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bi-writes · 13 days ago

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ok reverse the TROPE !!!!!! sugar-mommy!f!reader x retired!simon <333 (18+)

he got discharged on a medical injury. his knee flares up now, phantom pains that shoot up his leg and pinch his spine. he feels like a failure--a lieutenant in his prime, and now he has to acclimate to civilian life and grit his teeth instead of drown the voices in his head out with gunfire.

he's been deployed as much as he could be just to stay away from this kind of place. so he didn't have to get on a train, or take the tube. so he didn't have to think about looking over his shoulder in the shops or learn how to pay a wifi bill. he hates going to the doctor's office, and he hates learning how to properly open his bank account, just to learn that there's nearly nothing in it.

the numbers just dwindle before his very eyes. the rent is too high, even in his shitty studio. when did cable cost that much? why can't he go to the pub for just a few pounds anymore? where is the compensation for giving more than a decade of his life in service of his country just to have to wait in fucking lines to get his medication and argue over the phone about where all his fucking money went.

maybe he never had any. maybe it's all lost somewhere. he'd ask his former captain, but he's halfway across the world, and over his dead body would he hold a hand out and ask for charity when he's 36 years old.

"don't get that one."

simon turns his head, a snarl caught in his throat. there's a pretty thing standing beside him, also staring at the array of ramen packages in focus. you take the orange package out of his hand and put it back on the shelf before reaching for a different package. it's got japanese characters on it, so he can't read the label, but you smile up at him.

"this one is way better. good price for it, too."

"'s more expensive."

"yeah, but you get eight packets in this one. that one only gives you five."

at the till, you notice him subtly counting the notes in his wallet. you pretend not to notice, rocking back and forth on your heels, but just as he picks up his bag to leave, you speak up.

"you wanna get a drink? on me."

and fuck, he could use a bourbon. on the first one, he thought your presence was pleasantly tolerable. by the fourth, he's staring down your shirt, dark eyes mapping out what the curves of your breasts might look like in the palm of his big hand. by the sixth, you're pressed up against a sticky bathroom wall and holding on for dear life as he pounds into you from behind, knickers in his back pocket, manicured nails digging slits into his tattooed forearm.

you sink those claws in that night; and you do not let go.

the third night you ask him out, he sees your flat for the first time. in a nice building downtown, doorman holding the door open for you. the elevator ride is long enough for him to see the tops of buildings, and when you step inside your flat, he swallows hard when he realizes you are way out of his league.

gorgeous leather seats and couch. large tv with surround sound. a french kitchen with a gas stove. your flat is filled with knickknacks and candles, low yellow lights and wonderful collections of art and little glass vases and sculptures. your home is filled with warmth, and you don't belong with him.

just as he thinks about backing out of the place, you turn and grip the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer. you touch your nose to his over his mask, smiling, and you push the door closed behind him and press him up against it.

"so, which room do you wanna christen first? i thought we could start in the kitchen."

you're a woman that knows what she wants, he'll give you that; and he doesn't have it in him to say no.

the sun wakes him up in the morning. he doesn't remember falling asleep--he doesn't like to make staying over a habit. when he sits up on his elbows, he takes a deep breath, realizing his back hurts a lot less. the mattress of your bed is wonderful, much more supportive than the flat mess he has on the floor in his own place, and he blinks himself awake when you come out of the bathroom.

you're freshly dressed, makeup on, and you're putting on your jewelry when you see him. you smile at him, coming towards the bed, and you bend down to kiss where his mouth would be under the mask.

"good morning, simon. sleep well?"

"mmm..."

you take that as a yes, cupping his jaw, and you kiss him over his mask again before going to get some shoes from your closet. he doesn't comment on the fact that when you open it, he realizes the closet there is only for shoes...

"you hungry, baby? want some breakfast?"

"i--oh..." simon lays back down when his back tweaks, and you reach for him when you see him fall back in the mirror. you smooth a hand down the side of his body, frowning.

"why don't you stay in bed? i'll have my assistant bring you something."

"no, tha's--"

"i'm not asking, simon, i'm telling you," you coo. you pick up one of his hands and trace one of his scars with your finger. you have long, almond-shaped nails. there's pretty chrome nail art over the wine red color you wear, and he focuses on it as you kiss his knuckles gently. "will you wait for me to come home?"

"where y'goin'?"

"gotta work, honey," you wink down at him. "and i want you to be here when i get back."

"tha' so?"

"mhm," you smile. "right here. in my bed--" you lift the covers a little and peek, giggling as you put it back down after getting a glimpse at his cock resting against his lower stomach. "just like this, simon."

he doesn't remember if he ever goes back to his flat. he thinks he went one more time, to grab a few bottles of his medication, but the tick in his knee hadn't been so bad with the great physical therapy you started paying for and the warm massages you gave him every night.

and his back--your bed always contours perfectly against the muscles of his back, and he finds himself sleeping a full seven hours every single night.

not to mention his new work outs. simon hadn't been to the gym much since coming home, but he knows he must be burning hundreds of calories with you. you test his limits. as soon as you're home, you jump on him, and the stress relief your pussy brings him is just what he needs to get the edge off. you're a fiend, especially after a rough day, and the way you bounce on his cock in every room of your flat keeps him up at night sometimes with the most glorious wet dreams.

you're up late that night. you're curled up on the couch in one of simon's shirts and a glass of red wine, and there's a mountain of papers around you that you're focusing on reading. you have a huge presentation tomorrow, and everything needs to be perfect. simon comes into the living room, shirtless, and you smile when you see him standing there. he's wearing the new sweats you got him, but you can't focus on that too much when you're staring at his pudgy, toned stomach and his nice pecs. you bite your lip, taking a long sip of your wine, and simon hikes up his mask to take a bite out of his bowl of ice cream.

"gonna be up late tonight?" he asks, and you nod. "want me to sit with ya?" you nod again, lifting up your legs, and when he takes a seat next to you, you drape them across his lap. you lean over to give his scarred cheek a kiss, and when you turn back to your paperwork, a thought comes across your mind.

"we should get married," you say softly, circling a note over something. simon keeps eating, as if what you said doesn't phase him.

"why's tha', love?"

"tax benefits."

"mmm..." simon drops one of his hands and thumbs against your ankle. the flat is warm. his stomach is full. his body hurts less, and his heart aches with something nice. "olright then."

you smile.

"good. cause i already bought the ring."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts

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nanaslutt · 3 months ago

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nanami “helps” ino fuck his girlfriend (drabble)

minors and ageless blogs dni (18+ only)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

“like this?” ino asks nanami while he thrusts into you in missionary, trying to hit your sweet spot. ino jerks and gasps again you when nanami grips his hips from behind and helps him roll his hips more, making his tip push right against that sensitive bundle inside you, making you gasp. “good boy, roll your hips and aim upwards, that’s where her gspot is.”

sex with ino was more than amazing, but sometimes he struggled finding that spot with his cock, he never left you unsatisfied though. you cry out when nanami reaches under your bodies and grabs your thigh in his massive hand, pushing it back. “put her leg over your shoulder, it makes it easier to penetrate her deeper.” just like he said, when ino put your leg over his shoulder and leaned over you, he slammed his cock inside you and stars erupted behind your eyes when he hit that spot dead on.

“did that feel good? did he hit your gspot sweetheart?” nanami asks, keeping his hands in his pockets like a gentleman even though you can see his cock twitch in his pants. it’s so big, tenting the fabric and making you wonder just how big it is under there. you nod as an answer, and he gives you a warm smile that melts you from the inside out.

“n-nanami, am i doing it right? is this good?” ino asks through a cry, his hips stuttering and shaking as he tries to hold back. “ask her if you’re doing good.” nanami replies, removing his hand from his pocket to brush his fingers down inos sides in a feather like motion. ino shivers.

“h-he wants you to praise him.” you whine. you know he can feel you squeezing around him, showing him how much you like it, how close he’s getting you. nanami hums, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine and making you clench around your boyfriends cock as his mentor slides his hand down to his peachy ass.

“is she right?” he asks, gripping a handful of his ass. the sight makes you gasp, even more so when he pushes hard against his ass and forces him deep inside you. “yes, yes, please, tell me i’m fucking my girlfriend good, p-please.” kento grabs his ass again, and when his thumb accidentally—or maybe not so accidentally, rubs against the side of his hole, ino stiffens and bites his lip, hard, before his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses and you feel him shoot inside you. the first time he’s ever finished first.

“ino? what was that? did you just come?” nanami asks, ino whines in response, you hold him tightly against you and dig your nails into his back and squeeze around him when his warmth fills you. “that doesn’t deserve praise. you need to make sure you always bring your partner to orgasm before you.” he scolds, making ino whine again. you can’t help but smile and kiss his head.

“again.” nanami orders abruptly, making ino unbury his head from your neck to turn and stare at him. his face is stern, unwavering, “i do not care if you are sensitive, you came before your partner, so now you will keep fucking her and finish her off.” as if that wasn’t incentive enough—fucking his girlfriend again while his mentor watches, he adds, “maybe then i’ll give you the praise you want so badly.”

#jjk smut #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #ino smut #takuma ino x reader #ino x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami x ino

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briefinquiries · 6 months ago

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Tyler Owens x Reader: Where You Belong

Prompt: you're caught in the middle of a tornado, tyler's there in the aftermath.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: angst, blood mention

A/N: surprise surprise, & not what i usually write, but twisters has recently been consuming my entire life. so here's an angsty lil imagine of hurt reader being comforted by the wrangler himself.

You made it about fifteen minutes down the road before you realized that you’d forgotten your phone… Again.

After patting down your pockets and digging through your tote bag the best you could without crashing the car– you straightened yourself in the driver’s seat and sighed defeatedly.

Stupid, you thought. Although you weren’t really that surprised by your mistake. You’d never been particularly attached to your phone, and this certainly wasn’t the first time you’d left it behind.

But you’d been trying to be more mindful about remembering it. And just like that, Tyler’s voice popped into your head– no doubt scolding you for your carelessness. ‘What if something happened and I had to get a hold of ya?’

Thanks to another wild storm system brewing all over the midwest, Tyler was out chasing again today. And although you’d checked in on him earlier in the day, you knew there was always the possibility that things changed. Storms shifted– gained power, sometimes his team (although rarely) got things wrong. A pang of guilt spread through your chest at the thought– what if something happened to him out there and he needed to reach you?

You could turn back and get your phone, of course. But you were already so close to town. And all you needed was a bottle of shampoo and a birthday cake for Tyler. You could be in and out of Lawton in less than half an hour if you were quick– home before he even knew you’d left your phone behind again.

What could really go wrong?

…

“Talk to me, Dani– what do you see?” Tyler asked into the walkie. They’d been tracking a handful of storms for the past few hours– Tyler watching the clouds, and Dani studying the radar. Right now, there were two that had peaked his interest– One was formulating south, the other to the northeast.

“The storm south has higher wind speeds, but I think it’ll fade if it shifts. The other one has a weaker wind shear, but higher pressure. Either one has the chance to form or go, so I say trust your gut,” they answered.

Tyler shifted his grip on the steering wheel, studying the dark, circling motion in the distance.

“What’re you thinkin’, T?” Boone asked, camera trained on Tyler.

He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip– trying to focus.

“Less moisture, less potential for an updraft, but way higher winds if we go south. Northeast though… she’s already got the motion and momentum, she just needs the winds to shift...”

Boone stayed quiet– he knew that when Tyler talked out loud, it was generally rhetorical.

Tyler took his eyes off the sky to study the world around him for a moment.

“No pressure, T,” Dani said through the walkie.

“Yeah,” Lilly chimed in. “We just spent all damn day chasing these things–”

“South,” he said suddenly. “I say let’s chase south.”

…

Less than thirty minutes later, Tyler was standing in the middle of a wheat field with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face.

The storm had fizzled with the shifting winds, leaving them with nothing but a few scattered showers that mixed in with the sweat already pooling on his skin.

“S’alright, T,” Boone said encouragingly with a shrug. He clapped him on the back. “We can’t catch ‘em all.”

Tyler sighed before joining Dani where they sat on the edge of the truck, scanning for other potential storms in the area.

“What’s that there?” Tyler asked, pointing to what appeared to be a storm system heading west.

Dani frowned. “What the hell… I think that’s the storm from earlier– the one moving northeast.”

“So it shifted?”

“Shifted?” Boone said, lowering his camera for a moment to glance towards Tyler. “Where to? Can we make it in time?”

Tyler frowned, studying the movement.

“That’s strange,” Dani mumbled under their breath. With a few clicks, they expanded the screen, showing a wider radius.

“What’s strange?” Boone asked.

Ignoring him, Tyler scanned the system, trying to trace the path without actually calculating it. “You don’t think–”

Dani glanced his way. “Holy shit–”

“Hello?” Boone said. “Y’all gonna share with the rest of the class?”

“I think she’s headin’ for Lawton,” Dani finally whispered.

And although he’d been thinking it, all the color drained from his face when it was actually spoken out loud.

“Lawton?” Dexter asked, voice laced with concern.

“Oh shit-” Lilly whispered.

Lawton was the closest city to where the two of you lived– if it hit there, thousands of people could be in danger. And if it shifted again, even the slightest bit– it could head right for your small town instead.

Despite the humidity, everything inside of Tyler went cold as he imagined you at home– puttering around the garden, blissfully unaware of what might be coming.

“Will you uh, pass me– pass me my phone, Boone?” Tyler stammered, standing up from the truck bed.

Boone reached into the backpack scattered near his feet and handed over Tyler’s cell phone, placing it in his outstretched hand. Tyler muttered a quick thank you before walking a few strides away as he pulled up your contact information.

The call rang five times before making it to voicemail– your sweet voice asking him to leave a message and you’d get back to him.

“Hey, baby– it’s me. Call me back as soon as you can. Alright, love ya.”

He clicked the phone off before immediately trying again.

“C’mon,” he muttered as the line continued to ring. “C’mon, baby, c’mon,” he hummed nervously, kicking the grass with his boots when he heard your voicemail. “Hey– me again. Listen, I’m not trying to scare ya, but there might be a storm comin’ and I just wanna make sure you’re safe. Give me a call please.”

He paced back towards the group, sending you a quick text just for good measure as he did.

“Alright, what’s the plan here?” Dexter asked.

But Tyler wasn’t paying much attention as he obsessively dialed you for a third time.

“What’s wrong, T?” Boone wondered.

Without looking up from his phone, Tyler exhaled a frustrated breath. “She’s never got her damn phone on her– that’s what’s wrong.” The second he heard your voicemail for a fourth time, he chucked his phone towards his bag. “Damnit!”

Boone swallowed thickly. “I’m sure she’s fine–”

Tyler hung his head. After a moment, he nodded, although he wasn’t entirely convinced that would remain the case if he didn’t get in touch with you fast. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to breathe–

You were fine, he told himself. You were home, you’d hear the alerts if they were necessary, you knew to get into the basement.

Tyler took a long, steadying breath. “Dani, what’s the speed of this thing?”

“Uh, it’s moving– thirty-five miles per hour directly west. I think she’s gaining speed, though.”

“Alright, she’s fast,” Tyler remarked. “We have to be faster. Let’s head home, ladies and gents, we can take cover at my place once I know everyone’s safe.”

“You got it, T,” Lilly said.

“Stay safe everyone,” Dani replied as they all dispersed to their respective vehicles.

Tyler and Boone climbed back into the truck, tires screeching as they sped west towards Lawton, and home towards you.

…

You were inside the bakery on Lowell Street– Tyler’s favorite place for any and all pastries, when you heard the thunder.

Although thunder in Oklahoma wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, it was enough to make you turn your attention outside, just to see what kind of storm you might be up against on the drive home.

“It’s gettin’ dark out there,” Gloria, the owner, said. She glanced at you over the counter and blew a strand of graying hair out of her face.

You nodded in agreement, jumping slightly when another crack of thunder rang through the air. “Sounds like it’s getting closer,” you noticed.

“I still can’t believe that boyfriend of yours goes out of his way to chase these storms. And his friends, too.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, me either. Bunch of adrenaline junkies.”

“Not me,” Gloria smirked. “We get enough chaos in this life, I don’t need to be chasin’ it.”

You returned her smile, recognizing that you might have more in common with the sixty-something year old baker in town than you did your own boyfriend. But you supposed that your differences were what drew you to Tyler. He was brave and thrilling and so alive. Although what he did scared the absolute shit out of you, there was nothing better than watching him exude excitement and just pure joy after he got home from a particularly powerful storm.

“Was he and his crew trackin’ anything out here?” Gloria asked, using the tube of blue icing to write the birthday message you’d requested on top of Tyler’s cake.

“Not here,” you replied. “He was south of OKC last I checked in.”

Which, you realized, had been far longer than you anticipated thanks to not having your phone. You mentally kicked yourself again for leaving it behind. If you’d brought it with you, you could have just given him a call now. Because unless he was smack dab in the middle of a goddamn tornado, he always answered your calls. Just a few reassurances from him could’ve calmed your fears about the storm brewing outside– told you that it was just a thunderstorm passing through.

Not every thunderstorm means a tornado, he had said, you didn’t even know how many times by now. And each time allowed you to relax a little. Because unlike your boyfriend, you didn’t enjoy weather in quite the same way. In fact, after an EF4 had ripped through your home when you were just a child, you did your best to stay as far from tornadoes as Oklahoma allowed.

“I’m sure it’s just thunder,” you began.

But before you could finish your sentence, you heard the sudden pitter patter of hail beginning outside. Gloria lowered the icing tube while you took another step closer to the window to peer out.

Dark, gloomy clouds swirled through the sky.

That was when you heard the sirens. Loud and clear, they echoed through your ears in a terrifying, grim warning.

…

As the storm tracked faster and faster the closer they got, Tyler’s first stop was your shared home just outside of Lawton.

He didn’t even bother turning the truck off before he was hurling himself across the lawn, towards the front door. But before he even looked inside, his stomach dropped when he noticed your SUV wasn’t parked in its typical spot.

Regardless, he practically ripped open the front door before running into the house, calling your name loudly into each room he searched, hoping that maybe you’d lent your car to your mom again– or magically parked it in the garage that was stuffed full of his gear.

But it was no use– you weren’t there.

He knew that for good as soon as he flung open the door to your shared bedroom. The bed was neatly made, pillows arranged perfectly– and your phone sitting on the nightstand table, plugged in and clearly far away from you.

“Damnit!” he yelled, kicking the door frame frustratedly. Chest rising and falling rapidly, Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. Frustration and anger brewed inside of him, but he knew that underneath all of that was fear– for you and your safety. All he wanted was to have you in his sights again– although preferably wrapped up in his embrace, the only spot he could ensure you were safe... Where you belonged.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Tyler made his way across the room and picked your phone up from the nightstand. Your background– a picture of you and him taken during your trip to Texas last year, lit up the screen. Accompanying it were the slew of notifications you’d missed– the first was the severe weather alert, the next few were all the missed calls from him. But at the very bottom of your screen was a reminder notification– one that allowed him to finally exhale the breath he’d been holding since he burst into the house.

Get Tyler a bday cake.

Sliding your phone into his back pocket, he raced back down the stairs to find Boone standing on the front lawn.

“She’s in town,” he said, rushing towards his truck.

Boone followed close behind. “How do you know?”

“If nothing else,” Tyler said, climbing into his truck, “she follows her schedule.”

…

“Gloria, you gotta listen to me–” you pleaded, hurrying around the counter to grab her hand. “If the sirens are goin’ off, it means we don’t have much time. Does the bakery have a basement, or– or a shelter?”

Gloria’s watery eyes met yours. Your heart sank the moment she shook her head dreadfully.

“Okay,” you said shakily, trying not to panic. What would Tyler do? You looked around the bakery– with its old walls and sagging roof, you knew it wasn’t safe to stay here.

“Gloria, we gotta go,” you said urgently. “We gotta find somewhere safe to be.”

With that, you tugged her towards the exit.

As soon as you were outside, you felt the fierce wind whip your face, along with a few staggering pieces of hail. There was debris– leaves and sticks flying around in every which way, making it hard to see past what was right in front of you.

Although you were trying to be vigilant, you didn’t even see the scrap of metal fly by your face. “Shit!” you exclaimed, feeling it graze your cheek. Ripped skin was quickly followed by the feeling of warm blood trickling across your skin.

“Are you alright?” Gloria asked, grabbing your arm.

You used your free hand to press against your cheek before nodding. “We gotta get out of here,” you said.

But just as you turned to try and gauge your surroundings, hoping to come up with a shred of a plan, you froze at what was looming in the distance.

Winds whipped rapidly, the sky boomed, and a dark, wide funnel had formed– it’s tip already touching down on the ground. And it was coming straight for you.

“Gloria, we gotta go–” you cried. “Now!”

…

Tyler drove as fast as he could– foot nearly pressed down on the ground. He drove like his life depended on it. Because yours did–

The truth was– he’d never given much thought to losing you. He was generally too preoccupied with wondering what you’d do if you lost him. He was the one putting himself in danger all the time, he was the one forcing his way in the middle of these storms.

He didn’t know what he’d do without you– except be a shell of who he was now.

“Holy shit–” he heard Boone say from the passenger seat.

Tyler refocused his attention ahead, his eyes widening the second he saw what Boone was fixated on.

It was hard to miss the giant, fucking tornado barreling right for Lawton’s array of buildings.

“We’re too late–” Tyler croaked. “We’re too fucking late–”

“She’s smart,” Boone assured Tyler. “She knows where to go and what to do.”

Tyler’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator and drove faster.

…

In retrospect, the laundromat probably wasn’t the best place for you to be. But there were few windows and the back room was lined with secure piping, all which jetted deeply into the ground, creating a solid anchoring point.

There were a few other people huddled in the same room, already low on the ground and clutching onto one another.

“Hold on to that!” you cried, practically pushing Gloria towards the corner of the room. She wound her frail arms around the piping before crouching down. You were right beside her, arms locked tightly on the piping as you felt the building start to shake.

The storm outside was deafening. Winds whistled and boomed. You were pretty sure the woman beside you was screaming– but you couldn’t hear her above the noise of everything else. You tried to be brave– the way you knew Tyler would be if he were here.

Once, about three years ago, an EF3 hit his parent’s ranch while the two of you were staying there for a long weekend. You remembered the way he stayed so calm, so collected through it all. After ushering everyone into the storm shelter, he wrapped his strong arms around you, anchoring you to him. The ranch didn’t shake like this though… And even though you’d been scared that night, it paled in comparison to what you felt now.

This building was weak– the structure was unsound. You had no idea how close the tornado actually was, but you knew this thing wasn’t going to stay put. It was just a matter of if the pipes went deep enough into the ground and if you could hold on to them. Because you didn’t have Tyler holding on for you this time.

You hoped he was somewhere safe– maybe tracking the storm that was about to kill you from a reasonable distance.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” you told Gloria, sweaty palms making your grip slip. “Just hold on–”

The building began to shake harder– the very foundation rocking beneath you. Shortly after, pieces of the roof began tearing off, exposing the thunderous storm raging above.

“I don’t–” Gloria cried. “I don’t think I can hold on!”

You tried loosening your own grip– hoping you could wrap your arms around her like Tyler had done for you before, or do something to help. But then you heard another ear splitting roar, and suddenly, the entire roof was being ripped off from the building. There was nothing you could do. You weren’t strong enough–

“Hold on!” you screamed, tucking your head into your elbow and squeezing your eyes shut. “Just a little longer!”

But as the words left your lips, even you didn’t believe them.

…

By the time they finally reached town, the tornado had already moved on.

Part of the reason why Tyler loved tornados so much was their power and speed. In his eyes– it was nothing short of an act of God to see what damage a simple funnel of wind could do in just a matter of minutes, sometimes seconds.

Until he was faced with the inevitable tragedy of it all.

Because it was one thing to see trees uprooted, or tractors rolled over. It was another to see an entire town had succumbed to a pile of debris– vehicles thrown this way and that– metal and siding and bricks scattered over every inch of the flat land– To know that people, his friends, his neighbors, you could be buried underneath piles of rubble– bodies broken and bleeding and hurt if they were lucky enough to be alive at all.

Tyler brought his truck to a screeching halt, not even hesitating before he was ripping off his seatbelt and hurling himself out of his seat. The second his boots hit the mud, he screamed your name as loud as he could.

Eyes whipping around, he tried to process the scene before him. But it was hard to gauge where anything used to be– there was practically nothing left.

“Tyler!” he heard someone scream in the distance. Head whipping to the side, he saw Lilly, waving her arms frantically.

For a moment, Tyler let himself get his hopes up. He raced across the distance between them as fast as he could, despite all the obstacles in his way. But when he finally reached her, he was devastated to see that you weren’t there at all. Instead, Lilly was staring at a vehicle, flipped over and crunched like it’d been hit head-on by an 18-wheeler.

And although it was damaged beyond repair, Tyler recognized it as yours immediately.

He felt his chest tighten. “Christ–” he stammered, unable to fight back the tears burning behind his eyes. He ran his hand through his hair before hunching over, hoping the motion would allow him to finally catch his breath.

“Oh God,” he panted. “God, no– please, no–”

“She might not have been in it,” Lilly said quickly.

But Tyler barely heard her. He was too fixated on the pounding in his ears–

A wave of hopelessness washed over him, flooding his insides. He was too late– he couldn’t save you– he was too fucking late.

“We’re gonna find her, T,” Boone’s voice was suddenly peaking through the fog.

“Yeah, we won’t stop until we do,” Dani added.

Tyler forced himself to take a few, steadying breaths. When he could, he straightened his back and glanced around.

His whole team hadn’t given up on you.

Neither could he.

…

When you finally gained the courage to open your eyes, you were met by a fierce brightness. You coughed– lungs heaving as you struggled to breathe.

“Gloria?” you tried to speak. “Are you okay?”

You were met by an eerie silence– the calm after the storm. Blinking harshly a few times, you tried to gather up enough strength to sit up. But as soon as you did, you had a chance to look around… And boy, do you wish you hadn’t.

There was nothing left– the entire town was gone… destroyed, buried in rubble and debris.

“Gloria?” you called, groaning as you pushed the thick layer of roofing off from your legs. You grimaced once you saw the deep gash down the side of your thigh, oozing blood.

Breath shuddering, you continued to scan the area– trying to wrack your brain for what the hell you were supposed to do next. The second you moved to turn your head, you winced, vision blurring. Slowly, you grazed along your forehead with your fingertips. When you pulled them away, you grimaced to see them coated in crimson liquid.

You stared at it for far too long– unsure what else to do. You were hurt– probably worse than it felt, too if adrenaline had anything to say about it. You didn’t know if you could walk on your leg, or if you’d pass out the second you tried to stand up.

You felt hopeless– completely and utterly alone.

Until you faintly heard the sound of your name being called in the distance.

It was enough to make you snap out of your trance, head whipping around to see Boone throwing aside a piece of siding. He called out a second time before turning and locking eyes with you from across the way.

“Boone,” you said under your breath, like you couldn’t quite believe he was real. Because if Boone was here– calling out for you, that meant Tyler couldn’t be far behind.

Boone yelled your name again before turning. “I found her!” he screamed, waving his arms. “Over here!”

You fought back the guilt you felt for still not finding Gloria and moved to stand on shaky legs.

“I’ll come back for you,” you promised her.

Wobbly and weak, you limped towards him, trying your best not to fall in the cracks and crevices beneath the debris. You looked down, intending to watch your step, but instead you caught a glimpse of your leg and all the blood now coating your entire thigh and calf. Just the sight of it made you lose your balance.

“Shit,” you gasped, as you landed harshly on the ground. You looked back up and saw Boone heading your way– only fifty yards or so from you. But then– right behind Boone, was a sight that made everything else melt away.

“Tyler,” you exhaled, like it was a prayer tumbling from your lips.

His long legs moved fast– practically running despite everything in his way.

He’d make it to you– he’d get you. But if you got up and kept moving… he’d get there sooner. So, with whatever you had left inside of you, you pushed yourself up. Ignoring the pounding in your head and the throbbing in your leg, you limped forward.

“Tyler,” you said again– not loud enough for anyone else to hear. It was like you just needed a reminder that really was right there. “Tyler–” this time, when his name tumbled from your lips, it came out as a sob– every emotion inside of you bubbling to the surface of your skin. Tears slipped down your cheeks, your vision blurred.

He was so close now– you could hear the rubble shift as he stepped on it.

He called your name… and God, if his voice wasn’t the sweetest sound you’d ever heard.

“Tyler–” you cried again, throat choked from dust and tears.

And then, just like that, his body was colliding with yours. Arms winding tightly around your shoulders, a familiar scent enveloping you, he cradled the back of your head with his hand, anchoring you to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his middle, face buried in his button down shirt.

“Oh, God,” he whispered above you, lips grazing the side of your head. “I got you,” he said.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out– only a guttural, uncontrollable sob that made him hold you tighter.

“I got you, baby. I got you,” he whispered into your hair.

“Tyler–” was all you managed to choke out.

His thumb trailed up and down your hair, matted with mud and your own blood. “I’m here. I’m right here. I got you.”

He held you tight, steadying your shaky frame. It was like he was the one thing keeping you from completely falling apart. Which was why your body almost recoiled when he finally pulled away. You needed him wrapped around you like that forever.

You tried to resist, to pull him back, but you didn’t even have the energy for that. All you could do was stand there weakly while his wild, concerned eyes scanned the length of you.

“I’m fine–” you tried to say.

But he shook his head instantly. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt, we gotta get you out of here. Get an ambulance!” he yelled to Boone, who was lingering nearby, looking like he didn’t quite know how to help. Boone nodded instantly before hurrying off.

“Tyler–”

“Okay, I see the leg– what else?” he asked. “What else hurts?”

“My head,” you whimpered. “And my ribs–” you admitted, although you hadn’t quite managed to look at those yet. “But Tyler–”

Before you could finish, Tyler’s hand gripped the hem of your tank top, pulling it up slightly. You winced as the fabric brushed over your ribs. But when Tyler pressed a hand on the bare skin, you almost screamed out in pain. “Sorry,” he said gently. “I gotta look though, baby. I gotta check it.”

You nodded, fingers squeezing the fabric of his shirt as he did. The pain was excruciating– enough to make your already-dizzy head start to spin.

“I think they’re broken– at least a couple. Can’t say for certain.”

“Tyler,” you tried to repeat, tears still streaming steadily down your face.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” he said once he saw the shift on your face.

“It’s Gloria,” you finally spit out. “She’s out here somewhere, Tyler. We have to find her–”

Tyler’s gaze softened at your words. He pulled his eyes away from you long enough to quickly scan the scene.

“Did you see her? Or know where she went?”

You shook your head, more tears spilling down your cheeks. “No–” you cried. “No, I don’t know where she went. Tyler, I have to find her–”

“Easy,” he soothed, winding an arm around your middle so that he could brace the majority of your weight. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. We gotta get you checked out.”

“I can’t leave her–” you protested.

“Listen to me,” he said, voice gentle but stern. “You bleeding out on a pile of rubble isn’t going to help her, okay? Let me get you somewhere safe, Boone and Dexter can search for Gloria, alright?”

After a moment, you nodded solemnly. “You promise?”

“I promise, baby. Now c’mon.”

Before you could protest, you felt Tyler’s arm swoop around the backs of your legs, while the other supported your back. In an instant, your feet are lifted off from the ground. You didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay your head against his chest.

“There we go,” he soothed. “I got you.”

His thumb trailed along your back gently as he began navigating the pile of rubble around you.

You felt safe nestled against him– and for the first time since you’d emerged from the rubble, you felt safe enough to allow your eyes to fall shut.

“Hey, stay awake now, okay? We’re just a short walk to the ambulances– keep lookin’ at me.”

You tried– honestly you did. You opened them up, despite everything inside of you that screamed to close them. And then you fought like hell to keep them trained on Tyler– to study the lining of his jaw and the tan shade of his skin. But Tyler’s embrace was so warm, and his voice was just so soft. And you were so, so tired. There was nothing you could do when they fell shut again.

Tyler pleaded for you, but unconsciousness got there first.

…

Even after the doctors assured him you’d be okay– that it was just exhaustion and blood loss from the trauma you’d endured keeping you out for so long, he couldn’t settle down.

You looked so goddamn frail– so broken in that hospital bed. He couldn’t stand it.

It was nearly ten at night before the rest of his team packed up to head back home, making him promise to call them as soon as you woke up.

“We can stay if you want,” Lilly offered. There was no hint of sarcasm or malice in her tone. She was being genuine. Which was how Tyler knew he must have been an absolute mess.

“That’s alright,” he croaked, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour. Even he could hear the pain in his voice.

Boone clapped him on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Love you, man.”

“Call us if you need anything,” Dani said.

Tyler nodded, promised he would. But the only thing he needed was for you to wake up.

…

His watch read midnight when you finally stirred.

Tyler was sitting in a chair, pulled all the way up to your bedside, and was clutching your hand with both of his. He had his forehead resting against the hospital bed, but the second he felt movement, he shot up quickly, all the exhaustion fading instantly.

Your face contorted into a frown as you squeezed your eyes shut once, twice, three times before they fluttered open.

Scooting forward in his chair, he studied you as you glanced around– clearly trying to take in your surroundings and place where you were. The second you started to shift– like you were sitting up in bed in a panic, he squeezed your hand.

“Hey, you’re okay,” he said. “You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”

Your head turned towards him, confusion and fear plastered all over your cut up, bruised face. Just the sight made his chest ache.

“You’re safe.”

You fell back against the pillow and nodded slowly.

“Tyler–” you began shakily, he could already hear the sob lodged in your throat. “I– I’m…”

“You’re okay, baby,” he assured you.

“No– I’m- I’m so sorry–”

He froze, brow furrowing in confusion. “Hey, what’s this? Stop- you got nothing to be sorry for, baby.”

“I didn’t have my phone. I didn’t hear the alert until it was too late. It was stupid– I just–” your face crumpled as you struggled to find words. “You always tell me not to forget it and I forgot it.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Don’t worry about that.”

“I just– I wanted to get you a birthday cake– I should have gotten it sooner, but I forgot– and…” your voice continued to crack and break with each breath you took. “I know you don’t love birthdays, but I love your birthday–” Tyler leaned forward in his seat, releasing your hand so that he could cup your cheek. He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face before his fingers traced your jawline delicately.

“I think your cake got destroyed.”

He couldn’t help the soft smirk that spread across his face. “I’d say that’s probably a fair assumption.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Hey,” he soothed. “Fuck birthday cakes– I didn’t want one anyway. I was thinkin’ we could get a nice pie this year. What do ya think? Blueberry? Peach cobbler?”

“But Gloria made it–”

Suddenly, your face fell and you were back to sitting up eagerly. “Oh my God, Tyler. Gloria– she–”

“She’s safe,” Tyler interjected quickly. “Thanks to you. Boone found her not far from where you wound up, clutching to some pipes. She had a few scratches, but that was it. She said the pipes were your idea.”

A rush of pride flowed through him as he beamed at you. His girl– getting people to safety in the middle of a tornado, despite how scared you must have been.

Your watery eyes met his, lip quivering as you tried to speak. “Tyler– I didn’t think…” he could hear the tears in your throat before you even let them out. “I didn’t think we were going to make it. God, I don’t know how we made it.”

Your voice broke on the last word, a sob escaping your lips as you doubled over. Instantly, Tyler was out of his chair and sliding into the tiny, hospital bed beside you carefully avoiding your cracked ribs and stitched up thigh.

Without even hesitating, you curled into his side, fingers grasping as his shirt like your life depended on it.

“Shh,” he soothed, hand rubbing up and down your arm. “You did make it. You and Gloria both. You made it because you thought on your feet– I’m so proud of you,” he hummed, pressing his lips to the side of your head.

He had no idea if you believed him or not– no idea if his words were sinking in at all. You clutched his shirt and cried against his chest– frame shaking with each breath you took. Tyler felt so helpless in that moment. All he could do was whisper reassuring comments and words of affirmation in your ear and hold you tightly against him.

After a while, your breathing started to return to normal. Your grip on his shirt loosened as you let out a sigh. “You came to get me,” you said quietly, voice sounding so tired– like it was moments away from drifting off.

Tyler pressed his lips to your hair, eyes squeezing shut. “I’ll always come to get you,” he promised.

You nodded. “I know.”

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm a few more times soothingly. “The laundry mat was a good idea– especially with the pipes,” he murmured into your hair.

With what little energy you had left, you pulled away from him to glance up. With a raised eyebrow, you asked. “Does that mean I can be a tornado wrangler now?”

He smirked playfully. “That depends, do you want to be?”

You bit your lip, like you were really thinking about it. After a moment, you scrunched your nose up. “And face one of those things nearly everyday? Not a chance.”

Tyler smiled, pulling you gently against his chest– right where you belonged. “There’s my girl,” he said lovingly.

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x reader imagine #twisters imagine #twisters fic #tyler owens x reader fic #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens x you #twisters #tyler owens #tyler owens fanfic

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rqnarok · 4 months ago

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thinking about being old man!logan’s little housewife...

headcanons - cws/tags: sexual content, mdni! old man!logan. dom/sub undertones. age gap. both characters are of the age of consent. unprotected p in v. 18+ only.

logan’s all worn out. there is no justification made on depicting how done he is with the world. he lives his days in an accustomed routine - dread crawling on his scarred skin - digging the soil for his own grave.

when he meets you, however, the horror, the panic, and the terror begin to fade away from his blurry orbs—replaced by the sight of your sugary sweet smile. you kept him calm by easing down his drinking and self-destruction. and he just can’t deny you, not when his dick gets so fucking hard when you’re around.

you can’t help it either. the need to fix someone seems very familiar in your generation—so sentimental and at the same time, pragmatic. never accepting ‘no’ for an answer, including when he tries to back you down by saying “ya’ don’t want me, kid. i’m an old dog.” as if sunlight to a plant, it only motivates you. leaving him flushed red and burrows knitted after you whispered filthy remarks to his ear.

up to the point where he finally tears down his prejudices towards marriage and puts a shiny ring on your finger.

he turns a blind eye to anyone glancing at him weirdly at how much older he looks compared to you, his salt-and-pepper beard not helping either. when charles notices the changes in him—how he seems to smile more and how hickeys sprawled up on his neck—he just can’t help but make snarky comments about it. logan’s too old for you (or so charles told him), and logan finds himself balking at that.

“if she doesn’t want it, she would’ve left already.”

he’s right. if you didn’t want it, you would’ve left him. oh, but you stayed. and not only did you stay, but you also took care of him. letting you eat out the palm of his hands.

greeting logan when he comes back from his blue-collar work, cooking and baking his favorite foods, ironing his work clothes and spraying the fabric with a lovely scent, kissing his bloodied knuckles, putting the prettiest outfit for him as a show, warming his cock when he sits lazily on the couch, nuzzling his thighs while you wait for him to get harden again, and letting him have you anywhere and anytime he wants.

logan keeps a polaroid of you while he’s away. a reminder to himself that he has a home now. he’d keep it in his wallet or his jacket pocket or hanging it on the car’s rear-view mirror. how empty was he to be so full of you now?

he never thought he would live a life like this—like how it is supposed to be. without you knowing, logan added one or two hours into his shift so that he could earn more extra pennies. the money he’ll use to pamper you, to make you feel comfortable and content. let you buy anything you want—all things on your shopping list are checked out by the end of the week.

and y’know, he’s an old man who’s not as strong as he used to be. so you pay for all this hard work by burying your face in logan’s neck as you ride him on the sofa. his head tilts slightly to catch your red-kissed lips with his - logan breathes something about how good you’re making him feel, “such a good little wife f’r your old man.”

he loves to tease you—telling you that you’re making him feel younger than ever when he’s with you, “gettin’ tired already, baby? need me t’do it for ya’?” his murmurs get to you as his large palms cup your ass, getting a handful of the plush skin before guiding you up and down his girth.

logan knows how tired you can be, especially when you start whining desperately like this, so he gives one or two light smacks for encouragement, “there ya’ go, kiddo. fuck. don’t stop now. doin’ so well, baby. so good.”

how you always ask for kisses from him ignites that taboo, perverted part of him he did not even know existed. anything that reminds him of how needy you are for him — feels so fucking wrong. but again, it gets his dick so fucking hard, too. he cannot help but to give in.

“bet no one has ever fucked this pretty pussy like i have, huh? need a real man to do it.”

he’s so fucking smug of himself since he had you. knowing those boys your age wishes that you choose them instead. but he’ll know that would never happen because when he says something like “look acha, drooling over an old man like me. gonna let me fill ya’ up, hm?” your walls manage to grip his girth tighter - squeezing him in so deliciously logan wonders what kind of a heroism act he did to deserve you.

makes you do a little ‘fashion show’ for him in the living room, parading yourself wearing all kinds of clothes that he bought. logan spreads his muscular thighs wide as he reads the newspaper—and the sight of him wearing his glasses that rest at the tip of his nose is holy to you, waiting to be worshipped.

you’d come out with a white lingerie that barely covers anything, “do you like it, lo?” whilst you giggle and twirl in front of him, you almost miss how he adjusted his seating position to palm himself through his trousers. telling you, “c’mere here, baby. lemme take good look at’cha, gimme some sugar.”

by ‘taking a look’ he means hiking up the sheer cloth to inspect your glistening mound, “hm. such a perfect pussy you got here, sweet’art.” probing his thick finger on the wet slick, humming at the dirty squelching sound. the look that he has makes your legs tremble - his untrimmed greying beard - his vague-looking face scars.

oh, coming home to you is the best part of his day. always. he’d see you heating the soup you made earlier and loses his fucking mind. turning off the stove in quick movements before hauling you up in his arms.

skin meets skin slapping fills the room and praises come out of his mouth so naturally, “f-fuck. gon’ stuff ya’ up, darlin'." you’re vulnerable and bare, you can’t even think when he’s got you like this.

logan would intertwine his fingers with yours. placing them side by side to see the wedding rings. a legitimate reminder that you’re his and he’s yours—forever.

“good little wife. my good little wife.”

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #old man logan #old man!logan #old man logan x reader #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #headcanon #logan by nina <3

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swordsandholly · 7 months ago

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Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

cw: menstruation (not graphic), afab anatomy

Part 4: “Girl Problems”

You shift in the office chair, stomach lurching uncomfortably. It’s been bothering you today - groaning and moaning nonstop. So far you blamed it on the suspicious chicken salad you got from the discount grocery store. You took every stomach soother you could, all the way down to chugging tea on the hottest day of spring so far.

With a rather pathetic groan you stand to meander your way to the bathroom. Surely sitting on the pot will help - at least as a placebo. Just as you do, though, a very distinct wet feeling makes itself known. You freeze, briefly, as if it will go away if you stand still enough.

“Ah, fuck!” You gasp, grabbing your purse and jogging down the hall to the single bath stall and popping the lock shut.

As soon as you sit, you let out a small sigh of relief. At least you caught it before you turned your underwear into a total crime scene. You’d rather not have to explain to John why you need to go home and change. You dig through your bag to your usual pocket of various supplies. From lotion to a sewing kit. It never hurts to be prepared.

Except, as you rifle around, you’re not finding your usual stash. There should be at least three in here… when did-?

The very loud, distinct memory of a girl at a bar stopping you while canvassing for some sanitary products hits you like a train.

“Whatever you’ve got I’ll take.” She practically begged. So, you handed them all over because got forbid someone get stranded during the most hellish week of the month. Like you are now.

You make a deep, frustrated noise in your throat and bury your face in your hands. You’ve been meaning to put a basket of backup wipes, pads, and tampons in the little bathroom cabinet - not just for you but for customers, too. It just kept getting pushed off when you got busy with other things.

Shit. What are you gonna do? If you put your pants back on you’ll just bleed through them in ten minutes. Cursed with a heavy flow (or blessed with a strong connection to the moon, as your former hippie roommate insisted.) Less time than that, probably, based on the vicious cramp that travels from your lower back to pelvis. You won’t be able to get to the corner store with out leaving a war crime in your path.

John’s the only person in the studio right now. He doesn’t have a client for another hour or so but you’d rather die than tell your hot boss you’re bleeding everywhere. For a few, quiet moments, you violently bounce your knee and go through every possibility. Maybe you’ll suddenly turn into the flash and you can get home before anyone even notices. You don’t really have much of a choice, do you?

With another groan you pull your phone from your pocket, thumb hovering over his contact for just a few beats too long while you work up the courage.

>> ok so this is terrible

>> im so sorry

>> but im having girl problems and am stuck in the bathroom

>> im so sorry this is so unprofessional

Girl problems? What are you? In fucking middle school? Before you can send yet another in a long string of planned apologies, John answers.

J >> How can I help?

>> i dont have any products on me

>> meant to stock the bathroom

>> sorry

J >> Stop apologizing

J >> What kind do you use? I’ll go to the corner store up the street

You breathe out a sigh of relief, still nervously gnawing at your lip as you send him what you need with an example picture (just in case) and profusely insist you’ll pay him back. John refuses. You’ll just have to sneak the cash in his tips or something.

It isn’t long before you hear the front doorbell ring, heavy footsteps, then a gentle tap on the bathroom door. “Y’alright, love?”

You perk up. “John, I’m so sorry-“

“Didn’t ask if you were sorry. Asked if you were alright.”

You snort. “Yeah…”

“I’m goin’ to unlock the door to slide these in. No lookin’ I swear.” John says. As if you were worried about that. You trust John. More than maybe any other man you’ve known (not that the bar is very high.) It’s nice of him to say, though. The door barely cracks open, just enough for him to toss the box to you across the floor and shut it immediately. You barely even see his arm. “That all you need?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You murmur, bending awkwardly and snatching up the box. “I’m really sorry. I know it’s not really… appropriate.”

“Love, it’s normal. It happens. Just get y’self situated.” John taps the door once before you hear his footsteps drift down the hall toward the front.

You feel a bit skittish the rest of the day. You know it’s stupid. John’s a grown man and it’s a natural thing that happens and it’s fine. He said it’s fine. If it wasn’t fine you probably wouldn’t still look up to him the way that you do - the way that you have since you came here. The way everyone else seems to. Even so, you step around him a little wider than usual on your way out - keeping your head hung low and both hands tightly gripping your purse.

You chew your lip, shifting in place as he locks the front door. “Look, John, I-“

“If you apologize again I’m gonna fire you.” John mutters, pulling on the door to make sure it’s properly secured. There’s humor in it, though, the corners of his lips quirked up slightly.

You scoff, still not quite able to meet his eye.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” When you don’t move fast enough, apparently, he tilts your head up with a light touch. His eyes are so warm despite their icy blue shade. Sparkly in the setting sun. “Any man worth his breath wouldn’t give a shite. I’m sorry if that hasn’t been your experience, but really, it’s fine. I’ll help you out a thousand times over if y’need.”

“Okay…” You murmur, suddenly very distracted by the feeling of his fingers touching your chin, light as is it. You pull away and clear your throat, hoping he doesn’t notice the growing heat in your cheeks. “Well, uh, see you tomorrow, then.”

John nods, still smiling. “Sleep well, dove.”

When you come in the next day, you expect to get teased. A snide comment or a sideways look. You would have at any other job you’d worked - especially one with all men. All giggling and poking at you like a bear they know can’t bite back. No one says a thing outside of their usual greetings when you make your way to the front desk, though. Johnny pinches your hip like normal, Simon greets you with his new pun of the day, Kyle gives you a distracted wave over the hum of his practice gun. John doesn’t bat an eye when he says hello and checks in about the plan for the day.

You open the bottom drawer that you usually tuck your purse into, pausing before you set it inside. At the bottom, neatly tied together with a piece of twine, sits a king size chocolate bar and a pack of Midol.

If John notices the way you become extra smiley after that discovery, he doesn’t comment.

A/N: This was very self-indulgent but I’m having a bad time over here and need to be saved.

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teliphone · 24 days ago

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Breathe

Kang Noeul x FemReader

Warning(s): Smut, fingering, scizzoring, slight overstimulation, Sub! Femreader

Word Count: 2.9K

You take a seat on the cold subway station bench to rest and wait for the next ride. You lean your head back against the stone wall. You’re at ease for a moment. Until the buzz of a notification on your phone makes your heart race. You knew what the message was even before looking at it. Reaching into your pockets, you pull out your phone. Your eyes read over the text quickly.

‘Your card has been declined due to insufficient funds’

A deep sigh escapes your mouth. You close your eyes while gripping your phone. An anxious bubble forms in your stomach.

How much longer will you stay in debt? It seems like no matter how much you work, you can never escape it. Rent… tax… food… everything has been sucking your wallet dry. Money has started to make you question your purpose in life. Is there a point in living if you’re working so hard yet still deep in debt?

You shove your phone back into your pockets in an attempt to ignore the message. You do not need the reminder right now. Your phone buzzes a few more times, but you ignore it. All you want is to go home and rest from a busy day.

From your peripheral vision, you see a figure getting closer to you. A person takes a seat next to you. You take a quick glance out of curiosity. It’s a man in a suit holding a briefcase. He looks harmless enough. You decide to ignore his presence and continue staring ahead.

“Do you want to play a game?”

You feel a pressure dig into your lower hip. It felt like the tip of a cold metal. You try to turn your head to look, but the pressure deepens, making you wince. Another feeling touches your lower back, but this time it’s much softer.

“Keep moving faster,” A deep robotic voice orders you from behind. You quickly realize it’s the voice of the pink guards. The guard's hand leaves your lower back and jerks the tip of the gun into your body again. You force yourself to take a step forward. The guard follows closely behind as you walk at a quick pace. You feel nervous, wondering where the pink guard is taking you. Anything could happen in a place like this.

“Turn left,” The voice orders again. You obey and take a turn which leads you to a hallway with multiple red doors side by side.

“Go to door eleven,”

You quietly nod your head and make your way to the door. Nervously licking your lips as you reach for the door handle. You turn the knob and gently swing the doors open. You quickly notice a small bed, but before you can examine more you are suddenly shoved into the room. You catch yourself on the table and turn your body to face the guard. Your hand clenches the edge of the table. Chest moving up and down anxiously. You don’t dare to say anything or make a move. The guard stands still for a little while and you are unsure where they are looking.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Guard 011 assures. You furrow your eyebrows, still unsure and worried. The guard sighs and begins to remove their mask. They swiftly toss the mask to the side and you make eye contact. You immediately recognize her eyes.

“N-Noeul?” You let out a gasp. She doesn’t respond but instead continues to take off the second head mask. She drops it at her feet. Her hair bangs are a little messy and sweaty. She runs her fingers through her hair while letting out a soft sigh of relief. Her eyes are tired and lack emotion.

“What are you doing here?” She questions. The tone of her voice shows genuine curiosity. Silence coats the air as you try to find an excuse. An embarrassing blush forms on your cheeks. You avert her stare by looking at the bed. You hear her let out a sigh in frustration before she gets closer to you. Her glove fingers touch the edge of your chin. She grips and forces you to look at her.

“I’m talking to you,” She reminds.

“I… I’m in deep debt…” You confess. She furrows her eyebrows as she examines your face. You look pitiful and small under her gaze. She lets out a tsk sound of disapproval and disappointment. You feel your heart drop to your stomach. Disappointing her was the last thing you wanted to do. You quickly reach out to touch her arm. She glances down to see your fingers wrap around her bicep.

“I swear just two games and I will be able to pay off my debt,” You explain with a light laugh. Her tired eyes look back up and you gulp. She wasn’t in the mood to play around. She walks past you without spearing you a second glance. She plops onto the bed and leans her body back. Her legs are spread apart as she stares at you with tired eyes. She starts taking off her gloves and tosses them aimlessly to the side.

“You ignored my texts,” She grumbles. You suddenly remember your phone buzzing multiple times last night.

“Oh! That…I didn’t realize it was you,” You awkwardly laugh. An attempt to lighten the mood. Noeul continues not to smile. She tilts her head to the side. She decides to accept your excuse.

“You’re stupid for putting yourself in this position,” She sighs, going back to the topic. You bite your bottom lip in shame. You look down onto the ground and play with the bottom of your heel. There is a moment of silence again.

“…Are you not afraid of death?” She puzzles. You jerk your head up to look at her with wide eyes. She brings one of her hands to massage her thigh. She focuses on circling her fingers against her tense muscles rather than you. You feel a slight blush forming on your cheeks as you look at her position.

“You realize you’re helping kill people,” You whisper. She stops massaging her thighs and lets out a dry chuckle. She leans back again and lifts her head.

“I’m just doing what I’m asked to do,” She states, staring at you up and down slowly. You grip your fist and force yourself to look away. You’re lost for words.

“Come here,” Noeul calls. The air is dense and you feel butterflies in your stomach. Your legs refuse to move. She lets out a soft giggle and runs her fingers through her hair.

“You would rather die than listen to me,” She assumes. Your heart quickens and you shake your head no. Was that a warning? You feel a rush of adrenaline and fear. You immediately walk over and kneel against the floor by her legs.

“No, that's not true. Please don’t think that,” You beg, placing your hands on her thighs. Her emotionless face peers down at you. She enjoys the scene of you kneeling and begging before her. She brings her hands up to gently brush your hair. You feel a shiver run down your spine when you realize her fingers are the ones pressing the trigger. Life and death rest upon her hand, yet here it is brushing your hair. Noeul could easily kill you at this spot, but you feel a wave of pride when you know she wouldn’t.

You lean your head down to rest against her thighs. She continues to slowly brush your hair. You allow yourself to rest your eyes and get comfortable. But that only lasts for about three minutes before Noeul gets bored. Her fingers begin to grip your head and force you to look up. You wince a little in pain. Her heavy-lidded eyes gaze at your eyes and then to your lips.

It’s a little sick and twisted that you also feel a little turned on in this situation. Risk has been a key factor here. A case of physiological reasoning arises. Someone who loves danger often takes risks. These trigger the brain to release adrenaline and other hormones, which leads to a state of excitement and euphoria.

You look up at her, your cheeks turning pink. She slowly leans down to capture your lips. You shut your eyes and feel her soft plump lips press against yours. Her fingers let go of your hair and move down to your neck. Your lips move slowly against her. As if to cherish every second.

You tilt your head, brushing your nose against hers. The kiss deepens and you let out a soft pant. You start to get up from your position and place your knees between the slot of her thighs. The angle has switched. You are now leaning down to capture her lips. You bring your hands up to cup her face. Your thumb swipes against her cheeks. Her hands naturally wrap around your hips, pulling you closer. Her wet lips slide easily against yours. She digs her fingers into your hip and you let out a soft whine. She pulls away from the kiss first to catch her breath. Her lips red and puffy.

“Take off your clothes,” She orders as she leans back again. You get off the bed and shyly touch the hem of the green sweater. She watches closely and you feel nervous under her gaze. You start to lift the sweater over your head and swiftly take the sweatpants off. Then you start taking off your undergarments. The cold air prickles your skin. Noeul slightly bites her bottom lip before tapping her thighs.

“Come on top,” She orders. You obey and slowly place yourself beside her thighs. Your knees are spread and your chest faces her. She slowly drags her fingers against your lower back before wrapping them on your chest. She cups it and squeezes it. Her thumb rubs against the numb. It hardens under her touch.

“Cute,” She whispers. She tilts forward to lick your nipple. She swirls her tongue against the skin around the nipple and then back to sucking. You sigh and place your hands on her lower head. As she continues to suck and bite your boobs, she looks up. Her pupils are blown out. You smile and gently massage her head. You look at her between your lashes to watch her tongue brush against your nipple. Your stomach clenches and you moan. She shuts her eyes and sucks hard before letting go with a loud plop sound. She removes one hand from your chest and down to your stomach. She drags her fingers down lower and you bite your lip.

She looks up again with her tired eyes. She waits for permission in which you let out a soft ‘yes’ moan. Her middle finger starts to rub the outside of your folds. The corner of her lips curled into a smirk. You’re more wet than she imagined. Her fingers move towards your clit and she circles it slowly. Your core leaks out a little more. She collects and coats your juices with her middle finger. Once she is satisfied with how wet you’ve become, she presses onto your clit. You let out a soft moan and jerk your hips into her hands. She continues to circle your clit over and over. She returns to biting your chest, leaving red marks on the soft skin.

She lets you move your hips against her finger. Your clit brushes her middle and ring finger. You let out a choking moan as the pleasure begins to build. Your wet clit slides easily. In the midst of you grinding her hand, her fingers accidentally slip into your core. You gasp and grip onto her shoulders. Pausing to catch your breath. The feeling of her fingers filling your hole felt too good.

“Why’d you stop,” She challenges. Her two fingers rest at the tip of your core. You bite your lips as you sink back down onto her fingers. You let out a moan at the feeling of her filling you up. You start to slowly move again. She feels your hot core sliding up and down her digits. She gets drunk off the sight of you.

“Feels so good unnie,” You moan into her ears. Her eyes darken and she bites her lips. She wraps her free hand around your waist.

“Hold on to me tighter,” She grunts. Before you can fully hold on, she starts moving her fingers at a quicker pace. You cry out and clench onto her. She snaps her wrist and deepens her finger in you. You choke out a cuss and she smiles. Wetness starts to coat down to her knuckles. Your hot gummy walls welcome her fingers so well. Your hair starts to stick onto your sweaty forehead. She bites down on your shoulders and curls her finger in you. You shut your eyes and continue chasing your high. Her fingers press into your walls over and over. She can feel you starting to clench. She loves the feeling of your wet cunt. She jerks her hand more aggressively. The tips of her fingers abuse your wall at a quick pace. You tilt your head back and let out a high-pitched cry. Your lower stomach can feel a strong orgasm coming ahead. After a few more strong thrusts, you come over her fingers. She moves her fingers to help you ride out your high. You grip her shoulders to signal her to stop moving. She pauses but keeps her fingers in you as you catch your breath. She kisses your shoulders and then towards your neck. You let out a soft hum. She leaves back to analyze your features.

You shiver and shake as she takes her fingers out of you. Your chest is moving up and down. She brings her fingers to her mouth and slowly licks them. Your juice coats her tongue and she moans. She needs more of you.

“Lay down,”

You widen your eyes, you don’t know if you can handle another round. Your core is still pulsing. She gently pushes you off her thighs. You take a seat on the bed. She starts taking off the pinkish-red suit. You gulp at her body figure. Her stomach is toned and she has slight muscles on her biceps. She slips off her underwear. You see a wet spot on her panties. She holds her panties in her hands. She walks and gives you a kiss. As she continues to kiss you, she gently pushes you down onto the bed. You can feel her core brush against yours. You moan into her mouth. She pulls away from the kiss and gets onto the bed. She spreads your legs and angles herself between you. You blush at the realization of what she’s about to do.

She lowers herself till her core touches yours. Your wet and slippery core slides easily against her. She moans and jerks her hips faster, chasing for her own high. Her pace is brutal considering you just came not long ago. You moan loudly as her folds grind against your clit.

“The walls are thin,” She warns. You couldn’t hear her clear from the buzz in your ear. All you could focus on was the way her hips thrust into you. You cuss loudly and she stops moving. She takes the panties from her hand and shoves it into your mouth. You can taste the faint salty and sweet taste of the cotton. Your moans become quieter.

She starts moving her hips again but in a quicker manner. All the build-up stress she has been holding needs to be released. You’re the perfect solution. Wetness starts to spread down to your thighs. You hear her low grunts and moans. In the moment, you look at her. Her mouth is open slightly to release soft moans. Her hips snap against you over and over. Your core grinds against her clit at the right spot. She bites her lips and tilts her head back. She feels her high coming closer. Sweat starts to form on her forehead and collarbone. She grabs onto your thighs, nails digging into the soft skin. You try to speak, but the panties in your mouth muffle you. You attempt to tap her to slow down, but all that does is make her smirk and go faster. The bed moves and squeaks at each thrust. You shut your eyes and bite down on her panties. After a few more, she chokes out a moan and comes onto your core. She jerks her hips lazily to help you reach your high as well. You come shortly after. It hits you stronger than you expected. She watches you with heavy eyes. You’re gasping for air and your body is shaking.

“Breathe,” She cooes. She removes herself from between your legs. She leans over and brushes your sweaty hair from your forehead. She pulls her panties out of your mouth and drops them onto the ground. You rest your head on the soft plush of her thighs. She watches closely to your chest moving up and down slower.

“Don’t die out there,” She warns. You slowly nod your head and feel the sleepiness kicking in. You knew the risk you were taking when you entered the game. She cares for you though she never expresses it through her face. She allows you to take a short nap as she stares at the gun resting on the wall. Her fingers brush your hair in slow streaks. She holds the power of your life in her hands. She will not allow your last breath to be from a game. She'll break the rules to let you live if she has to.

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waitingonher · 1 year ago

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because i love you — [hoo boys headcanons]

summary: your "thing" with the hoo boys!

author's note: in honor of the pjo series coming out today,,have this rlly rlly short draft from earlier this year! xoxo

percy jackson — doodling on him

“give me your hand.”

“yes ma’am.”

minutes pass as you doodle gods know what onto percy’s hand. you always resort to this whenever the camp head counselor's meeting begins late—which seems to be every meeting—and giving percy "tattoos" certainly kills time. last meeting, you drew a can of beans and the time before that, was a bouquet of tulips. so honestly his guess being a pair of socks this time isn’t too far of a reach.

“okay, done,” you release his hand, a proud smile gracing your features, “cute right?”

he quirks a brow upon seeing the drawing, “is that…” percy turns his head to the side, gaining better perspective, “is that a flying fish?”

“wow, you’re good,” you say, giving him a nod of approval, “although, last time you did say that my can of beans looked like a roll of toilet paper…”

your boyfriend throws his hands in the air, “in my defense, you used a shitty pen so it was hard to tell.”

“whatever.”

jason grace — sewing your initials on his clothes

“hi love,” jason says, plopping down beside you on the couch. you give him a bright smile as he places a gentle kiss on your head, “almost done?”

nodding proudly, you hold up his pair of jeans to show him your work: your initials sewn onto a corner of his back pocket, “yup, just finished actually! what do you think of the color? i think you bought the thread for me on our second date. but i totally forgot i had it until i went digging in my supply box.”

a grin plasters itself on jason’s face as he nods his head in realization, “i knew the color seemed familiar. i remember wondering why a tiny spool of thread was so expensive. but it’s perfect, i love it,” he kisses your cheek, “all my friends are gonna be so jealous that they don’t have their girlfriends�� initials sewn onto their clothes.”

you laugh as you imagine jason vehemently bragging about his jeans to all his friends, “tell them i’m charging $50 if they want me to do theirs,” you wink.

“we’d make more than the stolls’ and their smuggling business if we did that,” he laughs, admiring your work once more. who knew that having your initials on his pants would have such an affect on him, “also, can you do my sweaters and my other jeans?"

you raise a brow, "i might have to start charging you at this point."

leo valdez — impromptu fashion shows

“wow!” you clap enthusiastically, “your outfit even puts paris fashion week outfits to shame!” yes, because a rainbow checkered crop top with a humongous green tutu and a pink boa paired with insanely skinny stilettos beats any and all high fashion runway outfits, “now, leo valdez, can you give us a few words about your new clothing line? and possibly a bit about what it’s like to be so amazingly talented?” you inquire, raising an invisible microphone to his mouth.

leo oh-so humbly bows and rises with a proud grin, “thank you, thank you, but i honestly must give all credit towards my beautiful muse, y/n, she’s the inspiration behind my new line. and about being so talented, it really is such hard work to be this naturally gifted.”

“ooh, do tell about this ‘y/n.’ i’ve never heard of her but she does sound absolutely gorgeous!” you exclaim, keeping up with the act.

your boyfriend nods firmly, “oh yes, she’s very, very, very beautiful,” adding a playful wink, “but i must say, she has the worst morning breath i’ve ever encountered!”

your smile drops and you squint your eyes, “i’m going to choke you with that stupid ugly boa if you don’t take that back right now.”

“uh ma’am,” leo backs up nervously, clutching his boa, “i’m going to have to call security if you threaten me again.”

"i'm seriously going to kill you."

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youryanderedaddy · 8 months ago

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When Life Gives Lemons

tw: female reader, technically non con because of stealthing, baby trapping, breeding, obsessive behavior, reader being a bit rude

You couldn’t believe the irony of your life. You were about to break up with your immature boyfriend, and he still managed to be grossly late to the date, unconsciously digging his own grave deeper. You had put on your best white shirt and the tightest skirt you owned, and you even went through the trouble of booking the latest hipster coffee shop close to the centre. He had been fifteen minutes late, to be exact, and when you brought it up, he simply shrugged a long sleazy smile, dragging his skeleton - shaped metal rings against the edge of the table.

“All in due time, princess.” He took a sip off his coffee - a single shot of espresso with no creamer, as always. “All in due time.” He repeated, reaching in his pocket for a pack of off - brand cigarettes. He really couldn’t afford any of the fancy ones. Once the cigarette was lit, he slowly brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply, letting his head relax against the chair. His thick neck tightened as he swallowed the deadly smoke, and even the sun seemed to avoid his messy dark locks, instead keeping the man in the shadows.

“What does that even mean?” You threw your hands around helplessly, sinking into your chair. “Don’t you want to know?” Axel teased, taking another puff. Although his expression was one of mild amusement, his sharp blue eyes were carefully following your every movement - wondering what will tip you off the most. “You know, you’re so fuckin’ hot when you’re mad, mami.” He smiled in a playful boyish way that once would have made you melt, but now only served as a reminder of his unserious nature.

“Stop playing around. I need to discuss something imp–”

“Shhh, don’t talk, babygirl. I need to show you something.” Axel interrupted, gripping the big guitar closer to his lap. ”I wrote you a song.” His thin fingers grazed the delicate transparent strings, forcing a catchy, although not fully polished melody out of the old thing. He took a deep breath, wetting his lips so the lyrics would come out softer.

My girl knows how to set me

on flames she goes through

the motions of the wind she

is a fireball, a fireball, on fire

“What the fuck, Axy.” You pounded your fists at the table, shaking the glasses and spilling coffee all over the wooden surface. You could feel everyone’s judging stare across your back, all of the other patrons were jeering and whispering about the two of you, and your cheeks were heating up by the moment. “I’ve told you countless times to stop writing those shitty songs. They don’t even rhyme, for fuck sake.” You whined, suddenly overwhelmed by helplessness. He was never going to change, was he? “This is exactly why I want to break up.”

The music stopped entirely. His dark sunglasses ended on the ground.

“You wanna break up?” The musician repeated slowly, suddenly appearing awfully composed - so composed it made you look crazy. After that question he remained silent for a very long time, taking long drags off his cigarette while studying your face for any sign of your true feelings bleeding out. “Real’ funny, babe, real’ fun joke.” He forced a crooked smile, reaching in to squeeze your hand all the way through the table. “Now tell me, what’s wrong with the song? I stayed real’ late to compose it just for our date today.” He winked, which only made you feel worse.

“I am being serious, Axel. Let go of me.” Your tone turned icy and your ex boyfriend quickly released you, eyes filling with raw fear. “Wait, baby, we can talk about–”

“There is nothing to talk about. You’re such a child!” You blurted out, too frustrated to spare energy on fluttery words and sweet apologies. “I want to do my masters soon. You know I’m applying to Metwyorth - I can’t be seen hanging around with a high school dropout who does Saturday gigs for a living.” You continued, pursing your lips together. You knew you were being harsh, cruel even, but this was the only way to push him away. The musician could be awfully clingy, so you needed to be firm.

“A highschool dropout who made you scream your brains out.” Axel responded bitterly through clenched teeth, eyes growing dark with anger. You shook your head bashfully, avoiding his fiery gaze. “Sure, we had our fun,” You gestured vaguely at nothing in particular, trying to hide the shame blossoming on your sides. “But it’s time to wake up. I mean, be realistic. We live in different worlds.” You began to collect your things quickly, standing up to leave.

“Y/N!” He called out to you, causing you to turn back just for a second - you owed him that much for all the good memories you knew you both would have trouble forgetting. “You’re making a mistake. Please, think it through.” The man took a hold of your hand, caressing your fingers gently. “I know I can’t offer you much right now, but I really love you!” His eyes dilated, honest and clear like an untouched sea on a quiet day.

“Goodbye, Axel.”

***

You meet him sooner that you’d like.

Two weeks later you’re drunk off your mind, dancing the night away with some of your girlfriends when you catch a pair of familiar eyes fluttering across your body from the other side of the room. It makes you feel hot all over - despite what you said back then, you felt each agonising moment of the break up. Even if the logical part of your brain knows you have no future with such a man, your body needs him, craves him.

Axel keeps staring at you intensely, burning holes through your neck, your thighs, your lips. His yearning gaze lingers, completely miserable, and yet as lustful as the night he first wrapped his arms around you and claimed you as his. He can still feel your nails scratching his back red and bloody, sending shivers down his spine and setting fire in his loins. This staring game of yours lasts for approximately thirty minutes before he gives in and comes over to your table. He doesn’t say anything - doesn’t look at you or greet your friends, doesn’t even pretend to have any reason to approach you. He simply grabs you, swallows an airy pant, and drags you inside the bathroom.

You’re all over each other in no time. His hands are tangled in your hair and your nails are sinking into his warm flesh once again. You can’t breathe for a second, suffocated by a deep, longing kiss that he only spares you of once your lips start to turn blue. He licks your neck and bites at any spot vulnerable enough to steal a gasp out of you - and you return it by sucking on his collarbone until a purple hickey adorns his skin. You swiftly unzip his loose pants and start taking your dress off, but as you try to spread your legs, he turns you around facing the wall.

“Fuck, I wanna do you from the back, princess.” Axel mumbles, one strong hand gripping your throat as the other gropes your breasts freely. You nod weakly, too turned on to comprehend any of the words he’s saying. “Ngh, wanna be able to pull your hair n’ shit.” His fist wraps around your ponytail, pulling slightly so you expose your neck to his teeth. You can already feel his throbbing manhood prob at your thighs, slowly moving towards your entrance. “Y-you have a condom on, right?” You manage to whimper through the little electric bursts of pleasure running through your whole body as he plays you like an instrument. He mumbles something like “yeah”, and in this state of mind that’s enough for you.

He starts sinking into your heat slowly, letting you adjust to his hard length inch by inch, then once you’ve settled, practically begging him to just give it to you, he begins thrusting painfully slow - really making you feel it going in and out, in and out in a perfect rhythm. Each time his cock brushes against your most sensitive spot, you’re reduced to a slick, desperate mess, but just as your thighs begin to go numb and you slip down, Axel catches both of your wrists and pins them to the wall, keeping you in place. You’re so wet you can hear the slap of skin on skin every time your gummy walls hug his member, but you’re too far gone to care about the nasty sound.

“F-fuck, baby, you’d be so fucking hot as a mother. Have you ever thought about it?” Your ex whispers against you, picking up the pace. You shake your head - kids have never been your priority, since you’re still so young and your education would always come first. “I thought about it. A lot, ‘n fact, when we were separated.” His heartbeat fastens. “Ugh, you’re still so tight, god…” His free hand dances at your hips, ogling and caressing any curve it can find. “When you dumped me, I was completely lost, ya know? Didn’t sober up for three days. But then I dreamt that I knocked you up accidentally. S-shit, did you just tighten up?”

Your whole body stiffens at his words. Your stomach fills with unexplainable dread - this whole conversation is turning you off, but somehow your body seems to have a mind of its own.

“Q-quit it with the small talk, asshole.” You groan, pushing back so you’d get more friction between your legs. “Just fuck me, okay? I don’t need to hear your weird fantasies.” You hear yourself saying confidently despite the provocative position you’re currently stuck in - you can’t even see his face, but you know he’s probably laughing at your bossy comment. But instead he keeps blabbering on as if you’re not even there. “You were so beautiful, princess. So big and–” He bites his lower lip. “So fucking needy for me - just like now. You were dripping everywhere. You were so excited for our little baby.” He grunted hoarsely, reaching in to stroke your clit - and despite your best efforts, you let out a soft moan.

“And we were a family - just you, n-ngh, me and the little guy.” Axel utters through clenched teeth, trying to hold out for as long as possible - savouring you in tiny little bites. “No stupid degrees or anythin’, just us two against the world.” He slows down further, now barely moving inside of you. It’s driving you crazy with anticipation - both his story and the way he’s fucking you. “And it made me think, we could really have all that - if it wasn’t for your stupid pride. All I need to do is knock you up. Just think about it.” The man grips your hips roughly, impaling you on his thickness.

“Your tits will swell, your thighs will thicken; you’ll be so tired you’ll have to lay down all the time. You won’t even be able to touch yourself because of your belly.” He smiles at you gently, although you can’t see it. At this point you’re already so close to climax you can’t break through the cotton cloud haze that’s taken over your mind to truly focus. This is one of the reasons you had to break up with the musician - he could get you cockdrunk with a simple touch, and that vulnerability felt terrifying.

“And I will take care of you through every-” He kisses your cheek. “single–” He kisses you again. “step of the way.” He inhales deeply, thrusting in one final time before he spills inside you. “I love you, baby. I really can’t let you go.”

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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writteninkat · 7 months ago

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MHA GUYS' FAVORITE PUBLIC PLACES TO FUCK YOU

w/ Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Kaminari

warning: smut, nsfw, exhibitionism, oral(f!reader & m!characters receiving), unprotected sex

a/n: sorry denki's seemed super rushed i have a terrible headache and i have a feeling leaving this unfinished won't help:")

navigation

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

this man loves taking you in high places.

balconies, rooftops, pressing you against the floor to ceiling windows of his office located at the very top floor.

there's something about your moans travelling long distances that has him thinking—that's right, extras. listen to how good i make my girl feel. she's just for me, though. feel free to listen as i fuck her so good.

mmhmm, he loves to show off. he loves to show you off.

that's why your breasts are constantly being pressed against his office windows whenever you visit him during lunch

"imagine the fuckers looking up at you right now." he growls in your ear as his fingers busy themselves on your clit, your eyes rolling back in ecstacy as the simple thought of a stranger witnessing this act have you gushing

"yeah that's right, you loving showing others what a slut you are for me, right?" he sucks on the side of your neck, flicking on your clit making your legs wobble in bliss.

at home? your back is digging against the railings of your balcony as your boyfriend sucks on your tits, your fingers swimming through his blond locks with your legs locked around his waist, heels pressing against his round ass

"oh god! oh my fucking god!" you moan loudly, hoping your neighbors hear. hoping they know just how amazing of a fuck pro hero dynamight gives.

"yeah, call for your god all you want baby, i'll still eat you up." katsuki growls, sinking his teeth on the crook of your neck, the pain pushing an orgasm out of you

EIJIROU KIRISHIMA

the obsession this man has with going grocery shopping with you is unparalleled

mainly because he gets to finger and tongue fuck you in every hidden corner you find at the store

"fuck- fuck, eiji!" you gasp loudly, looking around to make sure no one walks in on your boyfriend on his knees in front of you with your leg propper on his shoulder as you press onto the wall, hoping you wont topple over

in the scary case of the act being seen or worse- videotaped, the only person being recognized will be you, as eijirou's head is covered by the flowy skirt of your dress. and that has you grinding your hips on his mouth

"jesus christ, i'm gonna cum baby!" you whisper, feeling his tongue thrusting inside you as he sucks on your clit, electricity running up your spine as you near the top

"c'mon baby," you hear your boyfriend's muffled voice feom underneath you, "cum for me, lemme drink that sweet, sweet juice."

and you do. once a good girl, always a good girl. you can never say no to the sweet boy between your legs.

but the grocery isn't the only place eijirou loves visiting with you.

taking a stroll at the park in the dead of night will have you on your knees behind a tree with your hands tied behind your back by whatever your boyfriend brings or finds.

tonight, he found an unused handkerchief in his pocket, and decided to make use of it.

"god, fuck, baby..." his moans inspire you to take him deeper, watching him through your lashes as he tilts his head back, pressing it against the tree

"fuck, that mouth should be considered a sin." he grunts, tightening his grip on your hair as he moves you himself

his hips move on their own, his hip moving in your throat as your vision begins to dim with the lack of oxygen

"swallow me up baby, lemme feel your throat tightening around me."

and you do as you're told, using the last bit of your energy to swallow him as bast as you can, feeling him burst with thick, hot cum inside

SHOTO TODOROKI

oh how he loves it when you ride him in any of his cars, but he absolutely goes feral when you choose to take the tesla

it means he can shift it to auto and have nothing to worry about. he loves the way his surroundings move past him as your tits bounce above him, your hips shaking in circular motions

it's one of the reasons he lightened his tints. just light enough for the people outside to make out what's going on, but dark enough for your face to be concealed

he lied about others being able to see you though. he knows you want to be seen, but he'll kill before someone gets to see you in this state

"fuck, oh fuck, sho!" you whine, "god fuck your dick feels so good!"

shoto grits his teeth, taking a handful of your tit as the other squeezes your waist, guiding you up and down his shaft

"give them a great show, baby. let them see what they're missing." he urges, allowing your back to arch as your scream in your euphoric state.

the both of you shake the car as it drives, selfishly chasing your own highs until your walls clamp around shoto, milking him for what he's worth

you think that's all? he goes feral whenever he fucks you on his office desk with his door unlocked

as one of the most demanded heros, he always has people calling for him. on the phone, or in person

when he's in the middle of abusing your cunt and his phone rings off? he looks at you in expectation, urging you to answer the call for him

without his rough pace faltering, you sink your teeth on your bottom lip, pressing the 'answer' button and putting the call on speaker

"good morning, mr. todoroki! regarding the press conference..." the caller blabs on about boring details you could barely comprehend as you focus on staying silent.

"mmm," your eyes widen as your boyfriend moans. "i think that venue will be perfect. what does dynamight and deku think about it?"

"they already gave the go signal, sir! mr. dynamight even told me not to call him about such trivial matters..." the man laughs awkwardly throught the phone.

as you feel your orgasm near you, your squeeze on shoto's bicep, alerting him

the fucker simply smirks at you before saying a few more words to the call, your muscles seizing up at the difficulty of holding your orgasm in

as soon as you hear the familiar beep of ending a call, your back archs as pleasure takes over your mind and body

"fuck! you're squeezing me so tightly baby." shoto gasps but you pay him no mind as your eyes roll to the back of your head, core tightening as your hips move on their own, hoping for a better high

as you begin to calm down, your breasts rise and fall rapidly as your hair stick to your forehead. shoto presses a soft kiss on your forehead before slowly pulling out, hissing

you make out the lewd feeling of his cum dripping out of you, making you want for a second round

three knocks are heard on his office doors before a familiar voice announces, "i'm coming in."

you immediately roll over, dropping to your hands and knees as you thank you boyfriend for installing soft as shit carpets. the same boyfriend who had already fixed himself up and is now chatting with Iida like you aren't hidden behind his desk, boobs out and cunt dripping of cum

DENKI KAMINARI

apart from being a hero, your boyfriend likes to play games and interact with his fans through livestreams

and every now and then, when he's being too loud, you like to shut him up by crawling undreneath his table and pulling his sweatpants down

"heal! i need someone to heal me-" your movements cut him off, making him snap his head down at you. eyes wide and jaw slack, a moment of silence passes and you thank every higher being for the peace and quiet before it's being taken away once again

"sorry, lost connection. i'm still dying, you guys!"

you roll your eyes, fully pulling his pants down, surprised at the sight of him already hard. one thing about your boyfriend? everything you do gets him hard.

your mouth waters at the precum leaking from his tip, your tongue immediately darting over to lick it off

you hear denki hiss before telling whoever he's playing with "don't worry about it, stubbed my toe"

you wrap your lips around the tip, looking up to see your boyfriend smiling widely with a deep blush across his cheeks

swirling your tongue around his bulbous head, you suck softly, earning a hiss from him before wiping your tongue over the slit

"huh? yeah, no yeah i'm fine" the continuous sounds of buttons being pressed give you the go signal to finally take him properly inside your mouth

"fuck-" he hisses the moment his head presses against the back of your throat, clearing his throat when your fingers dance towards his balls, cupping them

"i mean, fuck i'm sorry i missed, guys. maybe i should stop the game-" you squeeze the bas of his cock in warning

denki's jaw hardens with his eyes still trained to his screen. he knew if he looked down again, he'll be raising suspicions from his viewers

"nevermind, let's just finish this as soon as we can. 'm gettin' tired." you're unsure whether he's talking to you or his friends anymore, but you continue bobbing your head, making sure you don't hit the table

"guys! guys!" he pants, his grip on his controller tight as his thighs flex

"sorry- i just need medic!" he tries covering up his actions

your boyfriend is the kind who moans the entire house down. he needs to tell you how good you feel, he needs to tell you when he's about to cum and when he is cumming. he's simply a vocal lover, and when he doesn't have the freedom to do that, it fucks with his head

"so fucking good," he pants, "this game is so fucking good you guys!" that was a weak ass save

your tongue runs up the underside of his cock before taking him whole inside your mouth once more, his hisses and occassional huffs like music to your ears

his jaw continues to grind as his fingertips whiten with how hard he's gripping his controller

you play with his balls, watching his brows furrow. he's pissed.

aggressively tapping on the buttons, a moment passes when his undivided attention is on his screen before he slams his controller on his desk. "we won, i hard carried you motherfuckers, thanks for watching, see you all never."

he says it all so quickly before turning the live off, you barely have any time to think when he stands up, pulling you up with him

he spins you around, pushing you against his desk as he fiddles with his mouse, opening the camera app on his desktop

without another word, your boyfriend pushes himself inside you needy cunt, squeezing your nape as he begins to fuck you roughly, hips snappy

"think that was a good idea teasing me like that?" denki asks as he looks at you through his screen, watching your expression slowly fall at the feeling of your orgasm building

"this'd be what they'll see, baby. this'll be how you look like." he says, cupping your jaw and angling it straigh to make sure you see how bad he's wrecking you right now

"a hundred and fifty thousand people would see my pretty girl being fucked like the dirty slut she is." he bites on the corner of your ear, making you gasp. "and she'd love it."

and that was true. the thought of hundreds upon thousands of people watching denki have his way with you would fix a hundred and one of your problems

denki's thrusts become rougher, his desk moving and his equipment shaking as he pulls back, wrapping your hair around his fist, pulling on it tightly

"yeah, fuck yeah. you were made for me, baby." your response comes in loud moans and breathy whines, feeling your orgasm slowly bloom in your belly

"denki! fuck, denki!"

"gonna come for me, pretty girl?" you reply with an eager nod, earning a vile chuckle from him.

"then come all over this cock baby, i'll be right there behind you."

denki was not, in fact, right there behind you. the feeling of his thick, hot load is what pushes you over the edge

you turn around, glaring at the blond as he rolls his eyes sassily. "oh, shut up. my dick was being tortured way longer."

without pulling out, he carries you by your thighs, your back pressing against his chest. he walks over to your shared bed, setting you down softly before the both of you lay on your sides

he pulls the blanket on your bodies, pressing a light kiss on the side of your forehead before telling you he loves you

uhuh. he isn' as much of an exhibitionist as the other guys, but he's addicted to cockwarming

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mamayan · 1 year ago

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Shigaraki Tomura

cw: NSFW • Holiday Filth • Crush Shigaraki • Modern AU • dry humping • language • implied alcohol usage • pathetic virgin Tomura

Thinking about being Shigaraki’s little sister’s best friend.

Being invited over to her house and being so excited unbeknownst to your friend to see her nasty older brother. Tomura holed up in his room, feet up and knees bent as he sits in his fancy leather gamer chair spewing filth into the mic of his headset. Being given the most toe curling glare from him as he looks up from under his messy bangs and sees you peaking at him through a crack in the door. Sneering and telling you to “fuck off” and you do, scampering away to shamelessly rifle through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom for any of his hygiene products. There’s not many. It doesn’t matter though, since he left his dirty clothes from last night in a bundle on the bathroom floor beside the shower and toilet.

Your friend babbling on endlessly about family drama but you can’t pay attention as dinner begins and Tomura is forcibly dragged down the stairs, eye bags heavy from lack of sleep, mumbling out vague answers on how college is going. He notices his little sister’s annoying friend though, you, who always seems to be judging him from the way you constantly have your eyes on him. It pisses him off, and he’s not afraid of outing you in front of everyone.

“Why don’t you find something better to stare at bitch,” and cackling as the home filled with relatives and friends erupts at his rude comment and language. His family is comforting you, telling you he’s just having a rough day, he doesn’t mean it, etc. Your friend is intent on vengeance but you assure her it means nothing to you. She’s used to the behavior and agrees he’s not worth the trouble, being pulled away by relatives intent on being nosy into her personal life.

Tomura did mean it though, and you know it too, and it still doesn’t stop you from sneaking away upstairs while the house slowly boozes up and begins to become rowdy. Tomura slunk away to return to his game he’d been playing with friends, some stolen snacks and a cheap bottle of vodka in his hoodie pocket he takes a straight swig from every now and then as he gets heated into his gaming match.

He’s nearly surprised to see you open his bedroom door and not his mom or sister intent on giving him a headache.

“Back to keep staring whore?” He’s snickering as he flips up the mic, his game paused for a moment while waiting on another friend to join the match.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t expect you to lock the door, a brow cocked up as he reassess you.

You’re much cuter now. The baby fat gone and a young woman blooming, barely an adult now but it didn’t stop his eyes from lowering to your chest that was rising and falling quite quickly. He’s always been so used to seeing you attached to his bratty shit sister that he’s never appreciated you before.

“Wanna do more than stare though.” He’s even more shocked to see you tossing the ugly Christmas cardigan you matched with his sister, the plain dress under easily lifted over your head and dropped too. Right in front of him.

“Ha, oh yeah?” He’s baffled but not upset, dropping his feet and manspreading wide as his cock hardens in his sweats. He’s shameless in palming himself through them, setting his controller aside and licking his dry lips as you come closer, cute little matching bra and pantie set doing little to hide your hard nipples poking through the fabric and pussy lips. “Fuck, look at you, all grown up huh?” His eyes on you as you slide the dainty fabric covering your cunt down and stepping out, removing your bra next slowly, letting him drink you in. You’re nearly vibrating with excitement, eyes wide and bright as you straddle him.

“Little pervert, you wanna ride my cock?” You smile, because he’s acting like he isn’t some loser virgin with trembling hands digging into the fat of your soft ass. You can feel he’s just as strung up now, his palms lightly sweating as they slide up and cup your breasts, eagerly pitching and pulling at your nipples while you roll your hips over his chubby cock. “D-damn, where’d’ya learn to act like this?” He’s nearly about to cum from touching your tits alone, but the feel of you grinding down on him is making him lose it.

“I watched porn.” He groans, finally losing patience and pulling his dick free from his sweats, ready to naively try and enter you without any prep. He’s huffing and breathing heavy as he rubs the tip through your folds and trying and failing to hump into you. He’s just bumping uselessly against your tightly closed entrance while he moans and buries his face in your chest, happy when you begin to run your fingers through his hair.

He’s coming a minute later. No penetration necessary for him to spurt his hot spunky load against your pussy as he nearly passes out from how hard he cums.

“Holy fuck—!” You nearly have to muffle his cry of pleasure as he grips you for dear life.

The banging on his door a minute later making you both fumble for clothing as your friend’s voice comes out in a battle cry for your location.

“You fucking asshole! You hurt her feelings and now I can’t find her!”

You both only look at one another in amusement and embarrassment.

“Try looking up your ass since her face is always buried there!” He shouts back, and you have to bit back the comment you want to yell at him. Little does anyone else know the true reason you love going to the Shigaraki house when Tomura is home.

#Yan thirsts #shigaraki smut #shigaraki mha #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader smut #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #boku no hero academia tomura #tomura x reader #tomura shigiraki x reader #tomura smut #bnha smut #mha smut #tomura shigaraki smut

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almostfoxglove · 1 month ago

Text

ONE NIGHT EARLY

a secret santa surprise for @talaok ! ✨ as part of @pedrostories' #pedrostoriesgift24 event ✨

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Joel Miller x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 2.2k | CW: Established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, brief reference to canon-typical violence / danger / the end of the world, but you're safe.

SUMMARY: You vow to find out where Joel hides his Christmas gifts while he's away on patrol.

read on ao3 | main masterlist | get notifs

It has to be here somewhere.

In the three years since you moved in with Joel—hell, even in the two years before that—you have never found your Christmas present before the day. The man’s determined, sworn to his secrecy. Takes great pride in catching you snooping around, digging, scurryin’, as he once muttered under his breath, shaking his head with that charm and smirk you can’t help but fall for. Every year, you swear you’ll find it, and Joel just crosses his arms with a shrug, cheek dimpled and eyes dark with affection, and tells you good luck, darlin’, confident you won’t.

This year, though. This year will be different because for the whole week leading up to Christmas, Joel is away with Tommy on patrol and you have the house to yourself. Seven days of freedom to pry and stick your nose where it probably doesn’t belong.

It takes you two days to tear the house apart. Every dish yanked from his cupboard, every shirt and worn pair of jeans thrown from the closet, every pocket turned out—you flip the mattress and unbundle his socks and rip the covers off all the couch cushions and find fuck all. One old, oxidized penny. Dust bunnies, dryer lint, wood shavings. Spent matches, a bullet case. A fossilized receipt robbed of its printed contents.

You spend two more going through everything again. The place is a dump; when Ellie swings by to borrow his guitar she lifts one eyebrow at you from the doorway, weary of the tornado you’ve left scattered across the first floor. Says, “Good to know four days is all it takes for you to lose your shit.”

“I’m not losing my shit,” you say, one hand waving dismissively as you climb the stairs.

Quick on your heels she mutters, “Whatever you say, grandma,” just loud enough for you to hear.

When she’s gone, you take a deep breath. The living room is a slaughter, more disastrous than the aftermath of any raiders or weather event. Couch cushions stand mountainous and stripped naked, the carpet’s rolled up against one wall, all the charcoal and half-spent logs have been scraped from the fireplace onto the floor. You’ll admit that might not have been strictly necessary, but you’ve looked everywhere, checked everything, and uncovered zilch. No gifts. And at the very least, Joel has—with his handsome, freckled, silvered face proud and smiling—conceded that his hiding spot is in the house. Doesn’t stash nothing at Tommy’s or in Ellie’s garage. It’s here. Somewhere. Driving you up the goddamn wall.

It’s not like you even know what you’re looking for, but you’ll know when you see it—of this you are sure.

Room by room, you reassemble the house, shuffling all the knick-knacks you’ve each cautiously assembled in this bizarre second chance at a life into their proper positions. His carvings are your favorites, and you rehome them on their shelves with care. You slide the few photographs each of you has into line on the mantle, behind the string lights. It ain’t the same as the world that for nearly thirty years has been dead and gone, but now and then you get flickers of that long-absent comfort. The day the Christmas lights go up in Jackson. The snowmen built by your neighbor’s kids in the street. Jars of homemade strawberry jam.

Ellie and Joel playing guitar, his deep timbre humming along to her clumsy chords.

The tight squeeze of your chest when his boots croak the porch and you know he’s finally home.

The softness of his face first thing in the morning, scarred and weathered, kind. All the long tresses of his graying hair slumped out of place.

As you restore the house’s comfort and clutter over the shrinking days of his absence, you recheck and recheck and recheck and continue to come up empty. At night in the black veil of your shared bedroom, you sleep on his side of the bed with your face crushed in his pillow, breathing him in.

On the 24th, you wake prepared to wave the white flag when he returns in the evening. You’re going to pout about it, but you’ll give in. Surrender to the superiority of his stupid, squirrelling mind, and admit once and for all that he’s bested you. You have no fucking clue where he hides his gifts. He wins. But you sulk as the day bleeds by, and more than once catch yourself affixed with a frown as you trudge through the crunch of Jackson’s snow-packed streets. As you groom the horses due for the next patrol shift and eat your dinner in the mess hall across from folks you’re only half listening to as they regale you with tales of their day, too distracted by the scrape of spoons against bowls and the emptiness of your hands.

Greedy, that’s what you’re being. Wanting all of him for yourself. You just miss him. You hate when patrol stretches this long, leaving you alone with your cloying worry.

After the sun has set and bowls have emptied, Jackson goes blue. All the snow piled to frame the gravel roads glitters with fresh frost and ice. On your way back to the house, you watch your shadow slide and flicker as you pass beneath the warmth of streetlamps. Someone down the road has a window open, letting the notes of their piano ribbon through the air.

Even with all the lights and the chatter that tonight could bring fresh snow to the valley, you can’t help but feel a hollowness that you’ve only managed to shake when Joel’s around and the two of you are alone. It’s not all the time, but it happens—a magic you’d believed impossible before you stumbled across this Eden half-dead and were brought inside. Impossible until you met him, and everything latched into place.

You’ve loved before. Almost got married once, in the world that’s gone. But there’s no comparing how it felt to fall slowly, clumsily into Joel.

You’re not sure when he’s due to return tonight. Hopefully soon.

Shedding layers as you tread into the hollow house, you light a weakling’s fire in the hearth you know he’ll tease you for, then ascend to your bedroom to change, flicking the light on upstairs so he knows, whenever he gets back, that you’re home. Waiting for him, empty-handed but no less relieved. But as you cross the gold-lit bedroom, a floorboard near the foot of the bed wheezes strangely. This whole house croaks and groans just like everything in Jackson—that sure ain’t new—but this sound is different. You’re not sure you’ve heard it before. Not sure you’ve ever stepped in this exact place.

A grin slips sharp across your face at the smell of victory. You kick back the corner of the rug to bring your heel down hard against the board beneath it, and pop. Up comes the plank, perfect as a seesaw, revealing the black cavern beneath.

In the shadowed hideaway, a small box lies in the dark beneath the floor.

There it is.

But all the world beyond this room, this box, disappears the moment you set it in your palm.

You don’t hear the porch steps’ announcement, nor the turn of the latch. You don’t hear the squealing door or how the heavy footsteps soften as he removes his boots to leave outside. Not even your name, often intoxicating on his tongue, reaches you in the bedroom—nor when he repeats it on the stairs.

You’re too busy staring at what you’ve found after all you’re searching.

Then Joel’s in the doorway behind you, and you wake from what you’ve just now begun to believe must be some strange dream.

“Stubborn,” comes his voice, and at the sound you smack the box against your chest to hide it as you whirl around, still on your knees. Stupid you know. Useless. He can see the rug peeled back and the hole cut out of the floor, slender as a piano key. He knows you’ve won.

Broad in the door’s wooden frame, pink-cheeked and snug in his leather coat, Joel stands with the frosting of fresh snow clinging to his hair. He’s been growing it out, to your great pleasure, letting all his silver and curls go free. “I didn’t—” you start to say, but the words thin out and crumble. Your head’s not on quite straight, your heart not yet settled. Eyes still nickel round with shock.

You hadn’t considered how he might react if you succeeded. Maybe he’ll be mad. Take it back.

But as you stare up at him, all bambi, Joel shakes his head and one snow-dotted curl slips out from the shell of his ear. As he rights it, his scarred hand rising, you see the dirt under his nails in the warm light. The stain on the knee of his jeans. You see too his lips, plush and touched by winter’s aridity, as they twitch in one corner, curling into his cheek. Curling up. Smiling as his eyes hold yours, not mad. Not shy. He’s been inside long enough now that there’s a fifty-fifty chance that the color in his cheeks might even be a blush.

“Are you mad?” you ask, your voice soft enough to call a whisper.

He shakes his head again, steps over the threshold, and amber light from the lamp falls over him like Midas, turning him from man to gold. One step more and his mouth pulls wider, cuts that wink in his cheek you can’t help but stare at. “Course not,” he says gently. “Knew you were lookin’. Y’can have it one night early.”

It probably doesn’t mean what you think it means, but you’re surprised to discover you’re hoping as you swallow hard, blinking some of the shock from your eyes. He’s here; you ought to get up and hug him—welcome him home, your person here, safe and whole—but you’re too scared to move. Terrified that any flinch will make the box and its contents disappear.

“Is this for me?”

Wry, he rolls his eyes. “Think you know it is.”

“I feel bad,” you say. “I got you a shirt.”

He’s generous enough to chuckle, and the low, earthy sound of it strikes flames along the column of your neck. “Could use a new shirt,” he says, smirking a little. “This one needs a wash.”

“Shut up,” you chide, but the words come out weak. He’s not allowed to joke right now because if you laugh, you might start to cry.

“Darlin’,” he says too softly. That’s the tone that makes honey of your insides, cruel in the gentle way it asks you to let him in.

Though your vision starts to puddle, you wrestle the feeling back. “S’pretty.”

The slightest nod. Then he unzips his coat to lay over the armchair in the corner of the room and you watch him, pinned to the floor despite the ache in your knees. “Was hopin’ you’d think so,” he admits with his back to you, the blades and muscles in his shoulders and back sliding gracefully beneath his flannel like waves on a lake. Antithetical to the thunder of your heart, Joel moves with a patience you can’t quite believe. In no rush at all, like you’re not holding what you’re holding in your shaking hands. Like some little band of metal doesn’t mean what it did before the world bit the dust and fell away.

The question sits like an icicle on your tongue, slowly melting, pooling behind your teeth.

Joel lumbers back, the soreness of his body just barely visible in his bow-legged stride, to sit on the edge of the bed just behind you. The mattress squeaks. One hand cards through his hair. Slow is his next breath. Steady. But on the exhale, you swear you hear the tiniest shake, a tiny tremble.

Realization strikes down at you like lightning: electric and tingling, zipping skull to spine to fingertips, blinding and white. He’s nervous.

Which means the ring in your hand isn’t just a ring.

Lamblike, you force yourself to your feet and the mattress mouses as you sink against his side. Igneous is his body against yours—such a familiar warmth. Rigid and walled to all but a few. Open to you, in moments like these, when he lets you glimpse the whole of him in his eyes and you swear you might be capable of reading the thoughts straight from his mind. Joel nudges his arm harder to yours, and you see the question coming before it slips from his tongue. You see it brewing in the gilt of his eyes just as clearly as you hear your own answer ricochet in your head.

You don’t cut him off, jump to yes. Instead you lower your hands from their hold against your chest at last, letting the box sit in your lap, open to his regard. Evening lamplight makes ice of the clear stone set squarely on its ring, and the heat of his breath kisses your cheek as he leans in to mumble,

“Y’gonna make me get down on one knee?”

dividers by @saradika-graphics!

NOTE: I am officially moving away from tag lists as they've gotten lengthy (thank you for that <3) so please follow @foxglovenotifs and turn on notifications to get alerts for future updates!

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #pedrostoriesgift24 #joel miller #pedro pascal #almostfoxglove #myfics #fic: onenightearly #pedro pascal fanfiction

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erwinsvow · 9 months ago

Note

random but i can see rafe giving shy!reader like a large amount of “pocket money” and she’ll always wait until she’s fully broke and runs out (if she doesn’t have a job), she’d be so nervous to ask him for more.

at first you're so shy around rafe you can't even find it in you to question what the money is for—you just assume it's some sort of test. you keep the cash in your pretty pink wallet until it's so full it won't fit in your purse.

rafe has no reason to be giving you money—you've got your own, your parents', that is. and suddenly you start to question everything, start overthinking like normal. does rafe think you're reliant on him for money? if so, is he mad at you because of it?

one day when he comes over to your place for once, claiming he wanted to get away from his noisy house to the serenity and peace of your bedroom, you dig out the wallet from under your bed and drop it next to him. he's laying on the mattress, sprawled out playing chess with a robot. the wallet lands with a thud.

like always, you let him speak first.

"what the hell's this?" he asks, lifting the thoroughly packed leather.

"i'm giving it back," you state, trying to remain a little firm. it's so hard around him though.

"jesus, kid," he comments, flicking through the cash. "did y'spend any of it? huh?"

"n-no," you stammer, suddenly nervous. "i kept it safe for you, like you wanted." you look at him with big, confused eyes and he looks back at you in disbelief.

"s'not for that, baby. it's for spending. for nice things, y'know, all the crap you like."

"crap?" you question back.

"stuff. books and records and ice cream when m'not around. y'know, pocket money."

"but i already have that," you reply. "did you think i didn't? did i ask for it?" suddenly confused, you wonder how you gave rafe this implication. "sorry, rafe."

"why are you apologizin'?" you perch yourself next to him.

"i guess because i didn't spend it.."

"well, stop. just use it for somethin' nice. for yourself, not me." he clarifies because he knows you—knows you'll go find him a new polo or golf glove if he didn't tell you otherwise.

and the way he says it—you comply, pressing a kiss to his cheek, mind floating to all the ways you could use it—a new beach read, a new bikini for boat days, ice cream nights with wheezie and a big tip for the nice girls who worked at the parlor.

you were used to spending your dad's money, now you were spending daddy's money. it wasn't that big of a change after all.

and it's really not.. until you run out.

you never had to ask your parents twice for anything, but rafe gives you cash and you don't question why, but now that you're used to getting things from rafe's money, you don't want to revert back. in all honestly, it felt nice when someone asked you where you got something from and you could tell them your favorite words.

"my boyfriend got it for me!"

credit cards are unlimited, but cash runs out. and asking rafe for more seems like the absolute worst thing in the world, especially when you were so hesitant to even start using it.

approaching the door to rafe's bedroom, you pace infront of it for a moment, thinking of the right words to say. ward walks by and smiles at you, though he's confused at what you're doing. panicked, you run in, standing in front of your boyfriend while he's looking at something on his desk. rafe glances up when you walk in.

"hey, kid."

"hi." it even comes out nervous. rafe shuts his laptop at the sound of your voice.

"what is it?" he asks, and you blink back in response.

"what's.. what?"

"y'think i can't tell when you're off? c'mon, start talkin'." you give in immediately.

"well... it's just, um, this cash. your cash. i ran out. and, um, this book i wanted releases out tomorrow. and i told wheezie i'd take her to the movies because that book we both like is a movie now, and it comes out this weekend, and y'know she's a child so-"

"yeah. m'aware."

"sorry," you reply, feeling your cheeks heat up. "sorry." he gets up from the desk, and you wonder if you really messed up by demanding so much.

"what'd i tell ya? stop apologizin'." when he gets close, rafe does what he always does, lifting your chin up so you're looking at him, his fingers resting on your jaw. "what'd you think? i'm gonna say no to you?"

"maybe. i'm being kinda greedy."

"nah, kid. be as greedy as you want." when you smile, he laughs at you, at how nervous you still get, how worried you are that you're doing something wrong. "besides, i got some ideas on how y'can make it up to me."

sounds like a win-win for you.

#this was so fucking cutie pie #i love them #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader

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ruewritesoccasionally · 13 days ago

Text

Playing with Fire | Aaron Pierre

pairing: aaron pierre x plus size!black!reader

warnings: heavy smut 18+, bratty behaviour, teasing, impact play (consensual ofc), power dynamics (dom!aaron + sub!reader) oral (m receiving), praise + degradation kink, dirty talk, & use of names (daddy, slut, princess, baby, mama)

summary: when a night of hosting their friends turns into a game of control and temptation, YN's bratty teasing pushes aaron to his limits. once the guests are gone, he makes sure she learns exactly why it's never wise to play with fire.

word count: 3.2K

a/n: you guys seem to be loving the aaron content, i'm lowkey tempted to come out of retirement

The kitchen buzzed with activity as Aaron worked his culinary magic, the scents of rosemary and thyme mingling in the air. The music played low, a jazzy playlist that matched the intimate vibe of the evening. It was their turn to host the couple's dinner, a tradition among their tight-knit circle of friends that had lasted years. Aaron had looked forward to the night—catching up with friends, sharing good food—but YN clearly had other plans.

Her plans, as far as Aaron could tell, didn’t involve entertaining guests at all.

She was stunning, as always. Her rich, deep brown skin glowed against the soft knit dress she’d chosen, the snug fabric hugging her curves in ways that made Aaron’s chest tighten. Her thick thighs brushed together as she moved, the sway of her hips almost hypnotic. She knew what she was doing—she always did.

“Everything okay over there, Chef?” she teased, her voice honeyed as she leaned against the counter, holding a wine glass in her hand.

Aaron glanced up from the pot he was stirring, his dark eyes locking on her. “Fine,” he muttered, though his grip on the wooden spoon tightened.

“Good,” she purred, taking a slow sip from her glass. The motion drew his attention to her lips, full and glossed, before his gaze slipped lower—to the way her breasts pressed against the dress.

She caught him staring and smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips that sent heat pooling low in his stomach. He turned back to the stove with a muttered curse, but the damage was done.

As she moved around the kitchen, she made a show of brushing past him. Her fingers grazed his arm here, her hip bumped his there, and every time she leaned over, her dress rose just enough to reveal the smooth, bare expanse of her thighs.

“YN,” he warned at one point, his voice low and strained as she reached for a glass on the top shelf, the movement arching her back in a way that had him gripping the edge of the counter.

“Yes, baby?” she replied innocently, glancing at him over her shoulder.

His jaw ticked. “Keep playing with me.”

By the time the first guests arrived, Aaron was already on edge, his self-control hanging by a thread. He greeted their friends with a warm smile, his deep voice steady, but YN’s presence beside him was a constant distraction.

As they settled into the evening, she didn’t let up. If anything, her teasing became bolder.

She sat across from him at the dining table, her dress riding up slightly as she crossed one leg over the other. The motion drew his eyes, and when he looked back up, she was watching him with a sly smile, her chin resting on her hand.

“What?” he asked, his voice low enough that the others couldn’t hear.

“Nothing,” she replied, the word laced with mischief.

Her foot brushed his under the table, a light, teasing touch that made his breath hitch. She kept the conversation going with their friends, her laugh rich and warm, but her foot remained there, sliding up his calf and lingering just high enough to make him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

He clenched his fists under the table, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his composure.

As the laughter and conversation flowed in the living room, Aaron’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He frowned, slipping it out and glancing at the screen. A message from YN.

“For your eyes only.”

His brow furrowed, but the second he opened the attachment, his breath caught in his throat.

She’d taken the picture in the bathroom, angling her phone just so. Tilting her neck in a way that showcased the delicate curve of her jawline and the smooth expanse of her rich skin, her collarbone and chest gleamed with her favourite body oil. The neckline of her dress was tugged down ever so slightly, revealing the swell of her full breast—and just the barest hint of her sweet, dark areola.

Aaron’s grip tightened on his phone as a wave of heat surged through him, leaving him momentarily speechless. He swore under his breath, locking the screen and shoving the phone back into his pocket, but the image was seared into his mind.

His gaze darted to her across the room. She was laughing at something one of their friends had said, her smile wide and carefree, as if she hadn’t just sent him a picture designed to ruin his composure.

Aaron clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists as he fought to keep his cool. She was going to pay for this later.

The real test came later, as the night wore on.

YN excused herself to fetch dessert from the kitchen, and Aaron followed her with his eyes. Her dress swayed with each step, the fabric clinging to her curves in ways that made his throat go dry.

She returned a moment later, balancing plates of cake in her hands, but when she bent to place one in front of a guest, her dress inched up again. Aaron’s sharp eyes caught the briefest glimpse of smooth, bare skin beneath it.

No panties.

He froze, his entire body going rigid as a wave of heat surged through him. His jaw clenched, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table.

When she straightened, she met his eyes, a flicker of challenge dancing in hers.

He was done.

Aaron stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice tight, though his tone remained polite. He turned to YN, his gaze dark and dangerous. “Can you help me with something upstairs?”

She blinked, feigning confusion. “Of course, babe,” she replied, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her excitement.

Not that YN much cared—her focus was elsewhere—but their guests could feel the shift in the air. The sexual tension was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife, and Aaron’s not-so-subtle announcement had sent an unspoken message.

Recognising the situation for what it was, the group exchanged quick glances. One by one, they politely let themselves out, sparing YN and Aaron the embarrassment of any lingering.

“Thanks for the lovely evening,” one friend said with a warm smile, though there was a knowing gleam in their eyes.

“Food was amazing, as always,” another added.

Aaron stood at the door with YN by his side, his hand resting firmly on her waist. His fingers tightened in a warning grip, silently reminding her that he was still in control—even if she’d spent the entire evening testing him.

“Glad you all enjoyed it,” he said, his deep voice steady, though there was a rough edge to it now.

With a chorus of goodbyes and promises to catch up soon, their friends made their way out, leaving Aaron and YN alone in the now-empty house.

The door clicked shut, and for a moment, silence hung heavy in the air.

Then Aaron turned to her, his jaw tight, his dark eyes blazing with unrestrained hunger.

“You’ve got exactly five seconds to get upstairs,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

With Aaron’s words still echoing in her ears, YN dashed up the stairs, her laughter spilling out in breathless giggles. The thrill of anticipation coiled in her stomach, making her pulse quicken. She loved this—the push and pull, the game they played, and most of all, the way she could unravel him, bring a man like him to the brink of control.

Aaron was one hell of a man. Tall and broad, with muscles that flexed beneath his fitted clothes. Every move he made was deliberate, like a predator sizing up his prey. And his face—oh, his face. Those piercing eyes that could make her knees weak with a single look. That beard, perfectly shaped, framing lips that were equal parts soft and sinful.

What those lips were going to do to her tonight, what they’d say to her… She trembled at the thought, her body already buzzing with need. Her excitement got the better of her as she missed a step on the staircase, her balance slipping for just a moment.

Before she could fall, strong hands caught her waist, steadying her with ease. She gasped as Aaron’s body pressed up against hers, his chest firm against her back.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he murmured against her ear, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. His grip tightened, possessive and grounding all at once.

Her heart raced as she turned her head slightly to catch his gaze. There was that fire in his eyes, a look that made her feel equal parts powerful and utterly at his mercy.

“Go on, princess,” he said lowly, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I’m not done with you yet.”

As soon as the bedroom door closed behind them, Aaron turned YN around, pressing her back against the door. His broad frame loomed over her, dark eyes burning with the kind of intensity that made her thighs clench together. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body, his hands already gripping her waist like he couldn’t wait another second.

“You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he growled, his voice low and rough, vibrating in her chest. His hand slipped down to grip her ass firmly, pulling her flush against him, letting her feel the hard evidence of her earlier teasing.

“Daddy all alone, all to yourself,” he continued, his tone laced with both frustration and hunger. His lips brushed against her ear, his breath hot and teasing. “Pulling those little stunts earlier… making your dirty little comments, bending over like that. You got me so fucking hard in front of our friends.”

Her breath hitched, her body tingling with equal parts anticipation and nervous excitement.

“You’re lucky I didn’t bend you over the table and tear your ass up right there,” he growled, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. “Should’ve shown them what a real slut looks like. My slut.”

The word sent a jolt through her, her knees threatening to buckle under the weight of his dominance. She whimpered softly, her hands curling into the fabric of his shirt as she looked up at him through wide, needy eyes.

“You wanted this, princess,” Aaron continued, his hand moving up to cup her face, forcing her to look at him. “You think you’re ready for everything you’ve been begging for?”

“On your knees for me, baby. You know the game already—time to deal with the problem you made.”

Aaron’s voice was low, steady, but carried an edge of command that sent a thrill racing through her. She sank to the floor without hesitation, her breath quickening as she looked up at him. The view above was dizzying—his broad chest rising and falling, his dark, muscular arms flexing as he worked the buttons of his trousers at an agonisingly slow pace.

He radiated power, pure and unrestrained, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away as he pulled himself free, his thick, glistening length standing proud. A bead of liquid pooled at the tip, threatening to spill, and she moved without thought, her lips parting as she surged forward to catch it before it was wasted.

“Greedy little thing,” he chuckled darkly, the sound rough and pleased as he widened his stance. His fingers slid into her curls, tangling there, as he guided her to him. “That’s it, princess. Take Daddy’s dick like the good girl I know you are.”

The warmth of her mouth wrapped around him, hot and eager, and Aaron groaned, his head falling back as a shiver ran through his body. She worked him with precision and desperation, her tongue swirling over the sensitive head before taking him deeper, the sheer weight of him on her tongue making her core tighten.

Her nails gripped his thighs for support as she bobbed her head, hollowing her cheeks with every pull. He hissed at the sensation, his free hand curling into a fist at his side as her pace quickened, her determination to please evident in every movement.

“Fuck, mama,” he growled, his voice strained, his body trembling slightly as her lips worked magic. “That mouth of yours… you’re going to make me lose it.”

“Are you ready for me to make you feel good?” he asked, his voice low, a dark promise in the words. She mumbled a garbled ‘yes’ around him, the vibration sending a jolt through him.

He smirked, his hand coming up to slap her cheek with a quick, sharp motion. “Don’t you know it’s rude to talk with your mouth full?” he teased, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

With a sudden pull, he withdrew himself from her mouth, the sound of the pop echoing in the charged air between them.

“Bed. Now,” he commanded, his tone cold and authoritative. Without even sparing her another glance, he turned away, pulling off the rest of his clothing with slow, deliberate movements, his eyes set on the bed.

The mirror was conveniently positioned for moments like this—face down, ass up, legs spread just enough, and eyes locked in. That’s how Aaron liked her: presented, prepared, and ready to take everything he gave. Y/N’s perfect arch highlighted the curve of her back, every inch of her body a work of art meant to be admired and claimed.

She began to regret ditching her panties earlier in the night. Maybe she could have used those extra seconds of slipping them off to brace herself for what was coming. The cool air brushed against her bare skin, adding to her anticipation, her slick thighs betraying how much she wanted him.

The bed dipped behind her, signaling Aaron’s presence. His movements were slow and deliberate, his towering figure closing in on her reflection in the mirror. She followed his every step, every calculated motion that made her nerves alight with electricity.

"God, just look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with lust, eyes burning with intent.

Then came the first smack—a sharp sting across her ass that echoed in the room and had her gasping, her body jolting forward slightly. The force left her speechless for a moment, the pain a shock to her system, but her pussy clenched in response, desperate for more.

His laughing bearing no humour filled the room as he smoothed a large hand over the reddened spot. "You’re gonna count to ten for me, Princess. Loud and clear. Got it?"

“Yes, Daddy,” she whimpered, her voice laced with desire and submission.

With each strike, her voice grew shakier, but she obediently counted, the mixture of pain and pleasure building to a maddening crescendo. By the final number, tears streaked her makeup, her lips swollen from biting back moans, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.

Aaron’s gaze softened as he took her in—flustered and utterly perfect, his Princess. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, his voice like velvet as he bent down to kiss the marks his hands left behind. His touch shifted to something gentler, soothing the stinging skin as he whispered against her. “You were so patient for me. I’ll make it all better now, baby. Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

Aaron’s grip on her hips was punishing, his fingers digging into her flesh, holding her in place as if she’d dare to escape—not that she could even if she tried. Each stroke was deliberate, deep, and devastating, his hips snapping with a rhythm that left her crying out into the sheets.

“Are you gonna tease me again, huh?” His voice was rough, a low growl vibrating through her. Each word was punctuated by a thrust that knocked the air from her lungs. “Or are you finally gonna use your words like a big girl?”

Her head lolled forward, barely able to hold herself up as the relentless pounding scrambled her thoughts. She opened her mouth, but nothing coherent came out—just desperate, breathless gasps that only seemed to amuse him.

“Uh uh,” Aaron rasped, slowing his movements just enough to make her whimper in frustration. He leaned down, his chest pressing against her back as his breath fanned over her ear. “Closed mouths don’t get fed, baby. Talk to Daddy.”

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice trembling as she clung to the sheets. “I won’t—won’t tease you again—oh God, Daddy, please—”

“Please what?” His hips stilled entirely, his thick length buried to the hilt and throbbing inside her. “You don’t seem so confident now, do you? Where’s all that energy from earlier, huh?”

“Please don’t stop!” she begged, tears of desperation pooling in her eyes as she tried to push back against him, but his grip on her hips was unyielding.

He chuckled darkly, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Oh, don’t worry, princess. Stopping was never an option. But I will make sure you remember who’s in charge.”

And with that, he resumed his brutal pace, his thrusts merciless as her cries of pleasure filled the room. The obscene sound of their bodies colliding only spurred him on, and when she tried to muffle her screams by burying her face in the pillow, Aaron wasn’t having it.

“Let me hear you,” he commanded, yanking her head back by her hair. “Let the whole damn block know who’s fucking you like this.”

Her response was an unintelligible mix of moans and cries as her body tensed, trembling on the edge of release. Sensing how close she was, Aaron reached around to find her swollen clit, his rough fingers circling the sensitive nub with just enough pressure to send her hurtling over the edge.

Her climax hit her like a freight train, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. She screamed his name, her nails clawing at the sheets, and Aaron didn’t let up, riding her through it with a feral intensity.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, his tone softening for a brief moment as he kissed the back of her neck. “Taking everything I give you like the good little slut you are.”

But before she could catch her breath, he flipped her onto her back, her legs thrown over his broad shoulders as he leaned down to capture her lips in a bruising kiss. “We’re not done yet, mama,” he murmured against her lips. “Not until I’m satisfied.”

He thrust back into her, deeper this time, and her overstimulated body arched off the bed as the sensation bordered on too much. “Daddy, I—” she tried, but the words were lost as another scream ripped from her throat.

“That’s it,” Aaron groaned, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. “Take it all. Take every last fucking drop.”

When he finally came, it was with a guttural moan that sent shivers down her spine. He buried himself deep, his warmth spilling inside her as his body trembled against hers. For a moment, the room was silent except for their ragged breathing, their bodies tangled together in the aftermath.

Aaron leaned down to kiss her forehead, his thumb brushing away the tears that streaked her cheeks. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with adoration. “But don’t think for a second I’m letting you off easy next time.”

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