but he never will. idk! probably more stuff idr yk the vibes. (if u see spelling errors/grammar mistakes, no u didn't bb 💕)

a warm breeze wraps itself around your arms and legs, languid and loving — a heavy embrace that unjustly suffocates, with a light sheen of sweat that belatedly appears on your forehead. your denim shorts ride up higher on your thighs the more you move around; for some reason, you just can’t seem to get comfortable. loud music wafts from your parents’ house through the open sliding doors, the beats catchy and mesmerizing, lulling you into a much more relaxed state as you continue to lounge on the hammock in the backyard. another breeze glides along your skin, making you roll over onto your back, the rope from the hammock rough but comforting.

to keep yourself from spiraling, you close your eyes and soak up as much of the sun as possible. your lips are a little red and sticky from the popsicle you ate just a few minutes ago; it helped to cool you down for a bit, but the heat is relentless and oppressive.

after graduating from college, you left home and traveled for a few years; you’ve always had that itch, a desire to roam about freely without having anything — or anyone — tying you down. it’s why you left so quickly; it’s why you didn’t say goodbye properly; and it’s why you’ve been on edge all afternoon.

you groan loudly before covering your face with your hands.

“this is so stupid.” your words are muffled and strained, your frustration rising along with the temperature outside. it’s simple — all you have to do is casually strike up conversation with him and act like nothing’s changed.

so easy, right?

you desperately want it to be, but the universe has a penchant for bad jokes and the punch line is currently on its way to disrupt your life.

“he probably won’t even come by anyway,” you continue to mumble before dropping your hands. a frown climbs onto your lips afterwards. the idea that your parents might actually be wrong, that he isn’t going to come by like he promised he would, is all too much for you to deal with.

and suddenly, you feel like you can’t breathe; the air grows thick enough to choke on, an obnoxious thudding growing louder and louder in your ears—

but before you can succumb to your unfortunate demise, someone pinches your nose, disrupting the chaotic flow of thoughts pummeling into you one right after the other. squirming around, you stare, wide-eyed, at the last person you thought you’d see today.

despite pressing his lips together, it does nothing to stop him from laughing at you — not maliciously, but he really can’t help it. your look of genuine shock and confusion is cute. really, really cute. adorable, even. maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in so long, or maybe it’s because he’s been waiting for a moment like this to pop up so you both can finally have that one conversation you keep running away from.

you are wholly unprepared to see ace this soon; words rush from the pit of your stomach up to your mouth, ready to fling ace’s way without restraint. but, as always, you hold back. you’ve gotten quite good at biting your tongue, at stamping out certain emotions; it’s better, easier that way.

no one gets hurt, right?

right.

with a sly smile, ace slides his sunglasses away from his face, upwards onto his hair; you were in such a daze that you barely heard him walk over. which worked out fine for ace, because he could look at you freely without you hiding from him like you usually do — a thing he hopes you’ve grown out of in the time you’ve spent apart.

if you thought you couldn’t breathe before, you’re definitely gasping for air now. lips parted, you inhale deeply as a completely different kind of heat surges through you faster than you’d like. he pauses for a moment before gently swiping his thumb along your plush bottom lip.

an insidious thudding echoes loudly around your ears, and you realize, in fear, that it’s the sound of your heart — beating erratically at his proximity and touch. talking feels impossible, so you remain silent and stare at him in disbelief.

it feels like an eternity passes before ace smiles again, your eyes track the way his lips slowly curve upward, bringing about that familiar dimple in his right cheek. something possesses you to reach up to touch his cheek, the tips of your fingers barely grazing his skin when you realize what you’re doing. you snatch your hand back quickly, a light-headedness descending upon you right after.

on impulse, ace leans down until his lips ghost over yours, the familiarity of the gesture triggering a memory so strong that goosebumps unceremoniously prickle your skin without remorse. you remember exactly how skillful his mouth is; you remember how your limbs were tangled with his; and you remember how you almost blurted out a hidden truth that you refused to admit to. he’d gone still, nearly statuesque as an unreadable look morphed onto his face; fear of rejection had you scrambling away from his embrace, nearly out of breath as you darted out of his bedroom without looking back.

remorse finds its way to you again, but your thoughts are too scattered to properly feel it. if you don’t figure something out soon, you’ll give in to him all over again — and you simply can’t do that.

however, ace has a way of diverting your plans with his whims and spontaneity.

“hey, pretty,” he says, voice low and husky, with a hint of that mischievous and boyish charm he’s well-known for; his hand on your hip is practically scalding, his thumb coasting dangerously on your soft stomach, but you don’t push him away. a soft whimper dares to slip out of your mouth when his grip tightens and you’re so sure that he’s going to kiss you — but he doesn’t.

ace straightens up and sticks his hands into his pockets, all innocent-like, completely disregarding the fact that he’s the reason why your heart is beating loud enough to rattle your bones. his cologne lingers — a rich and heavy, spiced scent with hints of blackberry — and you get drunk from it, mind a little hazy. you’re in too much shock to feel any sort of shame, and if he wasn’t so intent on teasing you for a bit longer, he would’ve already succumbed to the temptation of kissing you.

he really just meant to say hi, but you were being cute while talking out loud to yourself, your voice traveling further than you probably wanted; it was the sight of your exposed legs — curvy and soft, skin glistening almost flawlessly under the sun — that really fueled his audacity. since you’re prone to running, he did the only thing that made sense: invade your personal space. it’s the only way to keep you still long enough to talk.

or, so he thought.

“w-what are you doing here?” you ask in a panic, moving around on the hammock, eyes widening again as you shamelessly stare at his chest. he still has that peculiar habit of walking around shirtless, which is your justification for why you keep looking at him like that — his abs look more defined than before, but you refrain from touching him again.

ace completely ignores your question and instead says, “you’re hot.” he tilts his head a bit, that sly grin finding its way onto his lips again when you stumble over your words.

“i—what?”

you sit up and climb off the hammock with clumsy and hurried movements. thankfully he has the decency to not laugh this time, but that pesky dimple resurfaces, and you have to ball your hands into fists and sink your nails into your palms to keep yourself from saying something unnecessary and embarrassing.

“why are you—” you cut yourself off, take a deep breath, and try again, “i don’t understand.”

is he joking? he has to be, there’s no way he’s forgiven you for leaving him like that; and even though he called you pretty earlier, you’re sure that’s just his way of wanting to rile you up for his own amusement.

and while you’re not entirely wrong about that, he was being serious.

he lifts his chin and motions to your chest; sweat glides down your neck and sneaks in between your cleavage. you realize, then, that he meant that you literally looked hot. pressing your lips together firmly, you decide against speaking and opt to march past him instead. you don’t get far, if anything ace only allows you to move a few feet away before wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you back.

your mouth dries and you try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he doesn’t let up.

“you’re hurting my feelings, y’know,” he says quietly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. you bite your lower lip before rolling it in between your teeth, contemplating his words. you know you’re being ridiculous, and you know you owe him an explanation — your cowardice nearly wins out, but you settle down and sigh softly.

“you’re right, i’m sorry.” for so many things, but you keep that bit to yourself.

ace only laughs again at your austere demeanor. “just kidding, i just want to be selfish right now.” something about that sets your skin on fire, although it probably doesn’t help that ace places a kiss on the side of your neck before you can respond to him properly.

suddenly, all that fight that you had — that determination to avoid him completely — leaves your body. on a sharp inhale you turn around and look up at him curiously, to see if he’s actually being serious or not; ace stares at you intently, adoration saturated in lust clouding his vision. he holds onto the back of your neck and kisses you, his tongue playfully licking your bottom lip, grinning at how sweet you taste.

you shiver and open your mouth for him as he kisses you again, slow and sensuous, your legs nearly giving out from the intensity. his hand travels down your back, its descent searing and playful; you kiss him back with fervor and enthusiasm, lips moving against his as if this is a common occurrence for you two.

his tongue swirls around yours and when his large hand moves lower to grab your ass, you nearly lose your mind. there’s an intense, unavoidable ache in between your thighs as you cling onto him desperately, whimpering softly against his lips. he told himself he’d take it slow, but the way you’re reacting to him only confirms what he’s always known: you want him just as much as he wants you.

it’s in between heated tongue kisses that ace suggests a change in location. dazed and slightly confused, you feel yourself nodding as he tugs you along with him, anticipation making you stumble over your sandaled feet. he has half a mind to just carry you back inside, but you eventually keep up with his long strides. you hide behind ace when your parents step outside, boisterously chatting with a few of their guests as they sit at the table on the deck underneath the large awning. you’re glad they barely take notice of you — they’re halfway drunk already — and ace laughs at your demure behavior, prompting you to pinch his arm playfully and shushing him. it’s your feeble attempt at sneaking by without anyone interrogating you.

when you successfully make it back into your house, you let out a sigh, embracing the cool air.

“that was close,” you say out loud and at ace’s puzzled expression, you motion to your parents outside, “they almost saw us.”

he blinks slowly and lifts a brow. “so?” ace has never been one to hide like that, so he’s unsure why you want to.

“what do you mean ‘so’?” your face burns as soon as the words leave your mouth; you’re not sure why you’re feeling bashful, but it becomes harder and harder to look at ace. maybe it’s because you’re so aroused that you’d let him fuck you in the kitchen without complaint, or maybe it’s because you can’t come to terms with your feelings for him.

or, maybe it’s a combination of both.

either way, ace doesn’t know why you care.

sighing loudly he walks out of the kitchen, fully expecting you to follow — and you do. you’re unsure if you’ve said the wrong thing; actually, you know you’ve said the wrong thing, but before you can apologize, ace pushes you against the wall, hands placed on either side of your head as he cages you in.

“who cares if anyone sees?”

he’s right, you know that; it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. but when he presses places a kiss on your neck, you melt — heart beating faster than necessary, making you dizzy with want. you place your hands on his chest, his muscles firm under your soft touch; ace inhales sharply when you bring your hands lower, his cock stiff and heavy in his shorts, an irritating reminder that his self-restraint is dissipating quickly.

later on, when you reflect on this moment, you’ll chastise yourself about how impulsive you both were — fucking in your hallway while your parents entertain guests not even forty feet away — but for now, you just want to indulge in the fantasy and not think about anything.

ace grabs your wrist clumsily, suddenly remembering himself while halting your movements. you blink at him, confused and anxious; maybe he changed his mind about everything? maybe this was payback for the last time you were together — and, if you’re honest, you can’t exactly blame him. swallowing hard, you relax your face and opt for a more neutral expression.

normally much more forthcoming with his wants and desires, ace hesitates, momentarily, dark brows furrowed as a frown settles onto his lips.

“maybe we shouldn’t…,” he closes his eyes and presses his forehead against yours, inhaling deeply, your perfume immobilizing him temporarily before he speaks again. “you deserve better than me.”

you sit with his words for a moment but it’s not long before your hands work at tugging his shorts and underwear down. he looks at you, light brown cheeks flushed slightly when he notices the way you’re staring. you knew he was big, but goodness — still, you don’t let that deter you, and wrap a hand around his cock and slowly stroke it. ace lets out a quiet groan and it encourages you to move your hand faster.

with a soft peck on his lips, you say, “that’s not for you to decide.” which is all you’ll say on the matter. your feelings for him were too big for you to handle before, but now — now that you’ve been forced to confront your own damn self, a belated sense of clarity falls over you. it was never easy to convey your feelings into words when it came to him, but you’re very sure that he’ll understand you now.

ace’s hips jut forward when your grip around his cock tightens; he lets out a low hiss, doing his best not to be too loud since you’re so adamant about not getting caught. pre-cum spills from his slit, down onto your hand; a fascinating sight that has you sinking to your knees without much thought and replacing your hand with your mouth.

at that he moans much louder than he means to, but once your plush lips wrap around the thick head of his cock, he stops caring.

“fuck,” he breathes, leaning against the wall for support as you flick your tongue against his slit — a dangerous move, but one that you make with the full confidence that ace would, in turn, fuck you like you’ve always wanted him to.

you run your tongue down his length with gusto, as if his cock was an addictive summer treat. and, maybe it is, because you open your mouth and bob up and down his length. you use your hands for what you can’t fit in your mouth, moaning around him as you press your thighs together. your mouth is sinfully warm and wet — forbidden, almost; he grabs a fistful of your hair, holding you steady as he thrusts his hips forward.

holding onto his thighs, you slacken your jaw and keep your tongue flat, arousal building as he fucks your mouth. he knows he should be gentle, but he’s reached his limit and you’re being so compliant — he can’t really help himself. not that you mind, your panties are already damp from your slick arousal; his movements are rushed and purposeful, but you enjoy the way he’s seemingly lost control of himself.

you gag around him, breathe deeply through your nose, and ignore the tears that spill down your round cheeks. ace moans your name and your heart expands pitifully in your chest, warmth traveling all along your body. he knows he’ll never last if he keeps this up, so he pulls out of you without warning. you nearly fall over but you hold onto him, looking up at him curiously, long lashes tantalizing and mesmerizing as your tears start to dry.

he pulls you up to your feet and kisses you again with a hand wrapped around your throat; he gives it a teasing squeeze and you moan against his lips. it doesn’t take long before you unbutton your shorts and pull them down with your panties — your thighs trembling with each passing second. you wrap your legs around him possessively when he picks you up; the kisses grow more urgent and sloppier, your heart threatening to kill you mercilessly with how hard its beating.

this must be what dying feels like, you tell yourself, although when he rubs the tip of his cock in between your slick folds, you buck your hips forward and beg him to stop teasing you.

since he’s not that cruel, ace lines the head of his cock with your entrance and inches forward; sucking in a bit of air, you hold onto him tightly, and when you relax, ace thrusts into you. the moan you let out is absolutely indecent, your pussy a lewd, greedy thing that swallows his cock without much issue. with long strokes, ace knocks his hips against yours, a strangled cry slipping out of you unexpectedly. ace kisses you again and again — an attempt to keep you quiet — but soon, his strokes get shorter and frenzied as he fucks you harder, almost like he wants to incapacitate you with an orgasm.

you wouldn’t mind going out like that, especially when ace is fucking you like that, balls slapping against your ass loudly, mouth hungrily searching for his while you harshly drag your nails down the back of his neck. he doesn’t mind as the pain is minimal, and he likes the idea of you marking him the way he’s marked you.

it becomes increasingly difficult to keep quiet, but you’ve long forgotten why you needed to keep quiet in the first place. your saving grace is that your parents and their friends are more intoxicated than you originally thought and are in their own world as they laugh and dance outside. somewhere down the line, you lost your common sense — you suppose it happened when ace came to find you earlier — and because of that, you let go. your cunt squeezes around him tightly, your arousal coating the length of him; ace angles his hips and his cock reaches a spot that’s deep enough to make you babble at him incoherently.

he laughs and drops a playful kiss on your lips, his hands gripping your ass as he powers into you. a flash of white robs you of your vision, a liquid heat swirling around your lower abdomen as you cum hard with his name in your mouth. hips rolling forward, he bites your neck recklessly and your orgasm intensifies.

“oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. yes!” you chant without restraint, throat hoarse, voice raw. he breathes unevenly, thrusting feverishly into your puffy pussy, his own orgasm finding him shortly after.

ace groans as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your throat, your whines saccharine and enticing; there are so many things he wants (and needs) to say, but he pushes that aside, deciding to enjoy this moment with you instead. you pant lightly and hold onto him, heartbeat slowing until it matches his. you should probably hurry up and get dressed, since there’s no telling when someone will come through that hallway, but you can’t be bothered right now. you’re much more interested in the way ace kisses you again, leaving you breathless and terribly in love.

if you were privy to his thoughts, you’d know that he feels the same way and has felt that way for a long, long time — and sometimes he feels like he loves you a little too much. still, you feel much lighter now, sighing softly as you arch against him; the intimacy of it, surprisingly, doesn’t scare you, and now you wonder if maybe you were thinking too much about everything before. it seems that your problem has always had a simple solution, but you’re just glad that ace pushed you to figure it out. it isn’t something you’d normally do, but for ace you have a tendency to think and act impulsively without warning; he likes that side of you, and hopes that you’ll keep acting like that in the future.

#1.3k followers mini event #🔆💕🌴 feels like summer event 🥭💕🔆#milestone event #fic request #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece fluff #one piece smut #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d. ace x y/n #portgas d. ace fluff #portgas d. ace smut #ace x reader #ace fluff #ace smut #i need y/n to bffr bc!!! this man would have me on my knees WEAK #i'm a clown just like y/n; cut from the same clown cloth #ace x y/n

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