#so i always feel like i gotta double down on the no i do its just how things work lol

[hazbinsandweirdos]

//I always want to figure out how Pierre would react to being involved around or with characters

Like Overlords

Zestial he would have stray cat energy around because it's old man to old man communication lol

Vox he is after that bank/robbing that guy for sure doesn't mean he isn't afraid of him just means he has more balls then brains some days lol

Alastor it's just two old French catty gossips kicking their leggies at the slumber party lol but he also witnessed this man's whole power trip and is 100% afraid of him

Husk currently makes him want to spit acid lmao but in general he'd definitely try to rob that guy because he runs a casino which means there is a vault of money

Rosie he might be a little frightful of because she runs a whole colony of man eaters and he may not have much on his bones but he's not looking to become a light snack to anyone lol

Velvette would be too much for him honestly. She's too engrossed in being popular and trendy that she would give him a headache immediately lol but also I do see him getting his hands on some of her clothes cause fashion lol He also uses her Love Potion so he has some respect for her work

Valentino is always questionable. I could absolutely see Pierre sleeping with him but because he has been around the block he can kinda sus out the type so, I don't think the moth could rizz Pierre for very long. Unless Pierre wants something from him it's hard to say he would even go near him lol

Carmilla is equally hard to say because he would rob her warehouses and sell her products cheaper or make knockoffs so they would probably have a strained situation lol

[auroralwriting]

jealousy, jealousy

bucky barnes x avenger!reader (no use of y/n)

bucky hates when his girl has to flirt with the enemy

word count: 1.5k | warnings: none

The whole idea of it was absolutely, utterly stupid.

Zemo was obsessed with you, that much was obvious when he couldn't leave your name out of his mouth during the whole Sokovia Accords issue. Now, he was up to no good once more after escaping prison, leaving the Avengers no choice but to find out what he was up to.

The only problem? He refused to speak. Well, he refused to speak unless it was with you.

Bucky felt rage creep up his whole body when Steve explained what you had to do. You had to actually pretend to be interested in every single word Zemo said, meaning even if he flirted, you had to just take it. Apparently, this genius idea was Tony's, and the rest of the team had agreed to it, meaning Bucky's opinion was next to worthless, especially when you already agreed.

He trusted you with every ounce of his being, and he knew you wouldn't do it if you couldn't handle it, but he hate the fact that Zemo was probably going to flirt your ear off. You were Bucky's girl, his doll, his special girl, his everything, not Zemo's.

Nonetheless, Bucly had to hold his tongue and silently nod as Steve explained.

"What're you thinking, Buck?" Steve asked, noticing Bucky's silent deminor.

"I'm thinking about how many ways I could murder Zemo," Bucky commented, eyes darkening.

Steve sighed, placing a hand on Bucky's shoulder, "Bucky, she said she could do this."

"It's not her I don't trust, Steve. Imagine your girl getting hit on and you couldn't do jack shit to stop it. How would you feel then?" Bucky seethed, taking a deep breath in. "Sorry, that was hostile."

With a shake of his head, Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "I understand, Bucky. But we have to get to the bottom of Zemo's plan, and he won't talk unless its to her."

The whole team sat in silence, now gathered in the meeting room. The only noise was the whirl of the fan above their heads as they watched the live footage of you standing in front of Zemo's cell.

"Zemo," You said, crossing your arms. "Being stubborn as always, I hear."

A crooked smile formed on the man's face as he leaned his head on the bars, as close to you as he could get. "Darling, I just did not wish to speak to such insolent people such as the Avengers," Zemo scowled as he spoke. "But a dove as sweet as you? How could I pass?"

Bucky felt his fists clench tightly as he watched the interaction. God, he just wanted to deck this guy straight in the nose. Ever since the Sokovian first went on the run, he always seemed to make some time mid-battle to try and make some small talk with you. It annoyed not only Bucky, but everyone. No one talks that much during a fight. However, now that he was captured, it was the perfect time to use his infatuation of you to the team's advantage.

"Tell me, what do you have planned with those," You paused, grabbing your file and flipping through the loose pages, "Ah, 'weapons of double mass extinction' as you so delicately put it."

Zemo laughed, "Extinction is not my end goal if that is what you are asking my dove."

"It wasn't," You added as Zemo continued.

"However, I am just so excited to reveal what they will be used for." He smiled. Your brow shot up, waiting for his answer. "But seeing it will be the best reveal of all."

Sam sighed, watching this all carry on from where the team was still sat. "He's just gonna play games with her."

"She's smarter than you'd think, give her a chance." Natasha said, "I'd know, I trained her."

Tony stood up, "I don't like this, I'm ending it."

Bucky held up his hand, nodding. "For once, I gotta agree with Stark. I want my girl out of his sight."

Quickly, Steve stood up, "This is our only chance to find out what Zemo has planned. He won't lay a finger on her. Is it uncomfortable? Of course it is, none of us enjoy watching him flirt with her, but it'll work." Tony sat down as Bucky grumbled, all eyes falling back to the screen that showed you now closer to Zemo's bars.

"Would your wife really enjoy knowing you're flirting with me?" You slightly taunted, wanting to push his buttons.

"My wife is dead, but you already know of this." Zemo replied.

With a knowing nod, you pursed your lips, "She was Sokovian too, yeah?"

"We were all from Sokovia, my wife and son, as well as myself." Zemo answered.

"Born and raised?" You continued. Zemo gave a nod as you thought for a moment with a hum, "Were you there when Ultron attacked?"

Zemo nodded, "Yes. That is when my family was murdered."

"I'm sorry," You honestly replied. "Does it still bother you? Not your dead family, but the Sokovia thing. You know, the floating?"

A quick glance of the situation, and it would've looked like you were now just chatting with the enemy, but you held down a smirk as Zemo replied. "Of course I am. That was my home."

"New York could be your home now," You offered. "Turn yourself in and we can get you transferred here."

Zemo laughed, "I would not wish to be here after what will happen."

Boom. You looked up to the camera, "You all got that?" You asked the camera, knowing your team was watching. You grabbed your file, standing up. "Thank you for your time, Zemo. This was very informative." You grabbed your comm and pushed it down, "Stand-by. Send Stark-Bots to check perimeters of the state. Zemo's planning on making us levitate like Sokovia."

Face pale, Zemo stood up, yelling incoherent words that fell upon your deaf ears as you left the room. Bucky, who had seen it all, was already waiting for you outside. He was quick to grab you and hold you tight to his chest.

"I'm okay, Buck," You smiled, voice muffled from your face being pushed against his strong body.

Bucky shook his head, "I know, I just don't want you near that freak again."

You couldn't help but laugh at his words as you pulled away enough to give him a kiss. "You jealous of Zemo?"

"You played into it," Bucky muttered.

"It was all fake, love." You replied. "You know I'm your girl."

Bucky couldn't help but smirk, "Damn right you are." He turned to the door that lead to Zemo's cell. "You hear that? She's my damn girl!"

You couldn't help but feel your heart thump at Bucky's words. He was always so damn hot when he was jealous. "C'mon, show your girl how much you love her." You teased, Bucky's eyes falling on you once more. He was quick to grab your waist with his metal arm, pulling you in as his other hand rested on the back of your neck, pushing your face against his as his lips locked with yours, a tight, sloppy kiss ensuing in the middle of the hall.

"I'm never letting you do that again." Bucky muttered, pulling away to speak. His breath was hot on your cheek as he spoke. He pulled you into another wet kiss as a soft ahem came from behind you both.

"This is not a room, but I'm sure your horny asses could find one."

Bucky groaned as he turned around, "Do you have to ruin every moment?" He asked Sam who stood smugly.

He put his hands in the air, "I just wanted to congratulate Nat's best student on her great work. Especially the one where she made her soldier get all jealous"

"Thank you, Sam," You smiled, a light blush on your face.

Bucky took a pen out of his pocket and threw it at Sam, "Get outta here, man!"

"Alright, alright! No need for hostility." Sam defended as he walked away.

As Sam left, you gave a knowing smile at Bucky. "So jealous over my mission, huh?"

Bucky scoffed, feeling embarrassment creep in his chest, "I wasn't jealous."

"I think you were," You argued. "Over Zemo of all peopke."

"Only I can talk to you that way," Bucky said, voice nearly a whine. "You're all mine, not his or anyone else's, and he knows it."

You smiled, giving Bucky a kiss on the cheek, "And that's probably why he loves doing it so much. You know he's got a thing against super soldiers. He's gonna do anything to get under your skin."

"And he chose the worst way to do it," Bucky muttered as you pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

Bucky looked at you with a goofy smile, pulling back. "C'mon, doll. We still got some work to do cleaning up Zemo's mess."

"Someone's feeling better," You teased as you both began to walk. "You'd better show me some more of that jealousy later," You suggested.

"Oh, I will," Bucky smiled. "You bet your fine ass I will."

[acynicalsweetheart]

DOWN IN A HOLE

pairing: dad!jimmy x fem!reader x uncle!curly

word count: 2.4k

dead dove do not eat: 18+, daddy-daughter incest, pseudo-incest, mild dub-con, coercion, daddy kink, breeding kink, age gap, double penetration, anal, sex, implied/referenced rape, very brief jimcurly cameo

author's note: wow this sucks LMFAO. umm first attempt at writing jimmy… assholes r not my typical area of expertise so. take it with a grain of salt. feel like he has an uncharacteristically big mouth here LOL. did not mean to make it this long it was originally a drabble… read cws + any interaction/feedback appreciated as always!!

“Jim... isn’t she your daughter?”

Curly’s dumbfounded, jaw dropped to the floor, standing in the middle of the dank motel room not knowing where he should look to remain respectful—Jimmy or his own flesh and blood in a flimsy lingerie set. 

Not exactly what he had in mind when Jimmy said he had a gift for him. 

This is all too fucking wrong, Jimmy’s your dad, you’re one thin and translucent piece of underwear away from standing completely naked in front of both of them, he’s got his arm wrapped around your shoulder like he’s your pimp. He wants Curly to fuck you. 

It’s sick and twisted and morbid and Curly’s dick is hard. 

“Yeah, so?” Jimmy pinches your cheek and you flinch ever so slightly, put on your best forced smile. “Never once said no to taking daddy’s dick, did you, baby?” 

You shake your head. 

(It’s a blatant lie—Jimmy remembers the bloodfest on the sheets your first time, the way you screamed dad, no and dad, stop at the top of your lungs. The way your face contorted, ugly sobbing turning your eyes swollen and puffy like your cunt, his cock coated in all sorts of questionable fluids by the time he was done with you.)

“See? All good here, man.” He says, shaking you a little by the grip on your shoulder. 

“Jimmy, I...” Curly pinches the bridge of his nose, rubs his forehead like he’s trying to assess if this entire thing is a dream or not. Would help alleviate the guilty boner in his pants by a little if it were. 

He peeks at you through the cracks of his fingers. 

“Come on,” Jimmy’s scowl returns in a second, gesturing to your body. “You’re really gonna reject her when she’s right in front of you? Thought you were better than that, Curly.”

It’s so wrong—Curly’s known you almost as long as he’s known Jimmy. He’s watched you grow up, babysat you, let you crash at his place, showed up to every one of your graduations because Jimmy couldn’t. He hung out with you just last week, for God’s sake. 

Curly’s dick twitches like it’s trying to escape his pants and fuck you on its own. 

Jimmy shrugs, starts undoing your top and letting it drop to the floor. He gropes your tits and bile burns in the back of Curly’s throat like ethanol. “Well, if you don’t want a piece, then you’re free to watch. Shame you gotta break my girl’s heart like this.”

“Jim, I’m not trying to—“

Jimmy pinches your nipple mechanically and you whine, stand there and take it like it’s a daily occurrence. “She’s been asking for you, you know.”

Curly falters, his heart dropping straight down to his ass, “she has?” 

“Yeah, won’t shut up about Uncle Curly’s dick, how much she likes you,” Jimmy scoffs, “how she wants you to take her second virginity.” Second virginity? 

“Really?” He smooths his hair back, sheepishly playing with the curls at the nape of his neck like a schoolgirl. 

Jimmy whispers something to you, sends you off to where Curly’s standing with a tap on the ass. You reach out for his hand to place it on your breast and he cups it gently, sneaking glances at Jimmy from behind you in case he changes his mind.

You speak for the first time tonight, “Uncle Curly.”

“Sweetheart,” he lowers his voice, “are you sure you—“

The bottoms of your lingerie set fall to the floor silently, sheer fabric sticky with what is presumably your slick. Curly gawks like an idiot, cheeks flaming hot, eyes raking up your legs until they meet your pussy. 

He thinks he hears Jimmy snicker in the background. 

You keep your eyes on Curly as you saunter to the bed, getting on all fours and arching your back low, spreading yourself open for your dad and your proclaimed uncle to behold. 

“Uncle Curly...” he makes eye contact with your spread holes, your pussy drooling onto the sheets, leaking down your thighs. “It’s okay, I want this,” you say with the enthusiasm of a sex ring traffickee. 

Fuck it. 

He looks over at Jimmy, takes a deep breath and complies. 

Stupid ol’ Curly. Falling for each and every one of his lies like he falls for gambling scams, and Jimmy’s the broke one here. 

Jimmy’s been in all of your holes. There isn’t a single square inch of your body that doesn’t have his fingerprints burned into it. What can he say? Jimmy made you so he owns you, simple as that. Took your anal virginity approximately a week after he took your actual one. The look on your face is welcomely ingrained into his mind, looked like you were one second away from biting the dust. 

You could be his sister, his mother, a clerk at the store or a street whore for all he cares—Jimmy would fuck you all the same. 

Curly should be grateful that Jimmy’s offering him a sweet piece of meat, his meat. It’s not every day somebody, let alone the grandiose Curly, gets an opportunity to stick his dick in Jimmy’s daughter. 

(More so every three days, when he needs some cash for a pack of smokes he’ll pimp you out to whoever. They pay higher when you’re dressed in white and wearing pigtails. Sick fucks.)

He lets Curly play with your pussy until enough’s enough, shedding his clothes and maneuvering you on top of him. Front to front with Jimmy ‘cause he doesn’t want you giving Curly your puppy eyes and making him all sappy, start feeling bad for you. Invoke some sort of saviour complex. 

The only saving you need is Jimmy’s dick—daddy knows best. Daddy fucks you the best. 

He’s simply being a good friend to Curly.

You shower Jimmy’s face in kisses and he whips his dick out, grabbing the fat of your cheeks till it spills past his fingertips. Gives you a couple spanks for good measure, makes you moan. 

“Such a filthy little slut, aren’t you? So wet for dad,” Jimmy slaps his tip against your entrance, sticky noises echoing throughout the room. You tilt your head as your breath hitches, looking at Jimmy like he forgot something. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, “and Uncle Curly.” 

Who is still fully fucking clothed by the way.

Wagging your ass at Curly, you giggle and look back at him, very likely giving him fuck-me eyes. It works, ‘cause he seems to get the hint that he should undress. This is exactly why Jimmy needs you facing himself and nobody else. 

Jimmy’s dick is harder than a rock, it’s not gonna sit there and watch you and Uncle Curly like some miserable third-wheel. The drop of pre running down the length of his shaft is all he needs to force himself into your tight cunt with a single push of his hips. 

“Daddy...” You whine like it hurts and Jimmy grins, makes him feel nostalgic.

The mattress dips when Curly gets on the bed, big ass fucking horse thighs trapping you and Jimmy beneath him. Nevermind the horse thighs, Curly has a fucking horse cock. Yeah, this is the first and last time he’s ever catering to your whims. 

Jimmy keeps thrusting up into you like he’s got something to prove. 

Curly’s cock pokes and prods at your tighter hole, takes a good minute for him to begin sliding inside and you yelp like you’re being impaled. Curly can’t be that big, you’re just putting on a show like Jimmy told you to. 

“Mm,” your teeth sink into your bottom lip, so pretty Jimmy’s grateful Curly can’t see your face right now. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby.” Please. Curly wishes you were his baby. 

He feels Curly’s dick moving against his inside of you and it’s all very unsexy, but Jimmy will be damned if he’s gonna empty his balls elsewhere. Men have needs. Sometimes those needs happen to come in the form of fucking one’s daughter and Jimmy is completely fine with that. 

“Oh my,” your eyes flutter shut, pressing back against him, faking it till you’re making it. “Uncle Curly, you’re so big...”

Fondly, Curly chuckles, “I guess I am.”

You’re really laying it on thick, Jimmy didn’t tell you to do that. 

“Dad’s bigger, baby. Can’t you feel it?” He shoves your face into his neck, stretching you open with his pistoning hips like it’s the first time all over again. Your squeals come out muffled, voice vibrating against his skin. 

The way his tip bumps your fleshy cervix with every trust should be enough proof. Curly’s pace is slow and soft, he’s not even all the way in yet. Or maybe Jimmy really is bigger. 

“C’mon, Curls,” Jimmy pants, voice almost a growl as he tightens his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his dampening body. “No time to be a pussy, you’re in her ass.” 

“Not a pussy, just... starting out slow.” Curly says calmly, gentlemanly—to no avail ‘cause you’re already cockdrunk. 

“Fuck her harder.” It’s a dare, a challenge, or a simple suggestion. He’s giving pointers to a significantly more well-adjusted peer. Jimmy says and Curly does nonetheless, he wonders if Curly would backflip off a building if Jimmy told him to. 

Finally, Curly picks up his pace, fucking your ass the way it’s meant to be fucked. The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room and for a moment, Jimmy is okay with this entire thing. 

“My girl likes it rough, dontcha, baby?” Jimmy asks, drilling himself as deep as he can go into your pussy. All you do is moan and whine—nonstop ‘cause they won’t let you have a second of air. “Yeah, you do.”

“Daaaad!”

“Fuck, dirty girl,” Jimmy grunts into your hair, hand on the back of your head forcing your face deeper into his neck where you’re making a mess of spit and snot and tears. “You like dad’s cock that much, huh?���

He doesn’t ask about Curly’s cock, if Jimmy wants to know if you like Curly’s cock then Uncle Curly will have to ask you himself. Seems too preoccupied with holding back his moans, though. 

Your whines come out choppy, muffled by Jimmy’s neck, every jackhammer into your sloppy cunt and ass punching the wind right out of you.

“That’s right,” Jimmy makes eye contact with Curly, fucking you even harder to assert dominance, dick-to-dick and ball-to-ball with his best friend. Your walls clamp down around him, “so go on, cum on it. You know you wanna.”

You shake and thrash in his hold, legs twitching as you mumble incoherently. Jimmy feels your body go still, gushing bursts of squirt all over the place, soaking everyone and everything in sight—orgasm hitting you like a tsunami. 

He fucks you through it. 

You must’ve been squeezing real tight around Curly as well, ‘cause he falls on top of you and Jimmy, hands gripping the sheets next to Jimmy’s head like they’re the ones fucking. Curly’s mouth is hanging open, panting and moaning like a bitch in heat. A drop of his sweat lands on Jimmy. 

It’s disgusting how much he looks like a fucking playboy bunny, straight out of a raunchy magazine page. For a second, this intrusive image passes through Jimmy’s head—his dick buried to the hilt inside of Curly instead of you. 

He feels his balls tightening and he wants to kill himself right then and there. 

“Gonna take daddy’s cum?” 

“Such a good girl, sweetheart,” sunshine boy chimes in, like he’s been reading Dirty Talk 101 during the time they’ve been two-manning you, “take it, take both of our loads.” 

“Y’hear that? Gonna take Uncle Curly’s load deep in your ass, huh?” Jimmy keeps his noises down in his throat, struggling to not groan at the way you have a fucking death grip on his dick. “And daddy’s in your pussy?”

Yes, yes, yes—

Jimmy fucks you hard, rough, mean. He keeps going till he shoots his cum deep in your cunt, till he feels Curly stiffening up, following suit with his orgasm and a loud ass fucking moan while he’s at it. Grand exit. 

Curly presses a quick kiss to your head before pulling out of you with a sloppy pop! and flopping down next to you and Jimmy. 

Jimmy stays inside of you, feeling his own cum dripping down his length. You’re lying boneless on his chest, mascara ruined, staining your cheeks—face the perfect aftermath of a good, thorough fucking. 

You and Curly gaze at each other lovingly, reaching out your hands to intertwine your fingers like Jimmy isn’t right there. He’d cuck Curly here and now if his nicotine addiction wasn’t wearing him out. 

You all stay like that for a while, panting and wondering what you’re supposed to make of this. 

You’re out like a light, naked and alone in bed with two thick, white creampies dripping out of your holes, soaking the sheets. 

They step outside, Curly shuts the door carefully and Jimmy lights a cigarette, shoe against the wall as he leans on it. 

Curly’s hands are shoved in his denim pockets, curls still damp and sweaty as his head hangs low. He tilts his head back then, watches Jimmy smoke for a minute.

“So,” Curly breaks the silence between them, speaking over the chirps of the cicadas in the night. “That was... uh...”

Is he going to acknowledge the fact that they fucked Jimmy’s daughter or the subtly homoerotic undertones of it? 

“Don’t talk,” he blows a cloud of smoke straight into Curly’s face when he opens his mouth, makes Curly stifle a cough and Jimmy a chuckle. “Gonna need some money to get out of town for a while.” It’s part true and partly ‘cause Jimmy let him have a go at you. 

“Yeah.” Curly rubs his chin thoughtfully, reaching for his wallet and plucking out a few bills, “yeah, of course.”

Jimmy grabs the cash, crumpling them with his sweaty hands as he walks off. He cranes his neck to salute Curly goodbye, gets a nod back and that’s that. 

Trucker cap on and pick-up engine revving, he takes off. To where? Jimmy doesn’t know. Away. Crawl out of one hole and into another. You’re Curly’s responsibility for the moment. Checked in on his behalf.

Jimmy knows Curly won’t tell. 

[princessbrunette]

limbrey had left the house for a few hours.

“y’know it’s like, it’s not even a sin ‘cus our clothes are still on n’stuff.” jj reclines on the vintage loveseat in your home, cap still on — everything still on infact with his fingers drumming lightly on your waist as you straddle his leg. he knew what his friends would say if they saw him there right now. the head shakes of disappointment. john b’s voice saying ‘jj, stop corrupting her. just let her be.’, pope telling him that he’s a notorious bad influence, kiara screwing up her face. he knew it was bad, but hey — you’re the one who was having all these ‘urges’, he was simply helping you out.

you roll your eyes, trying to play it off but when you suck in a breath it shakes, the nerves getting the better of you as you habitually lift your hand to twiddle with your cross necklace.

“look. you don’t gotta do anything with me right now, or ever if you don’t wanna. m’not tryna make you compromise your faith…liness or whatever—i’m just tryna be a good friend n’ help you out.” jj lets go of your waist to lean back on the seat, taking the pressure off by resting his arms on the back of the seat, staring at you with his wide blue eyes. you slump a little, thighs tightening around his leg as you look down at the space you sit on. you knew this was gonna be trouble when you missed his touch as soon as he removed it.

“no… i want to do it.”

“and your moms not gonna be home for another few hours, right?” he raises his brows, talking slow.

you sigh, nodding. “right.”

reaching forward, he gently takes your chin between his fingers, holding your gaze. “then you got nothin’— and i mean absolutely nothin’ to worry about.” he smiles, and with jj it always just feels easy. like everything is ever that simple. for a moment, you let yourself melt and believe that, sucking on your bottom lip. cautiously, his hands return to your hips and he ever so slightly encourages them forward. “now— what you’re gunna do is rolllll your hips. juuuust like that, dolly.” he instructs casually in that southern drawl that made you weak in the knees, following his instructions.

as the pocket of his cargo shorts catches beneath your panty-clad clit you tense up with a whimper and he grips you securely, looking up with an encouraging smile. “you’re alright, that feels good don’t it lamb chop?” the smile becomes a grin and you pout, getting the hang of rolling your hips.

“dont call me that right now!” you mewl, voice already taking an airy filter to it as you get hazy from pleasure, humping on jj being apparently exactly what you needed on this hot summer afternoon.

“yeah i don’t think you get to call the shots right now when you’re humpin’ on me, mama. but i’ll play nice.” he jokes, helping you along by the waist and bucking his leg a little making you moan. “mmmhm, that’s the stuff ain’t it.”

“this is so wrong. so wrong.” you whimper pathetically, unable to stop your hips from moving as you squelch about in your panties. you couldn’t help how you felt, but you knew you had to be disappointing the lord right about now.

“dont sound wrong t’me.” he shrugs, leaning back to watch you as he lazily guides your hips. he glances to the side, doing a double take at the table with the framed image of you as a baby at your baptism and his arm shoots out, placing the photo down on its face so you couldn’t see it anymore. “there y’go just… hide that.” he mutters under his breath before focusing on you again.

“oh my goodness jj, i’ve never felt…” you trail off, eyes squeezing shut as you greedily hump his thigh, your knee grazing his crotch making him wince.

“felt this good? yeah, well… gets a lot better than this sugar. whatever gets you off though.” he’s a little redder in the face now, more turned on by the moment. “can i like… help you out a lil bit? i mean you’ve already commit the sin, might aswell right?” he doesn’t bother to still you, and before you can answer him he slips a palm beneath you so you roll your hips right into it, all whilst pawing at your tit through your white dress, the fat of it practically falling out anyway as he rolls a thumb over your nipple. you cry out, tensing and clenching around nothing as you grip his shoulders tight — that clean french manicure of yours digging into his skin.

“thaaaats better, right? that’ll do ‘er.” he breathes, your faces closer now, feeling your breath mingle at the proximity.

“this feels amazing.” you pant like a dog, dropping your head to his shoulder to avoid his gaze, squeezing your eyes shut as you approach orgasm.

“plenty more where that came from bo peep. go ‘head n’cum for me yeah? i know you need it. that’s right. good girl.”

[supercap2319]

You give Clark a massage. He’s only wearing his glasses.

Clark kept his eyes forward as he adjusted the black rimmed glasses on his face. His��well–everything was showing, the plaid robe on his body was long forgotten on the floor as the Kryptonian sat on the couch. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, trying not to make himself feel any more exposed than he already was.

He had been stressed between work at the Daily Planet and protecting the people of the world as Superman. It was its own reward type of job, but, God, Clark was swamped. He told his boyfriend, Y/N about it, and said to meet him at his apartment later on in the week, so Y/N could help Clark release all that tension away.

It was a vague way to leave that conversation on that note, but Clark showed up nonetheless. Arriving at Y/N's apartment with specific instructions via text message to get bare and have a seat on the couch. That's how Clark found himself sitting on the couch, naked as the day his Ma and Pa found him in the cornfield in his alien spaceship, wrapped only in a red blanket to hide a naked and chubby baby.

Being naked shouldn't have been the problem. Clark and Y/N had already explored and accepted each other's bodies, but it was still so intimate. Being nude in your boyfriend's house could sure get a guy going. And Clark was going.

Before he could do something as embarrassing as rubbing one out on the plush green carpet underneath his bare feet; Clark heard the door to find Y/N entering. When he saw Clark, he smiled. “Hey, there.”

“Hey, yourself.” Clark said.

“I'm glad you could follow instructions.” Y/N smirks, eyes trailing down Clark's muscular chest, falling onto Clark Jr between his legs. Clark crossed his legs to keep his modest, but also to hide his embarrassment of his dick starting to chub up. A simple glance at his cock made him hard? Could Clark be even more of a nerd than he already was?

Clark wanted Y/N set a plastic bag down on the coffee table and pulled out a pink bottle. Noticing Clark gaze; Y/N smiled at him. “This little baby is gonna help you relax.” He turns the bottle around so Clark can read what it says. “Massaging lotion?” Clark asked.

“Yup. I'm gonna help you relax with a nice massage.” Y/N said.

“But why do I have to be naked?”

Y/N giggles. “It's the only way to make sure every part of you is…Satisfied.” Y/N let that hang in the air. The double meaning behind it. Clark blushed as Y/N moved towards him and sat down next to him on the couch. Clark's bare thigh touched Y/N's jean-covered on. “This isn't really fair if I'm the only one who's naked.” They both knew that Clark wasn't really upset about the nakedness. He just wanted an excuse to see Y/N naked too. Not that it would take much.

Smirking, Y/N, began to strip down until he was naked as Clark minus the silver cross necklace that hung around Clark's neck. Y/N began to squirt the lotion on his hands before he gently applied some pressure to Clark's shoulders.Clark's eyes slowly closed as he leaned into the massage, his muscles relaxing under his boyfriend's fingers. He lets out a soft groan of pleasure, his head nodding slightly as he savors the feeling. His glasses slip down his nose slightly, and he doesn't bother to push them back up.

“Jesus, Clark. You're so tense. You gotta give yourself some down time. It's the only way you'll be able to do both your jobs at the Daily Planet and as Superman.” Y/N said.

“You're right, but when do I find the time? It seems like there's always another story to chase down or another catastrophe brewing in Metropolis. Plus, you know how Perry is about taking breaks.”

"Screw, Perry. Even the Man of Steel has his lips. You can't be at your best, if you're not loose and relaxed enough." His fingers trailed from Clark's shoulders, to his chest. Clark's breath hitches slightly as Y/N's fingers trace down his chest. He opens his eyes, looking at his boyfriend with a mix of surprise and warmth. He considers arguing, but the soothing massage and gentle touch are making it hard to focus on anything else. "Alright, alright.”

Y/N smiled. "Good." He reached lower and grabbed in between Clark's legs as he began to stroke him soft and slow. A deep, throaty groan escapes Clark's lips as his eyes flutter closed again, pushing his glasses up to keep them from falling off. "Maybe you're right about needing…”

“To get off?” Y/N asked, applying more lotion and stroking faster.

Clark's voice is strained, his breath coming in short gasps as his boyfriend's hand works him over. “Oh my God. So good.”

"That's it, babe. Just feel my hand on your aching cock. Just waiting to spill all over it." Y/N pants in Clark's ear.

Clark throws his head back, a strangled moan escaping his throat at the vulgar yet arousing words in his ear.His skin was flushed with desire and embarrassment as he loses himself to sensation. His cock throbs heavily in Y/N's grasp, leaking copiously now.

"God, Clark. You look so beautiful like this. Leaking and hard for me. I'd put my job at the Planet in jeopardy if it meant that I could give you daily hand jobs underneath your desk.” Clark shudders at the thought, imagining secret trysts beneath his messy desk at the Daily Planet. “You're not playing fair.”

"I don't play fair, handsome." Y/N said, stroking Clark harder than before.

Clark's back arches off the couch as he nears his peak. His voice comes out rough and breathy. “Jesus... fuck... I'm... close.” His whole body tenses, including his stomach and chest muscles. He's completely naked and vulnerable, losing all control under Y/N's touch.

"Let go for me, baby. Cum for me. I wanna see you climax your stress away." Y/N moans, touching himself in the process of making Clark cum.

With a loud, primal cry, Clark's body convulses as he unleashes a massive orgasm. His cock pulses violently in Y/N's hand, painting his fingers with thick, white ropes of cum. His vision blurs as he rides out the intense climax, feeling his stress and tension melt away. Some of his jizz leaks onto the green carpet.

Y/N smiles. “Nice one.”

[the-quaint-quail]

Azul-

Had always enjoyed going to upscale events. He liked the prestige and the exclusivity of them. That not the common man or mer can step foot inside a venue without a connection or invitation. He enjoyed picking out a suit, lapels, a tie, blazer, shiny black dress shoes. He didn't mind the cummerbund, thanking It for its slimming effects, although it is an effort to clean it.

Azul didn't mind the limousine sent to pick him and his employees up from the port, the same port the three of them were fished out of and brought to Night Raven College all those years ago.

Sevens where did the time go...

He was established in the business world. Connections from school and his mother serving him well in his pursuit of excellence, all the time he'd fake smile and stroke the egos of the naive students there who were too busy choking on their silver or iron pyrite spoons. Too busy comparing muscles to understand the importance of strategic planning and the sacrifices that come with excellence. Simply because they won't reach his level- unless they were born into it like Kalim Al-Asim, or Vil Schoenheit.

Looking out the window boredly, his eyes focused on one thing and another as the car kept speeding along to their destination. Much to Floyd's chagrin.

"I don't understand why we gotta go to this stupid thing. We already got those mermaids sing'n at the Lounge. What makes you think a human could compete with 'em?"

"Now Floyd, I wouldn't put down the entire human race because of their birth situations. The unfortunate feeling of a dry throat is something only humans can experience and that is no fault on their part except for their birth on land."

"...Huh?"

Azul drowned out their nonsensical banter and focused on the warmth on the streetlamps that illuminated the city. From magic mirror to limousine, Azul could feel himself slowly sink into the leather seat. This is supposed to be a night of relaxation, investing, connecting.

So, he is even more confused when Riddle Rosehearts and his mother are walking into the gran preforming arts center. His styled silver locks bouncing at the momentum of his double take and with a huff he blew the stray lock of hair dangling in front of him back into place in a silk back.

Well, what he could call a slick back at his curls insistence to make themselves known by revolting against the hair spray and magic styling tools he tried using.

"Riddle Rosehearts!"

The same heart shaped hairstyle Riddle wore was replaced with his left front piece tucked behind his ear, but hair wasn't important right now. Instead, Azul slowed his steps as he took in the ex-house warden. He had certainly grown into himself that was for sure as the puff in his chest from college was bigger and his legs longer.

"Ehhhh, goldfishie must've been eat'n his greens" Floyd mocked, bending down to wave a hand over Riddle's head as no number of greens would make him catch up to the lumbering eel mer.

Riddle quickly and quietly excused himself from his offended mother and brought the three mers to the corner of the gallery. The black rug swirled with gold vines, being separated by a set of sleek polished black marble stairs. Red carpets lined both entrances to the large auditorium where Riddle's mom was walking to, stopping along the way to converse with a group of older suits.

"Azul Ashengrotto- Jade, Floyd" Riddle greeted the twins coolly before turning back to their leader in confusion. "What are you guys doing here? Didn't you move back to the coral sea after your internships?"

"Indeed, we did, no place like home as they say" Jade cut in with a fake smile that he curated for a decade, long before he transferred schools and yet he seemed to prefect it to Riddle's displeasure and to Azul's pleasure.

"We're here because we're meeting with a few potential investors for a new location of the Monstro. With the riveting success it's had under sea we thought the next best move was to expand on land"

Riddle chuckled slightly "How ambitious of you Azul, you're still the businessman you were at Night Raven."

"Naturally" Azul couldn't help the coy smirk on his face as he placed a gloved hand to his deep French navy blazer, a recommendation from Vil Schoenheit himself, in pride.

"So whattaya do'n here Goldfishie? You here on business?"

"Pleasure is more like it" Riddle's cheeks flushed as he fidgeted under the intrigued stares of the merman. Azul's eyes zoomed in on the arms he kept hidden behind his back hiding something he didn't want the three of them to see. Hm.

One thing Azul loved was a good mystery. And good sevens could not mind his own business for the life of him and he knows the twins couldn't either.

"Ehhh, Goldfishie what's that behind your back."

FLOYD YOU NINCOMPOOP

Azul wanted to smack himself, remembering Floyd's art of discretion was as- as... Floyd, dear sevens.

Riddle's face was feverishly red as he looked behind his back in a panic, the other guests slowly filing out of the gallery at the sudden chiming of bells. Five minutes til show starts.

"I'd love to continue chatting with you, but we have to get to our box, tell me where yours is as we'd like to stop by and continue this little catch up amongst old friends."

Azul's smile widens at the grumbling of Riddle's breathe, something about 'old friends'. caused the red head to grimace. It almost looked like he was pouting, how utterly adorable.

"Against my wishes, my mother set us up for box A-"

"Wonderful! We are box C and hope to see you after the show! Perhaps we could even get dinner together, if your mother agrees." And with that they said their goodbyes and quickly vanished leaving Riddle to blink owlishly at what just happened. H-How the sevens did he get roped into this? He hardly had a second to think let alone respond to these suspiciously suspicious men that they had made plans without his consent.

Riddle's, unfortunately still small but now slight larger fists clenched in timed intervals as he tried calming his anger through breathing in and out, in and out just like you thought him. Soon the fury that was rising like fire in his chest died down into a light irritation as he now must somehow convince his mother to divert from original plans. If he was lucky, she would go home by herself and leave you two be.

Riddle brought forth the flowers from behind his back and stared at them for a second. A beautiful bouquet of assorted flowers he picked from his carefully tended garden. Daisies, hundred leaved roses, Narcissus', and Rhododendrons were wrapped in pink paper with a red and white stripped tulle bow.

Bringing them up to his nose he took a long, purposeful sniff making sure he felt the expansion of his ribs pressing against his skin and the tension in his shoulders. Everything he did reminded him of you...

he was calm now, the floral scent lingering in his nose giving him something to focus on rather than the dinner you two had last night that grew legs and decided to harass him at your recital.

Great.

How was he going to explain that your ex-boyfriend was coming to visit the box and made dinner plans.

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

Azul wasn't easily bored. Being an avid reader makes you prone, complicit to boredom as you feel it when a book is too long, or the narrative is too slow or just plain old boring. Forcing you to drop the book like it was a hermit crab hidden in itself and reach for another, hopefully less boring book.

He didn't mind talking about business during the show. Having a chance to add a comment or two to the older, richer guest that made them either smirk or chuckle. He was doing good regardless of how many times he had to check his watch in hopes that 30 minutes passed rather than a measly 5.

Azul takes it back, this is torture. Floyd was right, all these up-and-coming singers were just- nothing compared to the sirens and mers down below he wanted to say to the other businessman next to him, but he refrained learning that his daughter was the one who sung that awful aria making him and his companions give her a standing ovation.

Azul wanted a shark to swim up and swallow him whole because oh my sevens.

He felt his inside pocket vibrate during intermission, quickly pulling it out and exuding himself that he 'had to take this call.'

His package had arrived at his deep-sea residence. Rejoice!... Well, it was something to be glad for as he quickly makes an ear, nose and throat appointment for tomorrow. Before pressing 'confirm appointment' an unknown number had texted him. His finger wavered as he looked back at the crack of the box door where he could see jade and Floyd entertaining the small group in his absence.

Pulling down on the notification, it read:

'Hello! This is Riddle Rosehearts. Unfortunately, my mother will not be able to make it if you are still planning to get dinner afterwards but keep that fifth seat open as I have to ask my fiancé.'

...

WHAT

Azul couldn't believe what he was reading. What do you mean fiancé? Who in their right mind would ever think it's a good idea to marry that walking ticking time bomb? yes, he had the brains, Azul bites his lip bitterly thinking back on the one sided academic rivalry. But he was stickler for the rules, high patience, bossy, and downright naive in places Azul has expert knowledge of.

Like love, having a girlfriend in college for a few years but ultimately breaking it off because you were going home. You weren't from here and Azul highly doubted you'd want to stay, ditch your legs and live in the deepest part of the ocean. Humans were a lot like plants, they need sunlight to survive, and drown when there's too much water.

"It was better this way" He leans his head against the cream walls, staring up at the hanging metal sign that had his box's name. "She was going home anyway, I just made it easier."

Azul knew the truth, all three of them did because the pang in heart every time she crossed his mind, never got easier to handle. This is what that mermaid princess must've felt, he thought to himself. Wishing to be a part of her loves world to be with them always and forever. She got her happily ever after, he did not.

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, almost shuddering breath. His fingers slowly undoing his black glove, only one, holding it in his hand as he felt the rough texture of the wall behind him. The wiggle of his toes in his socks and shoes, the cool air-conditioned air chilling his nose and bothering his throat.

Just like you taught him all those years ago. With a sigh, Azul hastily typed out his response to the red head and pocketed his phone to head back inside.

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

There was one more act.

One more seven forsaken act before he could leave and be done with this. The old, bot bellied man with salt and pepper facial hair had told him the last act was never put on the play bill or announced until the performance was over.

It was earned by their performer you know what they say, save the best for last. It was the prize of a preforming arts school program, which put the whole picture of tonight into perspective for Azul, he almost wanted to pat himself on the back for passing the test this man set up for him.

Yes, he was a patron of the arts having his own entertainment on weekend for the lounge. Sometimes he would take the stage- only during special occasions such as wooing a potential investor, or to give the crowd something to talk about. But that was all, he'd never once dreamed to pursue it in thoughts it’s a waste of education filled with uncertainties Azul just wasn't willing to take. He needed a steady job with a steady (it's Azul, he's usually always making profit) income and a comfortable life.

Fins off to them for trying though.

Applause broke him from his thoughts as the woman on stage bowed to the applause and walked off. Her dress blended too much into the backdrop of draping red velvet curtains that folded over themselves in a bunched, yet aesthetically pleasing eye. If it was done by anyone else than the master set designer, it would have looked cheap and pathetic.

High heels echoed through the auditorium as the next, hopefully best performer came their way on stage.

"My daughter caught her in a music room one day practicing before dawn and sore she heard the seven's trumpets" The old man laughed as Azul painfully smiled, adjusting himself to catch a bet-

His heart dropped.

Why were you here? Why weren't you why- His throat clammed up and his hair started to fall.

He met Jade and Floyd's shocked faces as they took in Azul's growing distress. Shit.

The audience's applause drowns out his own racing mind as his chair falls back with a muted thud thanks to the swirling carpet.

Look

He looked to Riddle's box as he drew his lower lip between his teeth. The red heads were both standing with applause as Riddle looked down at you with so much love.

His azure eyes were drawn back to stage when they both sat down. His eyes studying every inch and piece of you his glasses allowed him to see. His mouth gapped like a fish as his pupils flared at the reflection of a shiny, large rock on your ring finger.

That could not have been comfortable to wear!!! Yet you waved the poised elegant wave princesses were known of with ease regardless of the hulking ruby that swallowed your finger whole.

He knew how this was going to play out, knew from the moment you opened your mouth and started singing that sevens-forsaken song.

But you never looked at him or his box. Your eyes too focused on the audience and Riddle blasted Rosehearts.

Azul angrily pulled out his phone, sitting down in the chair Jade had set up again with an excuse that you were an old friend of theirs from college.

Friend- Friend?!

Azul's blood boiled as he silently seethed at the thought. Friend?! You were so much more than friends that the title made him furious to even think of you as such. You were lovers, companions, boyfriend and girlfriend. Not fucking friends. you were his and you were his.,

Were

Sevens he could just hear and see Riddle's smugness as it rang like seagulls in his mind.

'You never told me [name] was preforming' the message silently sent, and Riddle didn't even glance at Azul or his blinking phone rather he spotted his seat closer, whispered something to his proud looking mother and leaned against the railing with a stupid dreamy look on his stupid handsome face.

"Think of me-

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

Azul had zoned out in the middle of the song as thoughts of you and past times swam in memories like New Yorkers at the Jersey Shore- like the beach at summertime during a summer holiday.

You had sung this song to him many times, Azul's piano and duet always bringing a smile to your face as you playfully bumped him. The corners of his own lips quirking up in a rare show of genuine emotion.

Your retreating heels stopped when you met his eye, your beaming smile faded like you'd just witnessed Grim eating your leftovers, again. Shit. he could practically read your thoughts as you hurried off stage after your 30 second standing ovation.

You truly deserved it.

A ping was felt in his great pocket. Fumbling with his phone as the new investor patted his back with a heavy hand yapping about how cool it must've been knowing you directly.

"Yes, yes very cool" He forced a smile, jade and Floyd swopping in to tell the guests more about you all while packing up their own things to go home. But they weren't going home.

You refused to meet his eye the moment you stepped into the gallery with Riddle, elbows interlocked and smiling as Riddle guided you through the crowd who couldn't help but commandeer you and stop you for a quick second. Sometimes, you were handed a small card that you gave to Riddle who smoothly gave to his mother who then pocketed it in a small red crocodile pouch that held more organized cards.

"You never told us [name] was your fiancé Riddle, how rude" Floyd pouted as he crushed you in a eel hug, swaying you like a guppy, much to Riddle and his mother's anger.

"That is a handmade damask dress and real ruby’s! Put her down at once!" Riddle's mom seethed through a gritted smile, making sure to keep up appearance despite her harrowing glare and popping veins.

Floyd placed you down gentler than he picked you up, keeping you in his arms for a moment while you steadied yourself in your black sleek heels.

Jade, not one to show mercy but one to read a room, merely gave you a small quick hug not wanting to feel the ire of Riddle's mother like his brother. "Yes, it caught us by surprise when you walked on stage-"

"-I thought you went home."

The group silenced at Azul's word vomit. The businessman widening his eyes at what came out as you exchanged an uneasy look with Riddle.

"She-"

"I-"

You looked to Riddle's mom who nodded, allowing you to talk in her stead as she excused herself to hunt down every person who handed you their business card.

May seven help their mortal souls.

"I... they..." You sighed, quickly greeting a passerby-er as you looked him up and down. "Crowley never found a way. He- the lead he had was a dead end and he let me stay at the school for a few years as the janitor. With the connections of Vil and Kalim, I was able to transfer to a preforming arts school- Siren's Cove, where I studied music for a while..."

Azul didn't like the sad smile on your lips or the glossy look in your eyes. he especially hated how Riddle was there to comfort you, a hand settled perfectly on your waist as he rubbed soothing circles with his thumb.

Azul had to physically hold back his late lunch that threatened to crawl up and out of his throat.

"But before all that" You sniffed a few times, trying to play off the sudden wave of emotion as a stuffy nose, but they all knew that was a lie. Because a singer would never have a snuffer nose on the night of her most important performance yet.

This was an investors event after all.

"Riddle was actually invited back to teach a law class- he's a lawyer-"

oh, course he's a lawyer, A multi layered voice gargled

"At Night Raven and in a cheesy rom com fashion, he heard me singing in the hallway while mopping and well-."

"It was love at first listen-"

"Riddle!" You swatted his arm with a laugh as the now lawyer looked at you keeling over in his grasp with a fondness that makes Azul sick.

Why if he were in the ocean, he'd drown that miserable-

"And because of that I was able to convince my mother-" he motioned towards the women in a red pantsuit who was laughing merrily with the group Azul was just with. Just where did she get that champagne?

"- To sponsor [name] in her musical education journey-"

"He actually asked me out after my first performance at Siren's Cove. He was redder than a tomato I'll tell you."

"More like a slap mark-"

"What was that?"

"How wonderful that you both found each other! You look good together" The one thing Azul hated in this moment was how easily he lied through his teeth. It was his job to spew ego stroking comments to customers of his business, lounge, and side hustle. But he also hated how he meant it.

You two.. you fit like puzzles pieces as Riddle stammers to try and save his dignity from the embarrassing confession. It was effortless on both your parts to finish what the other was saying even with the comments and questions from the twins.

.....

"I'm sorry Riddle but we're going to have to reschedule our dinner and catch up, I have paperwork from the investors that I must file tonight or else all that hard work and effort would be for naught" He sighed, shrugging in defeat and ignoring the twin's shared silent conversation.

Stop looking at him like that [name.] Like you can see right past his lies with that infuriating sympathy of yours. Like you know that he's saying this to not have to share a table with you at a sea food restaurant with your fucking fiancé.

He should've been the one taking you out to dinner in celebration tonight, the ancient voice grumbled, and Azul agreed. It should have been him! He should have been your sponsor! Not Riddle and his tyrannical mother! He should have been the one with his arm wrapped around your designer handmade dress that he gifted you for such an occasion.

Siren's Cover. HA! HAHHAHA

That was a coastal all girls higher education school for the musically and artistically gifted. He should've have been the only connection you used to get in- yes yes you passed the audition, but you can't get in without a referral or portfolio-

Right, he blocked your number when he and the twins ditched their phones the second their toes turned to fins. Technology a foreign and useless invention to the mers down under. Blocking you? It was to stop himself from begging you to stay from looking like a loser cry baby octopus.

Maybe… Maybe if he begged you to stay and told you he regretted it... No he could never ask you to stay, leaving everything you know and love behind for him seemed like a foreign concept. So, he never did it, thinking and reading too much into it to the point of inaction and distractions.

On the car ride home Azul listens to a recording he had saved deep in his phone as he watches out the window. It was the last time you had ever sung that sonf with him, it was unfinished as you made a mistake, apologizing as Azul merely plays over it. He remembers the oblivious look he gave you as his voice inside of his phone asks you "what mistake?" Your voice giggles as his panicked flustered noises and squeals were almost drowned out by the clashing piano keys.

You'd think a whale was trying to play with how horrible it sounded, yet the moment his gloved hands were away from the ivory keys and wrapped tightly around your falling form all he could hear was your joint laughter.

"I lov-"

The video was cut off.

Azul is left with the ghost of you cuddled up to him telling him to 'not think of what could've been.'

Sorry [name.]

He's so sorry.

--------

blerp! ;P

wrote in one go instead of doing my psych assignments lets go!!! hope you enjoyed hehe, I'm obsessed with azul x reader x riddle love triangle and will be writing more about them, just probably not this au

edit: whoops, uploaded the unedited version lol

[reidslovely]

Something about helping frat!blonde! Peter touch up his roots. Like he calls you and reader must think its for hooking up purposes - then he surprises her w “can you. uh..retouchmyrootsplease” and she’s like “??? 🤨wat” and you just go over to his place and spend time with him, washing his hairr, he making eye contact with reader through the mirror, etc. But he’s still stubborn about his feelings so he’s like “this was a one time thing only don’t let it get to ya head”

sorry if this was jumbled I just had this in my head for a while now

Yes this idea is so so so so so cute. I have written something vaguely similar before but I love it so much I don't care to write it again

please reblog or comment in place of liking/hearting this post 🫶🏼

“Pete?” You questioned picking up your phone, your eyes locked on the clock that read 4:00pm. “It’s far too early for a booty call..what’s up pretty?” 

“Ya flatter bashful.” His chesty laugh could be heard on the other end of the phone. It sent your heart doubling in speed, your cheek pressed lovingly into your shoulder. 

“You still with me bashful? I need you to do me a favor.” 

“So this is a hookup call..you only ask me that if-” You're cut off by him rushing out a string of words. None of which you caught. “Pete..baby. I need you to breathe and say that again.” You laughed softly, already gathering your stuff up to head over to the Theta Tau. Regardless if this was a hookup situation or not you were tired of your homework and Peter always seems to take any type of stress away. 

“Can you uh..” There's an awkward cough and sigh. “Retouchmyrootsplease?” 

The questions still came out as one word this time around but at least you actually caught what he was saying. 

“Sure, Pete.” You tried not to laugh. “Do you have what you need or do we need to run by Sally?” 

“No, no I have everything here for you. Thanks for this.”

“Course Pete, anything for you.” You hung up before you could get any type of snarky reply. 

Peter’s blond locks were a new addition about three weeks into your situation ship and you absolutely loved them. They flattered his face, and made his little baby deer eyes even more baby deer like. Which made you want to kiss him even more, and made it hard to say no when he’s asking you for another round. 

“You’re literally the best for this. Just moved up to like number two in my ranking.”

It was a joke, you were easily number one if not the only girl in Peter’s ranking but you have to play along or else you’ll scare him away. 

“Offended, whose number one.”

“May..sorry.” Peter sighs dramatically, leading you up the stairs to his bathroom. Tossing a few nods and hey’s to his brothers walking down the steps. 

“Mhm can’t be mad at that.” 

Peter laughed sitting on the chair he’d tucked away in the bathroom, pulling off his shirt. 

“Awe did you go ahead and set everything up for me?”

“No I was gonna do it myself but that's how we ended up in this scenario in the first place.”

Peter would never admit to it but he had set everything up for you. He’d done it before he even picked up the phone: not that he knew you'd say yes but he could hope. 

“Mhm I see.” You hummed running your fingers through Peter’s hair. He grabbed his phone starting his music, looking at you in the mirror as you started sectioning his hair out. 

Admittedly the whole time he was locked on you. Every move you made he was locked on you, not wanting to miss a moment. His head lolled back as you ran; you painted the bleach on his roots. Earning soft little ‘stops’ and ‘hold your head up’ from you as he relaxed. Your eyes were fixed on his hair making sure you’re applying everything evenly and correctly. Peter held his phone up in the mirror snapping a quick photo of the two of you. The photo falling amongst the others he’s sneakily taken of you or the both of you that you had no clue about. 

“Okay you gotta sit for a while and then I’ll wash it, tone it, all that after.” You said sitting on the toilet lid next to him taking the gloves off, tossing them in the trash can. 

“This is nice.” 

Peter's comment threw you off, you two only really hung out in the context of having sex or it being mutually beneficial for both. You hated to admit you had more moments like this. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm no pressure, at least not for you. I still gotta make jokes and keep you entertained.” 

“Tragic.” You tsked resting your arm on the sink hand to head as your free hand started a 30 minute timer. 

“Come on, we have enough time to watch some of that Hulu cooking show you like.” Peter stood taking your hand in his walking to his room. You flopped down on Pete’s bed watching him sitting next to you. “Careful you’ll get bleach on your..”

“No no, I'm good sitting up.”

You nodded and laid your head on his lap watching The Bear, Pete’s fingers combing through your hair switching between watching the TV and you. 

Pete’s head was tilted back in the sink, a towel under his neck for comfort. “Stop looking down my shirt, Parker.” 

“I’m not…I’m not.” He lied, turning his eyes up to look at you as you shampooed after toning his hair. “Do I look fabulous?”

“Oh absolutely.” You laughed wrapping his hair up in a towel helping him sit up. Ruffling the towel through his hair you laughed watching it sticking up every which way. You blow dried it for him smiling and singing under your breath as you fixed his hair perfectly. 

“How do you feel Parker?” 

“Amazing..I look great thanks bashful.” He says turning around, capturing your hips in his hands. “Let's get dinner, and then we can come back here.” 

“I hate sex after dinner.” 

“No, no we come back here and finish the show.” 

“Oh I get to come back to the Theta house? And not have sex?” You fake a gasp of shock. 

“I know it’s a rare occurrence. This is a one time thing though, don’t let it get to ya head.” Pete taunts, hand rubbing your side grabbing his wallet off his dresser.

“Oh baby it has.” 

Peter knew and even in his playful disdain and stubborn personality you were slowly craving a spot out in his chest and making a home in it, and at this point he had no say in it.

___________

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @moonyslove78 @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn

[sinisterexaggerator]

Hancock x F!Reader [ A03 ]

Summary: You are important to John Hancock; there is a radstorm brewing. As a skilled and reformed scavver, you’re after a part for a decommissioned lounger—it belongs to Doc Amari’s famed Memory Den.

Hancock's tense; he should have gone with you, but it’s not too late to search you out. He would be glad to have you home safe in his arms, only things don’t always go as planned, nor do you go unpunished for your negligence.

Explicit: NSFW / 18+ for PWP, PiV sex, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, whump / hurt and comfort, angst, gun violence, light bondage, praise, light sub/dom undertones, edging, use of chems, alcohol, foul language, and canon-typical violence and behavior. Other worthy mentions include fluff, romance, a worried and protective Hancock, and love confessions.

Notes: I am normally a Star Wars writer. This is my first time writing for Hancock, and my first fic for the Fallout fandom. I see Hancock as multifaceted, which I am having fun exploring. I have many ideas, but one fic can only contain so much! I used a few lines of dialogue from the game because they stuck with me T__T. I will also most likely try my hand at Nick Valentine at some point, (and maybe even Coop), but this ghoul stole my heart.

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Feedback appreciated. Like? Reblog! <3 Requests accepted!

Eyes as black as tar pits searched the ground at his feet, though no answers would present themselves, the cold, grimy filth of the Commonwealth something he could relate to on an atomic level. Flecks of barren soil and bits of detritus vaulted upward in a stagnate aggregate of dust, cavalier leather boots—having seen better days—leaving a swirl of varied particulates in their wake.

Hancock paced, the Mayor of Goodneighbor impatient as a hungry mole rat, the man left to stalk before the door that led to the Financial District. A dreary, dark green pall signaled to anyone with brains that there was a storm looming on the horizon, and yet you had not returned.

“Where the hell is she?” a raspy voice asked its sparse audience, two ghouls dedicated to his cause doubling as bodyguards, though if he felt safe anywhere, it was here among his brethren.  Besides, it wasn’t his safety he was worried about, it was yours, and he wasn’t afraid to convey his feelings to the whole of town.

“Startin’ to get antsy. Gotta hand it to her, she’s got me sweatin’ like a whore in church over this. Hope she’s havin’ fun at my expense.”

Scavenging was lucrative, or it could be if you managed to score the right loot. You had to know where to look, or where not to look; danger was always in the cards. It was a game Hancock didn’t like to play, and especially not now, not when lightning streaked the sky, rain clouds pregnant with radiation threatening to burst open like a feral’s head looking down the muzzle of a sawed-off shotgun.

He knew what it was like to be forced to scour the bare bones of buildings, filching anything that was ripe for the picking. A single find could feed a man for weeks, and places like Goodneighbor just didn’t just build themselves. People needed things. Lucky for them, Hancock was able to provide. It was his one claim to fame—his rep was solid—but he didn’t look down on you for being one to scout for buried treasure.

“She’ll turn up,” one of his companions offered. It was a piteous attempt to console him, Hancock all but ignoring his dismissive comment. He felt his concern was obvious, yet his bedfellows were none of their business. Either way, he brushed it off like a decent man instead of snapping like he wanted to—the guy’d done nothing wrong.

Thunderclaps echoed through town, the first of many droplets pelting his marred face, the ghoul’s faithful tricorn not doing much in the way of shielding him from the dirtied water that had begun to trickle down onto its weathered surface.

He rued allowing you to go out on this wild-mongrel chase to begin with, not to say that you weren’t capable. What he might say is that you’re too good for this world, too good for him, but that hadn’t stopped him from falling head over heels.

You weren’t anti-social like most of your kind; you had a good heart, gave paying customers fair deals, and somehow you had kept the ruins from tarnishing your cheerful outlook; you sported a chipper disposition even at the worst of times.

In other words, you were his little ray of sunshine; Hancock had no qualms with telling you that to your face. And things as precious as you were to him? They needed protecting. It was becoming more obvious by the minute that he should have done the job himself.

“If this is her definition of ‘fast,’ we’re going to need to have a little chat to clear a few things up. Should have fucking gone with her, don’t know what I was thinking,” fried vocal cords scratched out, words tinged with worry as he made his way to the reinforced slab of steel that was Goodneighbor’s single entry point, not counting the alley behind Rexford.

“Maybe you weren’t thinkin’ at all, John…” that little voice inside his head nagged at him, reminding himself at every turn of the ways he’d failed, this on the verge of being one of them.

“Want us to look?” the other rejoined, aware you had been sent out on a job to find a replacement circuit board for Doctor Amari, as one of the memory lounger’s had been marked out of service. The doc would pay you well; everyone’s gotta eke a living somehow. Hers was made by sellin’ a man’s own memories back to him, and yours was made by sellin’ spare parts.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t have skipped out on his Mayoral duties for one evening, Hancock mentally scolding himself, his sentiments leading him toward the need to kick his own ass.

Quick, adept and clever, he had no doubt you could pull it off, but you were used to traveling in a group, used to back up and a lookout. You had willingly ditched your crew and settled here for him, making Goodneighbor more or less your permanent home. He couldn’t help but feel like he was ultimately responsible for you and your well-being—so far, so good. He’d be damned if anything happened to you on his watch.

The coming radstorm was starting to sound like a stampede of angry Brahmin. Not even those of his ilk should be out in this mess. Technically immortal, sure, but not immune to accumulating all that bad stuff brewing in the atmosphere; he was comfy right where he was, but not without his lady by his side.

Their self-elected leader ignored the question, reaching into the confines of his red frock coat to unveil the firepower hidden just out of sight. His break-action, double-barreled 12-gauge had most of its stock removed for easy concealment; he knew better than to step foot outside Goodneighbor without packing heat.

“No, you might say this is a personal problem. Not to say she wouldn’t make a damn fine Ghoul,” he stated with deadly calm, kicking the door open with reckless abandon despite his unflappable demeanor, not caring what awaited him on the other side.

“I’m going with you, ain’t safe,” words spoken over harsh winds, a breeze not in the least bit refreshing having descended upon the Commonwealth as Hancock slipped out into the mounting tumult, both men following close behind. Truthfully, he was grateful for their loyalty.  

“Suit yourself, but don’t go gettin’ yourself killed. Would defeat the purpose of a search and rescue, ya feel me?”

A question not needing a response, he ventured forward, running headfirst into the growing tempest, chaos reigning overhead in the form of a blinding light show.

Hancock called out for you, yelling your name over the deafening commotion that was going to get worse before it got better, not about to go home empty-handed, even if it took the whole damn rest of the night. He hoped you were smart enough to know when to quit, or that you’d taken those Mentats he’d stuffed in your pocket on the way out.

“Get back here, scavver!”

Footfalls echoed in the dark, brisk in pace, inky, depthless eyes narrowing as the ghoul searched out the source. He had taken no more than half a dozen steps before he was forced to witness you at a full-fledged run, two burly raiders belting out insults and expletives hot on your trail.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, but he was stone-cold sober, time standing still as you dove into Hancock’s open arms.

“There’s my girl,” the scoundrel purred into your ear, sinewy limbs enshrouding you as the sound of gunfire and discarded ammo casings nearly went unnoticed. Hancock let his own weapon fall to the ground to accommodate you, your pursuers dispatched like the trash they were. The members of the Neighborhood Watch who had accompanied him outside the walls made short work of both men; they deserved a drink and some chems on his dime.

“John,” you breathed out, smiling up at him, eyes sparkling with mirth as you held up that piece of scrap you were so proud of. His name off your tongue was musical, a warm sensation spreading through him like wildfire, better than drugs—it was a high he would never come down from.

“I—I got the part,” you spoke softly, your tepid breath tickling the remnants of a disfigured ear.

Hancock almost shivered.

But oh, no. He wasn’t about to let you off that easy, not when he’d felt that pang of anxiety and the sickening feeling in his gut like someone had shanked him with his own knife. He held you back by the shoulders, breaking your embrace, his face taking on a displeased, stern shade.

“What’s wrong with you, huh? Makin' me all kinds of nervous. Scarin’ me half to death. And some might say I don’t look too far off.” He breathed in nice and slow, exhaling through exposed nasal cavities, Hancock emitting a sigh to emphasize his disappointment. “Can’t be doin’ things like that, or you’re liable to give this old ghoul a—”

“—Sunshine?” His heart sank, as if the universe was out to prove he had every right to worry, Hancock’s attention inexplicably drawn to the red staining your fingers—it neared the color of his coat. You only now seemed to notice, that radiant light swept from your beaming face as you acknowledged the presence of your own blood on your hands; no wonder it had been so hard to take those last few steps.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, eyes blown wide as you apologized for upsetting him. You would collapse into a heap, the adrenaline that had carried you home seeming to dissipate all at once—at least your fight-or-flight response had done its duty.

---

“Move over, out of the way. I ain’t askin’ twice,” Hancock seethed, the distraught man’s threat to bowl over anyone who stood in his way not to be taken lightly, though his tone was traitorously even and his despondency well-masked. He stormed the Old State House, ascending the spiral staircase to the second floor, carrying your limp body to a tattered red couch.

Refuse and empty Jet inhalers, along with half-drunk bottles of alcohol and boxes of Mentats, were all swept aside, Hancock throwing open cabinet doors and dislodging drawers in his haste.

“Oh, you’re really in it now, aren’t you, sister? Just had to make a few extra caps!” he chided, the ghoul’s husky voice rising in volume as he took to another part of the room.

Having not yet succumbed to blood loss, you were barely cognizant as you fought to stay awake, your beloved Mayor nothing more than a blur of motion and splotches of red as he systematically searched every nook and cranny for the syringe that would save your life.

“Hang on, dollface, you’re not dying today. Not if I have anything to say about it—and you know how much I love to run my mouth.” Hancock spoke to reassure you and himself, filling the silence with something other than the curses he wanted to dish out every which way to the wind. You couldn’t help but to smile again despite your predicament, eyelids drooping as you thought about the idea of sleep.

“There you are,” he growled, your vision starting to glaze over, though you were aware Hancock had come back to your side. His scarred, yet deceptively handsome face hovered inches above your own; it was an acquired taste you had no trouble in accepting.

“This is gonna hurt, but it’s better than the alternative,” he provided in short warning, withered fingers fumbling to unbutton your top, exposing first your sternum, your ribs, and then your belly.

“Shit, they got you good,” Hancock grumbled, your hand rising to cradle his jaw as he had peeled back the flaps of fabric to inspect the wound in your side. You were surprisingly calm, thinking that if today was your last day on Earth, at least you had been blessed to experience his company. 

“I’m glad it’s you here with me,” your voice, meek and mild, declared. Hancock hesitated for one precious second, caught off guard, but pleasantly so.

“Don’t go gettin’ sentimental on me! Ain’t like these are your final moments or nothin’,” he assured, an audible tremble causing his words to waver, voice rising in pitch. He went on to stab you without ceremony, the needlepoint of a stimpak and its revitalizing medicine at once injecting itself into your damaged flesh and pulsing through your bloodstream.

You moaned in pain, hips arching as you lifted slightly up off the cushions before you settled once more, allowing yourself to finally relax as Hancock watched the regenerative process take hold, much to his relief.

---

You awoke, finding yourself supine atop a mattress, with Hancock crossed legged on the floor beside you. He had brought it down from upstairs, wanting you to have somewhere more comfortable to recover; the drifters weren’t using it, but he was sure he could scrounge another one up should the need arise.

The door was shut, the rest of the room empty, the man teetering off the edge of a high he wished he could prolong; he had pumped himself full of all those things that made him feel better. Riddled with guilt, he had imbibed both chems and alcohol, his body slightly swaying from left to right as he could not sit entirely still, yet he was too far off in his own head to notice you had come back to him.

You shifted, realizing he had draped his frock across your body to act as a temporary blanket. This simple gesture caused a flutter behind sore ribs, biceps activating so that you might push up and rest on the flat of your palms.

John was idle, near-dead to the world, eyes closed as he kept up that gentle rocking, back and forth, as if lost in music or in deep meditation. You only desired to watch him, studying the intricate, striated patterns of his ravaged flesh, gazing over the hollow of his once human nose, and admiring his sullied, foppish tunic that was a part of his infamous ensemble.

While some might consider him a monster, he was a being of light. He had superficial, obvious flaws, but he was no more guilty of sin than anyone else in this day and age. He was a beautiful soul, inside and out, and your opinion was the only one that mattered to you. Hancock always tried to do the right thing—it’s what drew you to him—even if that meant taking out a few loose ends. 

Your heart stirred, natural chemical processes taking hold that would prompt you to touch him, your hormones dictating that you wanted this man carnally.

The ghoul’s eyes bolted open as you shuffled forward on your behind; you set his coat aside almost reverently, folding your legs like his, knees brushing as you leaned forward to kiss his wiry lips. Soft flesh against textured skin, rough in comparison, felt no less wonderful, Hancock groaning out a throaty sound of appreciation as he slowly shut his eyes again.

That was all the encouragement you needed, pressing closer, crawling onto Hancock’s lap as his hands found the meat of your ass to give it a squeeze. “Someone’s feelin’ better…” he quipped, allowing himself to lie back on the floor. His smile was lackadaisical and content, his touch roving to your thighs as he gazed up at you, noting you were tugging off your already unbuttoned top to reveal your shapely breasts.

“How’d a guy like me get so damn lucky…” he drawled, Hancock’s normally assertive way of speaking temporarily replaced by a calming cadence—it was dreamy—his indolent tone arousing your most base instincts.

You didn’t answer at first, thinking you’re the one who’s lucky. You had wanted and needed a change of pace, not happy with the way your business partners were operating, willing to bring death to others in order to get what scrap they could. You only took things from the ruins, or from those who deserved to be robbed, the idea of senseless violence proliferating thanks to people like your ragtag group something you decided you couldn’t live with.

You’d come to Goodneighbor looking for work; Hancock had been willing to give you a chance, and you didn’t disappoint. After a few heady conversations and risqué flirtations at the Third Rail, you had wound up in his arms—a place you found yourself never wanting to leave.

“I could ask you the same question,” you finally muttered, grazing his mouth, kisses repeating, small pecks placed from one side to the other in a physical show of adoration. The ghoul laughed a wry, salacious little laugh, head turning to allow for this impromptu bout of affection, stretching one arm out behind his head to act as a pillow as he relished the attention.

Then, his smile faded, the chem’s effects lingering like background radiation, less intense than before—the high lasted mere minutes if that, his faculties gradually returning. The hand left free gingerly touched your side, just below where he had administered the stimpak hours earlier. Concern was apparent in glistening eyes, so dark and lovely, starry pupils reflecting the faint luminescence of his surroundings.

“Not lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he promised, every shred of levity fleeing to be replaced by austerity, low, somber notes causing a visceral reaction as the onset of something warm and fuzzy spread throughout your core.

“Bein’ out here with me? Means you don’t gotta work, but I should have had your back, sunshine. Ain’t got no excuse.”

“You can have me on my back,” you playfully retorted, the simple suggestion unleashing a purr from the bowels of the ghoul’s throat. The idea of being a kept woman pleased you, but you were more interested in pleasing him.

“You better watch your mouth, or I can’t be held responsible for all those things I’m going to do to you,” Hancock countered. He talked big game, but he was still feelin’ shook. He didn’t want to risk getting too frisky on the off chance your body needed more time to heal; you were only human, after all.

“I’m shaking in my boots,” you simpered. Hancock was quick to snark back.

“I know that’s a lie, ‘cause you’re not wearing any.”

You gasped as Hancock flipped you without warning, pinning both your wrists to either side of your head. He drank in the smooth, supple flesh of your curves, hungry eyes making damn sure to get their fill.

He couldn’t stop himself, exploring the swell of a perfect tit, Hancock’s mouth becoming newly acquainted with the sensitive flesh of your nipple. He flicked its pert tip with the point of his tongue; you brazenly rolled your hips as you tried to contain the lewd sound that threatened to escape you.

“I double dog dare you, ” you tempted, not in the least bit afraid of what he might have in store.

Hancock didn’t take the bait.

“Don’t want to hurt you, love, but let’s say I give it to you nice and slow… Or as slow as I can give it; hard to keep promises, lookin’ the way you do,” he argued, ruined lips applying pressure as he began to suck, his growing erection gently grinding into the meat of your thigh.

“You won’t hurt me.” You shuddered as he pulled back, gazing into murky, otherworldly eyes, their glow hypnotizing. You half-assed a struggle, wanting to pull your hands free if only to touch him, Hancock chuckling mildly at your efforts.

“Don’t be so sure, ‘cause I got a hankerin’ for human,” his voice dropped emphatically lower, toying with you, his dire inflection sending tingles down your spine. Coming from a ghoul, most people would run the other way, but you knew from experience, Hancock had a twisted sense of humor—it was something you loved about him.

“Eat me,” you jeered, snapping your teeth playfully like some creature that roamed the wasteland, Hancock pulling his head back just enough to satisfy you, as if he had a nose to bite off to begin with.

“That’s the plan, sister,” he snickered, finally releasing his grip on your arms.

You took the opportunity to take hold of Hancock’s already tousled vest, guiding him down to meet your lips. Your fingers busied themselves with its unbuttoning as the ghoul had his hands full, cradling the plump, healthy tissue of your blushing cheeks in the crooks of his palms.

Hancock fed a grating moan into your mouth before asking a pointless question he already knew the answer to, not one to miss out on a chance to have his ego stroked. “Somethin’ about me.. turnin' you on? Don’t know why you’d go for this ugly mug,” he conceded, fishing for a compliment. 

“You. You turn me on,” you whined plaintively, “everything about you,” you confessed, furling your tongue around his, willing him to shut his trap long enough for you to kiss him properly. He aided in the undressing, whipping his sash off in one fell swoop, an idea blossoming only to come into fruition shortly thereafter.

“That why you’re actin’ so desperate for me?” Hancock laced that bit of ragged flag around both your wrists, constricting them once more, his own arm extending to tauten its hold. He wouldn’t give you the chance to kiss him the way you wanted to, cinching its loose ends around the legs of the coffee table just behind your head, giving it a good tug to make sure you couldn’t break free.

In reality, it would have been easy to wiggle loose, but he knew you were the type to play along.

“What are you doing?” you asked, feigning alarm. The ghoul only grinned a shit-eating grin, crawling backward across your lap to adjust to a better position for his next course of action. 

“Makin’ sure you can’t skip out on me,” he said matter of fact, a mischievous lilt to his voice, “gonna have to punish you for all that worryin’ you made me do.” 

“But, Hancock—” you protested, realizing he was barring you from the one thing you wanted—full access to his person, unable to grope and caress all those parts of him you were so eager to touch and kiss.

“—Hmm?” he hummed, the bastard having the nerve to stand. He left you in a recumbent position with hands tied, unable to do anything but gaze up at the seductive set of motions he was now subjecting you to.

The ghoul painstakingly unfastened the remainder of his buttons, wizened digits fondling each in turn, his manner suggesting something that for now would remain unspoken. Then, Hancock shrugged his vest off, allowing his arms to hang as the garment dropped silkily to the floor. It was followed by a festooned shirt, leaving the man bare chested and amused; he wasn’t sure you had blinked even once.

“Like what you see?” he asked lazily, tracing a line across his gaunt pecs toward his navel with the curl of a finger, black eyes glinting impishly at the sight of you jostling your wrists as you failed to liberate yourself.

“Yes,” you breathed out shamelessly, unable to deny the effect his little striptease had on you. This in and of itself was torture, finding his brand of punishment entirely unfair.

“Good,” Hancock crooned, doing the unthinkable as he vanished from view. He even went so far as to walk beyond your peripheral vision. Instead, you were reduced to listening out for him, the ghoul shuffling around somewhere behind you. 

“John,” you whined, sitting up and scooting back against the coffee table the best you could. You endeavored to crane your neck, hearing the clink of glass preceding other innocuous sounds, the gentle thud of Hancock’s boots echoing across the rotting floorboards as he made his way back around. 

“You can say my name all you want to, princess, but it ain’t gonna change a damn thing,” Hancock stressed, words clawing their way out of cracked pipes as he nudged your knees apart with his foot; he knelt between your legs, a dispenser of Jet in one hand, and a dose of Rad-X in the other. “Open wide,” he instructed. 

You should have known what he’d been after, the drug-addicted ghoul popping the lone anti-radiation capsule inside his mouth after dispensing a heavy spray of the illicit substance into his lungs; its potency was limited in his case, but you were easily susceptible to its high. 

You gratefully obeyed, wanting any excuse to be close to him, Hancock’s silver tongue molesting you as easily as it had persuaded you to listen. He deposited the pill into your mouth, kissing you deeply, your beloved Mayor giving you a shotgun of thick, odorous chems without so much as a single protest on your part. 

Your heart thrummed, Jet leeching its way into your bloodstream to trigger a bodily response via your nervous system. In the meantime, you had almost forgotten to swallow your dose of Rad-X, Hancock prompting you by trailing the full length of your throat with a single, sallow finger. 

He massaged it down, feeling for the activation of those muscles that would help ferry it along, his thoughts drifting to the memory of his cock once upon a time being slopped on by the wet whorl of your tongue. His prick had throbbed almost painfully, sequestered snugly inside your zealous gullet, the powerful suction of your hollow cheeks threatening to wrench his soul from his body, or it sure as hell had felt that way.

He was drawn back to the present moment by the look in your eyes, your pupils dilating to rival the circumference of dinner plates. You gazed at the man before you; Hancock pulled back the edge of your bottom lip, exposing your gumline, the ghoul snaking another of his fingers inside your partially open mouth. 

The slender extremity would bypass your blunt teeth, saturating itself in your saliva. Even in this state, you had the wherewithal to pucker up, intaking that explorative digit to the knuckle, your plush maw behaving like a deluxe pre-war vacuum cleaner. 

The ghoul shuddered, though keeping his cool intact, lost in the depths of your unwavering stare. He slowly slipped back out, releasing your lip for it to snap gently back into place, Hancock satisfied with the knowledge you had swallowed the pill.

“Look at you, bein’ such a good girl for me,” Hancock praised, speaking in a low, sultry whisper. You did not reply, your desire for the man at its all-time high, that warmth in your belly having spread to complement the unparalleled ache of your loins.

“Hancock,” you whimpered, once more tugging at the cloth that bound you. You felt delirious with longing, your heart racing as you saw stars, euphoria overtaking all of your senses. You pushed forward, halted partway by that fucking flag that had you fettered like some common criminal, too blazed to even think about squirming loose. 

“Please,” you begged, lips reaching for his. Hancock evaded you, trailing a divot devoid of cartilage across your sateen cheek, directing it toward your lovely, intact nose. 

“Please, what, sister?” he ruthlessly teased, watching as your tongue tried to skirt his teeth; its vertex barely met its goal. Still, Hancock would return the gesture with a sweep of his own, flitting his against yours, inhaling deeply the scent of Jet off your breath as he was suddenly consumed by an almost feral need to taste your neediness—it was nearly palpable. 

“Please.. touch you? Please kiss you? Please.. fuck your pretty little hole?” he asked in a derisive tone, though his movements were languid, Hancock in no rush to oblige you, even as his veiny hands glided over every inch of your sleek skin.

“Is that what my little ray of sunshine wants?” the ghoul taunted, moving to unbutton the clasp at the top of your pants, then pinching the pull of your zipper, teeth parting to reveal clean cotton. You were nearly embarrassed by how damp your panties were, the chems only making your arousal ten times worse; Hancock wasn’t helping matters, a lecherous moan reaching your ears as the man slid back and realigned himself, bending forward to bury his face in the moist outline staining your skivvies.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet—” he marveled breezily, “—is it all for me?” Hancock rasped, nipping you through the fabric, a desiccated finger tucking itself into its elastic hem. Hancock dragged it down just far enough to expose your sweet-smelling sex, the ghoul’s tongue slithering easily between slick folds. 

You inhaled a disjointed gasp for breath, voice cracking as you cried out in ecstasy, Hancock having barely swiped your thrumming clit. That alone was almost too much, your hips bucking beneath him of their own volition as you pleaded with him to keep his promise.

“Don’t tease,” you sighed, naked breasts rising and falling with every labored breath. Hancock’s eyes traveled up your fine as fuck body before meeting your gaze, a twisted hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his ghoulish mouth. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he snickered, fingers grasping the entirety of your waistband to help you shimmy off your bottom layer of clothes. Your hips wriggled all too desperately, overjoyed to finally be free of their constraints. 

“But that’s not fair!” you entreated, unabashedly spreading your legs in the hopes of providing him a suitable meal, ready and willing to be devoured if you could only convince him to take the plunge.  

“And why not?” he asked in all seriousness, nuzzling into the lush flesh of your labia as his silky tongue entombed itself, gathering your moist heat from its source. He dipped back out to your chagrin—you had inhaled sharply in preparation only to be left disappointed—Hancock licking a stripe to the cusp of your throbbing bud. 

“Because I’ll die,” you replied, overexaggerating, writhing in bliss, albeit temporary; Hancock seemed out to drive you mad, retracting once more to glance back up at you, reedy lips downturned in a disapproving frown. 

“No, you won’t,” he asserted, voice taking on a sobering, sincere quality; even if you were being hyperbolic, after the events that had just transpired, Hancock didn’t find it funny, resolving to dine on you good and proper, as if it would be the thing to save your life. 

“I—” You were cut off mid-thought, lightning crashing thunderously outside, the ghoul introducing two coarse fingers into your clenching cunt as the radstorm raged on. Hancock’s neck sank low as you arched your hips, the flat of a thick tongue bringing you toward rapture as he succinctly lapped your clit in delicious combination, playing you like some Old World violin. 

“Aren’t you glad you’re trapped in here with me instead of out there cookin’ alive?” Hancock asked offhand, digits curling to find the seat of your pleasure, warm, wet muscle dancing slow, precise circles across your sensitive nerves. You halfheartedly yanked at your bindings once more, wishing for nothing more than to ravish him like a woman starved, deprived of sustenance. 

“Yes, yes— please, just like that,” you answered, urging him on, the man encouraged to keep at it, long, languorous strokes titillating you toward release.

Then, he simply stopped, fingers glossy upon exit, Hancock sucking your slick clean off with a scarecrow smile, tilting his head like a curious animal as you bemoaned your plight, left to suffer on the edge of an orgasm. 

“Relax, I ain’t through with you yet,” Hancock remarked, lifting himself up to a seated position on his knees. You whined indignantly, made to watch as he unbuckled and unzipped his own pants.

The rogue stood completely, giving you another show, kicking one boot off after the other before slinking out of the rest of his clothes. 

You took a moment to admire him, skin pockmarked with scars, deep pits of tissue missing where cells had inevitably healed all too quickly, John a mosaic of gnarled, misshapen flesh and keloid. Yet he was so handsome, charming, and cavalier, the man leaving nothing on but his tricornered hat, returning to his previous enterprise by way of interring his roiling tongue into your aching center. 

“Oh, John,” you murmured, voice hushed, the man’s thumb working itself concentrically atop your little pearl. 

For once, he was quiet, his strokes inside you meticulous, the nearly silent room filled with a plethora of obscene sounds as he feasted on you like a Yao guai over a fresh kill. Just a little attention was all it took, nails digging into the palms of your tied hands as you twisted beneath him, vocalizing loud enough you were sure the whole State House would hear.

A shiver rocked you to your core, riding out your climax for as long as you could stand it. You were unable to push Hancock’s head back even if you wanted to, the ghoul finding a new way to punish you, continuing to stimulate your already oversensitive clit. 

“Hancock, please—” you begged him under different circumstances, the ball of your foot gingerly pushing against his blatant hard-on. The ghoul finally let up just enough to chortle dryly, obviously nonplussed.

“Done already? Thought we were just gettin’ this party started,” he flouted, sitting up properly, probing fingers caressing the curve of your slit as they trailed upward, ghosting over your navel to tweak your nipple. They didn’t stop there, reaching just behind you to nab a cigarette off the edge of the coffee table, your expression giving away your confusion as he struck a match to ignite the end.

“No, John— you’re supposed to fuck me!” you berated, another devious little chuckle let loose from wilted lips. The ghoul inhaled a deep drag of nicotine laced with radiation, though the amount contained therein was so trivial he didn’t bat a lash—not that he had any.

He gazed at you through a thin veil of smoke exuded from eroded nasal passages—a short burst of pressure from his lungs propelling it outward—a freakish sight to some, but you had grown accustomed to it. 

“So, that is what you want,” Hancock digressed, snubbing the end of his cig on the floor after a few more laggard puffs. The Jet was wearing off, Hancock having already sobered completely, its side effects leaving you feeling used-up and exhausted. Hancock had forgotten what it felt like to come down from such an intense high; you pouted pathetically up at him.

“Baby,” you whined, immediately capturing Hancock's attention. He dropped the act, eyes softening around the edges, colorless voids somehow the most expressive you had ever seen them.

“What is it, sunshine? Feelin’ all right? Need somethin’ to take the edge off?” he asked gently, concern present in his tone, the ghoul finally being kind enough to reach over your head to free you from your bindings. 

“I need you,” you implored, your speech sounding childishly irritable, tired, heavy arms lifting to wrap themselves around John’s neck; you couldn’t help yourself, having been prohibited from touching him for what felt like hours, when in reality it had only been a short length of time. 

“I’m all yours,” Hancock vowed, whisking a stray strand of your hair away. A soft kiss was pressed into even softer lips; the man was two sides of the same coin, like night and day. Part of you prayed you would never cross him, his temper volatile, like an active volcano lying dormant until such a time the right conditions were met, inevitably causing an eruption. 

But he was also kind, genuine, and a good person, only wanting to make the Commonwealth a better place; he held within him a righteous anger, and for good reason, determined to stick by him through thick and thin. 

"Nice and slow?" you asked, bringing the conversation full circle, ushering the ghoul down on top of you as you laid back, gazing up with heavy-lidded eyes. He searched your face, as if double-checking for something, needing to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that nothing was wrong—you were only sulking. 

“You got it, sister,” Hancock replied coyly, the fullness of a finger returning to you as he tested the waters; you were still so unbelievably wet. It was a stark contrast to the dry, desolate landscape that stretched for miles just beyond his little town, the ghoul humming in gratitude as you kissed him once again. 

You wasted no time, slipping your hand between the depression of your bodies where hip meets hip, his weight a warm, inviting presence that comforted you like nothing else. Your fingers toyed with his variegated shaft, thumbing a bead of loosed pre-cum to moisten its tip; Hancock moaned lustfully as he buried himself deeper into the column of your throat, teeth raking tender flesh, barely withholding the intention to bite.

“I’m thinkin’ you must be the single best thing to ever happen to me,” Hancock confessed in a dulcet whisper, voice quavering with emotion as you carefully escorted his cock inside you, one delicious inch at a time. Jagged breaths found their way into your ear, distorted, ribbed flesh, more than adequate in length and girth, stretching you open, a subdued sound of longing and relief birthed from parted lips. 

“I love you,” you blurted out, unable to keep your feelings at bay, any and all movements ceasing before they had wholly begun.

You had closed your eyes; they fluttered open, fear wheedling its way inside your heart as Hancock gazed at you in silence. You cursed yourself, having never before expressed such a sentiment out loud, unsure how the man would take it, or if he even felt remotely the same—all signs pointed to yes, but you refused to be presumptuous. 

Then, he pushed up into your tight cunt with one slow, smooth stroke of his cock along your anterior walls, stimulating your G-spot. Pleasure radiated through you as you emitted a stilted breath, Hancock cradling your cheek, resting his forehead against yours to stare penetratingly into your eyes.

“Took you to be smarter than this, but I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say that,” he breathed against your lips, slipping a motile tongue into your mouth, wanting to desperately deepen your connection. 

You readily accepted, your own tongue writhing and contracting in unison with his, heart beating fervently behind a wall of blood and bone. Your fingers clawed and grasped at his narrow shoulders and the tendinous flesh of his back, exploring every inch of your ghoulish lover, from head to jutting hipbone.

Hancock drove his cock into you, back and forth, keeping a steady, equal rhythm like the beat of a drum. “Why now?” he asked, voice tempered, each pump of his thick prick inside you unhurried and sensuous.

“Nearly dying may have had something to do with it,” you jested in-between indecent, muted moans, Hancock’s deliberate pace driving you toward orgasm. The arm not supporting his weight curled tightly around you. He clutched you to his chest, and you wrapped your thighs around his waif thin waist in return. 

“Mmn.. that it?” Spindly fingers moved to grip the back of your head, digging into tufts of your hair; your back bowed to support you in joining with him more fully, Hancock massaging your scalp as he massaged your insides, debauch, rich sounds filling both your ears.

“And because I have nothing to lose,” you reluctantly answered, breath picking up speed as you pushed back against firm, rawboned pectorals with the palm of your hand; you had the intention of arranging yourself at just the right angle to please— a simple slant of your hips would make things all too easy.

Within moments, you came, pinpricks of light overwhelming your senses. You were elated, as if your consciousness had been overtaken by a nebulous cloud of love and electromagnetic radiation, a soul set adrift in a swirling haze of thoughts, feelings and emotions that would amalgamate into something beautiful—it caused you to cry out a sound of intense, heartfelt bliss. 

Your mind went blank, only registering that John had simultaneously shared in the experience. It would take you both a moment to calm.

Then, you squeezed Hancock tightly between your legs, a signal for him to not withdraw, but to stay awhile, the tension in your body settling as you laid back down.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Hancock would smother you with his scant weight, caressing the point of your chin, his thumb snaking across your bottom lip. He gave a faint exhalation of breath, the concave outline of his nasal cavity grazing the convex shape of your nose; it tickled.

“Nothing to lose but each other.”

[nameless-jamie]

Airport Disaster

A Jamie Tartt Short Story/Imagine

Masterlist

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!personal assistant reader

A/N: Thinking of turning this into a series. Tell me your thoughts!

Y/N had never been so ready for a flight to be over before it even began. Standing at the check-in counter with Jamie Tartt, she couldn’t help but let out a small groan. The security line was a nightmare, and Jamie—being the absolute chaos magnet that he was—was already in the middle of yet another distraction.

“Jamie,” Y/N said, trying to keep her voice steady as she passed over the tickets. “Focus. We need to check in or we’ll miss the flight.”

She had to give it to Jamie—he could make even the simplest tasks feel like a full-blown mission. It had started innocently enough: a flight for an away game, some standard prep work, and Jamie’s usual distracted self. As his personal assistant Y/N's job seemed simple enough, get Jamie there on time, keep him happy, healthy and entertained. But as usual, he was making it way more difficult than it needed to be.

“Jamie, where's your passport!” Y/N snapped, spotting Jamie rummaging through his backpack, the airport floor now buried under a pile of random merchandise and stuff. “Come on, we don’t have all day!”

Jamie went pale for a second. “Er—uh—of course I have it. It’s… it’s in my pocket.”

Except it wasn't.

“Jamie, are you serious?” she asked, annoyance creeping into her voice as he rummaged through his bag again in an exaggerated manner. He kept pulling out everything but the passport, muttering to himself in frustration.

Y/N sighed. “How do you forget the one thing you always need?”

“Hey, it’s not like I’m the only one who’s forgetful.” He flashed her a grin, clearly trying to deflect.

She narrowed her eyes but said nothing as he repacked his bag. They both did a double-take when Jamie’s passport finally showed up inside a single mismatched sock that was in his bag.

“Really?” Y/N said, unable to suppress a laugh despite your frustration.

He shrugged, smug as ever. “I mean, I could have hidden it in the glove compartment of my car, but this was way more fun.”

“You’re a mess,” she muttered as both hurried to the gate, their shoes slapping against the smooth airport floors. "I should pack your bags for you. I've gotta remember that for next time..."

It wasn’t even noon, and she’d been already running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to get Jamie Tartt to remember his passport, his ticket, his—well, his life.

“Jamie,” Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “can you please just put the cologne down? We have a flight to catch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just window shoppin'!” he said with a dismissive wave, but not before getting distracted by another duty-free cologne display again. He pulled out a shiny new bottle and waved it under her nose. “What do you think? Too strong? Too subtle? I need something that screams ‘I’m here to break hearts.’”

Y/N shot him a tired glance, replying sarcastically. “Jamie, you already break hearts just by showing up. Now put that down, we’re going to miss the flight.”

His lips quirked upward in a smile, but he reluctantly placed the bottle back. “You know, you’d look way less stressed if you just let me handle things." He said while massaging her shoulders a little. "You need to take a break, Y/N. Maybe we should get a drink before we board?”

Y/N has been Jamie's personal assistant for about a year now. They upgraded their work relationship to a close friendship ages ago. Seems like Y/N is the only one who can really tolerate Jamie on a daily basis, and he's the only one who can calm her down.

“Jamie, I’m already handling everything. And you’re not helping,” she replied, trying to herd him toward the security check line.

Jamie rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’m helping in my own way, darlin'. You need to loosen up. Or you'll lose that pretty little head of yours.”

He was always like this, throwing around compliments or teasing her just to see her fluster. She tried her best to stay professional, but it was hard to ignore how easy it was for him to get under her skin, especially when he looked so damn carefree and charming, despite being an absolute disaster when it came to getting things done.

The real chaos began when they reached security.

Y/N passed through with no issues, but Jamie was flagged for a random pat-down. He threw his hands up in protest. “Are you serious? I’m a professional footballer, mate. I'm fucking famous.”

Y/N could only roll her eyes as the security officer motioned for Jamie to step to the side. “You can’t be serious right now,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “We’re going to miss this flight.”

But Jamie was too busy pouting and making ridiculous faces at the officer. "Oi, don't touch me fuckin' hair, mate" He turned to Y/N, barely holding back a laugh. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Chill, we're good on time. Y/N, I think I’m getting picked on here. This is just unfair.”

“Yeah, well, life isn’t always fair,” Y/N muttered under her breath, already imagining how much longer this was going to take.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they made it through security, and Y/N was feeling the weight of her job, trying to keep Jamie on track for the flight. Her phone buzzed—more emails, more last-minute work. She sighed, clutching it as they made their way to the gate.

“Can we please focus on getting to the gate before we miss the flight?” Y/N grumbled, but she felt her nerves coil up in a mix of annoyance and something else entirely—something she was trying very hard to ignore.

But Jamie, ever the showman, wasn’t finished teasing her. “You’re all business, aren’t you?” He leaned in slightly, his voice low and smooth, as if he was sharing a secret. “Makes it that much more fun when you let loose.”

Y/N turned on her heel, shaking her head. “Not happening.”

Despite her irritation, she couldn’t help but notice the way he was staring after her like he could see through her carefully constructed walls.

“Y/N, chill,” Jamie said from behind her, sounding way too smug for someone who’d caused the delay. “You're making your job harder than it needs to be. If you just followed my lead, things’d be way easier.”

“Really? ‘Cause that’s worked out so well for us so far, Mr. Passport-in-his-fucking-sock” Y/N shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jamie grinned, oblivious to her annoyance. “Well, maybe it would if you stopped being such a workaholic.”

The two of them finally boarded the plane, and Jamie immediately flopped into his seat with all the grace of a toddler. Y/N sat next to him, already trying to mentally prepare herself for the long flight ahead.

As the plane started to taxi, Y/N found her nerves creeping up again. It wasn’t the flying itself, but the lack of control. The confined space. The takeoff. She could feel her anxiety creeping up, the tightness in her chest, the unease at the thought of being cooped up in an airplane for hours. She hated flying. Every time, it was the same—her hands went clammy, her heart raced, and the moment the plane started to lift off, she couldn’t help but hold her breath until it leveled out.

Jamie noticed the subtle shift in her demeanor, her posture stiffening. “You okay?” His voice was softer now, the usual playfulness gone. “You don’t look so good.”

Y/N shook her head quickly, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine. Just... just not great with planes.”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her palms were already clammy.

Jamie cocked his head to the side. “You? Scared of flying? Nah, I don’t buy it. You're scared of nothin'.”

“It’s not about being scared. It’s just... uncomfortable,” Y/N muttered, pressing her hands against her knees.

“You’re serious?” Jamie raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “You’ve got the best seats on the plane, and you’re telling me you're uncomfortable, darlin' ?"

“It's not that simple,” she muttered, glancing away. “It’s just... I don’t love the feeling of being out of control.”

Jamie’s expression softened, his usual teasing demeanor replaced with something more thoughtful. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got you covered,” he said, his voice low and steady. He gave her a wink, his cocky grin returning, but it was a little warmer than usual. “If anything goes wrong, you’ve got me. I’m good at handling these things.”

“I’ll make sure you’re fine,” Jamie added with another smirk, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper.

Y/N shot him a dubious look. “I think you’re overestimating yourself.”

“Am I, though?” His tone dropped to something undeniably flirtatious. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m the best person you could have by your side. You ever seen me in action? I can keep you calm and collected... or at least distract you enough to forget you’re on a plane.”

“Jamie, no,” Y/N said quickly, cutting him off. “Please, just... let me have five minutes of peace before you start to get on my nerves again.”

He laughed, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes, something softer. He leaned back in his seat, letting her have a moment of quiet. It didn’t last long, though.

“If you need a hand to hold, just let me know,” he whispered, his voice laced with an intimacy that made her stomach flip.

Y/N’s heart skipped, but she played it cool, looking straight ahead. “I’ll be fine. You just focus on not making the flight any more complicated.”

“Oh, I’m not complicated,” Jamie said, getting comfortable in the seat next to her, clearly enjoying the game they were playing. “I’m easy. But for you? I’ll make an exception.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t shake the smile that threatened to break out. God, he was trouble.

As the plane hit a light turbulence, Y/N felt her chest tighten, but this time, she didn't feel as alone. Jamie’s presence beside her was oddly comforting, and when he gently placed his hand near hers on the armrest, she couldn’t resist the urge to let her fingers brush against his, just for a second. Then she finally gave in and held his hand.

His grin was smug as ever, but there was something in his eyes that made her heart race for a different reason.

“See?” Jamie murmured, his voice teasing. “Told you, you’re in good hands.”

Half an hour into the flight, and Y/N could feel herself getting drowsy. The lack of sleep and constant stress from the airport chaos were catching up to her. She tried to focus on her phone, but her eyelids kept fluttering.

Jamie noticed again, his usual teasing replaced with something gentler. “You’re seriously gonna fall asleep on me, huh?”

Y/N didn’t even have the energy to reply, her head tipping forward slowly, her body too tired to fight it. Before she knew it, her head was resting on Jamie’s shoulder, and the world around her blurred out.

Jamie raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Look at you, all snuggled up. I should be the one getting some rest, not you.”

Y/N mumbled something incoherent, too far gone in her exhaustion to respond properly.

Jamie chuckled softly, not moving away. “You’re lucky I’m a gentleman. Otherwise, I’d tease you about this for the next week. But I guess I’ll let it slide... for now.”

As the minutes passed, though, the teasing energy faded. Jamie watched her sleeping form, her face relaxed in a way he’d never seen it before—vulnerable and peaceful. His gaze softened, his usual cocky grin slowly fading into something more tender. His chest tightened in an unfamiliar way, something warm spreading through him as he let his gaze linger on her.

He didn’t know when exactly it had happened, but somewhere between all the jokes, the teasing, and the playful flirtations, he’d fallen for her. Not just for the moments where she made him laugh or the way she kept him on his toes. It was this—seeing her here, completely unaware of his eyes on her, looking like she actually trusted him. The world felt quieter when she was near. She was the one who kept him together.

Jamie gently shifted in his seat, careful not to wake her. He leaned his head back, his thumb absently brushing the edge of his seat as he let himself get lost in the feeling. She was his assistant, sure. But somewhere along the way, she’d become so much more than that. The way her eyes sparkled when she challenged him, the way her smile made his heart race—he realized, maybe for the first time, that it was all starting to mean something.

Her hair, mussed from the flight, and the way she looked so content against him—he couldn’t help but feel a little possessive of the moment. A soft smile tugged at his lips, and even though he usually had to be the one in control, in that moment, he felt like maybe he didn’t need to be.

“You’re something else, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Something really special.”

When she woke up, she found herself still leaning on him, her face flushed from the heat of the cabin and the awkward position she’d ended up in. Jamie was looking at her with that signature grin, but it was different this time—more teasing than smug.

“Well, well,” he said, a little too loud for her liking, “looks like I’ve got myself a nap buddy. You really couldn’t resist me, huh?”

Jamie’s voice was lower now, softer. “You know,” he said, his tone teasing but with a subtle hint of something else, “I didn’t expect to be your pillow for the flight.”

She felt her face heat up and pulled away slightly. “I—I didn’t mean to—” Y/N groaned, rubbing her eyes and sitting up. “I wasn’t planning on this, okay?”

“No worries.” His voice was quiet but amused. “It was actually kinda nice.”

She tried to hide the flush that had crept up her neck. “Yeah, well... you don’t need to get used to it.”

Jamie gave a small chuckle. “Oh, I’m very used to it now.” His voice dropped to something teasingly serious. “I might even start thinking of myself as your personal travel companion.”

Y/N shot him a look, but the teasing glint in his eyes made it hard to keep the irritation up. “Don’t push it,” she muttered, but it was half-hearted, more to avoid the weird flutter in her chest than to genuinely keep him in check.

“Oh, I won’t tell anyone... yet,” Jamie teased, clearly enjoying every second of it.

Y/N gave him another sharp look, but deep down, she was grateful for the moment of peace. Even if it came with Jamie Tartt’s signature brand of chaos.

[jakexneytiri]

hii here are some ideas/deets from my last request <3

- scenario where y/n has like a super rough pregnancy and she’s always sick and vomiting. Lots of fluff but also kind of angst idk??!! the kids are worried abt her and neteyam as well so he takes on all 4 kids by himself and lets y/n rest

- neteyam and y/n have their 5th baby and the details on the birth and all the other kids meet the baby and its just a lot of fluff!! and jake and neytiri meet the baby too as well as loak, kiri, tuk

IM SO EXCITED IF U WRITE THESE OMG AND TAKE UR TIME <3

AWEEE i love your mind! (the second part of your request is comingggg, i’ll post it when it’s finished :D)

in sickness and in health

⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰

a sharp jolt of pain surges through your abdomen, forcing you awake as you sit up, wincing. you gently place your hand on your lower stomach, feeling strong kicks right where your hand is placed. you begin to take short, shallow breaths, as another kick lands just below your ribcage.

your mouth begins to salivate as you grab the pot closest to you. you knew the feeling all too well. it’s been happening every morning for the past several months. sweat beads on your forehead, collecting and dripping down your face, while your entire body feels like it’s overheating. that familiar feeling returns to the back of your throat, causing you to gag. you begin dry heaving, which turns into vomiting everything you consumed the night prior.

meanwhile, neteyam is just outside of your marui, peeking through the flap every now and then to keep an eye on you. truthfully, he’s been worried sick about you, especially these past few months. you both are familiar with all the symptoms of pregnancy. you’ve been pregnant four times now. but it’s never been this bad. so, he decided to give neytiri a page through his throat comm, hoping she might have some answers to your worsening symptoms.

“mother, is this normal?…yes, she’s still getting sick. it’s every morning, i thought you said that would stop. i don’t know what to do, how to help her…i feel so useless. i just want to ease her pain, please…” his voice cracks with his last beg. “please help me help h-” his ears perk up to the sound of you vomiting. “i must go. it is happening again. please send grandmother!”

neteyam quickly opens the flap, seeing you doubled over, emptying the contents of your stomach into the pot he set aside for you. guilt courses through him, settling like a rock in the bottom of his stomach as he hastily makes his way to you.

you feel your mate’s warm hand run along your back, attempting to comfort you while his other hand holds the braids out of your face. once you’re certain you’ve thrown up everything in your system, you sit back against the wall of your home.

neteyam goes to move the pot outside, as to not make you more nauseous. he grabs a bowl of water as he makes his way back to you, guilt clawing at his insides.

you slightly pull your knees to your chest, as best as you can with being pregnant, and bury your face in your arms, sobbing.

neteyam kneels beside you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. it broke his heart in two seeing you like this.

just then, you hear the flap to your marui open, revealing your four children, with jake, neytiri, and mo’at. neteyam looks up, glaring at his mother and father, speaking through gritted teeth. “i thought you weren’t supposed to be back for a few more hours.”

“yeah, we weren’t expecting this either. it’s an emergency, we gotta go.” jake quickly says, holding the flap open.

“what? dad-sir…i’m not leaving her!” neteyam begins to raise his voice, fist clenched at his side as his other hand is still rubbing your back.

“neteyam.” neytiri gently says. “we would not ask if it was not necessary.”

you give your mate’s arm a gentle squeeze, silently encouraging him to go. “it is all right,” you speak, your voice extremely hoarse. “grandmother is here, i’ll be okay.”

“we gotta go, now!” jake’s yelling now, and neteyam stands, quickly grabbing his bow before kneeling to kiss your forehead. “i love you. i’m so sorry, i’ll be back soon, okay?”

Neteyam turns one last time to lock eyes with you, before being yanked away by his parents.

“mama? where’s daddy going?” se’ayl asks, looking at the flap where her grandparents and father just exited.

i want to go with him!” tsantu states, a firm grip on the bow strung around his shoulder.

“mom, i’m tired.” txonuk yawns, stretching his arms above his head and curling up to your side.

nima gently stretches her hands over your protruding stomach, shifting them around a few inches. “wanna feel kicks!”

“children, please!” mo’at exclaims. “let your mother rest.” she begins taking out herbs and plants from her satchel, mixing them with water in a large bowl.

“it’s all right…” you say weakly. “daddy’s going hunting with grandma and grandpa, he’ll be back soon. you can’t go with him, it’s only a trip for adults. you know what, txonuk? mama’s sleepy too. how about we all lay down for a nap, and when we wake up, grandpa grandma and daddy will all be back!”

you shift forward slightly, so your head is resting on your pillow instead of your back. txonuk curls right up to your side, draping your arm over himself like a blanket. se’ayl and tsantu follow, laying beside you comfortably. nima rests her head on your stomach, ear perked up against your skin to “listen” to the baby. mo’at raises the bowl she’s been preparing to your lips. “drink, child. it will help with the nausea.”

you lift your head up, parting your lips just enough for the cool liquid to ease its way down your throat. “thank you, grandmother.”

mo’at nods, setting the bowl aside. “you may rest, i will keep watch until they return.”

“no, no…i can………..stay……………….awake…….” your eyelids droop with exhaustion as you speak, and as you speak your last word, they stay closed. you finally succumb to a comfortable sleep, as you wait for your mate to return.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

[not-goldy]

Jimin has to be so tired of always trying to hold it down and be the older one who keeps things from getting all out whack. When he's sober & clear headed and in his head space, he will ignore everything Jk says to him that flirts past friendship lol. Jokingly calls his compliment lame. Downplays JK being romantic with snarky replies. Yet you put some alcohol in that man and all that weight is gone. Then we have him laying on the floor spilling his guts and the boyfriend pops right out. "Honey" "baby" "boyfriend pic" "My Jungkook". Okay, tell us more Jimin. He really has so much weight & pressure he carries on his shoulders & probably overthinks so much, including dealing with hate. Wondering how his relationship with JK will affect BTS, his dad's business, everyone but thinking about himself really. This is where JK comes in and is loud for the both of them. So it was so nice to see Jimin just let his guard down, so much so he let us see he was down cause the trips were coming to an end. I started crying too, cause you know when Jimin lets his guard down, its major. Jimin doing this for JK, when he saw that JK needed him and went to him to make it up to him and Letter, is probably two of the boldest things we ever seen him do, besides enlisting with Jk. He really let his guard down and let us see his vulnerability. I feel so honored esp knowing how private Jimin's become.

Awwwww I love this so much

I love you for this Anon. Marry me. I'll cook and clean and pay the bills.

Thank you thank you very much.

That's a perfect description of Jimin or at least how I see him in their dynamic. Just perfect. I got sick and tired of reading these bizarre takes and perspectives of him I couldn't resonate with from solos it turned me off. Waaayyy off. Like shut up I don't even want you to talk to me about Jimin no more just shut the hell up.

But this. Tell me more. It resonates hard my goodness.

He is the Hyung you know and I have a problem with people who try to undermine this aspect of him by constantly making him out to be some weakling and victim of the duo.

And I got tired of having to explain this over and over but dude does carry himself as Jungkook's hyung, HE IS HIS FILTER. THE VOICE OF REASON. THE MATURE ONE OF THE TWO THE ONE THE MEMBERS GO TO OR LOOK UP TO TO KEEP JUNGKOOK IN CHECK.

However it is a double edged sword and a Thorned crown because now he gotta overthink everything he gotta worry about everything

Imagine feeling he had to make sure they both could maintain their relationship without having it ruin the dynamics of the group. He had to make sure he wasn't keeping Kook all to himself always, or letting Kook have him all to himself lest it breads resentment among other members.

Imagine he had to agree with the members out of consideration because he would rather have Kook than not at all.

Imagine him having to forgive their fights, not talk to people about the problems they be having, trying to resolve all conflicts at home before coming on to set. I keep saying this, JIMIN IS THE REASON THEIR RELATIONSHIP HAS THRIVED WITHIN THE GROUP THIS LONG AND HE IS THR REASON THE BAND HASNT CRUMPLED BECAUSE OF THE RELATIONSHIP.

Left to some members and the management there would be a no dating among members policy because lime every one readily points out if they are indeed an item then its a huge risk to the band and company. I mean please look at where Suga is now. Now imagine if two members of BTS were actually found out to be queer and dating💀

It's a disservice to victimize Jimin. He is an intelligent resilient powerful negotiator and anyone who tries to put in their heads their relationship won't work or that they will fight and argue woukd be met with a resounding "DOESN'T APPLY TO US"

You making me want to lick Jimin's ass stop Anon stop

[brn-t]

Thermotropism

TAGS:

eyy where my plant fuckers at? 👀🌱🌿 you can read it on AO3 here

I don’t think I should have taken this plant home…

Like, when I saw it baking in the sun in that alley outside my building, it’d looked like it had a lot of potential! It was all shriveled but the leaves branched out from a thick basal stem like a monstera almost and there were these bright red blotches on its roots that looked super cool!

When I brought it in (heavy!!) I could tell just by looking how root bound it was, so I popped it out of it’s cheap decorative planter (poor thing was probably never repotted) and yup, there were more roots than dirt.

I had no idea what the hell it was. Inatural had no frickin clue. It looked like a tropical plant with it’s broad green leaves and knobbly aerial roots, but the ground roots were so thick they looked like tubers!! 

I have to admit I was fascinated, but I should have gotten rid of it then…

It spent uh, a couple weeks underneath my shitty little plant light, the one in my room. I was quarantining it in there until I knew it didn’t have any critters on it, but it seemed happy with its repotting and daily soakings for the most part.

The thing really liked water

Like, I started off watering it once a week, and it did perk up, but it didn’t really change much until I started dousing it every morning before work.

And man when it started goin off, it really went off.

It seemed like every time I came home it had sent out a new aerial root or new leaf! The thing was voluptuous as hell! When it got too big for my pathetic little plant light I moved it to the window sill next to my bed. 

It was kinda nice! Like a natural blind or something once it got its runners going up the screen.

I didn’t mind, it was always hot as hell in my little apartment and my landlord couldn’t be arsed to install an AC. I just had to be careful not to accidentally crawl over the little shoots it was sending out all over when I got into bed.

I guess where I fucked up is when I found out about.. its uh.. nutrient preferences

I swear it was a complete accident the first time!! 

I had just gotten home from another 10 hr day and I was tired and smelly and needed to jerk off pronto. I hosed myself down and threw myself into bed, still steaming from trying to scrub off the smell of fried food from my skin, and cracked open my laptop.

Now, fun fact, there's this thing that plants do where they move towards things. Most of the time its towards light, but they can also be attracted to heat! It’s called thermotropism. So I dunno if it was the heat from my ancient laptop or the steam off my skin, but just as I'm about to nut I feel something brush against the head of my dick.

It took me so much by surprise that I came right there, frickin coating a leaf in my jizz. The thing had turned completely around from facing the window above my bed to nearly touching me with its broad soft leaf.

Even for a tropical plant that’s shockingly mobile.

So I cleaned it off as best I could but I guess some of my spunk got absorbed into the soil, I dunno, I passed out shortly after that. I didn’t wake up until nearly nine o clock the next morning because the room was still completely dark thanks to the density of the wall of leaves covering my window. The plant had frickin doubled in size and the terracotta pot I had repotted it in had some fresh cracks in it where the aerial roots were exploding out through.

I didn’t have time to freak out about it since I was once again late to work, but I gotta admit, I was digging the jumanjI vibes it brought to my otherwise very dull room 

So.. I may have started jerking off into it every night?

What! It’s like, natural fertilizer, or whatever!! And the plant seemed to like it? 

I even got it to flower!! It started putting out these crazy flower stalks that closed up during the day but unfurled at night giving off this crazy floral fragrant scent.

It made me remember being a kid and running around in the woods behind my stepdads rental cabin, so I let it keep spreading.

I realize now, this was not the smartest idea, but fuck it, my landlord all but explicitly told me I wasn’t getting the deposit back unless I sued him for it so when it started putting its roots into the drywall, I let it.

It was nice honestly, coming home after seeing nothing but concrete grey for hours and then throwing myself into my little tropical nest. And the smell of the flowers really set the mood when I was jerkin it.

Embarrassingly I think my mind started associating the smell with orgasm because I swear I walked past a florist shop the other day and had to walk bowlegged to the 7D train.

The trouble really started when it started sending its roots in my direction .

Now, I ain’t proud of it, but I more often than not just sleep on a bare mattress. Its got one of those memory foam layers on top and I just couldn’t be bothered to put a fitted sheet on it half the time.

So when I started feeling a bump underneath me as I lay in bed, I just thought it was like, a sock  or something that had gotten shoved underneath there, nbd, until that night… 

I was feeling particularly pent up and kept grinding my ass against that spot on the mattress. I don’t know why I did it, I just wanted more friction and the blooms on the ceiling above me were gettin me wound up with their heavy fragrance. Anyway, it feels like there's a soft tear below me and suddenly something hard and Wide and cold is pressing right against my gooch.

I kinda jump (because it’s cold!!) and look down to find that the frickin plant has grown into the mattress !!

And it was a fat root too, no idea how I didn’t notice it more earlier.

It was kindof freaky to be honest how fast it had grown, the thing really must have liked my semen, but at that point with how humid the room was and how dizzy the flowers were making me feel… I went with it.

 I ground my ass into it and when the thick ridge popped in past my ring I swear I came harder than I ever have in my life dude

I felt like I blacked out a little at the end there because the next thing I knew, it was morning and I'm absolutely painted in my own cum. I guess at this point I should have realized what was going on but I think the pollen those flowers were putting out were scrambling my brains a little. When I woke up, there was a network of thin bright red roots crisscrossing my body, sending out these feathery little things, absorbing the frankly ludicrous amounts of cum I had shot out last night. They pulled at my skin a little as I tore them off but part of me was still a little horny. So I cleared them away and and pulled out my phone.

Fuck it, right? It was my day off and I had no responsibilities that day anyway.

I just rolled over and started going to town on my morning wood.

My ass twitched around something and that's when I noticed...

The fuckin root was still in my ass from last night!!!

I'm trying to use one hand to milk my dick while the other one shoots down in between my legs and sure enough, that fuckin root had buried itself who knows how deep! I tried in vain to pull the thing out, but it was rooted in the mattress after all and didn’t budge. So, humiliatingly, I had to pull myself off of it.

I have to admit, I came a little just from feeling how much of it was inside of me, there was a good 7 inches of thick knobby root dragged out of me, grinding against my prostate as I pulled myself off of it.

I just lay there breathless, staring at the root, sticking straight up out out of my mattress now that it was no longer buried in my ass. My inner walls twitched and contracted, trying to close around the space it had carved out in me.

I guess I still had some sense then because I did actually prune the plant after that

I pulled the root out of my ruined mattress and trimmed all the stalks and roots near my bed. I started jerking off in the bathroom and yea the leaves wilted a bit but that was too much for me, you know?

Well, I don’t know if plants can get pissed but I must have pissed this one off because it responded to me suddenly not “fertilizing” it by sending out these little sticky climbers that got everywhere.

I woke up one morning to the fuckers wrapped around my tiny nipples. I went to sit up and yelped because they got yanked by the fuckin things, pulling my chest to the side. I tried to pull it off as delicately as I could, but the thin stems snapped in half, bleeding a reddish sort of liquid all over my chest!

It sort of burned but I just yelled at the plant, wiped it off and got dressed for work.

Now, I don’t know if I was allergic or something, but for the rest of that day my nipples stayed hard and puffy, poking out visibly from underneath my thin uniform shirt and earning more than a few snickers from the girls up front.

Good thing I had a vacation week coming up.

It had been asked for months in advance, and was the first one I’d had in a decade. I was supposed to drive out to the lake across the state to hang with a buddy of mine at his parents bougie lake house. Well, that night was the night before I was due to head out, and I went to bed in my travel clothes so I could just pop out of bed in the morning. Not wanting to ruin my clothes, I watered the Plant like usual and saved the jerking for when I got to my buddies place.

I was just on the edge of unconsciousness when I felt something moving up my shirt sleeve. I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming it or not so I just laid there, feeling the thing slowly snake its way up to my chest, resting on the sensitive swollen bud there 

I only really tried to react when I felt a second tendril branch out from the first and start oozing that same irritating sap over my OTHER nipple!

Groggily I straightened up, falling for the same headphones on the doorknob trap as last time, but this time it felt a lot better.

My nips hadn't really gone down since that last time so when they got yanked I thought a yelp of pain was what was gonna come out of my mouth, so imagine my surprise when a full bodied moan slipped out instead.

I immediately got super red in the face and yanked off my shirt.

This, unfortunately, snapped the thin tendrils stem, causing it to bleed more of its spicy sap all along my side and chest as I shucked off my shirt.

It left an angry red trail of raised sensitive skin, swelling my nipples far beyond what was normal, and they stuck out of my chest like two puffy toilet plungers out from my swelling pecs.

I tried to pull the tendrils off of them but they were too tight and my nipples were too big now.

I looked up from groping my chest to see how many of the plant’s flowers had opened up above me, showering me in who knows what.

I couldn’t take it anymore, I was openmouth panting, inhaling the perfume and palming my shorts which had at some point started to fill out. I ripped my shorts off too, and only after a few strokes realized how deeply I had just fucked up

If you guessed “that idiot just smeared a sap he’s clearly allergic to all over the most sensitive part of his body” you would be correct...

I was howling in pain as it started to burn, but after a minute or two I was thrusting into the air and moaning like a whore, the fire had turned into an electric storm of pleasure.

My dick was swelling way past normal hardness and I could only continue to try and fuck the hell out of my hand.

It was entirely too humid in that room, everything felt wet and sticky, so when I came finally, I barely even felt it on me

I screamed so loud the neighbors probably thought I was dying I probably did die a little... I think I shot into my own mouth at one point??  I collapsed immediately after, and when I woke in the morning, the whole plant looked shiny and glossy, like it was gloating over the fact it’d gotten me to come for it yet again.

I know it was just a plant but I got mad

I jumped out of bed, completely ignoring the tendrils still wrapped around my nips, put a thick jacket over my shirt and left the room with my suitcase while flipping it the bird.

I felt bad that I would be gone for a week but I’d set it up with a slow release watering pitcher, so I figured it’d be fine without me.

What I didn’t plan on was how I would do without it.

What should have been a great vacation turned into the worst case of blueballs seen this side of the Mississippi.

Not only did my nipples constantly pulse and throb against the tendrils, but I found out later when I went to go use the bathroom that one had slipped around the base of my dick as well, which had also refused to recede back to its normal size. The woody chord was a bit thicker and it wrapped around the base and balls, completely blocking any and all attempts to even get hard.

So instead of focusing on the boat ride or my friends stupid alcohol choices, I was stuck in a constant struggle of being aroused by my throbbing nipples and being unable to address it at all. I was actually filled with relief when the final day came and I was saying goodbye to my hosts.

I flew home after that in my tiny little beater car, shifting uncomfortably at my seatbelt rubbing directly against my chest. I practically kicked the door in, shedding all my clothes in a line to my bedroom and threw myself into bed.

I yelped when I landed on several thick somethings beneath my body creak under my weight, poking me through the thin layer of foam.

The Plant was the worst I’d seen it since I brought it home, with several dead leaves deposited on the bed and an explosion of fuzzy white runners running the length of that bedroom wall.

The roots jabbed into me like it had planned this.

“Ow!” I’d said, “ I'm sorry ok? I just needed a break!”

As a response, I watched a giant cream white flower slowly expand and burst open, sending a shower of shimmery yellow pollen floating down directly over my face.

Things uh, got a little out of hand after that…

The tendrils had finally loosened enough around my dick to where I could pull them off but that just led to all my pent up semen literally dumping into my balls as soon as the tie was removed. I moaned as I could physically feel them growing heavier as a weeks worth of pent up jizz dropped into my balls. They felt like leaden weights.

It was almost painful how quickly I got hard, and it didn’t take more than a stroke or two before I was yelling and releasing said load all over myself and the plant.

You could visibly see it perk up, opening up more buds, showering me with pollen and dusting the bed. The two substances got mixed by my frantic motions and soon I was lightly cheeto dusted with the stuff,

My skin was on fire but it also.. uh, felt really good somehow... So once the high of the first orgasm died down, it wasn't long before I was rarin to go for a second round.

I palmed my recovering erection and was just about fully hard when I felt it.

Again, at my ass!! Was one of the plant’s thick basal roots!! Except this one looked a little weird..

First off it was tremendously thick, about the width of my wrist, and secondly it was covered in all these little backwards facing ridges, like a drywall sink

Man, I don’t know what wires go crossed but between the way my ass was twitching and the pollen I was huffing, I put my ass right against that thing

It must have reacted to my bodyheat because it felt like as I was pressing down on it, the thing was pushing into me as well.

It was intense, there was no give to its turgid walls, so I had to stretch myself out around it to get it past my ring.

Once it was properly seated inside me I started going to town on my dick, which at this point was leaking like my kitchen sink maintenance had refused to address for weeks.

I swear I could feel the root get deeper and deeper inside me as I jerked and spasmed around it I was panting and moaning like a bitch, I can’t believe how horny I was

at some point I felt something at my mouth and wouldn’t you know it, an equally thick tuber had been drawn to my hot breath and was poking at the corner of my lips

I was way past the point of rational thoughts at that point, I just leaned forward and let it creep into my mouth.

The further it got the hotter I felt. My tongue swiped across the underside and that’s when I tasted something sweet

Was this root leaking sap??

Turns out the itchy nectar tasted amazing so I ended up suckling it as I frantically jerked my dick. The root inside my ass had reached my prostate at that point and thats when things got really hazy for me.

I remember exploding all over myself, I would have been screaming if not for the thick root tunneling its way down my throat

I was jerking and spasming to the best of my ability but the roots were getting a little out of control, they were budding from the base of the main roots and expanding all over my body, and every couple of inches they would plant a sticky little node like a command strip onto my skin and keep going, until I could barely move.

The only part that hadn’t been covered was my right arm, which was moving too fast jerking myself off for the tendrils to colonize.

The root in my mouth seemed to expand further, and suddenly I realized that I could still breath despite it feeling like it had reached my guts almost.

My tongue felt a small hole on the underside and sure enough, I could breath just fine.

Good thing too because that’s when I noticed the two thinner roots making their way up my nose, expanding into my nostrils and plugging them completely.

The root in my ass must have had the same idea...

At this point I was slowly starting to realize, like, “oh shit, I really can’t move” and started trying to pull things off of me to escape bu t I honestly couldn’t budge. My left arm was completely rooted to the mattress and my right arm couldn’t be lifted above my waist, just enough to reach my dick but not enough to reach my face.

Leaves were starting to branch out from the tendrils, and with them came more flowers.

They were visibly crawling all over me now, moving fast enough for me to track with my eyes, and I watched in horror as several thin tendrils spiraled up my cock.

I wish I could have broken away but I was quite literally rooted to the spot watching these tendrils poke at my leaking pisshole and worm their way inside.

I screamed and cried but the progress was unceasing, it steadily tunneled into my dick until it hit the base and pinched my prostate against the root in my ass, which at this point must have reached high up into my guts.

I screamed against the root as I came, but no semen escaped my completely plugged dick.

I could feel it making its way inside my through my internal passages, rooting itself straight into my balls, 

At that point I really did pass out, whether from lack of oxygen or overstimulation I couldn’t tell.

Well, I'm awake now and I am utterly fucked, the roots have expanded into nearly every available orifice, even trying to fill out my belly button and uh.. they might have broken through the skin...

I can see ridges beneath my skin.. little hard lines were they’ve penetrated me.

I'm being constantly milked and I can’t even move as they constantly grind against the inside of my cock

I'm not even thirsty or anything, the liquid being drip-fed down my throat fills me up and I'm just kept in a constant state of bliss.

I dunno what to do bro, I have my phone but even texting is getting hard with one hand and roots slowly crawling down my fingers…

you’re the only one close enough to me, theres a key underneath the mat..

you gotta help me man before it's too la

[yurinaa-world]

Hihihi!!! If its okay with you, could I please request an x reader with Dan Heng, Jing Yuan and Blade (platonically!) thats like the Collector from The Owl House? The readers a star child and has this kind of like sun and moon appearance and have a very childish personality !

Heres a link to the Collectors character if you haven't seen the show!

https://www.google.com/url?q=https://theowlhouse.fandom.com/wiki/The_Collector&sa=U&ved=2ahUKEwj_mK_wk_uEAxXVzDQHHWLKAwcQFnoECBoQAQ&usg=AOvVaw0h5oA7-5fony5qDSTZ04Jn

Please take your time when writing this, and if you feel unmotivated or don't want to, please ignore this 🫶 tysm!!!!

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Dan Heng, Jing Yuan & Blade !platonic x Gender-neutral Reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader that's like the collector

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fluff, spelling mistakes

𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔

You follow him around wherever you go, waiting for him to finish doing his work. When he’s done you drag him away to play with you.

You’ve played every game together and now you're kind of bored. Until Dan Heng comes back from his mission to this new planet with a game! Now you two can more fun

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Ugh, you're so bored. You don't know what to do anymore. Hanging upside down is the only thing you’re doing. Just feeling the dizziness slowly creeping in, giving you a slight headache. Just waiting for something to happen.

“I got you a gift.”

You see Dan Heng walk in front of you, seeing him holding a bag in one hand, making you immediately jump down to see what he got! “What is it!”

You smile brightly while he gives you the bag. Pulling out a…board game! A new one. 

“Woah! I've never seen this one before! You’ve gotta teach me how to play.”

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

He's the type to only let you win sometimes…if he’s feeling generous about even letting you get past half the board before striking all your pieces down. 

Oh don’t pout, it's just that he’s lucky today. Maybe you might have a chance in the next round.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Checkmate.”

Your eyes go wide when you see Jing Yuan get rid of your chess piece, leaving you the loser of this short round. “Ugh, I thought I was going to win!” You begin to sulk a little at this outcome.

“You must think more outside the box.”

He pokes your forehead, making you gently caress it and comfort it with your hands. “Outside the box?” You sigh

 “I’m always thinking outside, how much more?” 

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

I just know this man secretly loves kids (Ignore Yanqing). He has a soft spot in his ice-cold heart. Beside that soft spot is pettiness. You ain't winning that game Monopoly, he doesn't care if you want to win so badly, you’re going to have to accept the cruel world.

When you complain to him in that high-pitched voice, it just makes him cover his mouth to not laugh at your face. He might ruffle your hair and mess it up just to see you get red-faced.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Go to jail.”

You just stare at that stupid card as Blade is watching and waiting for you to move your piece into the jail zone. “No way.” You huff putting your piece into the jail space monopoly board while grinding your teeth before handing the dice.

But now you’re tired! Glaring and seething at dice as you get no doubles while Blade’s made it four times around the board, bought out most places, and maxed them all out.

You start to get restless watching him roll and land his piece, yet nothing happens to him. You snatch the dice and roll…only to get no double!! “I give up.” You whisper and pout, gripping at your hair, only to see him grinning at you.

“What? I can hear you.”

You feel embarrassed, before reluctantly saying it again yet even more quietly “I give up”

“What I can’t hear-“

“I give up, okay!

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[aizawasbrazybaby]

❥��𓏧Freak Like Me

𖦹Warnings: Corrupt Cop!Nanami x Fem!Reader, Pet names? (Calls reader Beautiful a lot), Semi-public (car sex), p in v sex, Oral (fem receiving), Very brief mention of blood, Cervix kissing, Dubcon (consent is implied but he doesn’t ask before touching reader)

𖦹Word Count: 1.7k (I had to restrain myself from making it longer🥲)

🫧: Hello everyone sorry for any mistakes I always try to proof read at least twice before posting. Also I’ll be attempting to upload here and WP on Fridays at 5pm est.🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Summaryᐕ: It was supposed to be a late night traffic stop…only he was off duty and everyone knows what happens after dark.

Air moved deeply through your lungs harshly exiting your nose. Those fluorescent blue and red lights flashed obnoxiously bright, forcing your eyes to shut into a squint. The officer’s tall figure strutted over to your old compact sedan that was honestly hanging on by the grace of god herself. His blonde hair and white skin contrasted the chilled bitter darkness. Fingers tapped the window and signed for it to be rolled down. Your eyes hit the back of your head as you followed the lawful command.

And holy fuck…

A chill ran up your spine. He looked like the finest piece of art man could make- so much so you had to do a double take at the patrol car to see if it was the real deal. That this wasn’t an elaborate prank by some shitty tv show or idiotic influencers that didn’t know how illegal impersonating an officer was.

“Pretty late for a lady like you to be out here dontcha think,” he glanced at the bloody scrubs in your passenger seat, “long night?”

“That easy to tell?” your fingers rubbed at the dark circles under both eyes, “sorry but is your bodycam on?”

A strange mix of a laugh and hum rumbled in his throat, “license and registration ma’am.”

A demand.

Mint intertwined in his cool breath as he let out an annoyed sigh waiting for you to gather your things. As if you initiated the traffic stop on him. He softly snatched at the forms you handed to him.

“What has you out here so late, nurse ____?” His gaze flickered back to the passenger seat.

“Doctor,” you corrected.

“What?”

“It’s Dr._____ I’m not a nurse.”

He grinned, “well, many apologies for my ignorance.” You looked in his narrow eyes and something shifted in you. In both of you. Your pants felt almost suffocating on your throbbing pussy as that honey-like essence pooled to your center.

“I-I just got off work at the hospital,” you pointed behind you, “third twelve hour shift this week. I pulled over to get some sleep, heard somewhere that driving tired is as bad as driving drunk.”

Why’s his stare gotta be so intense? Your mind raced. Eyes lowering to his beautifully plump lips. Watching his tongue swipe teasingly slow over the bottom one before it was held between his teeth.

Good fucking God.

“Have you been drinking tonight?” You could have swore a glimpse of a grin flashed just as quickly as it had disappeared . His calloused fingers softly traced your jawline, thumb running across your lips. A line was crossed. Several lines. But shit it’s been so long since you’d been caressed. And the man before you was so alluring. You leaned into Nanami’s touch- your eyes fluttering shut for a second before burning into his.

“No, officer.”

“Why don’t you step out for me beautiful,” his voice low and seductive. Embarrassment burned through you from how quickly you obeyed. Horny and stupid. Desperate and horny. He looked you up and down then grabbed your hands. Cold to the touch but you didn’t pull away, placing them behind your head, “Lock your fingers.”

Holy hell he was close.

You could feel the heat emanating from his mouth. Circling you he stopped behind, pressing against your back. His belt. The service belt was nowhere to be found. Pressure started at the wrist and worked its way to your waist. Outlining the shape. His fingers trailed over your breasts. so. very. slow. Each finger took its time feeling the buds that hardened under.

Desperation made itself known from a slight gasp that morphed into a whimper, “shit.”

Nanami groaned in response. He walked back around, hands lowering to the fat of your ass gripping and squeezing. He placed a kiss on your cheek and nipped at your jaw.

“Sir,” you glanced at the abandoned strip of road, “not out here.”

His hand pulled to the front rubbing your pussy through your thin sweats. His digits worked their way inside feeling how wet you were. Snatching a moan from your throat that your own ears struggled to recognize. No panties. A bold move on your end.

“Get in the backseat,” his teeth caught on your bottom lip. An arm rounded your waist pulling you away from your car before opening the door for you. He blocked your head from hitting the top of the doorway like he would if sticking you in his squad truck.

Before you could speak your sweats were around your ankles. His eyes looked back at you as he kissed up your thigh, “want me to stop?”

“No!” Your voice was under a shout. Loud. Desperate. And beyond fucking horny for the stranger with his upper half leaning between your legs. The other hanging out the car.

He chuckled, “okay doctor.” His tongue ran up your slit catching the enticing liquid that glazed parts of your skin. Ecstasy swam through your veins and straight to where the man was now sucking your sensitive clit. Hands sliding through his healthy locks he moaned on your cunt. You hissed at the feeling.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

You sat your head up seeing Nanami dig in your pocket and pull out your phone. He flashed the screen and your heart skipped a beat. “Don’t.” From his shit eating grin you knew he wasn’t gonna listen. He firmly pressed the green answer and tossed you the phone.

“Hey JESS,” you stifled the moan that clawed to be set free. The cop pushed your thighs apart, thrusting his middle and ring fingers inside. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sudden intrusion. Savoring that pain spiked with pleasure.

Is that mommy? Your six year old asked sleepily in the background.

Hey Miss.____ I was just checkin on ya. It’s pretty late just wanted to see if everything was okay

“Y-yes hon everything’s fine just got off work a bit late.”

Nanami unbuttoned his slacks, releasing his erection. Lining himself to your pussy that clenched around nothing. He smiled from ear to ear slowly inching himself deep.

That’s good. Baby Kiri keeps askin for ya wanna say good night before I put her to bed?

“No!” you lowered your tone, taking a fistful of Kento’s shirt, “no need I’ll s-see her when I g-get home.”

He took the phone muting and keeping it on speaker, “lemme hear you beautiful,” his pace increased. Squelching and your squeals filled the car, “fuck darling n-nice and loud. That’s it.”

“Nanami,” you whimpered, “fuck pleaseee.” You dragged.

“Uh uh Kento when I’m fucking you,” he smirked.

Why not? Hello? ___ are you there? Is everything okay?

He thrust one last time before plunging his cock deep inside. And fuck. Fuck. fuck. fuck. His tip was pressing against your cervix. Your legs started to shake slightly but enough where he noticed. And you clenching tight around him had his eyes rolling back and breathing heavy.

Unmute. “I-I’m fine Jess. Just in a bit of a s-situation right now.”

His hips rocked slowly bringing that tight coil closer. His teeth glided over your throat, “gonna drive me crazy hang up that damn phone,” you could sense his lust from his deep whisper.

Should I send someone out there? What’s happening?

“No need, ‘mtaking good care of her,” he growled at the nanny.

Who is this? Where’s ___??

“Gonna have to, ah, call you b-back.” You tried your best not to let it out but that moan slipped through and no doubt she picked up. Nanami took your phone tossing it atop those dirty scrubs.

Oh…ohh, it clicked. She hung up immediately.

He slammed his hips into yours. Faster. Stronger. Until that coil grew so tight in the both of you that you were shouting each other's names as you came. His hot cum filling you up so full and you leaving your cream all over him that is splattered just below his belly button. Drained of all his energy and stamina he rocked into you riding out the high to both of your orgasms.

“Kento,” you said breathlessly, “thank you.” Of course he didn’t know what you were thanking him for. Didn’t know you’d been so deprived from a man’s touch. You craved some kind of sexual interaction. Didn’t know he relieved so much of the pent up stress from work and being a single mother.

“Any time beautiful.” He panted but managed to keep a smile on his handsome face. He pulled out looking for something, anything to help clean you up. When his eyes landed on you, you pointed to the front seat.

“Got a few baby wipes in the glove compartment.”

He nodded. You watched as he climbed out zippering his pants as his head fell back. Taking in the cool night breeze. God he was something to behold. Walking around the front he took out the pack of wipes and jogged back to you.

“Does anything hurt? Are you alright?” He asked back to his monotone as he wiped your thighs and intimate parts.

“I’m alright.”

“Think you can walk?” he shimmied your sweats back up, shoving something in the pocket. Before you could even answer he pulled you to the edge of the car by your legs making you yelp. He held you like a bride before placing you in the driver seat.

“Hope so.” You said quietly. His hand grabbed the back of your head through the window pulling you in a kiss. Long and passionate. If you knew anything it was that this man was gonna be the death of you. You felt yourself getting wet all over again.

“G’night…officer Nanami.” You looked deeply in his eyes.

“Get home safe.” He didn’t smile or break the contact. He climbed back in his car shutting off the lights and starting his car back up. Digging in your pocket you pulled out his business card that had his number written neatly in blue pen on the backside. Your mouth gaped open and looked out your window as he was passing you. Driving slow he seen the card in your hand and winked at you. That shit eating grin back on his lips.

Staring daggers back at the card you wondered how long you were really out for.

[viisforvalentine]

Do you happen to have any headcannons regarding O'Connor and his friends? They live rent free in my head right now

Gotta admit, i do really hope they release maybe like a dlc or a short part two game that just focuses on the crew and their lives, because O'Connor and Gibbo, despite having only a few lines actually seem like they have lots of cool lore! Especially Gibbo (him talking about beasts, flashing lights etc)

Anyways! Heres a few headcanons of Gibbo, O'Connor, Trots, Finlay and Caz! **SPOILERS!!**

O'Connor

- i think lots of people think Mary is O'Connors wife, but I actually think hes talking about his daughter! Someone on the SWTD reddit said the ones who turn into The Shape are sort of traumatized or broken in some way, and the shape seems to lure/sedate its victims by making it think someone they care about is talking to them, so my mind immediately goes to O'Connor had a wife who either died or left and Mary is all he has. Poor guy :(

- I feel like he would be the type to go up to Trots when they first meet and ask if he can "see how blind" Trots is by trying on his glasses lol (he means well though!!)

- Poor man has night terrors like nobodies business. I like to think hes had night terrors the week leading up to what happens in the game about The Shape, but in very vague ways. Has probably told Trots or Gibbo about them as a joke.

Gibbo

- Again, a lot of people on reddit speculate that people who are traumatized or broken, I think his father left him or maybe just isnt a very great guy, since he tells Caz to tell his mom he'll be home soon, and since his ramblings sometimes sound like something an angry/neglectful father would say to a kid. I think Gibbo def gives off mamas boy vibes

- BIG. OLE. SOFTIE!!!! Definitely is the one who hung up all the christmas decor, and helped Dobbie with decorating their shared cabin.

- Definitely has seen some weird shit that Rennick has told him to stuff down, the "flashing lights" in the ocean, creatures that come up that he chalks up to being weird sea creatures so he can sleep peacefully at night

- I feel like in a weird way, he would survive the explosion and make his way to the main land, maybe to see his mom again or to try an find help

Trots

- I personally fucking adore Trots, he feels like the dad friend of the crew, the type that goes up to the crew when Rennick is up their asses and tells them to stand up for what they think is right.

- Always making passive aggressive comments around Rennick, Caz and Roy are always having to break the two up when they get into heavily heated arguements

- In his infected form, i think it shows a lot about the stresses he has as a union person and as a person in general. He feels like hes always having to clean up peoples messes, make sure things are working the way he should be, I feel like he puts on a composed face infront of everybody but is heavily stressed by his duties to keep everyone from getting killed

- I think he likes melancholy music :] soft and sad tunes that you can take a nap to while it rains outside

Finlay

- Can throw back shots like nobodies business, Caz and Muir are constantly doing drinking games with her and she always wins (though the hangover afterwards for her is more of a lose than anything)

- Constantly messing with Addair by getting into political battles and not giving him any satisfaction in seeing her get angry or anything, will sometimes just throw in random hyper-exaggerated takes to see him get mad

- As we seen from the paper, an absolute fucking wizard at darts, like, to the point where if shes drunk as all hell shes still able to hit multiple middles in a row

- Has nightmares too, but about her son. I cant imagine how hard it was for her to make it past the Shape hearing her son singing and calling out to her :((

- I feel like shes also pretty close with Roy, goes out for smoke breaks with him and stuff like that

Caz

- Double jointed. Maybe im just projecting onto him but the way his legs hurt from like THE SMALLEST OF FALLS is some double jointed problems shit. That being said, he totally does that bending-finger-back party trick for the crew, Trots tries to warn him against doing it but the look of disgust and suprise on the crews face will always make him do it again lol

- Was accidentally the first person to find out about Muir and Innes's relationship. He caught them kissing in the mud room, ever since then hes tried to be like,,,, overly accepting to the point where every time Innes and Muir are walking together he gives them a thumbs up like a dork

- Keeps his hair long despite Rennick and Addairs comments because Suize likes it that way (you cannot tell me Caz doesnt like getting his hair pulled lmao he is WHIPPED for that lady)

- I like to think his afterlife is him haunting his house, i know that may sound shitty but i want that man to be able to watch his weans grow up :(((

[princessbrunette]

casual dominance from jj would be him zipping up your hoodie when its too cold, making sure to double knot your boots when hes dragging you to a job and most importantly hes the “she asked for no pickles!” boyfriend

SHE ASKED FOR NO PICKLES BOYFRIEND 100%!!!!!!!!!

god this is so jj it hurts. complaining about the cold and he just zips up the hoodie of his that you’re wearing, pulling the zip as high as it goes til his knuckle is brushing your chin— and then letting go and rubbing your arms up and down. “gotta do this up, that’s why.” he’d say as he does so :(( he can’t relate bc he’s a human furnace bf who never feels the cold

i also get the feeling he (and john b tbh) is the type of bf who like has to fix everything of yours that’s broken— like it’s his duty as a boyfriend. if you complain about the table being wobbly you’ll walk in an hour later and see him with the table flipped on its side, sat criss cross on the floor with his toolbox working on it, yk ???

i feel like taking the lead just comes really naturally to him so he’ll always ask you for your order and then speak to the food service people for you, especially if you’re shy <333