#the man makes me weak in the knees for some reason don’t question it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coryosbaby · 1 year ago

Text

1. 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓢𝓮𝔁

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: Inviting your incredibly nice and incredibly married family friend to your birthday party was not meant to be a way of seduction— or was it?

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 #2: You clean your neighbor and family friend Anakin’s house, and he comes to your birthday party with a special gift.

𝓒𝔀: bimbo! Reader, infidelity, age gap (reader is twenty, Anakin is in his mid to late thirties)— nsfw . oral (m & f recieving), vaginal fingering, smell kink, daddy kink, sub! Reader, dom! Anakin

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: This is part 1 of the Insatiable series ! (Click link for series masterlist)

You’ve never really liked Padme.

And honestly, it’s clear that she doesn’t like you that much either. You don’t know why— you’ve always been nothing but fake nice to her.

At least you have a reason to hate her— that reason being her absolute sex symbol of a husband. Or, aka, a man that’s been hanging around your family for as long as you can remember.

Your hate for Padme originally spawned from the fact that she married Anakin. But as the years have went on, your hate for her has reigned even more clearer than before. She lies, steals Anakin’s money, and cheats— a lot. You know about the last part because you’ve seen random men spew in and out of the house when Anakin is working to make money and pay for the things that she wants. And it enrages you— you don’t understand how she could treat someone as perfect, handsome, and kind as Anakin so terribly.

If he was yours, you would never let him go.

—

You decide to invite Anakin’s to your birthday party.

Of course, he’s always went to them— but reminding him wouldn’t hurt, right? So, on a sunny summer day, you decide to walk across the street to his house. A box of cookies in your hand and in your favorite short skirt due to the scorching hot weather, you knock and wait for him. When he answers, he’s in nothing but a t shirt and boxers. The sight of his muscled thighs and his strong arms makes you a little weak in the knees, but you try to shove your sinful thoughts down. It seems that Padme is gone— thank god. If she knew you were here, she’d have your head.

“Hi, Ani!” You greet sweetly. Although run down and exhausted, Anakin still gives you a smile back. You always lighten the man’s mood.

“Hi, sweetheart.” he replies back.

“Nice day, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is,” his eyes had avert down to the clear box in your hands, the lid pink and adorned with hello kitty stickers. “Are those for me?”

“Mhm! ” you say excitedly. “I just made them! I knew you’d want some.”

Of course you did. You always give your neighbors sweet treats— Anakin the most often, because he’s your favorite. And because you know he loves the things you bake.

Anakin’s steps towards you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Always know when I need something sweet, don’t you, honey?”

He looks at you with true affection, though you can sense something teasing underneath that pleased lilt. You can feel heat creeping up your neck as he grabs the box from you.

“Thank you.” He says, after a moment. “Have a nice day.”

He goes to shut the door. You shuffle nervously, and then loudly, you blurt out, “Wait! You’re coming to my birthday party this weekend, right?”

Anakin’s brows furrow as he opens the door back up, but he seems amused by your question.

“Do you want me to?”

“I-I mean—“ you stutter, rolling forward on the balls of your feet. “Of course I do.”

“Hmm…” he pretends to think for a moment, a small smile grazing his lips. “And what do I get in return? I’d have to take a day off, if it’s on a Friday…”

Shit. It is on a Friday. You bite your lip, doe eyes looking around as you come up with a plan.

“I’ll.. clean your house?”

It’s a dumb suggestion, one that makes Anakin crane his neck to look back at his slightly cluttered home. He tries to act serious as he looks back at you and crosses his arms.

“What, do you think my house is… dirty, or something?”

You flush, immediately shaking your head.

“No! No, Ani, that’s not what I meant. I- I just… I know you work a lot, so I assume that it’d take a lot of strain off of you. God, I’m sorry-“

“I’m fucking with you,” he interrupts. A smirk glazes his lips. “I know what you meant.” His eyes sweep across your body, and you feel a little dizzy. After a moment, he relaxes and his face splits into a grin.

“Of course I’ll come to your birthday party, kid. Y’know I always do.”

“Okay!” You smile sheepishly, but nervously bite your lip as you speak again. “Uhm.. you don’t have to get me anything. Not at all.”

“I’m gonna get you something.” He states bluntly.

“Okay! That’s— that’s fine.” Your eyes avert from his piercing gaze, something that you should be used to after all these years but aren’t. “I’ll still clean your house, though. I can do it right now, if you want!” You pause, trying to think of how to word the next sentence.

“I… I wanna do something nice for you, Ani.”

There it is again. That look in Anakin’s eyes, hungry, as he steps closer to you once again.

“Well…” he murmurs. ““…Aren’t you just a sweet little girl?”

He brings his fingers up to tank top, toying with the thin material.

You’re slick with wetness, and suddenly feel very shy. Your eyes look down at the wooden porch below you as his fingers brush up on your collarbone. You’re too flustered to really speak again.

Anakin, done with his teasing (for now), steps back and gestures towards the inside of his home.

“Go on,” he says. “Cleaner’s in the cabinet below the sink. You know how I like things to be organized.”

—

Getting the yellow sponge handed to you wet and sudsy, you begin to work on his kitchen counters first. It’s not like they’re gross, per say— his house is more cluttered than nasty. As you intensely work on getting the countertop nice and clean, you can feel Anakin’s gaze pierce through your skin. He had decided to sit at the bar of the kitchen a few moments ago, after finishing half of the container of fresh chocolate chip cookies. Now clad in a pair of jeans and a white wifebeater, he lights a cigarette in his hand. Finally finishing up the counters, you decide to work on the dishes.

Anakin moves to the other side of the bar. He always keeps a radio in this spot, and with idle hands he turns the knob to up the volume a bit. You smile when you hear a Brittany Spears song blaring through the speakers. It’s not Anakin’s taste, but he keeps it on anyways. He knows Brittany is one of your favorite artists.

“So,” he starts, beginning to strike up a conversation. “Twenty one, huh?”

You nod, as you pick up the dish sponge in front of the sink.

“Yeah. Legal drinking age— thank god.” You chuckle, remembering all the times that Anakin had brought you alcohol when you wanted some but couldn’t buy it.

“You’re growing up so fast,” he inquires. You hear rustling behind you— he must be moving around the kitchen. “Not a little girl anymore… ‘s really starting to freak me out.”

“I guess so,” you laugh.

“Time flies.”

It’s quiet after that, for a moment. But something creeps up your neck, like Anakin’s eyes are burning through the back of your skull.

You can feel his presence moving closer to you.

Closer… closer.

And with wide eyes, you feel his breath on the back of your neck.

When did he get so close?

Anakin can’t help but stare at your behind as he watches you— your body is absolute stunning, your thighs soft and absolutely kissable. He loves watching the gap in between your legs as you shift from foot to foot. Loves watching and imagining what your pussy must look like. Probably so wet, so tight underneath that skimpy little outfit. His cock aches at the thought.

He’s feeling bold, now. He doesn’t know why — maybe because he saw his wife leave in a random car earlier that morning, or maybe because he saw the explicit pictures on her phone sent to another man the night before that had caused him to get extremely wasted. But either way, his fingertips reach up and graze your hip.

You exhale sharply, his touch setting off fireworks on your skin.

“It’s different now, isn’t it?” You say, and the insinuation in the question is obvious.

Anakin’s fingertips continue to brush your hips, and then slowly— he wraps his arms around you. Hugging you from behind, pressing his face into your neck and his obvious hard on against your ass.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. White hot heat licks up your spine at his gruff voice. “…very different.”

You know it’s fucked. You know it’s wrong. You know he’s fifteen years your senior, you know that he’s married, and you know that he’s been a family friend for years.

But something is tempting you to turn around.

Call it instinct, but your body adjusts to come face to face with the older man. He was closer than you thought he would be. His lips are almost grazing yours. Anakin’s got a look on his face that can only be described as holding back. His eyes shine with desperation and lust.

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s a sentence that seems to be more of a beg than a question. You can’t help but nod. And slow, like an awaiting storm, his lips are on yours— and that slowness soon gives way to electric sparks and teeth and tongue. His arms wrap around your waist, covering your body with his much wider one. He tastes like cigarettes and booze.

Your body is shoved against the sink. Anakin’s tongue rubs against the roof of your delicious, wet mouth. He can’t get enough. He kisses you and kisses you until lips feel bruised.

You savor this feeling, of him using your mouth as his own personal meal. And you fucking love it. No amount of guilt in your body can outweigh the neediness you have for him. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you part your legs so he can rest his hips against you. His jeans catch on your skirt— the flimsy material lifts up past your thighs. He follows the expanse of your legs and takes sight of your pink lacy underwear. Its cute, Anakin thinks, and his thumbs are about to pull them down and ravage you.

But you’re interrupted. Because as quick as lightening, Anakin’s phone is blaring out it’s loud call ringtone.

Jumping back, you and him are both surprised. He huffs, wiping at his kiss bitten lips as he makes way to pick up his phone.

The caller id reads “Padme”.

And fuck, you want to kill yourself right now. Of course, it has to be her of all people.

You hate her.

Anakin is quick to answer, and you can’t hear anything but a distraught voice on the other line.

“Padme? What is it?” His voice is laced with concern, but he lets out a breath when she yells something else. He sighs, his eyes glancing at your for a quick second as he rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Fuck. Okay, okay! I’ll come get you, just— stay there, alright?”

He hangs up with a groan, and turns to you.

“It’s just— Padme. Being Padme. She crashed the car… again. She’s fine, though.”

Unfortunately. You want to say. But you bite your tongue.

And just like that, the tension between you and Anakin goes back into hiding once again.

—

Friday comes quicker than you expect.

Your father and mother wake you up with your favorite breakfast, and you pick out your birthday outfit. It’s a pink dress with puffy sleeves, and you’ve been wanting to wear it for this occasion for months. Your birthday cake is your favorite flavor and decorated— of course— with hello kitty plastered on the frosting.

Your mother gushes at your dress, deciding to take many, many, many pictures of you. But you don’t complain— you’re grateful of all the decorations that she’s put up for you. They suit your taste.

You would’ve invited your friends but you figured this would be a family only type gathering. You may have a second party reserved just for them later.

It’s not long before your relatives arrives. Five o’clock on the dot, your cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandparents have all showed up. You open a few presents, have a good time, have some shots for the first time in front of your family. It’s fun.

But he still hasn’t showed up.

Looking at the clock— half past six now— you can’t help but be disappointed and upset. Anikan promised he would be here!

Your gut starts to churn with different anxieties. What if it was because of that moment back in his kitchen? What if he never wants to speak to you again?

But then, there he is. You hear the familiar roar of his black convertible outside— and your heart instantly soars.

He comes in a bit disheveled, as if he had rushed to get here, with a band tee and black jeans on. The way he still dresses like a young and corrupted boy amuses you— and also turns you on just a little bit.

He smiles when he sees you, and of course you smile right back. You’re so thankful he didn’t make Padma tag along with him— that would completely ruin this entire day.

“Hey, kid,” he says, as he pulls you in for a hug. His fingers trail down past your lower back and graze your ass, though know seems to notice.

“Hey, ani.”

“Happy birthday.” He congratulates you.

You thank him, and his eyes linger on yours for a bit too long as he speaks.

“You look nice.”

The butterflies tingle in your tummy again.

“So do you.”

And after that, it’s not long before everyone else recognizes his arrival and your dad is sweeping by and pulling him into one of his conversations.

As the night goes on, more of your family members slowly begin to leave. You prefer it this way; your judgy aunt Hilda was becoming way too much for you to bear right now. You’re sitting on the living room couch with your mom when she asks you to go and get her bag from the kitchen.

And when you go into the room, Anakin is there. And not only that, but he’s alone. He’s leaned up against your refrigerator drinking a beer.

Your eyes lock with his, and he follows the outline of your curves as you pick up your mom’s bag.

“Everyone leaving?”

His voice rings out through the room, piercing the awkward silence. You shrug, becoming intensely concentrated on the granite countertops all of a sudden.

“It’s late.” You reply. And then, in a smaller voice, “You were late.”

He sighs, and you look back to see him running his hands through his dark locks of hair. He looks frustrated.

“I know, honey. Im sorry. I had work, you know that. And… Padma’s been giving me a rough time.”

“When isn’t she?”

It isn’t meant to come off as snarky as it does, but your comment has Anakin huffing out a breath of air.

“Don’t give me attitude, okay? Im here, aren’t I?” He moves beside you, a look of guilt flashing across his face. You don’t say anything— you simply look at him with those eyes. Those pretty, doe like eyes that Anakin can’t bring himself to stop looking into. His eyes trail down to your lips.

“We should talk,” He says. “About..last weekend.”

You really don’t want to. That’s all you can gather right now. You half heartedly take your mom’s bag into your grasp and gesture towards it.

“I have to go give this to my mom,” you mutter. “See you around, Anakin.”

—

The night is over, but Anakin still hasn’t left. You wouldn’t expect him too, though. He stays over late once or twice a week sometimes to chat with your father. You’ve showered, gotten rid of the pesky hairdo that had taken you hours to do and was so frustrating the whole night but still was worth it anyway, and painted your toes a fresh, hot pink. You’re extremely happy to have your nightgown on, now. That dress was very tight.

Your bedroom door is open, but you don’t mind it. You can hear the sound of a football game from downstairs as you read one of your favorite magazines. Too busy wondering which breaking bad character you are through a printed out quiz in the booklet, you don’t even realize Anakin is at your door until he knocks.

It makes you jump, and when you whirl around to see who it is your bones almost jump out of your skin.

“You scared the shit out of me!” You exclaim. You slam the magazine down onto your vanity, and Anakin chuckles.

“Sorry.”

His footsteps approach you, but not before they’re moving so he can close your door shut. You become drastically nervous now that he’s alone with you. He must’ve made up some excuse about having to go to the bathroom so he could sneak up here.

“What are you doing in here, Ani?” You question feebly. He shrugs, taking a seat on your silky pink bed.

“What? Do I have to have an excuse to see the birthday girl?”

You shyly turn back to face your Vanity mirror. You begin to concentrate on brushing your hair. In the reflection you can see that Anakin is watching you.

“We both know that’s not why.” You reply quietly.

“I guess you’re right,” Anakin agrees. “Maybe it’s because I want us to continue where we left off. ”

Face flushing, you baffle yourself by throwing out an unintentionally disgusting line.

“So you wanna do me in my bedroom while my dad is downstairs? Is that it?”

Anakin smirks, amused, leaning back and seeming cocky. He doesn’t say anything, but you know that the answer is yes.

You turn around, watching this older man manspreading on your bed. Against your better judgement you decide to get out of the chair and sit beside him.

He smiles fondly at the closeness. His fist closes around something in his pocket.

“I got you something.” He says. “Your present. Open your hand.”

It’s a scary request, because Anikan has played tricks on you before by telling you this. Sticking a whole snake in your hand one time and making you cry for hours on end after is proof of how much of an asshole he can be sometimes. But he seems to be genuine, and this is your birthday present, so you hold out your hand for him to take.

He pulls out a box. Anyone could recognize it as one that has jewelry inside the packaging. And you were right. Because when you open it, you’re blessed to see a beautiful set of diamond earrings encrusted with your initials.

You gasp, picking them up and admiring them with excitement.

“Thank you so much, Ani!”

Your gushing over the present makes Anakin’s chest swell, and he’s surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug.

It’s been a while since Anakin has been hugged like this. Padme hasn’t touched him in months, or shown him any type of affection. Surprised but pleased, he’s quick to return it, his big arms wrapping around your waist and burying his face in your neck. The smell of your natural scent and strawberry perfume fills his nostrils. He pulls away after a moment. You see the wedding band on his finger, and it brings reality back to you.

“Where’s Padme?” You ask slowly, questionably, but still genuinely curious.

He doesn’t seemed angry by the question, but Anakin’s mouth forms into a thin line.

“Out.” he states. “Probably fucking some random guy she met on tinder.”

“She doesn’t deserve you,” You say, and frown, hand reaching out to touch his bicep. “You’re so nice, and she’s so mean to you. I hate her.”

“Don’t say that. You’re too nice to hate anybody.”

“But it’s true!” You exclaim. “I hate her.” And then, quietly. “She has you and I don’t… ‘S not fair.”

Anakin doesn’t like when you get sad, and he especially doesn’t like when you remind him of that fact.

“I’m not hers, y/n.” He replies, and it’s the truth. His feet move closer to your angry form. “I never have been.”

“Then why are you still with her? Why aren’t you with me?”

“How do you expect me to be with you, y/n? What do you think everyone would say?”

It’s actually a good point, but you dont want to think about that right now.

His arms wrap around your waist, and his face finds the crook of his neck as he breathes you in. You sigh, looking up to the ceiling, your pink curtains, anything but him.

“I want you,” he whispers to you. You try so hard not to look at him. “I want you so bad, angel.”

“You don’t know what you want, Anakin.”

“Fifteen years older than you and I don’t know what I want?” He scoffs, his lips forming into a thin line. “I know what I want.”

His voice takes a much darker turn then, something twinged with arousal and feral possession. “I want to bend you over your vanity and pound my cock into you until I can’t see straight. I want to kiss you, hold you… I’ve wanted it since you were nineteen years old. Cmon, sweets. Why don’t you let me in?”

Let me in. You shiver, and your clothes become unbearably uncomfortable on your body.

“I don’t know, Ani..”

“It’s okay, baby.” He coos, comforting. “Why don’t you let uncle Ani give you the second part of your birthday present, huh? Cmon, let me make you feel good.”

Its once again, truly fucked.

But with the way he’s holding you now, with the words spilling from his lips in that tone.. god, your knees are buckling. You sigh, and mindlessly you begin to run your hands down his body.

“I don’t want you to ever mention Padme to me” you reason with him, as your hands circle his waist. “Ever. Only ever talk about me.”

“I won’t mention her. She’s dead to me.”

You contemplate more deals to make, and then pout. “And I want to be paid for all that cleaning I did last week!”

“Done.”

It’s insane how quickly he agrees to what you want. But alas, he does.

And when his lips press against yours for a second time, you can’t resist falling into him and finally giving in.

To Anakin, you taste like your chapstick— he doesn’t know what flavor it is, but he wants to figure it out soon so he can buy it for himself and always have that familiar sweetness on his mouth. His arms wrap around your waist and he’s desperate, practically consuming you with a neediness he has never felt for anyone else. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip and you feel his tongue enter the warm canal of your mouth. Mewling and pulling yourself away, you press your half naked body against him and begin to trail kisses down his neck.

“Wanna suck you…” you whine. “but—your house— not here..”

Your hands grope his thighs, then one of them moves up and takes hold of his awaiting bulge. He’s big, and you can tell by how fat he feels in your palm already. He lets out a moan, pressing himself further into you and breathing against your cheek, “Yes, here.”

And so be it. You know once Anakin decides something, it’s going to get done. If he wants it, you’ll give it to him. You drop to your knees in an instant, previous request forgotten, pawing at the confines of his jeans and unbuckling his belt. He watches you through hooded eyelids, watches the way your mouth practically drools as you pop the button on his fly and unzip him. His briefs are almost cute. They have little looney toons characters on them. Scoffing and letting out a giggle at the sight of these on a thirty six year old man, who probably knew he was gonna get laid, you look up at him.

“Nice underwear.”

“Shut up,” he groans, gripping your hair with his big hands. “Just suck my cock, baby. C’mon, please?”

Slick forms and leaks down your thighs at his words. Jokes forgotten, you pull the silly material down and his aching cock springs free. Slapping against his stomach, all big and thick with a patch of brown hair at the base, you can see a drop of precum beading on the tip. Your thumb brushes over the spot and smears the creamy liquid around the head of his cock. He exhales sharply, his grip on your hair tightening.

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes shutting closed at the feeling of your hands.

“Ani,” you breathe. Your tongue licks a stripe up his cock, licking up the dribbles of fluid you had just smeared. You lick your lips with need. “You taste so good.”

“Yeah?” He bucks his hips against your face, watching how you greedily slurp his cock into your mouth. “Look at you, baby. Such a needy girl.”

You hum around him, making sure to breathe so the man doesn’t strangle you with his fat cock. The smell of his arousal invades your senses, and your head gets fuzzy. You down him all the way to his base— pressing your nose against the hair there, you almost pass out from how good it all is. He smiles, watching how easily you submit to him. He begins to thrust shallowly into your mouth.

“So fuckin’ good, angel. ” He grunts. “Take it this isn’t the first cock you’ve sucked? Shit— too good at it to not have been dicked down or throat fucked at least twice.”

You moan around him, knowing it’s true. But all the men you’ve hooked up with, they’ve always been older, brunette, with tattoos and an interest in ratty band t shirts— all of them have looked like Anakin. They’ve always looked like Anakin.

Looking down at you, Anakin’s gaze is hypnotized by your glossed lips moving up and down on his cock. His balls slap against your chin at a rapid pace, his cock aching for a warm release. He thinks about what you look like underneath that dress, thinks about how you’re such a fucking bitch for making him give into his raw and primal sensations like this.

“Don’t think you need to call me Anakin anymore, baby,” he inquires, with a growl grazing his plump lips. “Fuck… think you need a daddy, instead. One that’ll actually discipline you—“ he yanks on your head when you try to lift up and get some air, forcing you back down on him. “— and not let you act like a fuckin’ brat. Do you like tempting married men all the time like this, huh? Do you like tempting all of your dad’s friends? Don’t lift your fucking head up, baby, ‘m not done…”

Whining against his cock, your hand moves down against your clit. His degradations are making you desperate to reach your peak— and as fucked up as it is, yes, you do want to call him daddy, want him to take care of you and always keep your throat as his own personal fleshlight for his aching prick. His grip on your hair is causing blinding pain but it doesn’t matter.

As long as you please him.

He finally pulls you off of him, after a moment. Your chin is caked with drool, your eyes watery and tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re gasping, finally gulping in air after being smothered for so long.

“Breathe, honey,” Anakin murmurs, sweet despite his initial angry throat fucking. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. “Breathe for me.. there you go. Good girl.”

Relaxing against his thighs, you’re unbearably hot.

“Daddy..” you cry against him, wrapping your arms around his thick thigh. He frowns.

“Too much?” He asks, concerned. “Do you wanna stop? Or we could take a break..”

His caring demeanor makes your heart clench, and you can feel the tears actually stream down your cheeks now. No one has ever cared for you like this.

But as overwhelmed as you’re feeling, your pussy aches like no other and if you stop for even a millisecond you think you’ll die. You shake your head.

“No, daddy.“

He looks down at you, brows furrowed, and he nods.

“Okay, pretty. Cmon, stand up.” He gestures for you to get onto your feet, and when you ask why, he leans in close to your ear and gestures to your large vanity.

“I wanna fuck you.” He coos gently. “Wanna bend you over, right there. Can I?”

You nod as you pick yourself up on wobbly legs. You fall into him, allowing him to guide you over to the large table. He bends your pretty body over it, your ass in the air.

Anakin’s fingers play with the hem of your night. He loves it on you, thinks the color is so sweet and hypnotizing, but it has to come off or he thinks he’ll go crazy. He lifts up the fabric, yanking the material off to reveal yourself to him. Your cunt is exposed, all puffy, creamy, and slick. Anakin takes note that you aren’t wearing underwear and that your ass is almost too perfect. His hand comes down to lightly smack one of your cheeks. You whine, backing yourself up against him.

“Like a fuckin’ porn star,” he groans. “Body like a fuckin’ porn star, dollface. It’s perfect. And no panties? Sweetheart, you’re a dream.”

His finger ghosts over your swollen clit, and your hips buck against him desperately.

“Thank you, daddy. Wanted to be ready for you. Knew I wouldn’t be able to stay way if you started touching me..”

He smiles, his fingers spreading your slick across your button and down to your slit. He slips a finger inside, and you gasp a little bit. He rubs against your walls with his long digits, and he hits a certain spot that has your thighs crushing his hand. A smile forms on his face.

“Already?” He chuckles as he watches your desperation, rubbing against that spongy spot inside you. Your legs quiver. “Have you ever even been fingered before?”

“N-N-“ you pause, as he slips in another finger beside his first one. He begins to thrust rapidly, a burn forming in your core but nonetheless it feels fucking amazing. “No, no guy’s ever wanted to.”

“How the fuck could they not want to?” Anakin scoffs, baffled. Your wetness coats his fingers in creamy strings as he pulls them in and out of you. “Jesus, you’ve really been needing me. Huh, baby?”

“Always need you,” you whine. You’re close already; it’s insane how much Anakin’s touch affects you. Your wetness makes a loud gushing sound as he continuously finger fucks you. After a moment there’s rustling behind you, and Anakin’s fingers leave you. You whimper, but it’s not long before you’re moaning again when Anakin drops to his knees.

You’ve always dreamed of his tongue; watched how it looked poking his bottom lip, when he rubbed the inside of his cheek and made a noticeable bulge. And now, spreading your pussy lips with his strong hands, Anakin doesn’t hesitate to dive into your drenched cunt.

You gasp, his tongue beginning to draw harsh circles on your clit and then go back down to your tight hole. He pushes the muscle in as far as it can go, feeling against your walls. He practically whines as he does it— never in his life, not even with the woman he had decided to marry ten years ago, has he ever tasted a pussy this good. His cock is still out and rubbing against your calf, all wet and red and hard.

And after he makes you cum, he intends to split you in half with it.

He begins gliding his tongue over your clit again, and shoves his fingers back inside of you. Working you over and over, you can feel that you’re about to reach your peak. You can’t even say anything— his tongue is too perfect, too wet and warm against your aching bundle of nerves. The only thing that can leave your lips is his name as you cream all over his handsome face. You ride your high out with your hand behind you, burying itself in his black hair.

Breathing heavily, Anakin moves back up to grab your neck and turn your face towards his. He kisses you, passionate and with something else you can’t quite place. He grinds his cock against your lower back.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he grunts, as he lifts one of your legs up onto the vanity’s surface. It gives him easier access, and he bumps his tip up against your entrance. “You okay with that?”

You nod instantly.

At your confirmation, Anakin breaches your hole and pushes in slow.

It hurts at first. You’ve taken cock but never any as big as his. He holds your leg with one hand and your hip with the other. You can feel every ridge, every vein as he breaks you apart on him. Your head is down and the vanity digs into your skin, but it doesn’t matter because the way that Anakin holds you makes you feel safe, protected. As if your entire family isn’t downstairs, as if he isn’t taking you like a cheap whore in your childhood bedroom, while his wife is taking a ride in the car that he bought for her.

But you don’t think about that. You just close your eyes, bite your lip, and gratefully accept the birthday present beginning to pound your guts.

#Anakin Skywalker #Anakin Skywalker x reader #Anakin Skywalker x fem! reader #Anakin Skywalker x bimbo! reader #Modern! Anakin Skywalker #Dbf! Anakin Skywalker #Neighbor! Anakin Skywalker #Anakin Skywalker smut #Star Wars #Hayden Christenen #anakin skywalker fanfic

2K notes · View notes

thesightstoshowyou · 2 months ago

Text

No Questions Asked

Ledger!Joker x F Reader

- Chapter One -

Summary: A house call puts you in the path of Gotham’s newest menace.

Warnings: Gunshot wounds, blood, descriptions of medical procedures and medical “torture,” reader is described as having longer hair because I was gripped with insanity and had to write that scene, swearing.

[A/N: This is a bit different than what I usually write! Stepping out of my comfort zone, I guess. Let me know how I did!]

The sidewalk simmers, heat rising off pavement. A weak breeze billows through the street, bringing with it the stench of refuse and exhaust. Gotham in the summer smells like literal hot garbage.

Paradise.

Your nose wrinkles and you tug your hat further down on your forehead to shield your eyes from the sun. Towering buildings offer shade, but thousands of windows reflect the glare of that accursed star at just the right angle to blind unsuspecting passerby. Even the skyscrapers here mean harm.

You weave through the crowd, calves burning with your quick, deliberate steps. The strap of your bag digs into your shoulder and sweat gathers beneath it until your shirt adheres to your skin. The relative cool of the alley you enter would be a relief if you weren’t already so sticky.

The door is unassuming; metal, distressed, a little rusted at the corners like all the others nearby save for the rectangular peep hole at eye level. You knock twice, two sharp raps in quick succession. Almost immediately, the shutter over the peep hole slides open with a clang.

You raise your chin in greeting to the pair of eyes that inspect you through the opening. Slam goes the shutter. The muted click of locks opening reaches your ears before the hinges squeal as the door is tossed open.

You don’t wait for permission from the burly man behind the door. Instead, you cross the threshold and descend the worn stairs two at a time. An annoyed sigh leaves your lips when the stuffy basement air presses into your already overheated skin. You’d think these rich assholes could at least afford some a/c.

Rossi meets you in the doorway. His uneasy expression immediately sets you on edge and you worry the urgency of the situation had not been properly conveyed over the phone. He gives you a look before you step into the room, a glance that says, ‘Don’t ask questions.’

He must think you’re an idiot. You could not have made it in this job for as long as you have by allowing your curiosity to speak for you.

It immediately becomes apparent what Rossi meant when you enter. The low ceiling is dotted here and there with aging, incandescent bulbs that bathe the room in sickly yellow. At the center of the room is a round, makeshift “conference” table littered with bloody paper towels and rags.

A few goons you don’t recognize hover uselessly around another slumped in a fold out chair, the reason you’d been called here on such short notice. He’s vaguely familiar, a distant relative of Maroni’s—Ronny Something. He’s clammy and pale, his scarlet coated fingers pressed limply to the wound in his shoulder.

However, what draws your attention and raises your hackles is the man seated in the corner atop an overturned box. His legs are spread wide and he hunches over them, elbows resting on his knees, fingers clad in purple leather and absently fiddling with a pocket knife. Dark green hair hangs like oily curtains next to a grease-painted face. Stained mostly white with blacked out eyes and a curling red grin, it’s apparently supposed to be a crude imitation of a clown. Above him, the light bulb flickers, throwing him in and out of shadow, but you can still make out the sharp eyes trained directly on you.

You don’t ask. Never do. That rule had been made abundantly clear. Instead you stride across the room and shoo the henchmen aside. Bending at the waist, you pull Ronny’s hand away from his shoulder and click your tongue as blood gushes from two distinct bullet holes.

“I was told these were grazes,” you start as you straighten to shoot a glare at Rossi. “There’s at least two slugs still in there. I’m gonna have to call the doc. He needs anesthetic and blood and other shit to keep him from going into shock. I don’t have the tools—

“Do it,” dares a sing-song voice. Startled, you turn to face the man in the corner. He’s smiling now, yellow teeth peeking between red, his upturned cheeks pockmarked and twisted. You realize the paint covers thick scars that stretch away from his lips like a macabre extension of his grin. The intensity in his gaze is difficult to hold so you don’t, instead glancing at Rossi, the unspoken question of, ‘Who the fuck does this weirdo think he is?’ written all over your face.

“No, no, no, no don’t look at him. Look at me.” Even with the weird, warbled inflection of his voice, there’s authority in his tone and an unspoken threat should you disobey. Brows knitting into a frown, you do as you’re told, and your head twists back to meet the eyes of the clown in the corner. The air in the room is thick and heavy and it’s no longer because of the heat. You can barely even hear the other men breathe.

“I’m a nurse. I don’t have the expertise necessary to perform surgery.” Not entirely accurate these days, but he doesn’t need to know that. “He could die, and then my head would wind up on a plate.”

“I like your head…where it’s at.” His own head shakes a little with his words and a pink tongue darts out to swipe across painted lips. Finally, he stands. Pinching the knife between thumb and forefinger, he slips the blade into an inside pocket. Gripping the lapels of his purple jacket, he gives them an exaggerated shake. His movements are erratic and cartoonish and you can’t stop your nervous little backwards half-step.

‘Who the hell are you?’ The question sits poised on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t let it free. Instead, you grit your teeth as the…man saunters over to Ronny and claps a hand on his uninjured shoulder. The movement jars Ronny enough to pull a pained cry from his mouth.

“Little, uh-“ the clown snaps his fingers like he’s trying to remember something, then makes a grabbing motion like he’s pulling the information out of the air, “Ronny here has faith in your skills. Don’t you, Ronny?”

Weak, but hasty, Ronny nods as though he’s trying to placate the other man. In response, the clown spreads his arms, palm up, eyebrows raised as if to say, ‘See? Told ya’ so.’ Voice a deep growl, he sweeps one arm in front of him and says, “The floor is yours.”

None of the men speak up. There’s no protest, not even a scoff. The only sounds are the flickering bulb and Ronny’s haggard gasps.

You don’t glance over your shoulder at Rossi. It is clear to you now that there has been some sort of shift in power and this clown…this man is in now in charge. And questioning orders is definitely not in your job description.

“Well, that’s fuckin’ great,” you sigh. The man chuckles, high and airy. “Get him on the table,” you snap at the two goons hovering nearby. After a second of hesitation, they quickly comply and hoist a blubbering Ronny onto the dirty tabletop until he’s flat on his back, his legs dangling.

Heart rate pulsing in your ears, you whip off your ball cap and toss it away. Hurriedly, you gather your locks into a messy bun before tossing your bag onto the table next to poor Ronny’s shivering form. The zipper is so loud in the tense silence, the rustle of bandages and the clink of instruments a cacophony. Unfortunately, there’s no sink to be found, so you settle for hand sanitizer.

“You’re gonna be okay, Ronny,” you tell the man staring up at you as you snap on a pair of gloves. Fear and pain twist his expression and you can tell he wants to protest, but won’t dare. It makes you wonder what the man in the makeup is capable of to inspire such fear in hardened criminals.

Scissors make short work of the bloodied shirt. With gauze and sterile water, you clean away dried gore so you can properly inspect the wounds. You note one graze along the bicep, a bullet buried in the deltoid, and another lodged just under the clavicle.

“If there’s any nerve or artery or organ or bone damage, I won’t be able to repair it. He needs actual surgery.” You shoot a withering look at the clown who makes a show of sucking in air through his teeth as though he’s concerned. You don’t miss the grin tugging at his scarred lips. “I can get the bullets out and do my best to stop the bleeding. You two,” you nod at the unnamed henchmen, “Will have to hold him.”

Ronny whimpers, the sweat pouring off his brow mirroring your own. You want to complain about just how not sterile this space is, how Ronny is probably going to die of an infection even if you get him stabilized, but you bite your tongue and focus on the task at hand.

You watch the process as though you are suspended just outside your body: Insert IV, start fluid, give what little pain meds you have on hand, sterilize the forceps, clean the injuries, bodily hold down a thrashing, screaming Ronny while you dig out the slugs, slap him awake and tell him to man up, hold pressure, stop the bleeding, suture the wounds closed.

“Keep this,” you shove the bag of normal saline into the hands of Goon Number One, “Above his head.” You turn to a stone-faced Rossi and solemnly tell him, “Doc needs to see him.” You fill a syringe with antibiotics, amazed by how steady your hands are. Ronny barely flinches when you jam the needle in the meat of his hip.

Snapping off your gloves, you release an exhale that trembles on its way out. On autopilot, you turn back to your bag and reach for the blood pressure cuff when, without warning, leather-clad fingers wrap around your wrist. Jolting, you stumble back into the table to put an arm’s length between you and the clown—where the fuck had he come from—but he closes the distance with one, bouncy step.

Just like that, you’re snapped back to reality. Now firmly seated in your body, you are startlingly aware of how hot everything is: The air, your sweaty palms, his chest against yours, his breath on your lips, your blazing cheeks, the stares of the other men burning into the sides of your head.

“Don’t—

“Shhh, shh, shh, c’mere,” the clown murmurs as he grips you by the back of the neck. You stiffen and push back against his hand in a subconscious effort to put distance between you, but fall still when his opposite hand comes to rest on your neck. His expression is unreadable, the look in his eyes a mixture of amusement and something a bit more menacing. You don’t want to search too hard, but fear of what will happen should you look away keeps your gaze on his.

White paint cracks along the creases in his forehead when his brows raise. “You’ve just got a little….” He presses a thumb to the corner of your mouth and drags it upward. You feel the slickness smearing across your dewy skin, too thick to be spit or sweat. Blood, you wager. Judging by the satisfied smile that spreads across his face and the contented hum he emits, you guess there’s a red half-grin now curling away from your mouth.

An imitation of his own.

You barely manage to contain the flinch when the clown raises his hand to your crown. Fingers dip into your hair and feel around for the hair tie keeping it piled atop your head. Three quick tugs sees your locks cascading around your shoulders. Both of his hands then come up to ruffle and shake until it’s all a wild, frizzy mess.

You don’t know whether to be afraid or baffled, and you realize this is entirely the point. Keep others guessing and unable to predict your next move. There’s fear in uncertainty.

The intensity of the moment, the frantic fluttering of your heart, the stifling heat of the room has you seconds away from begging for mercy, something you’ve never done before. Even the slouch of his shoulders—the way he almost curls over you—seems designed to make you panic. You swallow thickly and open your mouth to break the awkward, terrible silence when he interrupts:

“Why don’t you…run along, hm?” He offers you your ball cap and, tentatively, you take it. The clown shuffles back the tiniest inch and you suck in a gasping breath, your heart like some kind of trapped bird ricocheting against your ribs as you hastily whirl around to pack up your instruments. Fuck Ronny’s blood pressure. Doc can handle it. You must get out of here.

You don’t look over your shoulder as you quickly stride from the room, but lilting words reach you in the hallway and stop you dead in your tracks. A chill races up your spine.

“See you soon!”

The clown’s parting sentiment.

You’re up the stairs and out the door before Rossi can catch up. “Who the fuck was that?” you snarl, whipping around so fast your bag smacks against your sweaty back.

“Are you livin’ under a rock?” he shoots back, but any bite there might have been in his words has been shaken from him. He’s pale, you notice, obviously disturbed by what you had to do to Ronny.

“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing your arms up in the air. “Yes I am! I keep my head so far down, I’m underground.”

Rossi shakes his head and huffs a humorless laugh. “Turn on the news, then. That oughta answer your questions.”

Begrudgingly, you do as you’re told.

It doesn’t take long to put a moniker to the painted face splashed all over your television screen:

The Joker.

Maybe it’s time to pay more attention to current events.

#ledger!joker #ledger joker #the joker #the joker x reader #ledger joker x reader #ledger!joker x reader #the dark knight #joker x reader #thesightstoshowyou

206 notes · View notes

bunnylovesani · 1 year ago

Text

Daddy Issues

(This is what I imagine him looking like in this fic)

Content warnings: MDNI, reader has daddy issues, 20 year age gap, Anakin is your best friend’s dad, drinking, fingering, dirty talk, general smut with a bit of fluff

WC: 2.6k

You and Leia met in your first year of college and your friendship quickly blossomed. Despite being from the same town, you’d never bumped into each other. If you had, you’re sure you would’ve remembered him. The first time you’d met him was Christmas, 4 years ago; it was your first time coming round to the Skywalker residence and all you knew was that Leia was raised by a single dad, who was now in his 40s. The moment you laid eyes on him, you were fascinated. He had dark blonde hair which curled into golden ringlets at the ends and a mysterious quality about him you were sure made the women weak at the knees- how he’d managed to stay single for most of his life was beyond you.

Despite your fervent initial attraction to him, you tried your best to put all of it aside. Besides the obvious reasons to restrain yourself, he was also the first positive male figure you’d had in your life. He was a damn good father; always present in Leia’s life and, since you two were joined at the hip, by extension yours too. You ignored every sign, every impulse, every sizzling moment of tension that came between you two- tension you naturally assumed was one sided- he’s a decent, respectable man after all.

You had it all under control- until you received a call confirming the graduate program you’d applied for months ago had been accepted. The subsequent week was spent getting daydrunk while hesitantly packing your entire life into a van full of brown boxes- or rather, directing Leia to do it for you since you were too inebriated. It all boiled down to your final night; one last night in the suburbs you’d felt suffocated by your entire life before you moved to the big city to start your shiny new life.

So why did you feel sad? You suspected you knew the reason but spent the better half of an evening denying it and battling the growing urge to pay him a visit. Eventually, when the reality that you were about to leave him forever sunk in, you found your feet taking you out the door of their own volition. Preparing to ambush him with the help of some liquid courage you’d choked down prior to leaving, you rung the doorbell of his house for what you thought may be the last time.

“Oh, hey honey. Leia just left to spend the night at her boyfriend’s house, you just missed her. I thought you’d already said your goodbyes?”. He innocently questions as he opens the door and lets you in.

“I know, it’s you I came to say goodbye to.” You say anxiously, staring at him intensely through your lashes.

“I see, I’m honoured.” He smiles and approaches you, pulling you into a hug. “Good luck with everything sweetheart, stay safe and above all- remember to have fun! Life passes you by in an instant and one day you’ll wake up as old as I am and kick yourself for not grabbing every opportunity you had.”

“Funny you say that, Sir. That’s the exact mantra I’ve adopted recently. Fuck it, right?” You help yourself to the glass of whiskey he was holding out of his hand and take a sip.

“Can I sit with you for a little while?” You plop onto his cushioned couch before he can reply.

“Erm, yeah of course, make yourself at home.” He says welcomingly, though with a perplexed expression on his slightly wrinkled face. “Are you okay?” He wonders if there’s a reason you’re acting so strange. You don’t usually drink.

“I’m great, thank you Sir.” You bat your lashes. “Just feeling sentimental with the circumstances and all.”

“How many times have I said, call me Anakin. I know I’m old but after so many years I’d say we’re on a first name basis.” He chuckles, taking a seat beside you on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance. “I know I’m nothing much to you but I really do think of you and Leia as my girls. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.” He says endearingly, smiling at you kindly.

That’s when you’re reminded of the reason you came here tonight. You had every intention of telling him how you truly felt, how you’d had a raging crush on him from the moment you met him- and now that you might never see him again, you saw no reason why you shouldn’t act on those feelings.

But hearing him compare you to his daughter filled a hole you felt inside you ever since your father abandoned you- while simultaneously making you feel sick to your stomach.

You stared into his warm eyes, encased with crows feet and accompanied by two prominent creases on his forehead. You shouldn’t find a man of his age so attractive but you do.

“You know, I don’t think you’re old.” You state simply.

“What?” He asks somewhat confused by your meaning.

“You said one day I’ll wake up as old as you. I don’t think you’re old at all. If anything, you’re in your prime.” You look away. “You’re not nothing to me either.”

He looks visibly stunned, though he tries to mask it by refilling a glass of whiskey, the brown liquid almost spilling everywhere.

“Right back at you, kid. Well I’m sure you’ve got a lot of packing to do so I won’t keep you. You need a ride?” He shuffles in his seat.

“No. Not the kind of ride you’re thinking of anyway.” A wave of boldness overcomes you and you feel the alcohol burning through your veins as you shuffle closer to him.

“Uh, I think that whiskey’s gone straight to your head. Why don’t I get you some water?” He’s about to get up but you grab him by the hand and force him to stay seated, holding onto it longer than necessary.

“You know how I feel about you Anakin. I know you know.” You stare deep into his mature blue eyes as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down with an apprehensive gulp.

“Now that’s enough young lady. You absolutely should not be thinking about me in that way. I’m almost twice your age.” He sternly warns you and you can’t help but wince. The way he’s scolding you is triggering some deep rooted daddy issues. You knew you always had them to some extent but you never knew just how bad they were until you met Anakin.

“I dont mean to make you uncomfortable, I just couldn’t hold it back anymore. I’ll leave right now if you want me to, you’ll never see me again. Just tell me you don’t feel anything towards me and I’ll be on my way.” You’re huddled over him with your legs on the sofa, hand slowly inching its way towards his thigh.

A flash of conflicting emotions run through his eyes- he’s obviously embarrassed, perhaps shocked - though you find it hard to believe he had no clue at all- but there’s something else. He’s debating with himself, you can see the cogs whirring in his mind.

“I can’t say that.” He meets your gaze. “I care about you a lot, you know that. Which is why you need to leave. You’re not in the right state of mind.” He gets up again but you pull him down and climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I have been in love with you for 4 years, Anakin. You are my every waking thought. I know it’s wrong and you’d never be with me but I can’t control myself. If I can’t have you forever, let me have just this one night- please.” You wait for him to object to the way you’re sitting on him but to your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Alright, honey.” He grumbles softly after a little while, looking at you with a subdued expression that conveyed both concern and understanding. “Alright, if that’s what you want, I’ll give you what you want. I’m yours for the night.”

You sit there, stunned. You were fully expecting him to kick you out of the house and tell Leia everything. You were expecting anything other than him giving in. Is he just taking pity on you and thinks this will help you get over your daddy issues? He knows you have them. Or is he as sick and twisted as you are?

“Can…can I…” You lean in, pressing your fingertips against his lips.

“Leave it all to me sweetheart. Daddy will make it all better.” He wastes no time taking your hands into his own and kissing your fingertips softly, before pressing his lips against yours.

You��re too stunned to react so you allow him to kiss your motionless lips, your eyes still wide open in disbelief. You’d never been so grateful to someone for taking the lead.

“Close those pretty eyes for me baby, you’re safe now.” He kisses your eyelids softly and his gentle caresses awaken a deep urge within you.

You grab at his collared shirt, loosening his tie and unbuttoning it. “Been working more late nights at the office?” You mumble into his lips as you push the crisp white shirt off his shoulders, leaving his muscles exposed.

“That’s because I have two women in my life who bleed me dry.” He chuckles and you smile at the memory; he’s shelled out for you on more than one occasion- from plane tickets and birthday gifts to a new MacBook for college because your one broke and you couldn’t afford another since you’d been fired from your waitressing job- he even agreed that that guy deserved to get a drink thrown in his face for grabbing you. He said that if he were there, he would’ve done worse.

Before you freefall into a psychoanalytical hole, Anakin rips your skirt off - it’s as if he can hear your mind working overtime. You gasp a little as he kneads the fat of your ass cheeks roughly, guiding you until you’re grinding against him. You can feel him getting hard, and oh did it feel big. You’d stolen subtle glances at his crotch on numerous occasions, contemplating what it might look like, what colour the tip might be, what it might taste like. You couldn’t bare to be left in the dark any longer so you reached for his belt and impatiently started undoing it- but you were stopped by his large hands cupping yours.

“Not just yet princess. I wanna take my time with you.” He whispered coarsely and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine. Before you knew it, he had spun you around so that you were sitting on his lap with your back facing his front. He traced his tongue in big open kisses along your neck while his hands trailed up and down your thighs, before he hooked his fingers around your panties.

“Lets get these off shall we?” He purred and his words sent sparks straight down to your core. He lowered your underwear only down to your knees, before spreading your legs a little, his hand placed under one of your thighs to keep it up. You felt the cold air hit you and knew instantly that you were soaked.

You breathing was reduced to short little pants as his fingers reached the inner folds of your pussy, and it felt like every caress touched your soul. You started squirming about in his lap as two of his fingers slid into you.

“Goddamn… oh baby, I didnt even mean for that to happen but you’re just so wet they slipped right in.” You mewled at his lustful words as he curled his fingers inside you, rubbing your clit with the base of his thumb.

“Oh Ani…ah fuck!.” You cried. “Anakin!”

“Yes sweetheart, what is it?” Gaining speed, he grabbed your cheeks with his free hand and turned your head to force you to look at him but you were too stimulated to respond.

“Do you hear how wet you are? And here I thought you were a good girl.” He maintains eye contact and your cheeks flush at the lewd sounds coming from your core. You take a glance and see his hand is glistening with your arousal, wetness squelching as it pours down to the Rolex on his wrist.

“Aah…I, I’m sorry daddy! Mm can’t help it” You manage to squeal out, embarassed by how wet and helpless he made you.

“Don’t you dare apologise sweetheart. Daddy loves how wet this pussy gets. Is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes Sir it’s all for you- mm all yours!” You moan as you feel your climax fast approaching. “Please can I cum? Pleasee daddy!”

“Yes princess, cum for me.” He pumps his fingers in and out of you at such a tempo you have to hold onto his arms for stability.

As if someone opened a dam, your orgasm washes over you and you let out a stupified scream- you wanted to say his name but your brain is so scrambled all you can manage is a mumbled moan of incoherent syllables.

“Such a good girl baby, well done honey.” He plants kisses all over your cheek and neck as your heart rate climbs down.

As you come down from your high, the realisation of what you’re doing dawns on you. As if he could read your mind, he takes your face into his hands.

“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours? If you think you’ll regret it, tell me now. I don’t think I could handle it if we made love and you woke up regretting it.” He speaks softly, as if being too harsh might scare you away.

“No, no it’s not you.” You quickly respond. “I just feel a little cheap. I don’t ever have one night stands so I’m kinda out of my depth here… and the guilty thoughts about Leia creeping up on me don’t help either.”

“Hey, you’re not cheap.” You scoff at his attempt to reassure you. “Stop that, I mean it. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you regardless of the outcome of this. But…I mean I’m out of my depth here too. If we’re being honest, I haven’t had sex in years.” Anakin admits and your jaw drops. How could a man this damn fine not get laid for that long?

“It’s a personal choice.” He corrects before you jump to any conclusions about what might be wrong with him. “I don’t like one night stands either and if I’m not in love, I have no real interest in sex.” Your heart leaps at the insinuation- if he’s willing to sleep with you, that must mean…right?

“So let’s not have a one night stand then.” He continues and your heart drops. I guess you thought wrong.

“Let’s keep seeing each other. I ache all over at the thought of this being the last time I see you. I need you in my life. I don’t care if it’s wrong, I don’t care what people say. Leia will come round to the idea eventually, she has to.”

“I love you.” You reply a little too quickly, staring at him with so much admiration you think your heart might burst.

“I love you too, my sweet girl.”

Part 2

#anakin x reader #hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars smut #sam monroe #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x you #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen x reader #life as a house

881 notes · View notes

hamiltonaf · 1 year ago

Note

Hello ! Can I request a Lewis x reader who's a famous singer and he attend her concert please ? Him reacting to the songs she wrote for him and how it end up a bit smutty with they finf each other backstage ?

Fantasize | Lewis Hamilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: Slight smut

A/N: Hello my loves ! The song inspo for this oneshot is Fantasize by Ariana Grande. Thank you anon for requesting. Hope you babes enjoy. Requests are open .xx

From long nights in the studio a few weeks ago to now going on tour felt like a breath of fresh air. The tour was starting off at home, in London. Excited, though my nerves took over me - even though I’ve been doing this for so many years now, I should be used to it, but not when I have a special guest attending…my situationship, Lewis.

Our situationship goes back about 3 months ago, when my PR manager thought it would be a good idea for me to date Lewis. I haven’t been in the dating light for quite a hot minute and apparently I needed to get back to it so people had something to talk about, especially since everyone nowadays is a fan of F1. Surprisingly his PR manager had agreed on it and apparently we would make a good looking couple.

It started when I attended the race in Miami, no one questioned it or got ‘suspicious’ because almost every A list celebrity attended. 3 weeks later I attended the Monaco GP, yet again I was a guest for Mercedes so people started to slowly talk about it. Didn’t go to any other race for a whole month since I had song writing and recording to do in studio. People really started to talk when I went to the British GP, not a coincidence to anyone that I’m from England but because my rumoured ‘boyfriend’ is British.

I grew to love the sport and let’s say my feelings also grew for Lewis. It felt a bit forced at first since we were patched by our PR team, but the more time we spent together alone, the more we learnt about each other’s true self. From sweet and shy to daring and flirty.

Lewis’ rizz is unmatched to any man that I’ve met or been with. He can start off as such a gentleman but can so smoothly move onto flirting with me and making me feel weak at my knees. Speaking of weak, we’re back to feeling that way now since Lewis was on a break in between races and decided that he wanted to attend to support me. For some reason he just makes me feel nervous, in a good way of course, I don’t even feel nervous to perform around friends or family or even my fans for crying out loud…wait, am I in love ? I’m pretty sure this is what it feels like to be in love and here I am being in denial about my feelings.

I was backstage warming up my vocals whilst getting my hair and makeup touched up, when we all heard a knock at the door. My manager walked over to the door and stepped aside as she held it wide open without a word, I looked through the mirror to see it was Lewis. “Aww Lew ! So glad you could make it” I smiled as I watched him walk towards me. “I’m so glad to be here. Very excited to see you perform tonight. Nervous ?” He asked as he rubbed my shoulders. My PR manager then escorted everyone out from the room so we were left alone.

“Very nervous but excited for the most part” I smiled as I then stood up to face him. “Don’t be, you got this. I’ll be cheering you on from the side. Just look to your left and you’ll see me” he smiled. “You’re so cute. Thanks for that, I’ll be looking out for you.” Just then my PR manager yells through the door, “(Y/N) you need to get dressed !”

I shut my eyes for a second, “Okay give me 5” I yelled. “Can I stay to watch ?” He smirked. “No, Sir. See you after the show” I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. I then turned him around by his shoulders and guided him to the door. “Just a peak” he pleaded as he bit his bottom lip. “Stop or I might just cave in. Bye” I blushed as I held on the door handle. “I’ll try my luck later. Break a leg” he said softly, he then caught me by surprise by giving me a sweet kiss and a wink before rushing out.

I finally got dressed, had another round of touch ups and put on my ear piece before heading out back stage for my entrance. I still felt flustered and I couldn’t stop thinking about Lewis. I really need to get my feelings off my chest after the show.

Out of the thousands of people screaming and looking at me I could feel a particular pair of eyes burning into me, when I took a quick glance to my left, he was right there as he said. His phone in hand, recording me looking his way. I shook my head and looked back towards the fans.

On the last verse, the energy in the stadium was ecstatic.

Mentally, physically weak

Boys blowin’ up my phone

They just ain’t you, ooh, baby

…

Tryin’ to behave, but I’m feelin’

Some type of way

That just ain’t me

The band and I took a bow before I gave a vote of thanks to the fans for coming, and for all the love they’ve shown on the album. After rushing off stage to my dressing room, my mind was running with thoughts of Lewis. Speaking of the man himself, he was already seated in my dressing room. “Hey gorgeous. You did amazing out there. I’m so so proud of you” he rushed over to me as he pulled me in for a hug. “Yet again, thanks for coming. It really means a lot” he then broke away from our hug with a serious look. “I was supposed to tell you this before you left and I can’t hold it in any longer”

“Okay well same and it’s eating me up inside to hold it back” I said as I took a deep breath. “I love you” we said simultaneously. “Oh my gosh” I lowly said. “Are you joking ?” He asked with the biggest smile on his face. “Lew this isn’t something to joke about” I said seriously. “Then please be mine, officially” he said as he then wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against him. “I thought you’d never ask” I grinned as I leaned in and closed the gap between us.

“As sexy as this dress looks on you, it needs to come off” he said in between kisses. The kiss got heated by the second as his hands trailed from squeezing my bum to the straps of my dress, pulling them off my shoulders. Just then there was a knock at the door. Shit. “Babe your car is here !” my PR manager shouted. “Damn it” I said frustrated and heated. “Well I guess we’ll have to continue this in the car” he said as he helped me adjust the straps of my dress - he grabbed a hold of my hand and pulled me along with him, eagerly waiting to continue this in the car.

#f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 fluff #lh #lh44 #ricciardoaf oneshots

493 notes · View notes

alphajocklover · 6 months ago

Note

Hey bro, I have a bit of a strange situation going on. You see, I’m a big nerd, like playing dnd, good at math, into card games nerds. And I never really questioned it. But recently, I’ve found myself wanting to be more active, I’ve been wanting to become something I am not, a big strong guy. And it all stared when I rediscovered the Xmen through the show and upcoming movie. Could you, I mean, would you mind helping me become like my ideal man, Wolverine?

I want to be the small hunky and hairy beats he is, oozing with libido and sex appeal.

It's a little strange, but I’ve been getting a lot of superhero requests recently! Not that I’m complaining, I love writing about superheros. They’re interesting characters who have long histories and decades of lore to use. Plus they’re usually hot as fuck. And Wolverine is one of the hottest. Muscular, with a thick layer of hair, and gruff as can be. He’s traditionally a loner, but he has a certain rough charm to him. There’s a reason he’s been a part of almost every superhero team at one time or another. People can’t get enough of the guy. It could be his inventive power set, his ability to change with the times and still remain interesting and relevant. Or it could be that he’s an incredibly manly hunk whose animalistic nature makes people weak in the knees. He’s everything you ever wanted to be, or at least everything you’ve wanted to be since you saw those new X-Men cartoons. When you watched them, something awakened in you. And now… you’re becoming just like him.

You’re not becoming him, if that’s what you’re thinking. Whatever is happening to you can’t give you claws like Wolverine or coat your skeleton in adamantium. I mean, in our world adamantium doesn’t really exist, and even though some transformation methods could turn you into a perfect replica of wolverine or add onto the periodic table, this one won’t do that. It’s more fun to be a stud without the responsibility of being a superhero anyways, especially since one of his main powers is to survive incredibly painful situations. Now you get all the pleasure, none of the pain, and an absolutely studly body.

One common fun fact that people like to bring up about Wolverine is the fact that he’s… while he’s short. Really short. Since Hugh Jackman is over 6 feet tall, people tend to forget that in the comics Wolverine is a complete shortstack, standing at 5’3”. So, I’m afraid to say that you’re going to shrink quite a bit. Luckily, being shorter just makes your new muscles look even bigger and better. Your biceps are enormous, your pecs are amazing, and your abs are almost inhuman. That, plus a heavy layer of manly, thick hair, and you look like you walked right off the pages of a comic book. Or out of a very suggestive movie. Of course you don’t want to just look like Wolverine. You want to be like Wolverine. Which means a few… adjustments to your personality.

That might seem daunting or scary at first, the idea that your personality is going to change. But you won’t feel that way very long. Nothing is going to faze you anymore. Just like Wolverine You’re tough as nails and you act like it. Literally nothing throws you. You’re a certified badass. Yes, you have a sensitive side like the real Wolverine, but most people aren’t gonna see that. Most people, from your manly new friends to the girls you hook up with, are going to see the manly man, the strong warrior, the beast.

There are some small differences between you and Wolverine of course. The main one being that the guy in the comics doesn’t hook up with people very often. Too busy saving the world. And when he does get a love interest, the feelings between them are pretty serious. You don’t have the same patterns. You’re the type of guy who has a new girl every night and is constantly looking for more pussy. You can’t help it, with a massive cock and an even bigger libido. You’re the best at what you do, and what you do is fuck.

**Hey guys! Hope I did Wolverine justice. He’s a super hot character and I had a lot of fun writing a tf inspired by him. Hope you enjoyed!**

#muscle growth tf #biker tf #muscle tf #superhero tf

67 notes · View notes

bb-sg · 2 years ago

Text

Beg Pt.4

Part 4 is here!

I recommend reading the first parts of the story if you haven't already.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6

Relationship(s): Geto x fem!Reader, Gojo x fem!Reader

CW: fingering, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, punishment, impact play.

You waited until the notifications stopped and you heard the last ping. You smirked at the phone, laughing at the irony of everyone trying to reach him while you were seeking his attention too.

On the lock screen, illuminating from the phone, was a message from Geto Suguru reading, “Hi Y/N.”

Is he using his friend’s phone to text me?

You bit your lip, your cheeks burned involuntarily. The message was a couple days old, but you still hesitated before writing out your reply. You couldn’t hide the fact that you were nervous.

You wrote and rewrote your message several times before sending a simple, “Hello?”, back.

You continued to gather water and mindlessly fish while you waited for a response.

-Geto Suguru: Gojo told me about you, and how you helped him. I figured I should at least thank you. Saved us the hassle of doing it ourselves. I’m Geto. His friend.

He told someone about me?

You were nervous. You stayed away from people for a reason.

You hesitated in responding. You thought about ignoring the message and waiting to see if Gojo would try to reach out to you himself. Although, this seemed like the best option if you wanted to see him again.

I really do want to see him again though.

-You: Oh, it was no problem. Happy to help him out. Is he okay?

You hoped that the message didn’t come across as desperate. Even if you were.

-Geto: Yeah, the knucklehead is back to normal. Only thanks to you, love. I’m surprised he hasn’t called you yet, you were all he talked about for a week.

This response made you giddy, and weak in the knees. Just like when you had a crush on the playground. You had no reason to believe this man, he was a stranger to you after all, but God did you hope he was telling the truth.

-You: I’m sure he’s busy, just happy he’s okay.

You tried to leave your response vague and devoid of the eagerness you genuinely felt. Not wanting to come off too strong.

-Geto: I’ll have to owe you a favor. Gojo said you live out in a forest. Is that right?

You bit your lip, feeling your nerves bubbling to the surface. The conversation between the two of you began to flow organically. You felt a swell of emotions building up when you realized an hour had flown by and you were still texting him. The conversation was friendly and welcoming. He was easy to get along with, and seemed calm and collected, especially compared to Gojo’s rowdier personality.

You couldn’t believe that he was real. You started to question whether or not Gojo was even real or if you imagined this whole thing. You wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you were awake.

One thing didn’t make sense to you though: Why did he start talking to you anyway?

I don’t want to ask and have this whole thing become ruined.

-You: Hey, why did you start talking to me anyway?

There was a pregnant pause after you sent the message. You waited impatiently as you stared at the screen, muscles clenched with anxiety, but the phone remained silent.

Why wouldn’t he respond to that message?

The sun was starting to set but you didn’t want to leave until you heard from him. You tried to brush it off as you slowly packed up your things. You were dragging your feet, hoping that you heard the phone go off before dusk set in.

As you started your hike back to your home, you racked your brain trying to piece together what any of your conversation with Geto Suguru really meant. You felt drawn to him for some reason, you wanted to trust him and believe that he was being genuine in his interest in talking to you.

You heard rustling coming from the depths of the forest. You peered into the darkness trying to see what it was. You picked up the pace, eager to get out of this area and back to your home.

It feels like someone is watching me…

Your eyes kept scanning the forest, waiting for the shadows to move and for someone to jump out at you. You liked living in desolation since you rarely ran into anyone, but you couldn’t deny that this place had an ominous aura about it. Especially in this moment.

You noticed that something shifted among the trees. You froze in place, your hand gripped your face mask tightly, getting ready to defend yourself.

Your heart pounded in your chest, body started to tremble as your fight or flight instincts kicked in. You opened your mouth ready to command whatever it was to leave you alone when you felt a hand clamp over your mouth and pull you in.

What the fuck. Who is this? What do I do?

You tried to fight back against the person, swinging your elbow back to try knock them back. They grabbed your arm quickly and anchored it to your side.

“Whoa there kitten, put the claws away, it’s just me!”

You recognized the playful and animated voice immediately. Gojo.

“I thought it might be fun to try and scare ya a little but you’re a little jumpy today huh?”

He leaned in close to whisper in your ear, his hand still clamped tightly over your lips. You weren't any more relaxed knowing it was him lurking in the shadows. Your heart was still racing, your body was still tense and rigid.

His presence was overwhelming. You felt intimidated by his energy, his height and how close he was to you.

“Oi, I’m going to let you go but you gotta promise not to do anything stupid.” You could hear the smile in his voice as his hand dropped down and he stepped back and away from you.

“I’ve been waiting for you to check that phone for like a month. You were starting to hurt my pride!”

You turned around and took him in. He was dressed casually in a long sleeve white sweater and black jeans, topping it off with his black shades he was so fond of. He was feigning a hurt expression with his hand covering his forehead and his other hand clenching at his heart.

“I was starting to think you were only using me for my body.” He smirked and looked at you over his glasses. His brilliant eyes were sparkling, much more of life than the last time you saw him.

In an instant you remembered how irritating he can be though.

What an ass.

You playfully swung to smack him on the arm, but he swiftly dodged it, laughing at your attempt.

“You couldn’t hit me if you tried princess!” He cackled.

Your face soured as he belittled you. You looked him up and down and held your hands on your hips, challenging him.

I know I can’t win but I’ll be damned if he’s going to talk to me that way.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and cocked his head to the side.

“Well, c’mon then. Let’s see it.”

You instantly threw a punch towards him, but missed as he leaned just out of range. He laughed as he straightened up.

“What was that? That was a terrible punch!” He laughed throwing his head back.

This asshole! He’s only been here for two minutes, and he pissed me off.

He finally stopped laughing and held his hands up, when he saw how angry you were.

“Oi! Don’t get all mad now. How about I show you how to throw a punch eh?” He slowly approached you and like he would a rapid dog. You kept your fist clenched to your side as he walked around you, stopping right behind you.

His hands landed on your shoulders firmly, rubbing them up and down to get you to relax. Your skin prickled with goosebumps when you felt the warmth emitting from his hands. Gojo pulled you back against his chest while resting his chin on your shoulder. “Relax,” he whined in your ear.

You gasped, flustered by how close he was again. He shook your arms a little until you gave in and loosened up enough for him to manipulate your limbs. He lifted and guided your arms and hands into a fighting position with your hands up guarding your face.

“There. keep your hands up so you can protect yourself. You want to be able to react quickly if necessary. When you throw a punch, you need the force to come from your hips.” He instructed you in a serious tone.

His hands left your arms and drifted down to your pelvis, gripping you tightly. He tapped your thigh and used one of his feet to gently push your dominant leg back, staggering your feet. You stumbled a little bit he stabilized you. You felt the rumble of his chuckle against your back.

“Now, rotate your hips and really throw your fist like you’re trying to punch through your target.” He whispered in your ear, his lips ghosting over your skin. He walked you through the motion with his hands, his body flush against yours, correcting your form gently.

“Just like that kitten.” His breath tickled your neck as he repeated the same technique a few more times. “Good. You’re doing so well.”

He’s got to be doing this on purpose.

Your skin burned as your mind raced with indecent fantasies of him whispering the same phrases to you under different circumstances.

“Now that’s how you hit someone. Not that you’ll ever be in danger with me around.” He slowly retracted himself from you and shoved his hands back into his pockets. The same smug smile as earlier returning.

“Anyway, enough about you being defenseless”, he stuck his tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes at how childish he was. “I’ve been checking the find my phone app constantly, waiting for you to get service. Took ya long enough.”

He started walking towards your house, only looking back when he noticed you weren’t following him.

“You coming? I’m starving, I hope you stocked up on food this time.”

Why did I miss him...

You sighed and ran to catch up to his long legs. You two walked in silence, finding a comfortable pace as you navigated your way through the forest. You snuck nervous glances over to scan his features, waiting for any clues that would help you understand why he was here.

His face remained calm and peaceful, he seemed to be enjoying the walk. You almost didn’t want to disturb him. The way he looked lost in a daydream made you wish the walk was longer.

Curiosity got the best of you though. You took out the phone and typed out a message before tapping him on the shoulder to catch his attention as you held the phone out.

He looked back at you before reading your message.

-Why are you here?

He laughed, “What, I can’t stop in to say hi?”

He playfully shoved you with his shoulder and you couldn’t help my smile, cheeks burning up.

“I just wanted to see you. Plus, I’ve been training nonstop since I saw you last. I could use a break and your place seems like a good place to rest up and relax.” He pushed his glasses down the bridge of his nose to wink at you. “Among other things.”

You smacked his arm, and he yelped in mock surprise. You frantically typed out a reply.

-I’m not running a hotel or vacation home Gojo!

He threw his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t pay to stay out here, and you really don’t have any good amenities. You’re not really going to turn me away though, are you?” His voice was smooth like velvet, and rich like honey.

You shrugged your shoulders halfheartedly.

“That’s the spirit!” He hollered in excitement before picking up the pace, his long legs leading the way.

Before long you reached your house and began unloading everything. Gojo immediately started rifling through your kitchen looking for sweets.

You watched him curiously. A small smile forming on your face. You hated to admit it, but you did stop at the store and grabbed a few things he might like after his last visit. He happily tore into some mochi he had found.

How does he just worm himself into my house so easily?

You glanced at the phone and remembered that you were waiting for Geto’s reply. You opened the messages and saw he had replied.

-Geto: You seemed interesting from what Gojo had said about you. Someone worth getting to know. Is this okay?

You bit your lip before putting the phone to sleep. You couldn’t help but feel excited about his response. You quickly changed your facial expression before Gojo could see. You wondered if Gojo knew that his best friend had been texting you all day. For some reason, it felt wrong.

You didn’t see how Gojo’s jaw clenched in annoyance when he did catch how your face lit up when you looked at your phone. You didn’t know that he could see everything.

You began to write a message to tell Gojo about your conversation with Geto when he interrupted you by grabbing your hand and pulling you to sit on the couch with him. He seemed giddy as he smirked at you.

“Guess what! I’ve been working on a cursed technique that may be able to protect me from your cursed speech! You’d be able to talk to me without having to worry about cursing me!”

You gawked at him, genuinely shocked and confused by his news. You didn’t believe him at first, but the look on his face told you he was being honest. He was excited but there was a hint of determination and seriousness underneath his happy demeanor. He almost seemed tense beneath it all.

I’ve never been able to openly talk to anyone. You had a thousand questions but couldn’t force yourself to ask any of them, so he continued explaining.

“I’ve been working on creating an infinite space around me, like a shield, that’ll make it impossible for anything to touch me. Including your cursed energy.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to make sense of his explanation and understand his technique.

He took your hand in his and squeezed it softly, bringing your focus back to him. “Maybe we should try it out and see if it works.”

He took off his glasses and folded them into his pocket. He met your gaze before nodding his head at you, encouraging you to talk to him.

You pulled your mask down and around your neck. His eye immediately went to stare at your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again. He loved being able to see your entire face. He adored how flustered you looked, biting at your beautiful lips, barely making eye contact with him. It made him want to ruin you.

He encouraged you more, “Go ahead. I want to hear your beautiful voice angel.”

You cleared your throat, “S-sorry, I’m nervous. I don’t want to hurt you.” Your voice shook as you concentrated on choosing your words carefully. Suddenly, your throat felt dry and tight.

He smiled wide and squeezed your hand tighter, pulling your hand to his chest and leaning into you. His face inches away from yours.

“Your voice is sweet, like sugar.”

You giggled, unable to wipe the smile from your face.

“Thank you, Gojo. Is it hard to keep up your technique?”

His smile faltered a bit, you almost didn't catch it the change before he plastered on a cheesy smile again. “I can hold it for a bit without much trouble. I’m working on finding out how to regenerate my cursed energy indefinitely, but I haven't quite perfected it yet. I can keep it up for about an hour constantly before I get tired. C’mon, try to curse me, give me your best shot.”

Is he doing this for me?

You studied his body language, looking for any signs that he was exhausting himself. Your gaze landed on his lips which were so close to yours. You could feel his breath fanning over your face. You felt a familiar ache in your body, your skin burning up.

“Kiss me. I mean if you want-” You began before he cut you off and his lips met yours. Your lips molded together as his hand snaked into your hair.

He groaned into the kiss as he pulled you into his lap and held onto your hip. He guided you into place and held you down against him. His fingers snuck under your clothes to grip at your bare skin, his touch burned into your skin. You dug your fingers into his chest as you gently bit his bottom lip, begging for more.

Wait!

You broke away from the kiss in a panic. You pulled away quickly and covered your mouth with both hands.

Did I just force him to do that?

You felt the vibrations of his laugh against your body as he pulled your hands away from your face and into his own.

“Don’t worry, it was my choice to do that. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you.” He took your face in his hands to force you to look at him. He was beautiful. The contrast between his vibrant blue eyes and smooth white skin made you weak.

“It looks like my technique works though.” He moved your head to the side with his hand and laid soft kisses on your neck. “Now... Tell me all about yourself.”

His kisses ignited the fire inside you, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips everywhere on your body. You tried to form words, but they were stuck in your throat.

“C’mon kitten, focus. Don't let me distract you.” you felt a sharp sting on your ass when his hand landed on you. You gasped and bucked your hips forward against him trying to pull away from his hand. He groaned when you inadvertently bucked against his hips. “You know I’ve gone through a lot of trouble to hear your voice. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say.” You quipped anxiously, more focused on how his teeth grazed the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Let’s play a game, 20 questions. Each time you answer one of my questions, I’ll reward you but if you don’t answer my question, then I’ll have to punish you.” He nipped at your ear mischievously as he ground his hips up into yours.

You chuckled to hide your nervousness, agreeing to his game with a simple nod.

“Alright kitten. Tell me, “He paused thoughtfully. “Where are you from?”

You gripped his shoulders tightly, relishing the way his fingers grazed up the skin on your back, tracing the curve of your spine.

“Kyoto. I’m from Kyoto,” you whispered.

“Good girl.” He purred into your neck as he hooked one of his fingers into the neck of your shirt and pulled it down your shoulder. He sucked small bruises into your skin as his lips followed the ridge of your collarbone. You moaned softly at the sensation.

He hummed appreciatively at your response. “Has anyone taught you how to use your cursed energy?”

He turned more serious, the graveness in his voice made you want to shrink away from him. You felt your cursed energy flare up due to your anxiety. It could taste it building in your throat. You forced it down to the pit of your stomach.

“Yes. when I was young.”

He hummed again, biting your skin. One of his hands snuck its way into your bra and gently caressed your breast. You gasp at the contact as he squeezed and tweaked your sensitive nipple. The fabric of your shirt felt rough compared to his soft touches. Gojo continued to nip and kiss at your neck and shoulder.

“Who taught you angel?” He inquired.

You shook your head no, refusing to respond. There were some things you wanted to keep private. This was a part of your story you didn’t plan on telling anyone. You tried to pull back from him, but he held you in place.

He tutted in your ear before stilling all his movements. “No? You’re going to give me the silent treatment on that one?”

He pulled back away from you to stare at your face. “Punishment it is.” His eyes darkened and he pinched your nipple hard enough to make you yelp.

He squeezed your ass before pushing you off him.

“Take your pants off, now.” He commanded in a low voice.

You wanted to refuse, not give into his game, but you craved him more than you wanted to admit. You felt starved for touch while you raked over his form. He sat with his legs spread wide, his elbows perched on his knees while he leaned on them. His eyes followed your every move as you gave in to his authority and began sliding your pants and shoes off.

“Now, turn around and bend over in front of me. Keep your hands on your knees no matter what.” You heard his command. “Count each one.”

You didn’t have to see him to know what his plan was. You heard the impact before you felt the sharp sting on your backside. Your skin igniting aflame where his hit had landed.

“O-one.” You meekly let out, bracing yourself for the next one.

“Hm I couldn’t hear you. Louder this time.” The next slap was harder than the first.

You squealed, “Two!”

You bit back a sound that was a cross between a screen and moan. Tears built up in your eyes, but you couldn’t deny that you felt the wetness building in your core. He rubbed and kneaded the cheek he had just slapped. He groaned when his fingers grazed your panty clad warmth, noticing the damp spot growing.

He spread your cheeks apart to admire you. You heard him groan before you felt his breath against your hot skin. he gently the area he had already slapped before squeezing your hips, pushing you away from him.

“You drive me fucking crazy. I’m almost not able to control myself.” His voice was rough, almost guttural. You looked back at him and saw the relaxed and excited Gojo was gone. His pupils were blown wide with lust and glued to your core. “Eyes forward.” He barked as his eyes flickered to yours. You turned your head back and waited in anticipation.

The last strike caused you to moan in agony and euphoria. He chuckled and rubbing his hands over your ass to soothe you, occasionally brushing against your center.

“You’re so wet, I could take you so easily kitten.” Gojo teased you before he coaxed you to sit down next to him. You winced at the sharp pain that jolted through your body when your skin made contact with the couch.

“You know I don’t like to punish you, right angel?” He cooed while stroking your cheek. His eyes feigned concern and his smile was anything but sincere.

“That’s a lie.” You snapped back.

“Yeah. You are right, guess you got me there.” He laughed and draped his arm on the back of the couch, caging you in. “Now. Let’s pick up where we left off hmm?”

His fingers brushed over your thighs teasingly. “Let’s try some more easy ones…”, he tapped his finger on his chin while he pondered.

“Ah! What’s your favorite flower?” He leaned his head against his arm while he watched you consider his question. His eyes sparkled mischievously while he oozed charm.

You laughed at his sudden change in attitude and answered his question.

He smiled and gripped your thigh tightly sliding them apart. “Now I get to reward you and I’ll know what to bring you next time I stop by.”

Next time? You bit your lip at how nervous that made you.

He continued to ask simple, basic questions about you. He asked what your favorite food was, what sports you liked and what kind of music you liked. Each time you answered his fingers moved another inch up your leg until his fingers were tracing the outline of your panties.

“Take your clothes off angel. I want to see you.” He cooed while pulling the band of your panties down while you lifted yourself up enough for him to slide them off. You pulled your shirt and bra off and threw them on the floor. Your heart rate quickened as you felt your need for him growing.

His fingers traced up and down your slit lightly, just grazing you, teasing you.

“You’re so desperate, already soaking wet for me. I can even hear it.” He listened while he ran his fingers between your puffy lips, hearing the sound of his fingers gliding through your slick.

“Stop teasing me Gojo.” You panted out, annoyed with his game. He felt some of your cursed energy seeping into the room, he didn’t think you were even aware that you were trying to curse him.

“If you don’t drop the attitude, you won’t get anything.” His face turned to stone as he spread your legs further apart.

“Tell me angel, do you get lonely up here?” He asked while he regarded your naked body with fondness and desire.

You shook your head, surprised at his boldness before you answered him. “Yeah, I guess. Sometimes.”

His finger dipped into your entrance slowly, he groaned quietly as he slid in easily. He began pumping his finger in and out of you, his eyes were glued to the sight of his finger shimmering with your wetness.

“Hmm... did you miss me?” His aura had shifted, feeling a sudden coldness wash over you.

“You really are full of yourself.” You retorted.

He gripped your chin in his hands before squeezing them together.

“Answer me.” He released you, his eyes bored into you. You felt him looking through you, you felt even more naked under his gaze.

“Y-yeah. I did.”

He stroked your cheek again as his thumb brushed against your clit. Your back arched and muscles clenched around him. You lost yourself in the feeling, but you wanted him to give you more.

“Have you been talking to anyone, besides me of course?”

You couldn’t think straight while he curled his finger deep inside of you, brushing against your walls in a way that made your toes curl. You moaned before clenching your hands into fists, you shook your head.

“N-not really.” You choked out.

He frowned and slid another finger inside you. You gasped at how good the stretch felt with his long fingers inside you. He brushed his thumb against your clit again, eliciting an uncontrollable moan to out of you.

“Were you planning on telling me that my friend was texting you today? It’s not nice to keep secrets from friends angel.” His voice dropped several octaves while his movements slowed to a halt.

You froze, stunned that you forgot to tell him but even more shocked by the fact that he knew the whole time. Slowly you shook your head.

You sat up and tried to explain,” Gojo I wa- “.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet as he towered over you.

“On your knees.” He commanded. “Maybe you can earn the right to call me Satoru.”

************************************************************************

Not my favorite chapter but I'm so excited about where it's going!

Angst to come!

Thank you for reading, likes and reblogging is appreciated, It helps spread my work! Much love.

Please do not repost. I do not own any jjk characters or artwork.

@purpleguk @shuxjodie @kama-star @creolequeen11210 @herosinos @fonkymonkeyfriday @coffee-addict-32

557 notes · View notes

ch0wen · 2 years ago

Note

Well, since you asked... I'd like to know how are you?? Also... some fluffy sexy time Tangerine x reader after reader had a partcularly bad day? Only if you want!

Hiya! Sorry for the delay but I am doing so so well! I truly appreciate everyone's feedback and interactions with my fics. It just feels so nice logging in every day and seeing that people simply are reading my stories. I also am so happy you reached out with this request. I hope I created something you like 🤗

Tangerine x Reader warnings: 18+ (minors dni) & oral m receiving

“T?”

Your arms are pulling off your coat before the front door could swing fully closed. A pause to check out your features in the hallway mirror, while you hung your snow-spattered coat onto the hook. Your frowning lips form into a pout.

Dark under eyes contrast with your pale skin. The texture of your hands feels dry from the frigid weather, and your bones are achy from overexertion. Also, your hair could do for a brushing. You look exhausted. It doesn’t help that for the past two days you’ve been called in to work on your arranged time off. But how could you say no? Your boss needed the extra help. It also means more money coming in. And you’re a people pleaser. Those are all valid reasons as to why you’ve come home looking like absolute shit today.

“I’m in the den!”

With his name just on the tip of your tongue; Tangerine is calling back from deeper within the apartment. You run your fingers through your hair to subdue some flyaways before following the sound of his voice.

Tangerine glances over the book he’s holding to greet you with a warm smile. It feels as if your body sags heavier with a wave of relief washing through you. He brings you so much comfort without saying a word. Being in his presence is enough to relax a racing mind or post-work funk.

He’s sat in his softest pair of black sweatpants and a simple white T-shirt. Tangerine is known to be a classy man with a great fashion sense. Hell, he dresses up in three-piece pinstripe suits just for his hits with Lemon. Yet you would argue he always has looked his best in his pajamas, or naked. Because it means he’s home with you. With no looming threats, except for the faux argument over who has to wash the dishes after dinner. These are the moments of silence he gets to enjoy when the second he walks out of the building for work the tensions rise. You love that for him. You’re always the happiest knowing he gets times like these for himself, or when he wants to share them with you.

He leans in to close the space between you both to place a couple pecks to your lips. After, you throw yourself onto the couch cushions next to him. Your body squirms to lay on your side with your cheek propped on his lap.

“Tough day then, hm?”

Your groan into his sweatpants is enough of a confirmation for his question. His body rumbles with a chuckle at your antics and you feel a hand squeeze your shoulder.

“Tell me about it, baby. Maybe venting will help?”

“God, no. They’re all insufferable. I don’t want to spoil my mood even more.”

His hand trails up your neck and into your hair. He’s carding his fingers through as he probably goes back to reading his novel. You close your eyes and hum softly in appreciation of this soothing method. His hand smooths over your head. Running his fingers through your hair and squeezing a small fistful to try to be comforting. Which in turn, makes you instinctively whine a bit. He clearly gets entertained by that and repeats the pattern.

“Instead of me talking about my coworkers. I feel like I have a better idea with what I can do to occupy my mouth.”

You move your head slightly to get out of the path of your creeping hand; Gliding past his knee, over this thigh, only to rest to cup his bulge. You mimic his actions by giving him a soft squeeze. The sound of Tangerine abruptly closing his book almost muffled his weak moan. A smile spread across your face while propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“Shouldn’t I be the one helping you relax?”

“This will," you reassure him.

It’s too late for all that back and forth now when his cock is betraying him by standing tall in his sweats. You could almost nestle your face into the tight fabric around his crotch, but you want to make him feel good not torture him with slow foreplay.

You push down his pants and boxers; bunching them up around his thighs. Moving them away from the target just enough for it to have the ability to spring free. You lick your lips before moving ever so slightly to repeat the action on his raging red tip. Little licks - once, twice, three times before you bob your head down teasingly. Moving back up to focus your ministrations on his head again.

Tangerine lulls his head back to the feeling of the sticky heat from your mouth tightly suckling on his swollen tip. Then, without warning, you're taking the entirety of him into your wet mouth. He lets out a grunting shout of pleasure.

It's hot, and he's perfectly happy to let you know how much he appreciates this with his hearty groans. His hand which was resting in your hair tightens into a fist. Not as gentle as before but not demanding either. Right now, he was using his grip to urge you down without pushing you too far past your limits. You found his touch soothing; grounding even. And although the act you're performing is sinful, there is a hint of tranquility in this whole situation.

Your act is bringing him comfort. Warmth spreads in your belly as you're reminded you're currently sharing some of those fleeting, precious moments with him. It's a bit cheesy to be thinking all this sappy shit with his cock in your mouth but it's a physical confirmation he's safe out of harm's way at home with you.

#ah ah ah I’m gonna stop there. I’m edging you guys #asks #request #tangerine smut #tangerine fic #tangerine and reader #tangerine x reader #gender neutral fic #aaron taylor johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train 2022 #bullet train

683 notes · View notes

hailey-murdock · 1 year ago

Text

Lose you

Paring: Matt Murdock x Fem!reader

Warnings:(for this entire series) Angst, death, illness, nightmare, established relationship, drinking, depression, use of pet names, fluff, minor but implied smut, mentions of college Matt and reader(let me know if I missed something out)

Summary: Matt "the man without fear" may not after all be that. He fears he'll lose the person he most loves

WC: 2.1K

Other characters: Foggy Nelson, Frank Castle

A/N: Hello sweeties, I've decided to make a Matt Murdock series. There will be 4 chapters for this series. Grab tissues cause this shit is sad. (Reblogs, comment and likes are appreciated).

You were enjoying a quiet evening with Matt in your apartment. You had wrapped your arms around Matt feeling weak and tired and out of nowhere I started feeling sick.

"M-Matt….. I-".

Matt put his hand on your shoulder.

"What's wrong? " Matt got worried and he kept holding you close.

"Hey, I'll do anything for you, you know that, right? Just tell me what you need. You are the most important thing. Nothing else matters."

He got scared the moment he heard your heart beating slow. He grabbed his phone and called an ambulance immediately.

You tried to nod but you felt so weak and your eyes began to close and your heartbeat got slower by the second. Matt was really scared. He didn’t want to lose you. He picked you up in his arms and tried to keep you awake.

"Hey, it’s OK. Stay with me….Hey, look at me. Please don’t leave. Please…" He kept his arms wrapped around you and he shook you a little. "Please, sweetheart. Please."

Matt was crying and tears were in his soft brown eyes. He had never felt so worried. He didn’t wanna lose you. You were the love of my life.

"M-Matt h-hospital". You whispered softly to him. "Yes. I'll take you to a hospital." He got up holding you in my arms. He didn't let you go. Matt carried you to the closest hospital and he made sure to get her a bed right away. He tilted his head in the direction of where a doctor was and he ran to him. "My girlfriend is unconscious. I want you to make sure she's ok and will be ok."

The doctor came over right away and started examining you. He seemed worried, too. Matt waited outside. He was shaking from worrying about you. You had already gone through so much in life. Matt would never forgive himself if anything happened to you. He couldn’t live without you, the woman who he deeply loved, the one person who gave him purpose, a reason to want to keep fighting, to breathe.

Matt held his head with one hand. He just wanted to make sure you were safe and that you were ok. He tried to calm himself down but he just couldn’t. He was just so scared. The doctor came out to see Matt and he sighed as he walked towards him."Are you family?"

"I’m her boy-....I'm her husband." Matt was getting desperate of the silence of the doctor, the way sweat formed on his forehead and his breathing was uneven.

"What is it? What happened? She was talking to me normally and then she became unconscious. How is she? Is she in trouble? Is she going to be ok?" Matt needed answers to all of his questions, he felt his world slowly falling apart.

"She's still alive, she's sleeping at the moment but I do have news."

"What is it?" Matt's heart was beating really fast as he got ready for the worst. "Just tell me. I can handle anything. Just tell me that she’ll be ok."

"We ran some exams and we noticed something…we found a tumor in her brain…. that caused her to become unconscious….I'm sorry son".

Cancer? Matt started shaking. "Please...no...."

Matt wanted to cry. He felt so worried and his throat felt dry. "How...how bad is it? What can you do? I'll do anything for her. Please." Matt couldn't contain his tears, he felt his knees weak. Somehow he was still standing but the news couldn't get inside his mind.

"That's the thing she's at the first stage, luckily we detected it early and not way too far later. She's gonna have to need treatment, there's no possibility that she'll be cured but we'll do everything we can to help her."

"T-thank you. Thank you." Matt breathed a sigh of relief. It was still scary and it was going to be a rough fight, but at least she wasn't going to die…or at least that's what he hoped for. "Can I see her? Is she ok enough to talk?" Matt needed to be with you, he needed your help to ground him back. But over all, Matt just needed you.

"She's asleep but if you would like to be there with her you can."

Matt nodded at the doctor. He took a deep breath. "Yes, I would like that. I want to be by her side. She needs me and I'm not letting her be alone in this fight."

The doctor understood his pain and nodded. "Well follow me then." As the small walk to your room made Matt think of the outcomes of this new news. Once Matt gets there he feels your cold body on the bed sleeping. He walked into the room slowly. He got closer to the bed and he tilted his head towards you. You were asleep. Matt sat down next to you and he took your hand and he held it. He wanted, no he needed to hear your sweet angelic voice, so he called out your name gently.

Matt waited for you to wake up. He felt worried and his heart was beating fast. He hoped that you could hear him. You slowly started to wake up and you turned your head and you saw Matt and smiled softly. "H-hi Matty." When he realized you were waking up, he smiled.

"Hey, sweetheart." He squeezed your hand gently. "It's me. I'm here with you. I'm here and we'll get through this together. You'll never be alone. And I've got you. I'll be here for you. I'm not moving from here until you get better and we'll spend the rest of our lives together." Matt smiled as he continued to hold your hand and he kept squeezing it. "How do you feel?"

"I'm tired but what are you talking about? What do you mean by "We'll get through this together Matty?"

"Didn't the doctor tell you? They found cancer. They said it was cancer." His voice started to get slightly shaky. He felt so bad but I wanted to be honest at the same time.

"But...they said it was early….You'll still live a full life. They said there were a lot of things they could do. You'll be ok". Matt tried to smile for you but he felt sick to his stomach as the words left his mouth.

"Cancer? That's impossible. There's no way that could happen to me".

Matt held your hand and held you a little closer. "I know. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I feel so useless, I wish there was something I could do to help you". Matt wanted to keep holding you because it felt safe and comforting.

"But...I will be with you through all of it. I'm not leaving your side. And you'll never be alone. I'm with you and you're the strongest person I've ever met in my life. You are the most important person in this world to me. I love you. And that won't ever change".

You stayed in Matt's arms not returning the hug or anything as you still didn't get through my head anything of what he said. Matt stayed quiet and he just held you. He was worried and didn't know what to say. He sat there with his hand around you. All he wanted was to hug you and hold you close to him. He couldn't speak. And he didn't want to leave you or leave your side while you were going through this. Matt wanted you to know that you weren't alone. He loved you and he would do anything for you.

"When can I go back home?" You said in a very quiet voice.

"They said they'd want you to stay here for about a week, but then, they'll want you to stay at home and rest. You will still have to go back here every day for exams and checkups. We can go home after a week or so. They'll let us know all the details……Do you want to be held? I know this is a lot but...I can't ever leave you. Not when you're here. I'm here always".

You nod softly as you answer "y-yeah....I just want to go home Matty". Matt felt his heart breaking into small pieces. How could you, an innocent and sweet person who has done no wrong in your entire life be punished with such illness. "I know, baby. It's a lot. And it's not fair". He was starting to tear up but he held himself back. "But we'll get through this. I'll be there every step of the way. You're strong, sweetheart. You're stronger than anyone should have to be, but I know you can do this. We're together and we'll go through this together".

"W-what if I-". You felt your throat dry up and unable to form any sentences as you thought of the possibilities of what could happen in the future.

Matt of course understood what you meant but he didn't want to think about it. How could he live in a world without the person who he loved deeply. "What if what, sweetheart"?

He couldn’t help but feel scared. Matt felt the tears building up again. He didn't want to think that anything would happen to you. He loves you so much. Not being with you ever again? Matt couldn't think about it. He felt terrified, but he didn't want to give up.

"Nothing is going to happen to you. We're together and you're strong."

You took off Matt's red glasses and looked into his eyes. "But what if I do die"? The last word comes out as a whisper that if someone was there they wouldn't have heard you but Matt did.

His heart was already bleeding because of what had just happened. But now, he completely broke down when he heard you ask that. Matt was crying and shaking. He couldn't speak. He felt broken and his heart was completely shattered. He loved you so much and he wasn’t ready for that to happen or ever to happen. He was scared now more than ever. Matt was known as "The man without fear". But now, he feared losing the only person he truly ever loved. Matt was in complete disbelief. But your question and your words were so real. They were so real. Matt didn't want to lose you. Nothing in this world mattered without you.

Tears fell down your face just like Matt, the both of you in complete pain. "I don't want to leave you alone Matt....I can't do that to you". Your heart was broken, just like you needed Matt in your life, he needed you as well. The idea of Matt alone and sad made you feel bad even if it wasn't your fault.

He kept crying when you said that. Matt put his arms around you and he held her close. He shook as he was crying. "No! Please, no."

Matt couldn't stop the tears, he was crying so much. He held you even more closer, afraid that you could slip through his hands. "Please don't say that. We're going to get through this. You're not gonna die. I'll be there every step of the way. It'll be alright."

The tears kept coming, and he couldn't stop them. You pulled Matt's face in front of yours and you kissed him to make you stop thinking about the slight possibility of you dying. Matt's heart skipped a beat. And he felt his stomach warm as you kissed him. It made him so happy and for a minute it made him forget everything. It was so unexpected and the kiss felt like an eternity. You pulled away from it to breathe and Matt smiled at you. "Well, I guess that works to stop my tears".

Matt tried to move his eyes to where her face would be. He couldn't stop smiling. It felt so good to have you in his arms. He squeezed her tightly. You are the love of his life. Matt still had an enormous smile on his face.

"I love you, sweetheart". Matt pulled you close to him and he put his arm around you. He kissed your head. "You're gonna be alright."

"We're gonna be alright".

Matt smiled and squeezed your hand a little bit. "You're...completely right. I'm so sorry I just freaked out. I just...I don't want to ever lose you. You're everything to me. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. And I don't think I ever will again".

He squeezed your hand harder and he held you close. It's like Matt wanted to hug you forever.

"It's okay baby, I know if the roles were reversed I would freak out too. I love you Matthew Michael Murdock".

"I love you more sweetheart".

Next: Chapter 2

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst

64 notes · View notes

nullshocked · 8 months ago

Note

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💗💖💕💘🤎🤍🖤 sorry i mean uhhhhhhhhhhhh dealers choice

Send a Heart + a Ship For a Brief Snippet 💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

He’s waiting outside the bar, chainsmoking through a pack of cigarettes when someone asks: “Are you Jean?”

The name always makes him tense. He only lets two people call him Jean anymore: Promise because she’s known him long enough that she’s allowed to, and Virgil because that’s his partner. The only other people who know that name that are people he doesn’t want to talk to, and frankly? Jack has no clue who the fuck this man is. Some older human, made haggard by too much alcohol and the late hour. No names or memories spring to mind.

“Sorry,” Jack grunts. “Wrong guy.”

“You don’t remember me?” The man asks. “I came by so many times.”

And looking at him, Jack thinks he might sort of recognize him. Or rather, he recognizes the kind of man he is. There were a lot of men like him back then, their faces rendered foggy and incomprehensible by the shit he was using. And that just means he has even less reason to talk to him. He takes a drag off his cigarette and blows smoke in his face.

“Fuck off.”

The man doesn’t like that. Beer makes him as mean as it makes Jack stupid enough to pick a fight. He grabs Jack’s arm and Jack stops listening to anything he has to say. Panic seizes him the way it does when anyone suddenly grabs him, kicking and shouting, trying to twist himself out of his own jacket just to get away.

He nearly tumbles over when something slams into the man and knocks him over, wobbly knees struggling against the momentum of the man hitting the pavement. It takes Jack a few seconds to register Virgil, the taller man placing himself between Jack and the man. The elf doesn’t even have to say anything. The man takes one look at him, scrambles to his feet, and staggers down the street away from them.

Jack works his jaw and leans against the wall. “Asshole.”

“You okay?” Virgil asks quietly.

“Couldn’t take no for an answer, that’s all.” Jack fishes out another cigarette from the dwindling pack, fingers shaking as he goes to light it. He feels sick to his stomach. More nicotine isn’t likely to help that, but if he doesn’t keep his hands busy he’ll just end up tearing at his own skin.

“Can we go home?”

“Yeah.”

His free hand finds Virgil’s arm, fingers tangling in the sleeve of his coat. Jack always feels strange showing any outward affection to him in public, feeling ridiculous and clingy for doing so. But right now he doesn’t want to stray too far from the other man. His nerves ease a little more with Virgil close to his side.

When they get back to the apartment, he finally breaks down and cries—angry, bitter tears, frustration and sorrow melding together until it overwhelms him. He presses his palms into his eyes and starts to sink to the floor, but Virgil catches him in his arms and pulls him in.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” He feels pathetic and weak, that somehow all this time can pass and yet it never stops. Something finds him, sometimes a man and sometimes a memory, and it all comes flooding back again.

Virgil doesn’t waste words. He holds Jack in his arms and lets him cry, his fingers massaging the base of his neck. And when Jack runs out of tears to cry, he bends down and kisses the corner of his eye, then his forehead, then the tip of his nose. And then he takes Jack’s face on his hands and kisses his lips, long and slow and gentle.

��You’ve got me?” Jack murmurs, more statement than question.

“I’ve got you,” Virgil responds softly.

#mailbox #gravedigg #ship: cigarettes and chocolate milk #nullshocked writes #oc: jack rye #c: virgil acheron #this is not a snippet bc i am bad at this sorry

10 notes · View notes

starlessskies94 · 10 months ago

Text

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: JoelMiller x OC

Note: For some reason this one was rather difficult for me to write and I'm still not 100% happy with it. However I hope it doesn't disappoint because I don't want to obsess too much to the point of causing myself writers block so I'm posting, moving on and hoping for the best. *Trigger warning- description of a panic attack*

Chapter Twenty Eight

He felt numb. His heart ached, smashing to pieces like every window in the room. Shattered glass littered the floor around him, broken bricks leaving dents in the floor from where they’d been thrown. His hands were trembling so much that he hadn’t even noticed they were bleeding. It had been over an hour since they’d driven away with Ada and Joel still hadn’t any idea what to do. He could follow their trail but knew he’d be outnumbered. He could head off in the opposite direction and hopefully meet Tommy at the radio tower, but the longer he left Ada the more risk she’d have of being tortured or worse. He was running out time.

He needed to make a decision. He swore that he’d keep her safe. That those bastards wouldn’t touch her and he’d failed. Just as he’d failed to stop Ellie and Tommy from getting hurt back in Jackson.

Just as he’d failed to save Sarah.

He was weak, broken. Collapsing under the weight of it. Dropping to his knees, chest tight and suffocating. He pulled at the neckline of his shirt in a feeble attempt to force the air back into his struggling lungs. His breaths were ragged and short. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Feet and hands tingle as his vision is blurred and dizzy. He couldn’t do this. Not anymore. What was the point of fighting? The point of possessing so much strength if he couldn’t even protect the people he loved.

He was falling and this time he could see no way out.

Dark shapes rush into his vision, as hands grab onto the front of his jacket. “Joel…easy; deep breaths. In and out…” the voice sounded a thousand miles away. “Joel, look at me.” The voice said again. “What’s wrong with him?” Another voice asked in distress. The question was answered though hell if Joel knew what was said. “Joel…can you hear me?” That voice, he knew that voice, for the longest time he didn’t think he’d ever hear it again. He took a deep breath and held it for a second or two before letting it go. Repeating the process several times as his vision began to clear and his chest settled from the rapid palpitations hammering through flesh and bone. “Ellie?” he croaked. “Yeah it’s me. Just breathe slow like Tommy said okay? You’re alright.”

He felt the knot in his chest loosen at the sight of her and Tommy. His brother, kneeling on one side of him and Ellie on the other.

“Hey, you good?” Tommy asked tentatively. Joel just nodded his head and took another deep breath. “Yeah I’m good, thanks.” He said, patting him on his shoulder. Tommy smiled as relief flooded his face. Letting his weight take him as he sat fully beside Joel.

“Anytime. It’s good to see you alive, big brother.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Both brothers paused at the question. Joel looked across at Ellie, the tension thick between them. Was she still angry at him? Did she still hate him? She didn’t look mad. If anything she looked worried. Just like she had when he’d found himself impaled back at the university. Scared. Concerned. Fragile. Looking into those large eyes staring at him now, it was like she was fourteen again. Except she wasn’t. Not anymore. She’d grown up. All grown up. And Joel had missed most of it. He gave a ghost of a smile and took a chance.

“I’m good, kiddo. Don’t you worry about me.” He dismissed, in that way that he always did. But he froze when he saw Ellie’s eyes widen at his words. Shit. Had he said the wrong thing? He seemed to have a habit of doing that around Ellie. But her brows lost their crease; her face falling pale. Eyes welling with tears. A small broken gasp escaping her chapped lips.

“Wait, you…called me kiddo…you know who I am?” He almost cried himself hearing how broken she sounded asking the question.

Oh baby girl. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.

“Course’ I do, could never forget you.” He chuckled in spite of himself. His heart ached at the warmth that filled her gaze at him. He was caught off guard when she flung herself at him in a hug. It felt like coming home. The only thing missing was Ada. He squeezed her tightly; not wanting to let go. This had been something he’d thought gone. And he’d be damned if he ever let her go ever again.

“Oh hey… it’s okay. I’m okay.” They both knew he wasn’t just talking about his injuries. His memory loss. Their broken relationship. It was about everything. Ellie had said herself that she’d wanted to try to forgive him. Maybe now they had this second chance to fix things; she find it in her heart to really do that. And even if she couldn’t, Joel was just grateful she wanted anything to do with him at all. He’d take what he could get. Even if it was just this. Just this one small minute made up for the two years of silence and pain.

It was quickly broken by Tommy rising to his feet and surveying the damage that surrounded them.

“What the hell happened here Joel?” He asked in concern. It was hard not to be. The infected littering the ground, the bullet holes plastered into the walls and doors. It was evident there had been a fight and struggle of some sort here. Joel tried not to look over at the blood stains that marked the sidewalk. Ada’s blood. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried not to dwell on the events flashing through his mind once again.

“She’s gone…those bastards took her. I wanted to stop them but she wouldn’t let me.” He saw them both pale at the news and tried to keep his composure as he explained.

They sat with him as he told them all that had happened that morning. What he and Ada had figured out between them and their plan to find them and decide how to move forward. He saw the darkness in Ellie’s eyes as he told them what they’d done to her mother before dragging her away. Her expression was stone-like and harsh. He recognised the hatred and anger in her eyes as he had seen in his own; the only difference was; he hated seeing it in Ellie. It tormented him as he followed them back to the theater they’d apparently been staying in. There was still tension in the air. Joel felt like he was drowning in it; his head swaying like a limp tree in a harsh wind. And it wasn’t the after effects of his panic attack.

He watched Ellie up ahead; seemingly leading the way. She strode with purpose, confidence. She’d grown so much in the last two years. Damn he’d missed so much. It had been hard not being part of her life for all that time. Especially because Ada had tried her hardest to bridge the divide between them again. But every time the teen pushed back. Now Joel wasn’t sure where he stood. She’d hugged him like she missed him. The concern in her features had seemed sincere. And Tommy had said that she had been the first one of the group to pack her stuff when they’d planned to head out to look for him.

As they made their way back through the town; Joel followed as they led him towards the old building. However he paused when he felt the pair flinch at a corner. Ellie pulled out her gun as did Tommy. They both seemed in sync with each other as they split up and flanked opposite sides and moved along the side of the building's walls, Joel followed suit. Instincts perhaps a little rusty but still there; and positioned himself with his back to the wall as they moved further forward advancing towards the door.

A man from what he could make out was trying rather harshly to wrench the handle of the large door. His hood was up making it difficult to see the intruder's face. Ellie darted forward with her gun trained on him, finger already on the trigger and ready to shoot. The fact that she didn’t hesitate bothered Joel, he didn’t like seeing her so unfazed by the possibility of killing. “Don’t fucking move.” She spat. The man froze, raising his hands in surrender. “Turn around slowly.” the man did as she said. But the moment he turned, all weapons were instantly withdrawn as Ellie sighed in relief.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked. Jesse dropped his arms in a bout of relief at seeing his friends. “I wanted to help you guys find Joel…” He stopped short as Tommy cleared his throat, catching the young man’s attention. “But…Uh…I see you guys already found him…” Ellie held back a small laugh as she exhaled through her nose, “Hello Sir, glad to see you’re okay.” He uttered awkwardly, Joel just smiled politely. “Thank you son. I appreciate your wanting to help.” Jesse nodded, trying to hide the pride that beamed in his chest from the given praise. Ellie knew Jesse had always respected Joel greatly and his opinion meant more than he’d ever admit. “How the hell did you find us?” Tommy asked. Jesse just shrugged with a smirk; “You guys were not easy to track but I had a good teacher.” The younger Miller scoffed jovially at the comment, “Kiss ass.” “What are you talking about? I meant Maria.”

Joel snorted as Tommy’s face fell. “Walked right into that one didn’t you.” His brother just scoffed sarcastically “Yeah well, I’m sure we all got plenty to catch up on. So we should probably head inside.”��

Ellie wasted no time and quickly ushered everyone inside the theater. Dina rushing to the door when she heard their footsteps. She was taken aback when she saw both Joel and Jesse walking through into the lobby. Ellie tried not to react when she rushed towards Jesse, grabbing him in a hug. The two hurry inside sharing hushed whispers as they go. The redhead walks on past them and heads for the back room, Joel watching her as she goes. He turns to ask Tommy if he’s missed something going on but his brother just replies with a knowing look and follows after Ellie.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She stares at the map of the town laid out on the large table that sits in the center of the room. Voices fade in and out of focus as she’s lost in her own thoughts.

“Ellie?...Ellie…” A voice calls, catching her attention as she glances up to see every face looking at her. It had been a few hours since they’d come back. Had some well deserved food and restocked on supplies before gathering in the back room to plan their next move to rescue her mother. But so far she’d paid no attention to any of it. Her mind had been processing a million things at once. To get back one parent, only to then lose the other was too much for her. To hear what those fuckers had done to her mother made her blood boil to the point of almost exploding. But she knew she had to be smart if they were going to get her back. If they were going to get home.

She turned towards Tommy as he called for attention again. “Sorry…run that by me again.” She said a little too rushed. But thankfully Tommy didn’t question it. Dina took the moment of silence to turn up the radio by the side of the room as the frequency crackled to life. She’d managed to fix it in the time she’d spent alone, explaining to the group it was a loose connection that had been easily rectified. She moved back towards the map and pulled out a marker as she pinpointed different spots for everyone to see.

“Okay…so, the numbers are locations. See? The radio tower? That’s six. And there’s a lot of chatter coming out of two, so I’m assuming that’s their home base.” She explained. “What about the hospital? I’m pretty sure they're based there too.” Tommy asked. Dina took a second to glance over the map before pointing to the other side of town. “There? I think. Thirteen maybe? I have heard some orders being sent out from there. But it’s not much to go on.” The man deflated at the information, silence falling on the group. “I’ve watched them for the last few days, they take day and night shifts. Reckon it’d be easier to move at night when the groups are smaller.” Joel suggested, as Ellie nodded in agreement. “That’s a good idea but we still have no leads on where they’ve taken mom.” They shared a look, both worried for wife and mother. Jesse glanced at Dina and Tommy; the three sharing the same thought. If anyone was going to find Ada…it was those two. Just as the younger Miller moved to speak up, the radio once again crackled to life.

‘Fatality reported in Nine. Repeat fatality in Nine. Over. This is thirteen responding. What’s the situation? Over. This is Nine. One of our own was killed by the lone female prisoner. Prisoner is now detained. Requesting further orders. Over.’

“Female prisoner?” Jesse questioned. Joel and Ellie wasted no time in jumping to action. “They’re talking about Ada. Quick Dina, which location is nine?” Joel asked. “Uh…I’m not sure. It could be one of two possible places. One is here…” She pointed to the map stating the downtown area. “The courthouse…and the other is here…” She moved her hand to the other side of the map. “At the town hall. But they’re at opposite ends of each other and I don’t know for sure which it is.” He nodded. “Okay, then we split up. Tommy, you and Jesse head for the town hall and Ellie and I can make our way downtown to the courthouse. Dina could you stay here and keep a track of their movements on the radio.” “Of course.” She smiled. The others wasted no time in packing up once again, making their move towards the door and heading out. Tommy gave Joel a pat on his shoulder before leaving, telling him to stay safe. His older brother returned the words in turn before watching him and Jesse head out. He waited patiently by the door for Ellie to catch up, giving her the time she needed to say goodbye to Dina.

He wouldn’t push this time. If she needed space, he would give her that. When she finally emerged from the back room she walked past him without a word and he tried not to take it personally. It would take time to be like they were again. Joel knew that. If he wanted her trust back, he’d have to earn it.

#writing #the last of us #joel and ellie #the last of us part 2 #ellie williams #joel miller #personal #starlessskies writes #tlou #fanfiction #Joel Miller x oc #Joel x Ada

17 notes · View notes

wildlife4life · 10 months ago

Note

Full moon bond or once upon a buddie intrigue me for wip asks if you’d like to share anything 😊

Because I admire you and your work so much, I will gladly share snippets from both!

Full moon bond is very popular today and I've answered a few more about it here. Here is another snippet:

Maddie and Chimney were the last to arrive, strolling up to the camp site looking slightly haggard and very tired. Jee was apparently going through another sleep regression period and lately super attached to both her parents. Technically they didn't need to shift during the full moon due to being lynx shifters instead of wolves, but Chimney says that he's been joining full moon gatherings for so long now that he swears he can feel the pull of the moon just like a wolf. Maddie, having taken Chimney's bite, says she feels the same. Plus they're pack and the bond would be very inconvenient to ignore when they can feel the others had shifted and the thoughts that are being shared. Maddie makes a beeline for Eddie the moment she notices him and Eddie braces himself. He knows exactly what she is going to speak to him about. Its the same conversation every full moon since her turning. Brown eyes misty with concern, the female lynx plants herself in front of her brother's partner. Her gaze flickers away for a second, taking note of the magical markings around the campground. A deep breath in and Eddie suspects she's trying to catch a whiff of Buck's scent. Maddie recognizes the witch's work and she was probably hoping at the sight of it, that Buck had joined the shifters this full moon. She becomes further disheartened when that is not the case and her saddened eyes return to Eddie. "He told me he was going to think about." She says softly. Buck has been telling his sister that before every full moon since she took Chimney's bite. It was lie every time and only to have one less person pester the witch about joining the pack. Slowly, Maddie reaches out and lets her fingers hover over Eddie's bare chest, glowing gold orbs tracing the geometric brand that marked him as Buck's mate in replacement for a bite. "I thought when you two mated, when he took you as his anchor Evan would..." Evan would finally join the pack and be one with them all during the full moon. Yea, Eddie thought so too.

Once Upon a Buddie is much beloved and the first fic I actually created for buddie and I really hope to get back to it.

Hot deputy whipped his full attention towards the jailed man, causing Buck to take in sharp breath. The entire force of the deputy’s anger and attractiveness were slightly overwhelming and made him a little weak in the knees. “Oh, you’re not?” Hot deputy growled and shivers went down Buck’s spine, imagining that same tone used in another less civilized situation. “Then what are you? Huh? Cus what I see is a stranger, an outsider from a big city driving my son around and feeding into his out-of-control imagination. Letting him believe that you are some sort of Prince!” Buck jumped to his feet, “Hey man all I did was listen. I didn’t confirm or deny anything. And I drove him to a hospital, a safe haven where he told me his mother works!” He was getting tired of the being accused as some sort of child perv. “Christopher ran away on his own accord.” “My son has no reason to run away!” the Deputy yelled. “No one would listen to him! And when someone finally did, he was told he was crazy, making everything up. He felt alone, so he ran to find someone who would listen, who would maybe understand!” The Deputy took several steps forward, fist clinching tight at his side, “Don’t act like you know my son!” “Diaz that is enough!” Sheriff Grant jerked the Deputy back at the collar of his jacket before turning back to Buck, “You too Buckley.” Buck threw his hands up in surrender and dropped back on the bed, “I’m done answering questions. Give me my phone call and corroborate my story. I want out of this town.”

WIP tag game

#ashley answers #wip tag game #my wip #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #maddie buckley #werewolf eddie #witch buck #mates #ouat au #eddie is robin hood #deputy eddie #savior buck #magic

13 notes · View notes

separatist-apologist · 2 years ago

Text

Oh, Lord Save Me

For you, I would fall from grace

Summary: “How come I never see you at confession?” he pressed. Elain almost screamed.

Lucien never saw her at confession because the phrase "forgive me father, for I have sinned," was the start of every filthy fantasy she’d ever had about him.

Read on AO3

CW: priest, loss of virginity, catholicism poorly understood, come eating

He came in every day at the exact same time.

Elain had to pretend the priest wasn’t hot. That every Saturday, at two p.m. exactly, her heart didn’t race when she heard the bell jangle. That the sight of him coming into her emptied bakery didn’t make Elain contemplate her willingness to go to hell.

Father Lucien, with his tied back, auburn hair, his golden brown skin, and his sensual mouth. Did he even know? Did he know his broad, muscular form, his carved jaw, his high cheekbones made more than just her weak in the knee? That his packed church had nothing to do with devotion to the lord?

That Elain would get on her knees and worship if he ever demanded it of her.

“Elain,” he said with a smile, a book tucked beneath his arm. Elain prayed it wasn’t the bible, given she was wondering what was beneath that stiff, white collar. Instead, she pulled a little box from beneath the glass counter with an equally pleasant smile.

“I saved you one,” she said, opening the lid so he could see the blueberry and lemon creampuff waiting just inside. His smile softened.

“You’re an angel.”

Hardly. Still, Elain soaked up the praise as she turned to make him his regular coffee. Lucien liked to indulge in some places, like his salted caramel latte. Elain didn’t dare let herself imagine what else he might indulge in, given the opportunity. She’d considered throwing herself at him when he’d first arrived, just like everything else.

The idea of being politely rejected by a priest was too much for Elain’s fragile ego. And Lucien had rejected every one. The girls spoke of it with eye rolls and cruel whispers. Probably gay, they sniffed, as if the only reason a man might not want them was that he liked other men.

And maybe he did. Elain had never been brave enough to ask Lucien a question so personal. Everything she knew about him was surface-level. How he liked his coffee, his sweets. What he read, what he liked about his novels. She knew where he’d gone to school, his favorite places to visit, and on occasion, he’d tell her about his brother, the infamous Senator Eris Vanserra.

“Reading anything interesting today?” she asked.

Lucien set a well-worn bible on her glass counter. “I find myself dealing with matters of the conscience today, Elain.”Well, fuck.

“Oh,” she replied brightly, sliding his coffee cup towards him. “Well–”

“How come I never see you at confession?” he pressed. Elain almost screamed. Lucien never saw her at confession because the phrase "forgive me father, for I have sinned," was the start of every filthy fantasy she’d ever had about him.

“Oh,” Elain mumbled, embarrassed. “I don’t know.”

“Nothing to atone for?” he tried to tease, but his words were a shade too breathless. His tone forced her eyes up.

What a mistake. The soft russet she’d become so accustomed to were dark, limitless in their intensity. “I’m uh…I’m not religious enough for that, I think,” she finally managed. All at once, the spell over them shattered. Lucien nodded, coffee in hand. He tucked his box under his arm, his bible balanced just on top.

“Well, if you ever change your mind. It’s Wednesdays before noon.”

Elain was certain she’d imagined anything strange lingering between them. Some sexual tension, some unspoken lust. It was her overactive imagination that made her wish, while Lucien merely tried to do his job.

“You know, someone has to keep this town swimming in caffeine and sugar,” Elain replied with an easy smile. “But maybe I’ll stop by with something for you, and you can pry some horrible childhood secret from me.”

Lucien laughed, the richness of his tenor reverberating through her. “It’s a deal.”Lucien left Elain with another friendly jangle of the overhead doorbell, and that night, when she slipped into bed and her hands found their way between her legs, she thought of him.

How come I never see you at confession, Elain?

The next day in church was hell. Lucien’s eyes drifted towards her, sandwiched between her very pregnant sister and Cassian, his mouth stained red from Nesta’s lipstick. Elain didn’t hear a damn word that came out of his mouth. All she saw was the way his neck flexed as he spoke, the way his strong hands moved through the air. Lucien Vanserra was enough to make Elain believe in a higher power. His eyes slid toward her the entirety of the service, teasing her with some unspoken promise.

Enough to drag her into confession on a Wednesday at ten am. She had his coffee in hand as she stepped into the empty church. A gloomy world kept the stained glass from glittering a rainbow of colors against the marble floors. Her shoes clicked on the floor, marking her presence. She heard the sound of Lucien shuffling in that tall, wooden box and thought about knocking.

Why not play his little game?

She pulled the handle open and sat in the dark. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Did he know it was her? Elain cleared her throat, swallowing the urge to giggle.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned,” she whispered, her heart pounding in her throat.

Elain swore Lucien cursed on the other end of that vent.

“All is forgiven in the eyes of the Lord,” Lucien replied, though his voice said something else. Something that spoke of darkness she swore she felt. A dare. “Tell me what troubles you.”

“You trouble me,” she replied, forcing levity into her voice. “Your coffee is burning my hand.”

He chuckled. “Give me a moment.”

A moment, indeed. Light flooded through that small, one-person door. There he was, haloed in the gray morning light. Elain extended his coffee, standing despite how it left mere inches between the pair of them. Lucien didn’t budge, staring down at her with an unreadable expression.

If he were any other man, Elain might have risen on her tiptoes and just kissed him.

“Are you okay?” Elain asked. Lucien pressed a fraction of an inch forward, his much larger frame sucking up all the light around them. Elain was plunged back into darkness.

“I’m not, okay. Forgive me, for how I constantly sin against you.”

She couldn’t breathe. “What do you mean?”

He took another step until the backs of her bare knees were pressed against the bench and the door swung shut behind him.

“All day, every day, all I think about is you. Your smile, your hair, your eyes…”

“That…that doesn’t seem so awful,” Elain managed. It was with supreme fear she pressed her palm against his chest. They were so impossibly close she could smell the masculine scent of him, could have pulled out his long hair and tangled her hands in it if she wanted.

“You don’t know what I think about all night, every night,” Lucien disagreed. “If you knew…”

Lucien wrapped a hand around her wrist, pulling tighter. Elain could only swallow, trying to discern his face in the dark. She waited, unsure if she should demand he get out so she could flee, or if she offered him a little honesty of her own.

“Last night, before I fell asleep, I imagined what it would be like to touch you in this place,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You are not the only one sinning with your thoughts.”

“I don’t know how to get you out,” Lucien admitted, his breath sweet and warm against her face. She wondered what he’d done with the coffee she’d brought him, given one hand was still holding her against him and the other was currently tangled in her long hair.

“Have you tried kissing me?” Elain suggested helpfully.

“I know it’ll make wanting you worse,” he said, lips brushing her own. An electric thrill shot through her, settling just between her legs. Lucien’s clean-shaven cheek scraped over her own as his fingers tightened in her curls.

“I’ll forgive whatever you do,” Elain assured him, praying to anyone listening Lucien would buckle.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He offered her no chance to reply. Elain had long wondered if the priest had any sexual desire at all. If he’d know what he was doing when the time came—if it ever did. In her fantasies, Lucien knew exactly what she wanted. What she needed. He fucked her like a rabid animal and took her like no man ever had in her life. In some ways, Elain knew it was easy to project onto the man she could never have.

Lucien kissed with a feral kind of hunger. The sort that told her he was a man used to denying himself, and when he was able to indulge, he did so gleefully. Unapologetically. His mouth was hot against her own, kissing like he’d done it before.

Often.

Maybe he had been with some of the other townswomen. The thought was enough to fuel Elain with jealousy. She ripped her hand from his grasp, rose up on her tiptoes, and grabbed him by the back of the neck. He pushed forward, pressing the hard, muscular length of his body against her own so she could feel just what, exactly, was happening beneath his robes.

She gasped, allowing Lucien the advantage. His tongue swept into her mouth, turning her body to liquid. Soft lips coaxed at her mouth, drawing a breathless moan from her throat, while his tongue stroked against her own. She could feel him between her legs, teasing and taunting and tasting. Elain was desperate, had forgotten where they were. She rubbed the length of his cock with the heel of her hand.

Lucien’s hips bucked forward, desperate to get what he needed.

“All those Sundays standing alone on the pulpit,” Elain breathed, letting him grope her breasts through the thin material of her dress. “Thinking about my hand wrapped around your cock.”

Lucien snarled softly against her neck, sucking at the skin hard enough to leave a bruise.

“I think about you while I’m up there,” he admitted, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I think about you on your knees, praying for absolution.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked, measuring the absurd length of him with the palm of her hand. “Me, on my knees?”

“Not today,” he rasped, pushing her back to her seat. “This is confession, Elain. It is I who will get on my knees and you who will tell me what it is you need to be forgiven for.”

Watching Lucien sink to the ground beneath him, settling his body just between her spread-open knees, was as close to a religious experience as Elain would ever get. The mere sight of him, hidden in the gloomy shadows of the confessional, was enough to make her tremble.

“Start again, Elain,” he whispered, pressing his mouth to her knee.

“How do you know about this?” Elain demanded, letting him pry her legs wider.

“I read. Now, say it again.”

Elain couldn’t breathe. Lucien began pushing the skirt of her dress up towards her hips, revealing the satin underwear just beneath. Running his nose over the fabric, Elain managed to get the words out.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”

She could feel his grin against her burning-hot skin. “Tell me what troubles you.”

Lucien abandoned between her legs to hook one of her legs over his shoulder. Peppering kisses over her skin, Elain had to wonder what books he was reading if this was what he was learning.

“I…”

Her every thought eddied from her mind when Lucien pressed a kiss to her pussy. “Tell me,” he urged as he hooked a finger in the band of her undergarments. Elain lifted her hips, offering him access—baring herself before his insistent gaze. “I overcharged Mr. Roberts last week. I didn’t realize until—oh God Lucien.”

Lucien ran his tongue clean up the center of her, taking what was, presumably, his first ever taste of a woman. The mere thought of her being his first was doing something to her. Elain wriggled until one of Lucien’s broad hands pushed her back to the bench, stilling her beneath his touch.

“What else?” his muffled voice demanded.

I’m letting a priest eat me out in a church confessional.

Elain ransacked her lust-addled brain. “I told my sister I couldn’t help her paint the baby’s nursery when I could. I…” Elain’s voice trailed off as he swirled his tongue over her clit. It had taken him a moment to figure out where he needed to be—what would set her off. She could feel his eyes snap to her face, taking his cues from her silence. Raking her fingers through his neat hair to encourage him, Elain tried to remember what she’d been saying.

“Why?” he asked, his voice rough with want.

“Because I knew you were coming in at two,” Elain moaned, pressing her foot against Lucien’s chest. “And I wanted to see you.”

Lucien’s tongue plunged into her body, his fingers teasing her clit until Elain was all but sobbing breathlessly. Her fantasies about him had been right. Though clumsy at first, what Lucien made up in skill he overcame in pure enthusiasm. Elain was fast careening upward, releasing gathering over her spine.

“I want the local priest,” she finally told Lucien when his fingers replaced his tongue. Lucien began thrusting two of them in and out of her pussy, licking furiously over her clit. “And I’m not sorry— oh God Lucien don’t stop, please—”

She came in his mouth, riding his hand and his face into bright, burning oblivion. She heard herself scream, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceiling to be hand delivered to God himself. Look what has become of your servants. Look at how easily they’re corrupted.

“Elain,” Lucien whispered. He might have been praying.

She pulled at the front of his robes, drawing him closer for a messy kiss. Her own orgasm was still wet against his mouth, clinging sweetly to his tongue. Lucien groaned, half falling on top of her as if he’d lost control of his body.

“I require penance,” Elain breathed, stroking her thumbs over his face. “On my knees, father.”

“On your knees,” he agreed, though he didn’t move to stand. “I think–”

“Father?”

A voice echoed politely through the church, stopping Elain and Lucien in their tracks. He pressed his forehead against hers, forcing himself to take a breath. “A raincheck?” he whispered, kissing the corner of her lip. “That’s about the bake sale. I forgot.”

Part of her was afraid if she let him leave, he’d realize what a terrible mistake it all was. He’d repent, ask for forgiveness, and never make eye contact with her ever again. It wasn’t as if she could stop him–lingering might prompt someone to look.

“Sure,” she agreed, hoping the throbbing ache between his legs would override every vow Lucien had ever made. “Fix your hair before you go.”

“You first,” he murmured, snatching her underwear before she could. She watched him pocket it, his face unreadable in the dark. Elain slipped from the confessional, hoping she didn’t look too obvious. No one was in the actual church, though when Elain stepped through the arching double doors into the vestibule. Mrs. Roberts was waiting with nervous hands.

“Have you seen Father Lucien?” she asked Elain, clearly worried the priest had forgotten her entirely. Not altogether untrue, either.

“I had him in confession. I’m sure he’ll be out in a moment,” Elain reassured her. She’d wanted to escape before she saw him, but Lucien was just behind her. He set a polite pair of hands on her shoulders, squeezing ever so slightly.

“I convinced Ms. Archeron into confession today,” he told Mrs. Roberts, as if he hadn’t desecrated the space when he’d put his head between her legs.

“Proof miracles are possible,” Elain agreed, pulling from his grasp before she did something stupid.

Or obvious.

“Next Wednesday?” he called after her retreating form. Elain looked over her shoulder and god that was a mistake. His russet eyes gleamed with mischief, his desire stripped bare. She could only offer him a jerky nod, certain anything else would damn them both.

Elain knew one thing with absolute certainty—she was never stepping foot in that church ever again.

Lucien didn’t come in Saturday, and Elain didn’t go to church on Sunday. They were avoiding each other. She didn’t need to be a genius to guess why. Lucien had reevaluated what he’d done and what she’d tempted him into and decided to stay away. Elain couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt her feelings if only a little.

At least he hadn’t humiliated her by getting off and then changing his mind. He’d merely offered her pleasure and then sent her on her way. Elain told herself it would be fine so long as she never had to see him again.

Sunday night was viciously wet—thunder rumbled through the sky well into the evening, while lightning cracked the sky and rain lashed the sides of Elain’s little house. She’d tucked herself on the couch beneath a blanket and woolen socks, flipping through television channels until her power went out.

She should have guessed. Given how much further her cottage was from town, Elain was always the first to lose power and the last to get it back. She’d complained numerous times to no avail. Using her phone as a flashlight, she hunted down candles until she could pretend she was living some romantic life before the invention of electricity. Elain was half contemplating roasting a marshmallow over a pumpkin-scented candle when a fist pounded at her door.

Cassian, then, she thought gratefully. Nesta would have sent him for her, to drag her into the warmth and safety of her well-lit home.

Elain pulled open the door, a little vanilla candle in hand, to find Lucien Vanserra on the other end. Water plastered his lovely hair against his even lovelier face. His eyes were wild, lips parted with some unspoken words.

Elain left him in the rain, staring at the black robes clinging against his broad frame and the masculine smell mingled against the storm just behind him.

“Father,” she breathed, unsure of what else to say. He’d come for her. “Are you well?”

“Are you?” he replied bluntly. “I came as quickly as I could. The bridge is flooded.”

“Come inside,” Elain offered, stepping aside so Lucien could come in. He did so, kicking off his boots on her little welcome mat. Elain closed the door, locking the door just behind him, for all

Lucien noticed. He wasn’t done removing his clothing. The robe he wore was tossed against her coat hook alongside his collar, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt soaked through, and a rather nice pair of jeans. She didn’t know what she’d been imagining underneath.

Nothing, she supposed.

Lucien drank in her interior—the plants and her art, her books and her furniture. Elain said nothing at all, waiting for him to explain himself.

“Do you want a cup of–”

“You didn’t come to service Sunday,” he accused, rounding on her. Elain nearly fell to the floor. Wiping her nervous palms against her soft lounge pants, Elain forced herself to take a breath.

“You didn’t come in the bakery on Saturday.”

“Bake sale,” he reminded her, his voice soft. As if he understood all at once what she had been thinking. “I didn’t see you there, either.”

“I donated some pies,” she replied, looking over her shoulder at the staircase that would take them to her bedroom.

Lucien took a step towards her. “I saw. I hoped you’d come.”

And there it was. Elain’s heart sped up at the admission. “I didn’t think that was allowed.”

“I forget myself around you,” Lucien admitted, reaching for her face. “I find I don’t care about rules at all when I’m around you.”

Elain could barely breathe. “You must be freezing,” she whispered, dragging her eyes over his bare chest. “If you come upstairs, I can offer you something warmer.”

Lucien, with his limited experience, clearly didn’t understand what she meant. “You keep men's clothes in your home?”

“I keep blankets,” Elain replied, delighted with the feral hunger sparked through his gaze. “I can throw your things in the dryer until then.”

“How reasonable,” he murmured. “I imagine it could take a long time to dry my clothes.”

“I’m sure I can find a way to keep you company,” Elain replied, lacing her fingers through his own. She had to work to keep the tremble from her hand, to keep him from noticing just how nervous she was. It wasn’t as if Lucien was just anyone.

He was the priest.

And Elain was a sinner.

Elain pushed open her bedroom door slowly, dragging the moment out until Lucien squeezed her hand.

“You know, I was sent to seminary as punishment?” he told her casually, following her towards a cream-colored braided rug. “My father had seven sons. By the time I arrived, he was at a loss for what to do with me. Add my rather…rebellious ways, and religion seemed my only hope.”

Elain could stare silently given Lucien had casually pulled his t-shirt over his head. He noticed, running a hand over his slick, bare chest.

“It’s not that I don’t like it—I do. I love this calling. I just…knew something or someone was going to tempt me enough to take off that collar one of these days.”

Elain kept her eyes on his fingers unfastening his pants. She wanted to know what lurked beyond so badly. She wanted to know if what she’d felt in confession was real, or some clever trick of his clothing.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Elain. I don’t think it’s possible to get you out of my system…and I think having you is only going to make the wanting worse.”

She cleared her throat. Lucien’s long, thick cock sprang upwards, freed from the restraints of his pants and underwear. He tossed them casually to the side, standing before her wholly naked. He was…he was magnificent. Blessed, surely—it was obvious God played favorites.

“Perhaps you should try abstaining,” Elain whispered, creeping towards him. He’d gotten on his knees, hadn’t he?

“I think it’s time to devour,” he replied, his voice as rough as the storm surrounding them. Elain nodded, running a hand over the muscular plain of his chest.

“Confess then, father. Tell me your sins so I might absolve you.”

Lucien exhaled, his face half hidden in the candlelight. Elain went to her knees, rubbing up and down his muscular thighs.

“I told Ms. Jennings I liked her cooking,” he began, scooping up her hair. Elain was in no hurry. She let her breath warm his skin, her lips teasing the tender, hardened flesh.

“Was it bad?” Elain questioned.

“Horrendous,” he breathed, the word hitching in his throat. Elain ran her tongue over the vein in his cock, teasing just beneath his head. “I shouldn’t have lied.”

She sucked him just between her lips, tasting the beaded precum. Lucien groaned, his legs trembling. Could she make him come from just a little light teasing? What kind of stamina did a man so used to denying himself have, anyway? Could he keep going? Or was he so used to denying himself that he’d hold off until she begged and pleaded?

Elain was desperate to find out. She pulled back, looking up through dark lashes. “What else, Father Lucien?”

He groaned. “You,” he said, tugging the strands of her hair when she slid her tongue back along his cock. “On Sunday, up at the pulpit, I was fantasizing— Christ, Elain, your mouth—”

She couldn’t take all of him, but Elain managed a good half before she began gagging softly. When she came back, trails of her own spit followed. Lucien, illuminated by a bright, apple-scented candle, was watching with parted lips.

“What were you thinking about?” Elain asked him, licking the head of his cock while he shuddered.

“Spreading you back out,” he gasped, hips bucking. “Making them all watch how I fuck you.”

Elain moaned against him without meaning to. The image was appealing, if not scandalous given whose mouth the words were coming from.

“Is that what you want?” she asked before sucking him back down.

“I want a lot of things,” he admitted.

Elain pulled off him with a pop, intending to take him again just as soon as she got her flirty little words out. “You only need to ask, Lucien.”

He snapped, reaching for her and pushing her to the bed. His mouth covered her own even as the pair scrambled over her pale pink bedding. She was still dressed, circumstances Lucien immediately began to rectify. Viciously, if the ripped seams on her top had anything to say about it. Elain rather liked his ferocity, his desire made manifest. She couldn’t stop herself, chasing the taste of him with her tongue, her fingers mapping each new inch of his barred skin. She didn’t realize Lucien had slotted himself against her until she felt that first push.

“Lucien,” she whispered, unsure what she’d even say.

“If I’m quick, we’ll go again,” he groaned against her lips. “Forgive me if I disappoint you.”

“You can’t,” she managed, certain that was true. Elain arched as Lucien thrust himself into her, a little too quick and clumsy for her liking. He held himself there when her nails dug into his chest, stopping him from plowing ahead. She needed a moment to adjust to the stretch of him, to how full she suddenly felt.

“Is this good?” he breathed, kissing when she could only nod.

“Tell me what you like,” Lucien begged, licking the length of her neck. “Tell me what you need.”

“Have you done this before?” she asked instead, squeezing tight around him. Lucien’s hips jerked, pumping into her seemingly by accident. She rather liked his lack of control, how he made no show of wanting her.

“No,” he admitted, dragging himself back out of her only to slam himself in. He sure figured that out quickly. “Tell me what you need.”

She was having far too much fun teasing him. “So I’m taking your virginity?”

“Elain, please,” he begged, his rhythm just steady enough to rob her of her thoughts. Like his mouth between her legs, Lucien was a quick study. His eyes were wide open, watching her each minute expression for some clue. It was cruel not to tell him, to force him to figure out what she wanted blindly.

The problem was Elain wanted him to have at her all night. If she told him which buttons to push, she was certain he’d do it with brutal efficiency. And then what? She’d put his clothes in the dryer and he’d leave? No. If Lucien wanted this, wanted her, she’d have him until the storm raging just outside abated.

“Elain–”

“Not yet,” she whispered, grabbing either side of his face to kiss him. Lucien groaned, his pace quickening. She knew enough about men to know what was coming. He was losing control, urged by her own rolling hips and the grind of their flesh. It was messy and raw and so good that when Lucien cried out, thrusting in her so hard, so deep that she swore she saw stars, Elain wasn’t angry he’d finished before her.

A first for her, too.

Lucien panted, his face buried in the crook of her neck. She stroked his hair, reveling in what they’d just done. She’d never taken a man's virginity before. Still throbbing from her unspent need, Elain waited for Lucien to push himself up.

He looked down at her, his face practically unreadable in the dark.

“You didn’t come.”

“The night is still young,” Elain reminded him, heart racing despite herself. Had she miscalculated? Men left all the time after finishing, no longer interested in their partner. Lucien, still buried inside her body, could also just…start again. Elain would have let him.

His eyes gleamed. “Maybe I was too hasty the first time,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I should have slowed down.”

His mouth found her neck, sucking a kiss against the hollow. Elain tightened around him again, earning a soft groan in response. He still wanted her. The realization sent a thrill of electricity up her spine.

Lucien withdrew in order to reposition himself between her legs. Elain didn’t argue, certain if there was anything holy in the world, it was Lucien on his knees before her. He licked and sucked his way down to her breasts, halting to admire them in the flickering candlelight.

“I’ve been wondering what you’d look like without your clothes,” he admitted, grasping one in his warm, large hands.

“Am I everything you hoped?” she asked, breathless when his mouth replaced his fingers. Lucien hummed in agreement, a hand snaking between her legs to rub at her aching, needy clit. He sure was a quick study, having figured out how to make her come on his tongue. Elain was curious if Lucien would continue his slow descent downward, given what he’d just done.

What was still lingering in her body? She wanted him to so badly she was practically vibrating with excitement. Maybe, in his limited experience, he hadn’t thought what going down on her now would mean.

Lucien took his time teasing and touching and rubbing, pulling moan after breathless moan from her lips. “I’ll never tire of that,” he told her, kissing down her stomach. “How am I supposed to live my life knowing my favorite sound is your pleasure?”

“Lucien,” she breathed, tangling her fingers through his hair. Lucien delved between her legs, sinking one of his fingers into her pussy with a satisfied hiss of air.

“Messy,” he whispered, pulling out that finger and rubbing the resulting mix of their arousal over her lips. Elain choked, wondering how it was possible he’d ended up in his current profession.

Maybe that was for the best. He would have been a menace left to his own devices. As it stood, Elain was positive she could never let any of those bake sale bitches know what an animal he was in the bedroom.

“What are you thinking about?” Lucien asked, hooking his thumbs in the soft lips of her cunt to spread her out further.

“You,” she gasped as his tongue slid up the center of her.

He hummed his approval. “What about me?”

She couldn’t think straight when he pushed two fingers back into her, pumping the way his cock had been doing mere moments before. Elain wished he could somehow do both–fuck her and eat her. Elain whimpered, arching into Lucien’s eager tongue as he licked her clean. She couldn’t speak at all, so turned on that every response she offered was a garbled collection of pleas.

Released gathered at the base of Elain’s spine, creating pressure she was desperate to release. Lucien’s fingers curled, sliding out of her only to thrust back in roughly as the flat of his tongue circled around her and Elain screamed. Thunder masked the sound, not that Elain cared. Let them all know.

Lucien was back over her in an instant, capturing the rest of her orgasm with his lips pressed to hers. She parted her legs wider, letting him replace his fingers and mouth with his still hard, still twitching cock.

“That’s it,” he praised, his tongue still coated in the taste of their combined release. “My good girl, coming on my tongue.”

“Oh, God,” Elain whispered into his open mouth. The taste of his wicked smile was sweet.

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” Lucien ordered, his hand sliding up her side to tease her nipple. His hips rolled into her, his pace better controlled. She’d been right to think he’d figure this out quickly, that what he needed was a baseline so he could keep his bearings.

“You,” she repeated, tugging at his hair until he whined softly. “With the ladies at the bake sale.”

A soft growl slipped from his lips. “Why would you think that?” he demanded, punctuating his jealousy with his thick cock. “You are the only person I’ve been able to think about since I arrived.

Just you. Only you.”

Elain could have died. “What took you so long?”

Lucien’s chuckle was drowned by the rumbling thunder. “You seemed like a good girl, Elain. I didn’t realize you were my good girl.”

She wanted to ask if he’d learned to talk like that in his books, too. If she could get a recommendation from him. All thoughts flew straight out the window when his long fingers curled gently around her neck. A ripple of pleasure hummed through her at the soft squeeze, constricting her air just enough.

“Do I need to worry about you sleeping with other men?” Lucien whispered. Elain’s toes curled.

“You need to worry about the vows you made, father,” Elain retorted breathlessly, raking her nails down his back. “Isn’t this a sin?”

“This is heaven,” Lucien grunted, snaking his other hand between their bodies. He’d remembered, and that was enough to fill Elain with the soft hum of pleasure. “You are heaven. And if wanting you is a sin, send me to hell.”

Lucien’s fingers began rubbing tight circles around her clit, dragging her back upwards with a ferocity that threatened to ruin her. Elain gripped his arms until she was certain her nails must be drawing blood.

“Come for me, Elain. I want to fuck you again,” Lucien moaned, pulling her face closer for a messy kiss. The combination of his stroking cock and rubbing fingers and licking tongue was too much. The onslaught of sensation ripped another orgasm out of her before she could do little more than whimper a begging, please.

Elains body locked around his, squeezing so tight his thrusting felt more like mindless rutting. Lucien lost his rhythm, and then himself as he tumbled off that ledge with her. Elain could only hold him close when she regained her ability to move again, rubbing up and down his bare spine. The sound of their combined panting mingled against the still furious storm.

“Can I stay tonight?” he whispered, kissing the side of her neck.

“To keep me safe? Or–”

“Because I want to be with you,” Lucien protested, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “The storm is merely a convenient excuse. I was close to breaking before I saw that first raindrop. Four days without you has been hell.”

“We don’t have to go so long again,” Elain assured him. She didn’t think she could.

“And will I see you in confession this Wednesday?” he pressed, a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Will I see you?”

Lucien smiled. “You most certainly will.”

#idk about tagging this one actually #i trust the right people to find this

125 notes · View notes

feastonkings · 2 months ago

Text

boyd holbrook / he/him ——— no way is that FINNEGAN ‘FINN’ O’CONNOR.. they’re a 37-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being ABRASIVE & UNHINGED but there are some people who have seen them being LOYAL & DEPENDABLE. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of a blood tinted smile, embracing the darkness to become limitless, the roar of a beast within hungry for more, fanning the flames of violence, and a taunting laugh, but that could just be because they’re considered the BLOOD KNIGHT around town. just keep an eye on them & see if their true colors shine through..

GENERAL.

full name: finnegan patrick o'connor nicknames: ireland, finn (preferred name) classification: enhanced human gender / pronouns: cis man, he/him age / birthday: 37, march 27th orientations: bisexual, homoromantic occupation: capo for skyport mafia & co-owner of exposed circuits location: middle district status: single family: patrick o'connor (father), margaret march (mother, unknown), kirby (half sibling), several half siblings and cousins strengths: hard-working, loyal, dependable, stoic, protective weaknesses: abrasive, unhinged, sadistic, violent, stubborn character inspo: tba

BIOGRAPHY.

tw: violence, child abuse, addiction, murder, implied homophobia, neglect

born in a chicago prison to a drug addicted sex worker, finnegan o'connor was destined to walk the wrong path from the beginning. patrick o’connor, his father, escaped as a fugitive to america from ireland. He was on the run after being arrested on suspicions of his involvement with the irish mafia. very true accusations, hence why he ran.

in the states, patrick kept his ties with his mafia family back home, running weapons, taking people out, making explosives, and getting rid of whatever other contraband they needed to move outside the country. by the time the guards handed him finn, he had already become a well known name in chicago for all the wrong reasons.

with his father knee deep in international crime, one would assume that they had money but it never seemed like Ffnn or any of his siblings got any benefit from it. they lived in the southside, in a house that should have been condemned long before they occupied it but there were not many city workers brave enough to enter their area.

his mother was non-existent, most of his younger siblings related to him through his father. if finn were to sit down and think about it, he probably has a lot more brothers and sisters out there. the money for food Patrick gave whatever woman he was seeing at the time rarely made it into the kitchen. they were expected to eat what was there, or find some other way to feed themselves. it was a damn miracle any of them survived at all but somehow they managed.

once they were all old enough for school, they had a system down and were already involved in the family business in one way or another.

his volatile home environment offered little nurture there and love was non-existent. he only ever learned a few things: don’t talk to the cops, don’t ask stupid questions, protect the family, and do whatever his father says. the last one was key, because if you didn’t listen you were sure to feel it. which may happen regardless if his father was in one of his moods.

he would claim finn needed to learn some lessons and over time, it became normal. crying or showing any type of emotion made you weak in his eyes so finn learned early on to bottle it up and find other ways to express pain. usually it was through violence, picking fights with anyone who would oblige him. by his teen years he would add substances into the mix to drown the demons or induce a short period of numbness to escape.

finn went to school when he felt like it and wasn’t much of the academic type. as far as he was concerned, by the time he hit ninth grade he had learned everything he needed to for life. he spent most of his time terrorizing fellow students, stealing what he wanted from them and beating the piss out of anyone who messed with family or looked at him wrong. his fuse has always been short, and his first reaction was and often still is violence, it excited him.

otherwise, he was doing work for the family business or running around in the streets of chicago. sometimes this meant partying with friends and associates, other times it meant running and hiding from the cops. he ran from cops like he ran from his feelings and he was damn good at it, for the most part.

things changed when patrick was arrested and five of the children currently living with him were put into the system. finn tried to get as many paired off as possible to keep them together. he'd done his best to look out for his younger siblings when he could, as the oldest he took a bit of responsibility in it, only a little bit though. over time they all had their own agenda and were angry and bitter just like him.

the plan had always been to get out of chicago. once he turned eighteen he could take a sibling or two and they could head anywhere and start over. get a better life with clean air and sunshine in a place where the name o'connor had nothing attached to it. dreams were just dreams, though and at the end of the day finn should've known patrick would find a way to fuck it all up.

all he'd wanted was to take advantage of the empty house for once and then get what was his before his father returned. instead, he was interrupted mid-session with his boyfriend axel who he'd been seeing for awhile. drunk, hateful, and barely coherent, a mixture of strong irish laced slurs fell from his father's mouth. no son of mine is going to end up becoming a string of gay slurs and other remarks. where was everyone else? he had a business to run, was this why wasn't finn taking care of it while he was gone? a worthless failure just like the rest of his offspring.

finn tried to push axel out while his father rambled on. he wouldn't admit it, but axel was the first person he made an attempt at some real kind of relationship that wasn't filled with toxic sewer waste with. his father stopped axel from leaving, and threw him across the room like a ragdoll. he hit finn with several strong fists and pulled his gun on both of them, forcing them to stay in the room.

when patrick returned, he brought a woman with him who happened to be a sex worker. he gave him the ultimatum to sleep with her and 'prove he was a man'. knowing his trigger happy pops, finn did as he said trying not to look at his frightened boyfriend still sitting in the room. he regretted it, because the other got up and once again tried to flee. finn stopped what he was doing to try and prevent his father from doing anything but it was pointless.

patrick beat finn to the brink of unconsciousness, just before things went black he watched him unload the pistol into axel. when he came to the body was gone and he was forced to clean up the mess left behind. his father screamed at him, calling him every slur in the book and told him to get his shit together or he wasn’t his son. for some reason finn stayed around for another month, practically a drone while he healed, blocking out everything around him.

it wasn't long before patrick noticed and confronted finn again. when finn started to pay attention to what he was saying, it was like he woke up. he pushed the older man away from him. patrick stepped forward and raised an empty bottle in his hand to strike, but this time a hand caught his wrist.

something snapped inside finn, he was not going to take any more of his father's bullshit. years of pent up rage, resentment, and pure unadulterated anger poured out of him as he laid into the only man he'd ever feared. blinded by the rage, he didn’t remember who pulled him off his father or if he stopped on his own. all he noticed was patrick didn’t appear to be breathing and a female voice yelling she’d called 911. the next thing he heard was the sirens.

he got up and ran as fast as he could, but this time he couldn’t hide from the pursuit of the police. they caught up with him hiding behind a local bar and threw him to the ground, arresting him. the charges were attempted murder and possession of an illegal firearm. “so, the asshole lived?” was the only response he gave and laughed as they put him into the car.

since he was seventeen, they were able to charge him as an adult. he had a chance to change that if he was willing to give them information on patrick and his involvement with the mob. of course, even after everything the man had done to him and his siblings, finn was no snitch. the judge took the long history provided by the social worker assigned to the o’connor family into account, giving him a sentence of only five years versus the max of fifteen.

he took the sentence with a smile, going away for five years wasn't hard. prison was not that bad of a place in comparison to what he was used to. it was clean, full of people he could relate to, and he was served three hot meals a day. he was cold and numb for the first few months, but soon enough he'd built a reputation for himself as someone who could get any job done and wasn’t to be messed with.

he made some quick money once he was free and a car, not looking to go back home ever again. finn took off to texas, with the promise of a job he'd be good at from his cell mate who'd been involved with the mob down there. soon enough he was in dallas, with new documents and a capo position with the skyport mafia.

over the next several years he built up his name again, as someone who is ruthless, sadistic, and to be feared with enemies. to some he was a protector and others just saw him as a weapon. truly finn could give a fuck less what anyone thought.

he co-owns exposed circuits and enjoys the services they're able to provide the public. some of his siblings, even ones he hadn't known before, have popped out of the woodwork and some cousins too. finn looks out from them from afar, but he's not much of the loving type. protective if they deserve it, and cold otherwise.

HEADCANONS.

has an all black with dark green leather interior vintage dodge charger named morticia

among his many tattoos his body is riddled with scars both old and new, the worst being on his back from the times he was whipped with the buckle side of a belt

he has a hard time looking in the mirror long because he has his father's eyes and similar features

he hasn't had any sort of real relationship since before he went to prison.

finn prefers knives to guns, despite being a hell of a shot. he likes to drag out his encounters, even when it doesn't call for it.

more to come

#finn o'connor.intro #cyberplexintro #violence tw #abuse tw #addiction tw #murder tw #neglect tw #implied homophobia tw

3 notes · View notes

bluejaysandblackbats · 3 months ago

Text

It Takes A Village

Fandom: YJ98, Flashfam, DC Comics

Summary: After witnessing Bart murder someone, his friends scramble to cover Bart's tracks and stumble upon an international scandal as a result.

(Minor background: Bart took a gap year, and Conner did two years of community college. This starts shortly after Bart's 19th birthday. So, Conner and Jenni are 20, Bart and Cissie are 19, Tim and Cassie are 18, I made Greta 17 for the sake of the fic, and Judy is 15. I decided to make Owen 22 and Thad 16 for plot reasons. Clark and Conner are brothers in this fic, and Clark is 12 years older for the sake of this fic, so he's 32.)

Chapters: 10/?

Characters: Bart Allen, Conner Kent, Judy Garrick, Jay Garrick, Joan Garrick, Cissie King-Jones, Cassie Sandsmark, Tim Drake, Greta Hayes, Jenni Ognats, Thad Thawne, Owen Mercer, Meloni Thawne, Clark Kent, Wally West, Linda Park, Courtney Whitmore, President Thawne

Relationship(s): KonBart, CissieCassie, WallyLinda

Additional Tags: Serial Killer AU, No Powers AU, Angst, Dark Comedy, Bart Allen Kills in This Fic, Minor Thad Thawne, Separated in Childhood, Some Smut in This

Chapter Ten: Ill

After the fight, Bart’s fever spiked, and he tried to say goodnight to rush to the parking garage. Grant and Grant’s friend Tommy and Tommy’s friend Dinah and Tommy’s father, Ted… They all wanted to talk. His line of vision thinned out and his stomach dropped as he continued to nod and smile. He couldn’t muster the energy to speak. “Oh man, I forgot… Bart’s got work tomorrow. We gotta go,” Grant stated. Bart nodded, smiling at everyone, mouthing goodnight but not managing a sound.

They nearly made it to the garage when Bart got tunnel vision, and his ears started ringing. He grabbed Grant’s arm in a last-ditch effort to keep his balance, but his eyes rolled back, his knees buckled, and if it hadn’t been for Grant’s quick thinking, he would’ve landed on his face.

Bart woke up in the hospital, groggy and speechless as he reached for his IV. Grant stopped him. “Hey, buddy… Let’s not do that. We’re in the emergency room. You took a little spill, and they want you to stay until your temperature—.”

“No… I have to go home. They’re gonna call my grandparents,” Bart mumbled, “I don’t want my—.”

Grant shook his head. Bart sank into the bed, too weak to move. “Bart, they called your grandpa a couple of minutes ago. Bart, why didn’t you tell me you were sick? I would’ve understood,” Grant frowned. Bart shut his eyes.

“I have to call my grandpa… I have to—. I don’t want him to come here,” Bart mumbled as he opened his eyes and reached into his pocket to grab his phone.

He called Barry because he was scared to call Iris. “Bart! Hey, are you okay? We just got a call saying you passed out,” Barry panted over the phone.

“Grandpa, you don’t have to come out this way. I’ll be out of the hospital before you get here—.”

“Bart, what happened?” Barry asked.

Bart didn’t want Iris to come to the hospital. It would’ve reminded him of the observatory. It would’ve made everything worse. “Grandpa, I can hear you moving around. Just stop for a minute,” Bart pleaded in Interlac. He rarely used it with Barry because the language sounded strange on Barry’s tongue. With Iris, he dropped the veil and spoke in mostly Interlac. It rolled off their tongues naturally, leaving Bart the space to say everything he wanted as fast as it came to him.

“What’s wrong?” Barry asked.

“Nothing… I’m sick and bit off a little more than I could chew today. I’m fine. I’ll stay home for a few days after I sign myself out—.”

“Bart, if you don’t want us to come down there, you’ve gotta promise to stay until they discharge you,” Barry whispered. Bart shut his eyes.

“Fine… And Grandpa, can I ask you a quick question?” Bart asked. He softened, hoping Barry could answer something for him.

“Ask away,” Barry whispered.

“When you found out Grandma and I were alive—. Grandpa, did Grandma ever tell you what happened to her when she wasn’t with me?” Bart questioned. He felt a sick pit in his stomach as the words left his mouth.

“Not much. She said she did what she had to to get you out of there. I don’t think she wants us to know… I try to respect that,” Barry answered. Bart sighed. “I know… Get some rest. Keep us posted. I love you, Pup.”

“Love you too, Grandpa. And goodnight just in case I fall asleep and forget to text you later,” Bart whispered. They hung up, and Bart pressed his palms against his eyelids.

“You okay, Bart?” Grant asked. Bart nodded.

“Did it look bad?” Bart asked.

“Your nose started bleeding and you threw up in the ambulance. It looked like coffee grounds—.”

“Shit. Don’t worry. I’m taking something for that… Thanks for staying with me,” Bart smiled, “But I’ll be okay if you have to leave. I’ll call Cissie and tell her after—.”

“Bart, is something going on that you don’t want me to know about?” Grant asked. Bart shook his head.

“I just don’t like people to make a fuss over my health. I’m gonna be fine. I promised my grandparents that I’ll stay until the hospital discharges me, so you don’t have to worry about—.”

“I don’t have anywhere to be… And I’m not making a fuss. I’m hanging out with a friend. You know… That’s the first time I’ve heard you speak anything other than English,” Grant noted.

“I feel like I’m never saying the right thing in English. I’ve never been one for nuance,” Bart half-joked.

“I think you’ve gotten the hang of it. There’s a lot of distance between what you’re saying and what you’re thinking now. I know that for sure… Listen, I know you didn’t have it easy. You bounced around a lot, too… And I know we don’t have the same experiences, but I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to mask something. Some kind of—. I don’t know. You’re masking some sort of trauma,” Grant observed. It made Bart feel exposed and naked.

“Grant, you’re getting dangerously close to something that’s none of your—.”

“Bart, I’m not trying to hurt you… I think you’re hurting yourself. I want you to know there are places for you to talk to people about what’s going on that aren’t like—. Places that aren’t traditional talk therapy. Your stress is killing you. I’ve never known you to be sick before, and you can’t honestly tell me you came down with—.”

“Grant, stop. Stop, okay?” Bart interrupted as he tried to close his eyes and go to sleep.

“Okay. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Grant replied.

Bart’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he shifted uncomfortably as he reached in his pocket for it. His headache subsided. He answered his phone without looking. “Cissie called and said they kept you overnight at the hospital. She told your job you wouldn’t be in for a few days, and I’m on my way to the—.”

“Tim?” Bart questioned, still confused.

“Cissie asked me to come early to make sure you don’t land yourself in the hospital again. Besides, we can listen to Creachur King and Late Night Licks when they drop,” Tim replied.

“Late Night Licks is back?” Bart asked.

“Who listens to Late Night Licks?” Grant asked, half-asleep with his eyes shut. He lay over Bart’s lap.

“My friend, Tim. If you’re in town, you can listen to the new episode with us. I’ve been meaning to introduce you two to each other. Tim, would you mind if Grant listened with us?” Bart asked.

“I wouldn’t mind. Cissie told me Grant wanted to stay a night or two. I heard they’re having a celebrity do a voiceover for the premier’s story of the week along with an interview,” Tim replied, “I gotta get back on the road, but I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“Alright… I’m gonna get some more sleep. Wake me up when you get here,” Bart whispered before hanging up. He fell asleep with his phone on his chest, and Grant sat up.

Grant, Tim, and Bart squeezed together in the queen-sized bottom bunk, listening to Late Night Licks through their headphones using a splitter. Bart started to nod off before sirens startled him awake. He ripped his headphones out and gave Tim the laptop before climbing over Grant to go to the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later to grab a bag of gummies from his drawer, and he ate three. “What’s that?” Grant asked.

“You don’t want one,” Tim answered without looking. Grant’s eyes widened. “Yeah.”

Bart nodded. “He’s right,” Bart replied as he put his headphones on to finish the episode. A few minutes before it ended, Bart let his head tilt back, feeling heavy and weightless at the same time. He shut his eyes, gently clearing his throat. He opened his eyes, turning toward the door. “Bart?” Grant whispered. Bart climbed over Grant. “Where are you headed?”

“The shower,” Bart mumbled as he took his phone with him.

Bart soaked in the tub, shutting his eyes as he scrubbed his skin. He leaned back into the water, letting it cover his face, and he ran a hand through his hair. The sponge in his hand lightly brushed his forehead, and he groaned. He took the sponge and ran it down the underside of his left arm. He couldn’t hold onto a single thought as it came to him, so he honed in on the sensations that felt the best. He ran the sponge down the center of his chest, past his waistline, and he shut his eyes, absentmindedly touching and squeezing. Sweat dripped down his temple as he took his other hand, cupping the underside of his balls as they twitched in his palm. He groaned long, low, and drawn out from the back of his throat as he came into the tub. He let the water drain and stood still, watching until it was gone before turning the shower on.

He got out once he started shivering, and he dressed before calling Conner. “Bart, hey. How are you?” Conner asked. “Do you feel a little better?”

“I love you,” Bart whispered, still half out of it. “I’m okay. I’m a little high right now, but I—. I—. Playing with your hair and—. The little bit of hair above your waistline—. What’s that called?”

Conner laughed over the phone. “ A snail trail? ” Conner asked.

“Mhm… I like that. And I like the way you sound when you wake up and—. Conner, I like you. Everything about you. You’re perfect to me,” Bart whispered. Conner made a noise over the phone.

“I like you and love you too, Bart… Try to get some rest tonight—.”

“I want to hear about your day,” Bart interrupted as he draped himself across the couch, wrapping himself in a blanket. “I want to hear your voice.”

“Okay… Well, this morning I had french toast and bacon in the cafeteria. Then, I walked to class and Cassie took me to her gym. I like her gym better than mine because the girls there like to recommend songs to each other, and a couple of them brought their boyfriends who were super cool… And Clark invited us out for milkshakes at this new place. Lois ordered for everyone, and I had a strawberry milkshake with collagen in it. That was pretty cool,” Conner took a deep breath, “And I’m on lunch right now at work… But I get off at three in the morning. If you get up late tonight, you can text me. I’ll probably be up.”

“Sounds good… Thank you for talking to me about your day. You don’t know how much it helps,” Bart whispered.

“Of course. Thank you for asking about my day. If we don’t talk tonight, I want to talk to you about your day tomorrow,” Conner whispered.

“Okay… Talk to you soon,” Bart mumbled.

“Okay. Bye, baby,” Conner replied before hanging up. Cissie came in the front door and frowned.

“Bart, why is your hair wet?” Cissie asked. She grabbed a towel from her room and dried him off. “Tim and Grant were supposed to be—.” Cissie sighed, and Bart looked up with a big smile on his face. “What?”

“Give me a hug. I missed you,” Bart whispered. Cissie softened, sat down, and wrapped her arms around him. “I had a good day…”

“Did you smoke today?” Cissie asked. Bart shook his head.

“Gummies,” Bart replied. Cissie chuckled.

“Oh, nice… I had a good day, too,” Cissie replied. Bart lit up.

“Tell me all about it,” Bart requested with gentle enthusiasm.

Cissie sank into the couch beside Bart, relaxing her shoulders, and she glanced at him. “Oh, I crushed it in class today. We had a comprehension check this morning, and I was so ready for it. Then, I—. Oh, I got you something,” Cissie answered as she reached into her pocket and gave Bart a little bottle of juice. “I got it at the juice bar down the street. It’s a wellness shot. I got it for like seventy percent off because they were about to close… And they were gonna toss it.”

Bart opened the bottle and downed it without a word, and he turned to her with a sour expression. “I see why it’s a shot… Thanks, Cissie. Did you get something for yourself?” Bart questioned with his eyes closed. He lay over her lap, reached for the remote, and turned the TV on without looking.

Cissie took the remote and turned the news on. “I did. I got myself a celery juice—.” Bart heard someone on the TV speaking his language, and he sat up. “Oh god, Bart. Isn’t that awful? They say he was in there a while before they found him,” Cissie replied. Bart kissed her temple and returned to his room, leaving Cissie perplexed.

When Bart was well enough, he started spending all his free time at the park on jogs. Three days. Watching and waiting. He marked the time on his skin with lipstick. Easy to wash off. The times varied. So, his afternoon jogs proved to be equally fruitful. Dr. Eric Donnovan. From the park, Bart found his car. From the car, Bart found his opening. Eric Donnovan always parked in a secluded area. It was usually within a two-block radius of the park and hidden well enough that Bart could be alone for as long as he needed.

Bart read more about him in some of the other files when he could stomach looking at them. He couldn’t bear to read Thad’s, so he read the others. Dr. Eric Donnovan botched more medical procedures than he successfully completed, which led Bart to believe he was harming children on purpose. The desire to kill him led Bart down a rabbit hole of vengeful gestures. He wanted to kill Donnovan so much that it made him sick inside. It twisted his stomach into knots and he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, thinking of all the ways he could harm him. He couldn’t do it within the first two weeks, but he knew the third week… The third week, when he went to visit Conner, he’d have the opportunity to do it. He couldn’t visit Conner the first week because he was still too tired to drive, so Conner visited the following week.

Conner kissed Bart’s neck, reaching up Bart’s shirt. “I missed you last week. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Conner whispered between kisses. Bart seemed limp and uninvolved. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Bart whispered. Conner stopped and sat beside Bart, waiting patiently for an explanation or a description of Bart’s feelings.

“Are you okay?” Conner asked.

“I think I’m distracted… I can’t get my head right,” Bart mumbled, “I’m sorry.” Conner smiled.

“Don’t feel bad… We could actually watch the movie we put on,” Conner offered. Bart looked at Conner’s sad eyes and something in him cracked. He couldn’t tell Conner everything, but he figured it wouldn’t kill him to tell Conner a little bit.

Bart leaned over and grabbed his file from the drawer. “Conner, I want to—. You have to promise not to tell anyone if I show you this,” Bart whispered.

“I promise,” Conner answered.

Bart opened the file and took out a set of pictures. “Remember how I said these were my medical records? I wasn’t lying, but—. This was—. Look,” Bart stammered. He showed Conner a picture of a doctor forcing a mask over his mouth and nose while nurses held him down. He was careful to show the pictures that didn’t clearly show the doctors’ faces. Conner looked despite everything in his body screaming for him to look away. He swallowed hard as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Some of the procedures were normal but most of them were experiments to see how much I could take mentally. My pain tolerance. How long I could go without sleep. It was—. Effectively it was torture. I never hugged anyone. I never held hands. Behind glass... I never knew what my grandma smelled like.”

“Bart,” Conner whispered, “This is what you—. No one would ever know you came from this.”

“That’s why I’m not always responsive. I’m—. I know it’s not normal now, but I—. Moving here, I didn’t know how anything worked. I didn’t know—. It’s so hard to reach out sometimes because I feel like it’s easier not to show anything, but—. I want you to know me.

“I want you to understand that even if it isn’t comparable to anyone else’s emotions, I love you more than I’ve loved anyone. I want you, and I need you. I want you to need me, too. This isn’t to make you pity me. This is so you know, I came from a place where I wasn’t allowed to experience love in its purest form, and I love you despite everything I was taught. I was taught not to love or connect, and I love you now,” Bart explained. Conner kissed Bart’s cheek.

“Thank you for sharing this with me. Thank you for trusting me… I—. Bart, I’m sorry for crying at this,” Conner smiled. Bart put his file away, turned to him, and wiped Conner’s cheeks.

“Thank you for all the love you’ve shown me… And thank you for showing me what patience and humanity look like,” Bart answered. They kissed. His lips kept finding Conner’s, never truly finding air until Conner pulled away.

“Do you want to watch a stupid movie?” Conner asked.

“Let’s squeeze into Cissie’s bed and force her to watch something dumb,” Bart smiled.

Conner paused, looking deep into Bart, and Bart froze, wondering if Conner found something he didn’t like. But Conner smiled, gently kissing his forehead. “You’re safe now,” Conner reassured. The word safe echoed in Bart’s head, and he smiled, trying to shake it off. “No one’s going to hurt you anymore—.”

Hurt. Conner acknowledged the part that no one else seemed to. The hurt. It wasn’t the lack of safety. It was the fact that people hurt him and his parents and his aunt and uncle. It all hurt, and Conner understood that. Bart lay down, pulling Conner down beside him. Killing for Bart was his only way of returning that hurt to the senders. He hid his face in Conner’s shirt. “I changed my mind. Let’s stay here,” Bart mumbled. Conner nodded as he held Bart close.

4 notes · View notes