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crappymixtape · 2 years ago

Text

don't make me say it

REQUEST → @palmtreesx3, 500 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION ❝ you make me want things I can’t have prompt // what can't you have, my guy? please, tell me more, you self deprecating idiot (said with love) – hiding behind a bitchy vibe and some bravado, this boy’s gotta stop gaslighting himself and acting like you're out of reach when you're right 👏 fuckin 👏 there 👏 | ( 2k – mostly angst, dumb boi steve, and a little fluff right at the end to take you home, steve x reader )

D O N ' T M A K E M E S A Y I T 🎶 and you don’t even know you hurt me, nick murphy

Ring, ring, ring.

You didn’t know why you were calling, he probably wasn’t even home. Was probably out with someone else. Another girl sitting in the passenger seat of his BMW while he drove with the windows down. Letting her listen to Tears for Fears or Journey. Letting her hear his not-half-bad rendition of Faithfully or Head Over Heels. Smiling that smile at her, the one he said he saved for you, but you knew better.

While he hadn’t actually said it out loud, you know how he felt.

You were best friends. Had been since you were in diapers. Rolling around in his yard in the summer with chocolate ice cream messed across your cheeks. Starting the first day of middle school together with his dorky braces and your glasses – before you had contacts. Going into high school and watching each other change. Shift. Turn pretty.

The first time that feeling got you.

The one that made your stomach flip over when he looked at you all different. Looked at you like it was the first time. Like you were the only thing that existed in that moment and you knew he felt it too. He had to, but nothing ever happened.

Even when he tucked his hand into your back pocket while you walked out of the diner. Even when you leaned in real close to give him a hug when he dropped you off after a movie. Even when he pressed a kiss to your forehead because you were best friends.

Ring, ring, ring.

You felt tears stinging at the corners of your eyes, felt your throat tighten against the sob that had crawled its way up your throat, felt your heart stutter in your chest as you anticipated the let down. The same old shit.

He was the first one you’d call every single time. The only one to hear you crying. Telling him all about how you got your heart broken again and he’d reassure you. Murmur soft things into your ear about how you didn’t deserve it and what an asshole and it’d be okay. Offered to bring you ice cream and sat up with you til two in the morning watching shitty horror flicks, but never told you what you wanted to hear.

Baby, you deserve better. I’d treat you better. I’d love you how you want to be loved. Baby.

“Hello?” you jumped at the sudden sound of Steve’s voice, surprised he’d actually picked up after all that ringing, sucked in a gasp and swiped at the tears that had spilled over the line of your lashes.

“Hey,” your voice cracked in the middle, didn’t quite let you finish the one-word reply and you could hear the receiver shift on his shoulder, rub against the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Hey. What’s wrong? What happened?” his voice had eased. Gentler, warmer, edged with concern and it made you pull in another breath.

“Nothing. Just Tyler–” you pushed a sigh from your lungs and tried to settle your heart as it hammered against your ribcage.

“Tyler? Shit, what’d he do now?” his tone shifted like it always did. Protective, lower and a little rough and it made your stomach twist. You tangled your finger in the phone cord and leaned against the wall, slid your back down the flat surface until you were sitting on the floor of the kitchen.

It wasn’t even worth saying. It was the same shit every time, just this time was with Tyler. You weren’t into him and he could tell. Could tell in the way your eyes drifted when you were talking across the table at dinner. Could tell in the way you hopped out of his car too quick when he dropped you off. Could tell anytime you said Steve. It was obvious, wasn’t it?

“Nothing,” you lied, letting your head lean back against the wall, “Will you just come over?”

“Yeah, course. Ice cream?”

“Please?”

“Be right there.”

Click.

It was both a blessing and a curse to live across the street from your best friend for that very reason. He could be up your steps in two minutes or less and god it killed you.

Steve had brought your favorite, chocolate chip cookie dough, and didn’t even bother with bowls after you let him in. He knew his way around the kitchen, sometimes even better than you did, and dug two spoons out from the silverware drawer before dropping down next to you on the couch.

“Here,” he jammed one of the spoons into the cold ice cream and dug out a bite for you, held it out expectantly and you took it from his hand. The cool sensation melted in your mouth as Steve’s thigh pressed against yours too close on the couch as he flipped through the TV channels before landing on The Thing.

He crammed his own spoon into the tub of ice cream and took a glance at you out of the corner of eye. You were pretty even when you cried, even when your eyes were a little puffy, even when your voice was scratchy. Especially when your voice was scratchy. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Sorry,” he murmured and you shook your head, snuck another bite of ice cream.

“S’fine,” you insisted, tucked your legs to your chest, didn’t look back at him for fear of the feelings swelling in your chest.

He huffed a sigh, put his spoon and the ice cream on the coffee table in front of you and turned so he was facing you properly. Fixed you with a look. That look.

You’re not fine.

You gave him a side eye, all attitude and stubbornness and he frowned.

“It’s not fine,” he disagreed, reached over to tuck your messed hair out of your face and your cheek warmed where his hand brushed across your skin. “These guys are all assholes. They never tell you why and its–”

“Steve,” you interrupted him, pinched the bridge of your nose and held your breath. Maybe you should’ve told him to stay home.

“What?” he shot back, brows pulling together in frustration, leaning forward so you couldn’t avoid him and the irritation in his voice ignited yours.

“You know what,” you leveled, putting your spoon down next to his, lips twisting into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to spell it out for me,” he shook his head, “Cos shit’s not adding up.”

“Spell it out for you?” your eyes grew wide, incredulous, and you finally turned to face him.

Heat rose in your chest, up your neck and across your cheeks in the dark of the living room, lit up by the flicker of the TV and there was no doubt about how angry you were.

“It’s obvious, Steve! To everyone but you apparently,” came tumbling out and you bit your lip. An afterthought. Regret at letting it loose, but you couldn’t take it back and maybe it was better that way.

It rendered him silent for a minute, the irritation on his face softening the longer he looked at you, and you finally pulled your gaze away and folded in on yourself. Tucked into the couch and tried to watch the movie, but it was useless. Ruined.

“Obvious, huh?” he asked quietly and you silently nodded, a snotty move that made Steve huff a small mirthless laugh and he ran a hand through his hair. Shook his head and stared at his feet. Knew exactly what you were talking about, but didn’t want to admit it. “It’s not all my fault you know,” he said, words sharp and it made your eyes snap back to him.

“Not all your fault? You’re joking.”

“Serious. You’re just as guilty as I am,” and if you thought you were angry before you were furious now.

“How am I guilty, Steve? I’m here trying to–to live my life! Move on! Meet people that aren’t the dumb boy from across the street and you make it impossible!”

“Dumb boy–” Steve stood from the couch, looked down at you expression hurt and he was just as angry as you were now, “Princess, you make me want shit I can’t have! How’s that fair?”

“What?” you shot up after him and got right in his face.

Wanted to make damn sure he heard you. Understood you because you weren’t going to say it again and it scared the shit out of you. It scared you that you were willing to ruin your friendship forever with what you were about to say, but you couldn’t carry it any longer. No more.

“I’m right here, Steve,” and you didn’t yell. Didn’t scream. Didn’t make a big show out of it. Just stared up at him with your chin tilted resolutely, feet firm the ground, hands balled into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms. Trembling with the weight of it all and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Speechless. Caught.

“That’s not what I–I didn’t mean–you’re just–”

“Forget it, Steve,” your frame fell at his backpeddling and you felt the tears biting at the corners of your eyes again. Tried to will them away, but the second rejection of the evening hit hard and you’d had it, “Just go home.”

You turned away from him, not even bothering to turn the TV off and tried to go to the stairs, but his caught yours and spun you around so fast you bumped into his chest. Caught the warm, citrusy scent of his cologne. Fresh laundry and mint and boy and it was so hard to stay angry pressed into him like that.

“M’sorry,” he murmured and it stole your breath away. The sorry in his voice. The look in his eyes. The way his free hand lifted to hold you at your waist. Firm, steady, Steve.

“That doesn’t change anything,” you were grasping at the last bits of anger that still clung around the edges, but it was fading fast.

“No, I mean it. I’m sorry. You’re right,” and that admission made you weak in the knees. Sent your heart racing in your chest and you tried to swallow down the nerves that he’d conjured in your stomach.

“Right about what?” you asked, but before he could answer you pressed your fingers to his lips, a silent request to wait, “Be honest, Steve. Please. Because I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Your hand fell away and his brows pinched together as he looked down at you. Sad, sorry, regret. His hand on your waist held you tighter and he let go of your hand. Cupped the soft curve of your jaw and shook his head slowly.

“Right about you. Being right here and I’m an idiot. I just–”

He tripped over his words. Struggled with being exposed and vulnerable and real and you lifted your hand to cover his over your cheek. Reassuring him for once and god did it help.

“You just deserve the best and I’m…well. I’m me,” he tried a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes and you pressed your free hand into his chest. Bunched the fabric of his shirt in your fingers and pulled him close. Tutted at him softly and sighed.

“I don’t want the best,” you said, voice barely over a whisper, pulling him closer still, “I just want you. You idiot.”

And then he smiled. A slow creep of a grin. Small at first and growing as your noses brushed against each other. Heads tilting ever so slightly. Lips soft and parted so that you could fit them together like two sides of a locket and when they met everything melted away.

Finally. Finally.

Finally.

“You can have whatever you want, Steve Harrington,” you sighed into him, his fingers pressing into the soft plush of your waist, “Just don’t make me say it again.”

And when he kissed you quiet it was all you needed to know your best friend was finally that. Your best. Your friend. Yours.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

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cdroloisms · 3 years ago

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idk why but i imagined vegas 2.0 as two soccer moms (the politics bois) trying to outdo each other while their sons are dragged into it (green bois) in a rlly fvcked way. e.g.

maybe big q reconsidering dream's usefulness by saying sam's enough as protection and has other things to offer to the team as well. wilbur steps in by suggesting a duel between sam and dream then, to prove it then. maybe while it happens, wilbur whispers to quackity a list of what is still physically broken abt dream post prison (so many unhealed bones, barely healed muscle, he can barely stomach food so he had like 1 steak in the past few days, etc.) and of course, he mentions dream's most powerful asset, the revive book :)

-🐇

LMAOO

this is hilarious and also accurate as hell ,, thank you anon because the image of c!wilbur and c!quackity as PTA moms is completely sending me. this prompt (as most vt2 related things are) was really fun !! it also kinda ran away from me, which is why this ended up being almost 6k words instead of my usual 1-2k for asks, but i hope you enjoy it regardless :]

tws: implied torture/abuse, death, violence, blood, injuries, conditioning, dehumanization, panic attacks, emotional distress, trauma, unhealthy relationships (so many unhealthy relationships), smoking, dark contents, dark themes, vt2 au is always really dark so definitely proceed with caution !! dark portrayals of c!quackity, c!sam, c!wilbur, and c!dream

It starts, as many things do nowadays, with a board meeting - which seems to be as much of a sign as any that everything is going to go to shit. Board meetings for Quackity, much like Wilbur’s stupid group therapy sessions, are just a thinly veiled attempt for the two to fight for control of pretty much everything - ranging from the casino schedules to the laws still being written for Las Nevadas to what food to stock in the vending machines. As Sam is still sitting on his false throne of moral superiority and therefore less inclined to indulge himself in the same blatant corruption that characterizes their discussions, and Dream - more than anything - knows his place (which hardly gives him any position to wrangle for power among the likes of Wilbur and Quackity), the fights for control more or less remain restricted between the two. More often than not, they devolve into proving their superiority over the other by using their control of Dream (which naturally never means anything remotely good for him as a consequence) so when Quackity strolls over, all tight-lipped smiles and a cigarette held between clenched fingers, Dream really doesn’t feel anything other than dread.

Still, orders by Quackity are still orders - Dream knows this fact better than he knows that he’s alive and breathing, better than the fact that he’s out of the prison, better than he knows his own goddamn name - and Dream is far too well-trained to ever consider trying to rebel. So when the time comes - 7:30 pm, sharp - Dream is in his chair, spine straight and head alert like a goddamn dog, and he waits.

It doesn’t take long for the others to arrive. Sam comes over first, leveling him with a heavy, distrustful stare as he sits down in the chair across from Dream, the expression nearly enough for Dream to roll his eyes if it weren’t for the fear that rockets through him, still, at the sight of the Warden so close to him. Sam has made it more than clear from the very beginning that he has no trust at all for Dream, that if he had his way then Dream would be locked up for the rest of eternity in a labyrinth of blackstone and obsidian, forever guarded by his ever-present supervision. Dream feels his ears burning with heat as he dips his eyes low to the surface of the table, wanting no more than to curl up and hide under the scrutiny of the Warden’s glare.

Quackity enters next, throwing open the door of the conference room loud enough to make Dream jump out of his seat, looking at him with an upturned corner of his lip when he comes back to himself enough to notice. Dream stifles a shudder at his visible good mood, all-too-aware of what that usually meant for him in the cell, stiffening further with a growing ringing to his ears as Sam and Quackity talk and Quackity sweeps past his side to get to his seat at the head of the table, carelessly brushing his fingers along the back of Dream’s neck in a way that makes him freeze, stock-still, in his chair - feeling his fingertips ease themselves over the ridge present there from a thick band of scar tissue, a deep, jagged thing that had been carved from the blunter back edge of Quackity’s axe when he had lost his temper and let the thing slam against the back of his neck, hard enough that it probably would’ve paralyzed him completely if it weren’t for Sam’s use of almost a full chest of regens. Quackity remains over him for a few more seconds, leaning over his chair to talk to Sam as he runs a light, possessive hand over the topmost bumps of Dream’s spine, before settling over into his chair, watching him with a small smirk as he keeps a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table.

Dream hates the prickling shame and terror that keeps his muscles tense as he stares at the table’s surface, still feeling the ghost of fingers tracing over skin and bone along the back of his neck, keeps his burning eyes trained on the surface of solid wood as he tries to steady his breaths. It’s all he can do to press down his flinch when Quackity, with a frustrated yell, slams his fist against the table a few minutes later, rage simmering underneath his words as he speaks.

“Where the hell is Wilbur?” His glare slides across the room, landing on Dream, making him shrink back in his seat, heart thudding in his ears. Quackity doesn’t stop staring at him even as he pulls a cigarette and lighter from his pants pocket, lighting it and bringing it to his lips and letting the silver-grey threads of smoke fill the room and press against the inside of Dream’s lungs. “It’s ten minutes til 8 - I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

Sam digs his fingers into his temples, already looking exhausted. “If you want, Q, we can always start without him and catch him up later. Depends on you.”

“No, then I’ll have to repeat myself and it’ll be pointless and ugh,” Quackity makes a vaguely frustrated noise as he finally turns his eyes over to Sam, making Dream’s shoulders shudder as he finally finds the air to take a breath, “We’ll just have to wait. Fucking idiot. I knew I shouldn’t have worked with any of these fuckers.”

In true Wilbur fashion, it isn’t until fifteen minutes later when the taller man finally makes an appearance, the entire time tense as hell as Quackity takes slow, steady drags of his cigarette and taps his fingers impatiently against the table’s surface. He offers one to Sam, who goes on to decline, making a short quip telling Quackity to watch his health for the future that promptly falls flat. Dream thinks he’s a fucking hypocrite, considering his whole deal with weednip or whatever Ant has on him, but doesn’t voice the thoughts as he sinks down in his chair, wishing more than anything to disappear. Against the fabric of his shirt, the right side of his chest itches, and he presses his palm against the place where he knows there is a small, irregular grid of pockmarked scars from when Quackity had taken smoke breaks in the middle of sessions.

“There you all are,” Wilbur smiles as he slides into the room, a covered metal tray held in his hands as he kicks the door closed and slides the tray onto the table with an awful screech. “I’m sorry for being late,” he continues, sounding not very sorry at all, “but I made some food to make up for it!”

He takes off the cover with a flourish; underneath, sunny yellow squares, nearly blindly bright, look up blankly under the conference room’s overly harsh lighting. They smell sugary and vaguely sour, stinging his nose slightly, and seem to be coated with a fine dusting of powdered sugar.

“Lemon bars!” Wilbur grins, just left of sincere, “they’re gluten-free!”

“God,” Quackity laughs, sounding slightly incredulous, shaking his head. Dream’s gut rolls at the sound, Wilbur’s smile growing wider, even more dangerous, at the tone. It’s familiar, the way the two of them challenge each other, and in a rare moment of solidarity Dream watches from the corner of his eyes as Sam’s shoulders hunch as well. The two of them always bring trouble, even normally, but when they’re in this mood? Actively challenging each other, toeing the line, trying to find the limits and push them just because they can? Dream shivers in his seat, grip tightening on his own arms; this, he knows, is when they are at their most dangerous - and he has the scars to prove it.

“Gluten-free, huh? Really leaning into the whole ‘PTA mom’ schtick today, aren’t you?” Quackity smirks. “Should I call you Linda from now on?”

“I don’t know, Quackity, I was just thinking that I would make a little healthier treat for all of us, you know?” Wilbur brushes off the remark easily, taking a seat and immediately kicking his feet up onto the table. “If you want it, of course. I would hardly want to get in the way of your professionalism, Mr. President- do you have one of those? Or are you going for a more authoritarian approach”

“Fighting words from someone who rigged an election as President,” Quackity drawls, “and couldn’t even win it, might I add. “

“Oh, Big Q! You fail to understand, I wasn’t criticizing you at all,” Wilbur smiles, jagged, “we agree, I believe, on the failures of democracy. Unless you’ve forgotten our conversation, already?”

“Of course not,” Quackity snorts, and Dream doesn’t miss how his gaze shifts towards the side of the room, landing on Dream and making him curl further in his seat. “I’ll save you from me trying to pick your brain, this time, but don’t worry. You make yourself…rather hard to forget.”

Wilbur claps, seeming satisfied with this round of verbal sparring, and the sharp sound of his hands meeting together nearly has Dream jumping in his seat. “So! Lemon bars- does anyone want any?”

Dream is keenly aware of two pairs of eyes landing on him, Wilbur and Quackity watching for his reaction with bated breath and narrowed eyes. Panic crawls up his throat; he knows the purpose behind their stares, knows that he’s once again become the object of one of their power struggles. Quackity’s orders rattle in his brain, his thoughts a messy jumble of pins all knocked loose from his time in the prison, hopelessly unorganized and running on little more than instinct. Wilbur is expecting him to eat, to give into his sweet pastries and sweeter words; the lesson not to eat, move, think without permission, hammered into him between chunks of potato and battered ribs and blood gathered in the crevices of his skin, keeps his hands at his sides instead of reaching towards the pastries still set in the middle of the table. Even with Quackity at the opposite side of the room, Dream swears that he can still feel the pressure of a hand against the back of his neck, pressing just hard enough to make itself known from the feeling of fingers pressing into either side of his spine - he doesn’t even quite feel himself shaking his head, only really realizes what he’s done when he hears Wilbur sigh in frustration and meets Quackity’s satisfied gaze.

“I’ll take one,” Sam says, sounding exhausted, eyes flitting from Wilbur to Quackity to Dream with an increasingly long-suffering expression. His face twists around the first bite of the bright yellow pastry, nose scrunching as he puts it down, missing a half-moon bite along one corner, and drags his fingers over the table to ease off the remnants of powdered sugar. Wilbur watches him, seeming amused, and Quackity rolls his eyes as he pulls a binder out of his inventory.

“Now that everyone is finally here,” he starts, directing a particularly dead-eyed stare at Wilbur, “we can finally get on with the meeting. I was thinking we could go over the budget, today, if that’s alright with the rest of you.”

It sounds innocent enough - which is the first sign of many that this meeting, whatever it is, is going to be anything but pleasant. The grin that steadily grows on Quackity’s face does nothing to assuage Dream’s anxieties, only pushing them higher as the man flips open the binder and messes with it for a few seconds longer before seemingly finding what he’s looking for.

“I think we all know that until Sam finishes with the bank, funds around here are going to be a little bit tight,” Quackity begins, waiting for all of them to nod before continuing, “And we really need to save wherever we can. I recounted the budget yesterday, just to make sure that we’re all on track, and- well,”

Quackity points to a circled series of red numbers that Dream doesn’t understand but can assume mean little good for them. Sam makes a low, considering noise, sounding strangely concerned, and Wilbur actually seems to close his mouth and lean forward in curiosity.

“We have a deficit,” Quackity continues when they’ve all settled back into their seats, “and we’ll get it all back once Sam gets the bank up and running, but for now our funds are...limited. I don’t want to stop progress on Las Nevadas, of course, we really don’t have time to waste. So I thought we’d have a meeting today to discuss the budget and eliminate any expenses that we might find-” Quackity gestures with a smooth twirl of his wrist, “expendable.”

Sam hums. “Do you have anything in mind, Quackity?”

“A few,” Quackity flips to the next page, where he’s seemingly jotted a few notes - different things that they can put off for the moment, it seems, and the money that would be saved for forgoing them temporarily. Dream reads down the list quickly, stilling at the last item.

“Quackity,” Sam sounds twenty times more tired already when he speaks, tone flat and a little irritated. “Why is Dream on the list?”

Quackity shrugs. “Hear me out, now- most of our money right now is going into living expenses for the four of us. Having more people here, until everything becomes more sustainable, is a huge drain on our resources. I’m just listing all our options.”

“So what do you want to do?” Sam huffs. “Throw him back in Pandora?”

Quackity shakes his head.

“Wilbur does have the revive book knowledge, you know,” he says, and Dream’s blood runs cold. He can’t run, can’t move; he’s stuck in his seat, heart hammering faster in his chest as the other three hardly spare him a second glance. Sam purses his lips, a considering expression flashing over his face, as Quackity presses on. “Seriously- listen, Sam. There’s nothing that Dream is really offering, at the moment, that the rest of us can’t handle. Wilbur has the revive book, you can act as security to take out any threats - really, we shouldn’t be pissing anyone off until everything officially opens, and we can always retrieve him then when we need him. He’ll be out of the way, which means he won’t be able to start any fucking trouble,” Quackity laughs, short. “It’s a win-win.”

“I don’t know, Quackity,” Sam says, the words slow, but the tone is familiar enough for Dream to know that he’s already mostly given in. “It’s a risk, isn’t it? None of us but Dream have really used the revive book, before.”

Wilbur doesn’t even look at him when he chirps a reply. “That won’t be a problem, Sam. I’d be very happy to test it out, if you want.”

Quackity leans forward, and Dream nearly gags; he’s preening in his spot, eyes dancing as he smiles up at Sam. “Anything else you can think of?”

“I don’t know,” Sam trails off, and Dream looks down, only barely staving off the panic squeezing around his lungs and tears burning in his eyes. It’s nothing he hasn’t envisioned before, nothing he hasn’t expected, but this- he feels like such a fool, for hoping- “If we get ambushed, Q, I really don’t know if gear is going to be enough. You remember what Technoblade did last time.”

Quackity huffs, sounding annoyed, but nods to concede the point. “That is...fair. But then again, we don’t exactly know how good Dream is either, do we?” Quackity finally leans over to look at him, and Dream feels himself choke on his own breath at the dangerous gleam in Quackity’s eyes, all-too-familiar in their scrutiny, looking at him the same way they had pinned him to the floor of his obsidian-walled hell. “Anything to say, Dream?”

“I-” The words shake on Dream’s tongue, and he only barely manages a dry swallow as he struggles through the rest of his sentence, shrinking back from the heavy weight of three pairs of eyes fixed on his own, “I can be useful, s-” he only barely manages to bite down the word, a new wave of shame making him shrink back further past the fear. Quackity’s lip twitches upward.

Wilbur twirls a pencil in one hand, looking spectacularly bored; Dream’s chest shrieks with a harsh spike of envy at his composure. “How about you prove it?” His eyes are laughing when Dream gets a good look at them, amusement clear at the idea. “Put on a show?”

Quackity rolls his eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

“You want to know if Sam can serve as an adequate replacement for Dream’s combat prowess, no?” Wilbur leans back in his chair as he talks, still focused on spinning his pencil over and between his fingers, “Why doesn’t he prove it? Let them duel, one on one. If Sam kills Dream, then you’re right, we’re done, and we can all move on with our days. If Dream wins, then he’s proved his worth, and we can figure out the rest of the budget after. What do you think?”

Quackity’s lips press together, seeming displeased, but he doesn’t say anything in return. Sam, ever practical, drums his fingers against the table.

“That sounds...fair,” Sam purses his lips. “How would we judge this? Equal gear?”

Wilbur only smiles wider as he shakes his head. “I was thinking we would make it a little more accurate to reality, if Dream’s services were truly to be needed. Sam, you can keep your own gear, and Dream should use his own. I guess on your end we can fight until you yield, but for him…”

The words are left unsaid, but Dream flexes his hands underneath the table as he catches onto the implications. For him, it’s a fight to the death.

Sam shrugs. “That works for me. Dream?”

He doesn’t really have a choice, does he? “Okay.”

“Wonderful!” Wilbur claps, bringing his hands to his chest and looking thoroughly thrilled at the prospects of the potential duel. Quackity glares at Dream but doesn’t say a word, and Dream hunches into himself, nearly folding himself in half as he ducks as far as he can down his seat. Sam pulls out his sword, flipping it around and testing its weight, and Dream doesn’t quite manage to suppress his full-body shudder at the sight. “Let’s get started, then.”

They move out in a roughly single-file line out of the conference room, Wilbur making idle chatter as Sam continues to examine his armor and weapons as they walk. They settle into an open space in the still-unfinished casino that Wilbur looks around for a second and then deems appropriate for the duel. Sam sets down an enderchest to gather his necessary materials, and Dream settles in front of it himself afterwards, shifting the lid open with shaking hands as he tries to work through his inventory.

He’s started the process of building up his gear again in his spare time, but he’s not had the time to finish gathering netherite for both himself and Wilbur - Wilbur meets his eyes with a sly wink before equipping the set of netherite armor that Dream had crafted for him, and Dream stifles a desperate snarl. He doesn’t even have the other set (still a gleaming blue from unplated diamond) enchanted, outside of a Sharpness book that he had slapped onto a diamond axe. He gathers the rest of his supplies with careful hands, trying to press down the increasing trembling of his limbs from his growing panic, flexing his arm around the weight of a shield once again and pocketing steaks and golden apples from his hoard.

He has no potions, no good weapons, not even a properly enchanted crossbow to offer the slightest bit of an advantage. Dream lets his eyes flick up to where Sam is waiting at the opposite side of the room, standing up straight with enchanted netherite covering him head to toe and a familiar axe slung over his shoulder, and tries not to break down right then and there. It’s too familiar, too reminiscent of obsidian walls and netherite pressed against his ribs and demands that he behave, and despite the glittering white walls and high ceiling and cold night air he swears he could fall just from the memories alone. Drowning within them, he distantly remembers a duel long-past under a bright blue sky, Sam laughing under a swirl of potion particles on the grass surrounding the Community House lake, and wonders which of the memories hurt more.

“Dream,” Quackity snaps, and Dream stills in his place, slamming the lid of the enderchest shut as his heart hammers in his ears. Quackity watches him intently, expression twisted in disappointment, and some beaten, instinctual part of him whines uncomfortably at the sight. “Hurry up.”

Dream nods, because of course he does, and stands with the results of his mad scramble to gather anything that could be useful in the duel to come - a few gapples, steaks, a sword, a bow lacking any enchantments at all, and an axe and shield. It’s a rather pathetic ensemble, but it’ll be enough. It’ll have to be enough.

“Ready?” Wilbur takes place as referee, standing off to the side with a smile on his face as Dream stands across from Sam, holding his axe with a white-knuckled grip as the Warden - expression unreadable through the shadow of his helmet and the mask fixed over his face - squares his own stance in preparation for the fight. “Good luck.”

Wilbur’s arm cuts a line in the air as it drops, and the Warden explodes into action, lumbering forward as he raises his axe over his head to bring it down. Dream tumbles in the opposite direction, letting a long held back, battle-trained part of himself take over as he rights himself back on his feet, swinging up his shield to catch on the downward arc of Warden’s Hammer, frantically pressing back the dregs of fear and panic staining the corners of his vision black as he moves.

The Warden hits slow but hits hard, too big and bulky to really avoid any quick attacks but too well-armored to be easily defeated despite that. He’s a classic tank - Dream skitters out of the way of another hit as he reaches for memories of him that won’t leave him gasping, information on his opponent that didn’t come from within the prison and all its horrors.

He’d dueled Sam before, he knows; it wasn’t the same, as Sam was trying out a Turtle Master potion and intent on proving the superiority of Resistance IV against Dream’s own combat prowess. He’d failed, then; Dream forcefully steadies another breath as the sound of the Warden’s armor clanking against the ground almost sends him into another panic. He’ll have to fail now, too.

Fortunately, he’s been allowed food to heal - without it, this fight would probably be near impossible. As it is, even without the potion, the principles of this duel are the same. Dream swings up his axe, catching the blade hurling towards him in the crook where the head meets the handle just long enough to pull himself out of the way and let the Warden’s weapon fall uselessly to the ground. Dream raises his head in the second he has, tracing his gaze over the Warden’s armor in search for places to exploit. Even the best defenses aren’t perfect. All he needs to do is survive for long enough to chip through it.

A fumbled dodge leads to the Warden’s blade skimming past his skin, carving a thin red line in the skin of his upper arm. He hisses as he dives out of the way of the next blow, the twinges of pain from the area almost enough to make his vision unfocused, almost enough to send him tumbling head-first into the part of him screaming submit submit submit if you don’t fight back they won’t hurt you more. He grits his teeth as he swings forward, knocking away the axe coming towards him with his axe long enough to push forward with his shield and knock the Warden further away from him. He can’t afford to flinch, can’t afford to let fear take control of his movements as it has so many times before. The keening desperation running through his veins is familiar, but desperation can fall both ways, can make him fight or flee - and there’s only one real option that will end with him getting out of this alive.

Dream stands and forces himself to meet the next swing hurling towards him dead on, raising his shield to catch the blade and pushing forward past the shuddering shock in his left arm from the force of the blow. His own blade arcs downward in the next second, scraping against the Warden’s netherite armor with a metallic screech. He manages to get in two more blows before the Warden’s next attack has him backing away to dodge, shaking off his arm to get his shield ready for the next attack.

He has to stay on the offensive, keep pressing the Warden back and forcing the other to play defense. He’s still weak from the prison; in terms of brute strength, he’s no match from the Warden, not after months of starvation and torture stuck in a box with hardly enough room to stretch his legs. All he really has going for him is his speed and his experience, neither of which will do him any good if he teeters over the edge into the panic attack he’s been trying to hold off the entire time. Dream runs forward, not giving himself more than a second to breathe as he rushes the Warden once again, switching weapons mid-leap to a sword that will allow for quicker blows in the time that he has the Warden off-balance enough to attack freely. He scores a series of glancing hits on the Warden, none doing any major damage but altogether enough to make the Warden back off, wary, with a gasping note of pain, and Dream shakes his head to force himself to focus before running forward once more.

The Warden pulls out a shield of his own, and Dream switches back to the axe and swings it squarely into the shield, then twists himself around to the Warden’s unprotected back to catch him with another heavy blow that leaves him reeling in the second he takes to recover. He’s clearly untrained with a shield, his left arm clumsy as he tries to block Dream’s blows, and Dream uses the opportunity to score another few solid hits to the Warden’s sides and legs, getting a good blow with the blunt side of his axe into the back of one of his knees, leaving the warden limping when he pulls away.

Dream has hardly come off unscathed in the fight - he wheezes out a heavy breath through his teeth, chest aching from a hit that had broken one of his ribs. The exertion and anxiety still pressing at the back of his throat has left him light-headed, and he bites through a crisp, almost sickeningly-sweet bite of golden apple to close a wound bleeding sluggishly on his side. Neither of them can go on for much longer; the Warden’s grip tightens on his axe, and Dream swallows past the shudder that arises from the sight.

Once again, he raises his axe and runs into the fight, parrying the coming strike and twisting out of the way to strike at a joint of the Warden’s armor with the flat of his blade. The Warden’s arm raises, and Dream bites off a yelp of alarm as the handle of his axe is levied against his unarmored side, knocking him off-balance and falling back onto the ground, too disoriented to catch himself. He lands on his left arm, and his vision goes white as it gives out with a sharp crack.

Through half-lidded eyes, he can make out the Warden stalking closer, axe raised and ready to end the fight - end him. His chest shakes in a pathetic wheeze for breath, arm completely useless from where it’s screaming in pain underneath him. He needs to move, now, if he wants to survive this - fear swells forward, unhindered as his focus is broken by the vice grip the pain has on his skull - he’s shaking, now, the terror so familiar he can taste it - salt and iron and sticky-sweet health potions against the backs of his teeth-

The Warden raises his axe.

No.

Dream raises his sword just in time to catch the blade hurtling towards his neck, uses his foot to kick against the Warden’s grip on the handle. The axe clatters out of his grip, falls forward - Dream rolls away, breathing harshly around the pain threatening to make him black out. Unarmed, the Warden takes a second to grab a sword from his inventory while Dream forces himself back to his feet and kicks the axe as far away as he can.

He’s so flooded with panic he’s choking on it, broken arm hanging limply by his side as he charges forward, sword in hand. He won’t die, not after all this time, not after all this effort - he throws himself at the Warden, batters him with jabs and thrusts that force the other man to back away and parry, snarling wordlessly as he brings his sword to slash forward again and again.

His attacks are messy, uncoordinated, but the Warden is tired and disoriented from the loss of his weapon - he flinches back as Dream hits him in the jaw with the hilt of his sword, only barely matching his blows as he continues to push forward. Any hits that he scores on Dream are brushed off with a growl of pain and his sword moving even faster in his fury, and it’s not very long at all before he’s knocked flat on his back with a sweep of Dream’s legs, gasping for air as Dream pins him to the ground with a blade pressed against his neck.

Dream meets his wide eyes with his own, lips curled back in the same desperate rage that had moved him forwards despite the black creeping into the corners of his eyes and the lancing pain tying its strings around his neck and leaving him gasping for air. The sword in his hand bears threads of blood along its edge, pressing deeper into the Warden’s neck and drawing crimson up to the surface - a thousand fearful, angry thoughts swell up to the front of his skull in a singular, white-hot point. It is the Warden underneath his feet, at the end of his blade, cowering beneath him as he had cowered before - the Warden, the cause of his pain, the reason behind the ache in his gut and the stinging pains in his limbs and the piercing agony from his arm and chest. It would be so easy to push just a little harder, to press the sweet blue blade down and down and down until the Warden is gone and the Warden is dead and the Warden can’t hurt him anymore-

“Down, Dream,” Quackity snaps, and Dream backs off immediately, losing his grip on his sword as the command has him dragged back by the neck like an invisible leash and collar pulling him away. Sam settles back in a sitting position, still wide-eyed, wincing as he moves and bringing a golden apple from his inventory to heal the worst of his injuries.

“Eat,” Quackity commands again, and Dream only barely manages a stiff nod through the nausea and dread curling around his chest as the adrenaline begins to fade away, fumbling with the golden apple he finds in his inventory and nibbling at it to tide off the worst of the pain.

“Bravo, bravo,” Wilbur grins from the side, clapping slowly as he walks back into the middle of their makeshift arena - he’s taken his armor off again, but it doesn’t make the sight of him any less intimidating. “What a show! We should do that more often, what do you think?”

No, Dream almost screams, I can’t- but Quackity beats him to it, glaring at Wilbur with an incredulous expression.

“We don’t have the time to waste on your fucking ‘shows,’” he snaps, crossing his arms as he swings his gaze over to Dream. “Fine. You’ve proved yourself. Now hurry up - we have to clean up all of this shit and then figure out the rest of this fucking budget.”

Dream pulls himself to his feet, watching from the side as the Warden does the same.

“Make yourself useful and clean off all your fucking blood from the floor,” Quackity meets his eyes with a vicious glare, waiting until he stammers his way through an agreement before turning to the other two in the room. “Sam, Wilbur - with me. I want to get this money issue figured out tonight.”

Dream watches them go as he shuffles to the cleaning closet, feeling a shudder crawl up his spine once they’re out of sight. Make yourself useful, Quackity’s voice rings in his head, and Dream bites his lip, only stopping when he accidentally breaks through skin and the taste of blood floods his tongue.

He has a feeling that those words are going to haunt him for a long, long time.

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years ago

Text

The Massage (Cillian Murphy One Shot)

Request? Yep!

Warning - SMUT!!!

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone

"He was such an asshole!! Barking orders at me like I'm his fucking SLAVE!!" You cried, flopping onto Cillian's sofa dramatically. He came through from the kitchen with a bottle of wine and two glasses, pouring you a glass and sitting next to you on the sofa.

You quickly sunk the first glass without stopping, making Cillian nearly choke on his first sip. You'd left the pub fifteen minutes earlier, already well on your way to incoherent.

"Fucking hell y/n, you'll need carrying home at this rate!"

"I don't care. This week can go to hell! First I end up on the WORST blind date of my life, no thanks to YOU and your god awful taste in men - "

"Hey now, first off I don't have a 'taste in men', and secondly I thought you'd be a good match!"

"He had to be escorted out of the restaurant after threatening to have the waiter beaten up for overcooking his steak, Cillian."

"Yeah... Okay fair comment and my bad..."

"I'm staying single FOREVER. Then my new boss decides that I like doing the work of THREE people, including him, and working through my lunch breaks, just so he can reap the credit for the whole fucking thing!! My feet are agony!!"

"I told you to come work for me, didn't I? I need someone to manage my appointments and affairs, you'd be perfect at it!"

"I don't mix business with friendship Cillian, you know that." Another glass of wine, very quickly taking a gulp from it. The alcohol hitting your empty stomach and the drunk feeling it came with feeling utterly blissful after the hellish week you'd had.

Without speaking, he lifted your feet onto his legs and took your heels off, resting his hands on your ankles.

"All done now - time to relax, although you seem pretty relaxed right now!" He squeezed your ankles gently, emitting a groan from you.

"Fuck... Do that again, please?" You asked, as he raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I've been on my feet for hours running round after that stuck up prick..." You wiggled your aching feet in his lap and he chuckled, taking your left foot in his hands and massaging it softly, easing the tension in you instantly.

Your right foot rested on his thigh as he worked magic on your heel and toes of the left one. You moved to lie against the arm of the sofa, relaxing into the large cushions with your refilled wine in one hand. The other resting on your stomach.

"That... Feels... Amazing...." You sighed as he got to work a little harder on the balls of your feet.

"You leaving any of that wine for me or shall I grab another bottle?" He laughed, glancing at the near empty bottle on the coffee table.

"Don't even think about moving Cill," you glared. Closing your eyes again, you couldn't help but let out a deep groan as his hands massaged you perfectly. You didn't notice him clearing his throat and shifting his body underneath your left leg.

"Feels so good... Don't stop..." You couldn't hear his breathing becoming shallow. Your eyes closed, you didn't see him biting his lip and looking up to the ceiling trying to distract himself. You suddenly switched your feet, your right one coming up to meet his hands and tried to bring your left one down to his lap but he held them both in place, trying to massage them both at the same time.

"Cill, one at a time is so much better.." you rolled your eyes watching him try and massage both and stifled a giggle when he dropped your left foot into his lap.

"Ah... Fuck..." He gasped, jumping slightly. You gasped too when you realised what your left foot had landed on.

"Cillian?" Your eyes widened as he moved your feet and oulled a cushion over his lap, holding his eyes closed with his fingers.

"Fuck sake... I'm sorry okay, it's just.. it's been a while and you were making those noises and... Fucking hell..." You bit your lip as you considered your options.

Yes, he was your best friend.

Yes, you'd been his best friend since his early days in theatre.

Yes, he was impossibly attractive.

Yes, you wanted to fuck him.

Deal done.

You moved quickly, pushing the cushion off his lap and kneeling next to him, your face inches away from his and your eyes locked together.

"I can help you with that, if you like?" You smiled, running a hand over the significant bulge in his trousers. He pulled your hand away.

"I don't think that's a good idea, do you?"

"Why not?"

"You're drunk, for a start!"

"Come on Cillian, it's just a friend helping a friend in need, yeah? And you're clearly in need..." You returned your hand to his erection and squeezed it through the fabric making him hiss.

"Friends aren't supposed to..."

"Aren't supposed to, what?" Your lips at his ear as you pulled the button and zip down on his trousers, his hips as you pulled them down to just above his bent knees.

"Turn each other on..."

"Well you've been turning me on for years Cillian." Grasping his thick cock in your hand, squeezing the tip and the base gently, he groaned, closing his eyes and giving in to the feeling of your hand wrapped around him. His right arm hung over your shoulders, his left hand on top of your on his hardness, guiding you to what he needed.

"So you like it being squeezed, do you?" You whispered. He nodded, his eyes watching your hand move on its own now, his mouth open, breathing heavily.

It wasn't long before his orgasm built - your hand clamped around him sending him soaring to the edge. You pumped your hand quicker, squeezed tighter.

"That's it... Fuck that's exactly it... Holy shit y/n...." His words coming out in gasps, his hips thrusting up into your hand as he gripped your hair, pulling your head back and latching onto your lips with his own. You pulled away.

"Don't hide those moans from me, I wanna hear them all..." You smiled, pumping him harder and faster, milking him as he groaned, and the first few spurts left his cock, his body jerking as he came over his stomach and your hand.

You slowed your movements as he came down from his high, his head resting back on the sofa. You felt a sudden gurgle in the pit of your stomach, and before he had time to react you ran to the bathroom - the alcoholic contents of the evenings beverages violently leaving your body into Cillian's downstairs toilet.

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

You woke the next morning in his spare room - your head was pounding. You made a silent vow, promising to all that was holy that you would never touch another cocktail, glass of wine, or spirit ever again. The night before was hazy - you remembered stumbling into Cillian's Dublin townhouse with a bottle of wine... And that was it.

The smell of bacon downstairs lured you, and you slowly edged out of bed, throwing on the dressing gown you always kept at his house and headed downstairs. A coffee, paracetamol and pint of water waited for you on the kitchen table, followed by a bacon sandwich.

"You passed out in the toilet - I cleaned you up as best I could but you were, erm, yeah you were a mess y/n. Showering you wasn't easy." He chuckled, before taking a sip of his coffee and eyeing you weirdly.

"Thanks for this Cill... I'm so sorry about last night..."

"Don't be, it's fine - we can just put it behind us yeah?" He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked to the floor.

"It's not like it's the first time it's happened Cill?"

"Well I certainly don't remember it happening before y/n?"

"You're kidding me, right? It happened three weeks ago!"

"I think I'd remember my best friend giving me a handjob three weeks ago y/n?"

Your eyes widened - what the fuck did he just say? He caught your expression and his mouth dropped.

"Fuck... You don't remember do you..." He asked. You scrunched your eyes closed, trying to think back to the night before... The memory was cloudy... But...

"Oh my god.... Oh Cillian... Shit... I'm sorry!!!" You stood up, your hangover however getting the better of you and you quickly sat back down. You could see the cogs turning in Cillian's mind, almost like he was having some kind of internal debate with himself.

"Do you remember what you said to me?"

"Bits of it..." He moved closer, leaning on the table next to you.

"Drunken rambling? Or did you mean it?" You looked up at him, knowing exactly what he was talking about and looking to the floor, your cheeks changing from grey to a deep crimson. He nodded, and lifted you up slowly to stand in front of him.

"I know an incredible hangover cure, if you need one. Just call it one friend helping another... In need. Yeah?" He smirked, his hands on your waist pulling you into the hallway and up the stairs.

"Cillian..."

"Shh... Just trust me..." He opened his bedroom door and walked you over to the bed. Backing you up til your knees hit it, he untied your dressing gown and threw it aside, his eyes admiring your now naked body.

"You put me to bed with no clothes on..."

"I had to wrestle you in the shower washing your fucking hair y/n, I'd lost the will to live at that point," he smiled, pushing you onto the bed and opening your legs.

"Cillian what are you doing?" Your mind was whirring at 100miles per hour.

"I'm about to make you scream my name while my tongue is pressed against your clit, my fingers are going to push you over the edge, and then I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight." You mouth hung open at his deadpan statement and before you had time to react his mouth went to work - no build up, no foreplay, straight onto your clit making you cry out from the shock and extreme pleasure coursing through your body.

The man had skills - his tongue rolled your clit around, sucking and occasionally nibbling at it, as he pushed a finger inside you, immediately finding that small bundle of nerves and pressing against it.

"Fuck!! Shit... Cillian there... God don't stop... Please!" You felt him chuckle against your core, his eyes looking up at your arched body through his long eyelashes. You were gripping the bed sheets for dear life, his tongue ripping sensations from you that you'd never experienced before.

His mouth never left your core once, you found yourself writhing against him like a woman possessed.

"You taste incredible... You gonna cum for me, riding my face like that?" He returned to his work, eating at you like you were his last meal.

"Cillian... Fuck I'm coming... Oh god yes..." Your back arched again as you came over his tongue, his fingers fucking your g spot hard and fast, prolonging your pleasure as much as possible. His fingers removed briefly as he pulled his clothes off, you heard a drawer slide open, and a foil packet being ripped. Before you had time to refocus, you felt him enter you, your legs being lifted up to your sides as he rested his body on top of yours, starting a slow rhythm thrusting into you.

"So fucking tight y/n... So fucking good...." Your legs wrapped around his waist as he eased in and out, his forehead resting on top of yours as your eyes locked together. You could lose yourself in those eyes. Reaching up to cup his cheeks, you leaned forward and captured his lips in yours. Your lips molding together, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, both of your groaning against each other as his thrusts picked up in speed and force.

"Rail me into this bed, Cillian...." You groaned. He raised his body off you and lifted your hips, his knees underneath them giving you leverage. Your legs raised in the air, held in place by his arms as he pounded into you, the angle catching your still sensitive spot deep inside with expert precision.

"Y/n... I need you to cum..." He panted, your hand quickly moving to your clit where you massaged it hard, desperate for another release.

His facial expressions as he fucked you were perfection - the way his eyes scrunched closed... The silent O of his mouth hanging open, the breathy pants and moans coming from him... You came hard and quickly over him, your legs shaking from the new force he fucked you with.

"Gonna cum... Fuck... fuck... fuck..." Three hard thrusts into you and he shot his load into the condom, releasing your legs and falling onto you, both of you panting from the exertion.

He pulled out slowly, discarding the condom, and pulled you under the duvet with him, holding you close under his arm. You wrapped your body as close as you could to his, your legs tangled together.

"Explain something to me y/n..." He asked, kissing the top of your head.

"Mhmm..." You sighed, snuggled into his chest as you eyelids grew heavier.

"Why's it taken us so long to do this, huh?"

"I have no idea... But we ARE doing it again, right?"

"Every day for the rest of our fucking lives baby." He linked his hand in yours as you both drifted off into a deep sleep, both of you knowing this was only the beginning for you both.

#cillian fanfic #cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x smut #cillian murphy x smut

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hufflepuffhollander · 4 years ago

Text

drive-in: tom holland one-shot

a/n | in honor of hitting 700 followers and also getting my real life heart broken and needing my unproblematic fictional boyfriend back, here’s an oldie from the drafts.✌🏻 enjoy kiddos

cw | language, angst, a lil smut, teasing banter, fluff! 1.5k words.

“Mmm, darling, let me at you,” Tom mumbled against your lips as you lightly squeezed his shoulders, his hands fidgeting with the hem of your shorts, trying to wriggle them down. Just as he’d made some progress, you heard a loud snicker on the other side of your door.

You pulled your face away from Tom’s and averted your gaze to the front of the room, where you could see two pairs of socks in the crevice between the floor and the door, standing on the other side. Without letting you dismantle from him, he grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it at the wall. “Fuck off, you pervs!” The kid-like chuckles coming from the socks continued.

The sudden interruption had killed the mood, so you just sat in Tom’s lap on his bed and laid your head against his chest, sighing. “Can’t they get a job?”

Tom combed a hand of fingers through your hair. “They do have jobs; they’re professional cockblocks.”

“And they need to work from home?”

“Everybody does, baby. We’re all stuck inside.”

“...right.”

You had to keep shifting around on Tom’s lap, uncomfortable from the sudden lack of pressure of his hands wandering over you. He had just gotten back from a press tour, you’d barely had any alone time with him since—and you were both getting pretty tired of not being able to rip each other’s clothes off like you’d wanted to since the moment he walked through the front door. Finally, you have a couple minutes to sneak away from the roommates you’re stuck quarantining with, and what do they do but follow you to Tom’s bedroom like absolute creeps. Creeps that seem to have a vendetta against you getting off. You’d spent too much time hanging out with them while Tom was gone, and now they were far too comfortable meddling in your personal life.

“How long do you think it’ll be til we’re actually alone again?” you asked, tracing over the freckles on his shoulders.

“I have no idea,” he sighed, falling back onto the pillows. “Who knows how long this will all last.”

“We might have to get pretty creative then, because I’m getting a little-”

“Thirsty?”

You smacked Tom’s arm as he giggled at you.

“I was going to say impatient.”

“So...horny.”

You pouted at him. “Can you blame me for missing you?”

He kissed your cheek and then your nose. “No, love, I missed you too. And if those idiots weren’t within earshot, I would’ve already had you screaming my name three times over by now.”

You kissed him back. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Long, countless days went by, the two of you stuck inside with Harrison, Tuwaine and Harry, trying to find a balance between friend time and couple time but failing miserably. The boys had made a bet behind your back on how long they could go before hearing you and Tom having sex through the walls, and they took their gambling way too seriously. It had been too long.

Seeing an ad for a distanced drive-in movie night being hosted at a nearby park, you jumped on the opportunity, convincing Tom to come with just so you could get out of the house. The night finally came, and you flicked off the group of boys as they shouted after you for leaving the bubble, more than ready for a good old fashioned date night.

“They really do hate us,” you chuckled as you zoomed away.

“Nah, babe, they love us—they’re just jealous we didn’t invite them.” He placed his hand on your own and squeezed it, playing with your fingers for the extent of the drive to the park, just as excited as you to get some one-on-one time.

You cozied up in the backseat of the car with Tom, wrapped in fuzzy blankets you’d brought with and watching Titanic on the large screen set up in the grass in front of where you parked. You were intently focused on the movie, as it was one of your favorites, but Tom spent half the time looking at you, feeling you breathe, smiling at the top of your head nestled into his arms.

Up on the screen, Jack and Rose were in that carriage car on the boat, finally getting their big sex scene, starting to steam up the windows. You turned to Tom as you felt him laughing and shaking his head at the movie.

“What’s so funny?”

He pointed at the screen like the characters would be able to hear him. “So unrealistic, isn’t it?”

“Not really, people have sex in cars all the time.”

“No, no, I mean the windows. How did they get so foggy so fast? There’s no way that happens in real life.”

You were suddenly very interested in what Tom had to say and raised an eyebrow as you spoke. “Tom, have you never gotten laid in a car?”

You could see him turn pink with embarrassment through the light emanating off of the movie screen. “I have no comment.”

You nudged him and started to giggle. “Oh my god, you totally haven’t.”

He made an overly dramatic defensive expression at you. “And you have?”

“Actually, yes.”

Tom’s eyes widened a little as he saw where the conversation was headed. Maybe he’d brought it all up intentionally because he felt so deprived of your body, maybe not—but if he had, he was a damn genius, because it was working.

“And it does get that steamy, if you’re doing it right.”

“I guess I’d just have to see for myself.”

He’d barely finished his sentence before you climbed onto him and firmly planted your lips on his. It usually didn’t take much for him to get you excited, just his husky voice and the right lighting; you hadn’t realized until now how pent up you were.

“God, take your clothes off,” he huffed out, wasting no time in getting to work nipping over your skin as it was revealed.

“Charming,” you laughed, working your hands up his torso to get his shirt off too, Tom wincing as you did.

“Oooh, y/n, your hands are so cold!”

“Deal with it, Holland, I’ve waited too long to be stopped by cold hands.”

Tom was getting more riled up by the second, pushing you into the back of the driver’s seat behind you and speaking impossibly low in your ear. “I need you bad.”

“Take me then.”

You’d managed to get practically naked after doing some pretzeling in the backseat, Tom pulling you on top of him again. You tried to get into it but it didn’t last long—the seat was too close to your knees for you to get at a good angle, and you had to duck so your head didn’t hit the roof of the car.

“Okay, maybe lying down-?” Tom pushed your back into the seats, hovering on top and immediately sinking himself into you the moment he got the chance. You took a sharp inhale and already felt a dizzying high.

“God, finally...”

Tom took a few slow, heavy thrusts into you. “Missed you so much baby,” he leaned down to kiss you, your bodies already sticky with sweat from the heat in the car.

Tom suddenly stopped his rhythm and made a face, trying to shift himself around. “What’s wrong?” you asked, whining at the loss of him.

“I barely have room to move my legs,” he groaned, your fingernails still claws on his biceps, begging him to come back.

“Make it work? Just don’t stop fucking me, please,” you pulled his neck back down to bite his bottom lip, knowing that always drives him crazy.

“Fuck, I know, let me try something...” he found another sweet spot and was suddenly filling you up again, his flushed breaths and small mews making you smile underneath him. It wasn’t graceful, but you made it happen.

You came together as Jack and Rose professed their love for each other, making the romantic scene all too fitting. Tom moved to give you space to sit up, putting his face in his hands and sounding defeated. “Car sex looks a lot easier in the movies.”

You giggled at him and put your clothes back on before someone peeped into the now-clouded window. “Told you it gets steamy.”

Arriving back home later, Harrison and Harry sat at the kitchen table looking like two angry parents about to lecture their teenager on keeping curfew. They stared as you and Tom came in together with arms wrapped around each other, skin looking happily flushed, faces practically glowing.

“What’s got you two lovebirds so happy?” Harrison asked.

“Oh, it was just a really good movie,” Tom smiled, taking your hand and leading you back to his bedroom. “We’re wiped. Goodnight!” he promptly shut the door and laughed with you at Harrison’s puzzled face.

Harry walked over and peered down the hallway. “Goodnight? But it’s barely past sundown-”

Harrison patted him on the shoulder. “I’m afraid you might owe me a few quid, bud.”

Harry stayed confused. “Why?”

Tuwaine appeared from his room, pulling his gaming headphones aside to yell his reply down the hallway. “They fucked, you div!”

Harry connected the dots and looked like he was going to be sick. “Ugh, gross! That’s my brother!”

moots & taglist if y’all still exist:

@peterspideysstuff @duskholland @sinisterspidey @ladykxxx08 @bothlovinglyandhatingly @tinyyoungblood @harrisonsoceaneyes @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @we--are---not--afraid @danicarosaline @bunbun9396 @sad-thinker-over @spideymoe @words-to-accomplish-something @thenoddingbunny-blog @iriaaarb @hellsdragon @cap-marvxl @tomshufflepuff @itstaskeen @writertoo18 @ethereal-beauty-p @sufwubi @quaksonhehe @biebsmylife95 @fermuda2 @dorbiksbitch @jejegu @holyfrickfracks @iconic-hes @parker-hollandx @keithseabrook27 @sovereignparker @mlmarint @bangtanfancamp @quacksonholland @cosagach @hedwigprewett12

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tomholland #tomhollandoneshot #tomhollandfanfic #tomhollandsmut #bye again

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dinuhsoar · 3 years ago

Text

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤 | 𝐥.𝐥.

- loki x f!siren!reader

warnings: angry tony? secretly dating, language. slight smut towards the end (a few words), I think that's all?

*please read all warnings before you continue*

synopsis: Tony Stark finds out his sister, you, are dating Loki.

artifact citation: this was requested by @iamcavainna. she wanted a Loki x siren!reader who are secretly dating and Tony gets mad upon finding out. please note that this request is altered, and Tony doesn't go ape-shit. also, this is my first ever siren!reader, so I hope I did well. this is not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

however, you didn't go unnoticed by one particular man. Loki was an observer. he likes to look around to further understand his surroundings. he's seen you around before though, yet he's never actually spoke to you. that was soon to change however.

you've jumped into the ocean out of fear, some man you've seen around but haven't found the courage to talk to, and Tony stalking ahead. he of course knew of your 'abilities,' but he hasn't seen them per se. it was embarrassing. but now with a tail, webbed fingers and sharp teeth, you felt ugly.

despite being scared by Loki and your brother (because even he hasn't really seen you), you stayed near the rocks, hiding behind them and peaking out. by now you'd've deemed the guy with green swimtrunks attractive. there was no denying his beauty.

you've watched from your spot and saw how Tony and Loki made their way over, no doubt that Loki pointed you out, your face familiar despite the lack of talking you guys shared. this intimidated you. you didn't want them to see you like this. Tony knew only of the vague in what Howard did to you. you've beat yourself up for it, though, silently suffering in ways you don't want to experience again. you've ducked under the water, turning around only to see a wall of rocks. you've felt trapped. a hand was grabbing at your hair, feet kicking at you, not intentionally of course. you were bad at being a siren.

so you resurfaced. who you thought was Tony, was actually Loki. your face was only a mere inch away and when you realized this, you blushed and backed away from him. though you didn't take your eyes off of his, the blue hue luring in. just like a siren. and it was only when Tony cleared his throat you've looked at him.

with your eyes now on Tony, Loki took his chance to look at you. your tail was a marvelous shade of tan and orange, white peaking out around the fin's edges, a top to match. your nails were slightly longer than normal, not that Loki would notice right? and he couldn't help but notice how you seemed to sink beneath the water, the weight of the tail combined with the gravitational pull far too strong.

Loki, ever the heroine, reached beneath the water and grabbed your tail. you've nearly coughed on water when he did so, the nerve endings on the fin of the tail far too sensitive. "don't touch my tail!" and Loki did just that, seeing how you blushed from embarrassment, the phrase foreign on your tongue. Tony just watched. he wasn't one to speak unless giving orders. but you couldn't help and look over at him, his face sour and eyes glassed over in a threatening mood. how dare Loki touch his sister?

⎈

and that is how the pair of you started dating. more or less that is. you've talked in between now and then, and he asked you out, away from prying eyes and ears. you've loved him since then.

and although quite vague to memory, you remember that day. that day in which you described as, 'a hurricane in the ocean.'

the day was sunny, not a cloud in the sky. you sat outside with your beloved Loki, a picnic in session. you decided to rest your head on the inside of his thigh, closing your eyes as he read you a book about two forbidden lovers. how cliché. you've started to drift off soon after the second chapter, and Loki bent over to kiss your lips.

they'd've made contact if it wasn't for Tony who came running outside, yelling like a madman in a crackhouse. you jolted then, head butting against your lovers head. wincing, you looked at Tony with a questionable look on your face before looking at Loki's forehead. "what was that for you fucking prick. I was nearly asleep!"

"yeah, in Loki's lap! and he tried to kiss you, in your sleep!" Tony sounded like a child then, adding things on to creep people out so they listen better.

"that's not how it was, Tony."

"how long has this been going on? hm?" there was heartbreak in his voice. you knew that, you heard it. poor Tony. probably thought he was getting replaced.

"its- its been going on for a few months now, Tony. 'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier. it's just that, Loki makes me happy. when it's hot at night, he keeps me cold. when I-I'm bored, he does things with me. he cares for me and I care for him. 'm sorry to disappoint." you tried to hide your smile as you looked at the ground because playing the shy sister always made him feel selfish, Loki staring at your brother and likewise.

"so you keep her cold? what, you just leave the bed? and when she's bored you get back in bed with her?" Tony kept pressing all these questions and you just froze, tears welling and cheeks blushing.

"look man. you're getting backwards. on hot days like this, especially at night, I turn into my jotun form. and I don't ever leave the bed. and by bored, we don't mean that" there was a smirk on Loki's face "we mean something like this. something to pass the time. and I really do love your sister, Tony."

Tony didn't know what to think, a face once angry was now a face covered in embarrassment. does he still argue? does he give in? does he just walk away? no.

by now you're all standing up. but Tony makes quick in pushing Loki to the ground, a scowl on his face. "if you ever, and I mean ever, hurt her in any shape, way, or form, I'll kill you. that's a promise." and then he just walked backed inside, his heart on the verge of breaking. it wasn't for him, but for you, his sister. he saw how much you loved Loki, and that meant no more time for him. you were his only other family.

random headcanon

okay but like his hugs?

they're so welcoming and I bet they're warm too; jotun form included.

"my darling had a rough day? c'mere." and it's just warmth and muscle and safe.

and his hair!

"c-can I braid your hair loki?" and he's all shocked at first but hands you his favourite brush and comb and scrambles to find his favourite hairtie that's actually yours.

jotun form. that's it.

when he first showed you, you were scared? shocked? turned on? you saw everything; from muscle to well . . .

jotuncock.

if you though his normal form had a huge cock. wait til you meet this guy. it's bulging in your stomach, your throat, your ass.

"gonna fill this pretty pussy up, darling."

"gonna make you a mother. oh yeah, bet you'd like that. oh~ don't squeeze me so tight princess."

he's filthy.

on another note, regarding you, he'd be touching your tail.

"don't touch my tail."

"fuck off."

and you're just so fed up about it.

and he's fed up about you singing. it literally lures him in. you don't mean too, honest, but it just happens.

"you fuckin' messin' with me now, princess?"

and he has to explain why he's there and why he's angry and why you can't just stop it.

and we can't forget about Tony.

he's not okay with any of this because he doesn't want you to forget him

"piss off you fucker, I'm watching a movie with my sister."

"Tony, don't be mean."

pushes Loki extra hard when training and treats him like literal shit.

but Loki is okay with it. so long as you're happy with him vice versa.

#loki x reader #loki imagines #loki of asgard #loki (marvel)#loki #loki tv #loki x you #ruth writes #angst #fluff #siren reader #loki x siren!reader #please ive never felt more motivated in my life to writr #write*#its the new aesthetic bet #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson imagine #loki layfeyson x reader

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echos-newlegs · 4 years ago

Note

HELLO! How inspired are you by 16 and or 33 separately or together for Kix?

ALSO IM VERY EXCITED TO READ HOUR WORKS

- @snipskixandbeskar (my side blog)

It was so real

Oml yes so much yes! I haven't gotten a request for him and I've been in a Kix mood 😩

Kix x Reader: "you can't just bottle everything up forever, talk to me.." and "I had another nightmare... this time you were there.."

Warnings: none, it does get angst though. Kix basically having a panic attack over his dream is all.

You sat in your home. Waiting for Kix to show. You hadn't seen him in nearly three weeks. You missed him more than words could form. He sent you a message this morning. Informing you the ship would be landing back at Coruscant around 1700. You were so thrilled. A smile instantly forming on your face, mood changed. It felt like an early Christmas. The pure joy ruching through your body.

He said it would only be two hours, but then it was going on three. Four.. then five hours had passed. You were giving up. Maybe he decided to stay back with his brothers? They could have had extra work. You were just a civilian after all. You may be dating the clone, but you weren't his family.

You moved to turn the lights off. Trailing from the bedroom to the kitchen. Checking the fridge, the take out you ordered resting in there til whenever. You couldn't even eat without him. You were so disappointed. Reaching into the fridge to grab a water then head back for your room. Where you got changed into your pajamas. Heading for the fresher to brush your teeth.

You were about to climb into bed when you heard the door open then close. Making you jump and panic, until you heard him sigh and keys fall to the table. Your breath caught in your throat. Tears welling in your eyes as you bit back a smile.

You stepped out of the room, meeting him in the hall. "You're late," you spoke with crossed arms. The lights shining through the window from outside the only lighting the two of you had. He was able to make out your smile. Reassuring him that you weren't that mad.

"I know, I was going to contact you but I got distracted." He told you, you giggling as you walked over and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands floating over your hips. Then holding them gently. "How about you just make it up to me?" You asked with a grin. Meeting him for a small kiss. "Hmm.. and what do you have in mind?" He asked. Walking you back into the bedroom. "I was thinking some cuddling, maybe?" You asked. Squealing as he picked you up and tossed you on the bed. Smile wide as you bounced and then settled.

He pulling what armor he didn't take off at the door off of him. Heading for a dresser with some loose clothes that you bought for him, since he didn't like sleeping in his Blacks if he didn't have to. Pulling his top off, then his pants. Slipping into a baggier pair of pants and shirt.

He accompanied you right after. Sliding under the covers. Pulling you close against him, both smiling like idiots. "I missed you, mesh'la." He cooed. Kissing your lips, then down to your neck. You humming as your fingers traced the back of his head. Running over his short hair. "I missed you, too, Kix. You have no idea." He smiled at that. Arms tightening around your waist. Then resurfacing to look into your face. "Sleeping alone just isn't the same when I can have you here." He spoke. Bringing a hand up to curl his fingers in your hair, lightly. "Agreed."

You were the first to fall asleep. Kix only letting himself doze off when he was sure you were asleep. Allowing his thoughts to lessen and his breathing to steady.

"Kix, why weren't you there?" Your voice rang through his ears, but he couldn't find you. The room was dark. Standing, looking around in a panic. "Y/N?" He called out. Breathing beginning to pick up. "Kix, please come back," you were crying. He could tell by the waver of your voice, and that made him worry even more.

He began sprinting towards the direction of your voice. Lights hovering above his head as he ran down the hall. Some flickering, some weren't even turned on. "Kix, makers sake, come back to me!" You screamed, "Mesh'la, Cyare, I'm here!" He shouted. Turning into another room.

He jumped when he heard the gun shot. Turning the corner to see you laying on the ground. Motionless. "Y/N!" He shouted.

His heart was racing fast enough that it cause his body to jerk awake. Sitting up quickly, looking around the dark room. Making him panic even more. Until he looked over and saw you. "Y/n," he murmured, heart still racing. Breathing jagged. "Kix, love, what's wrong?" You questioned with furrowed brows. Your voice was enough to convince him this wasn't a dream anymore. Reaching over and practically pulling you into his lap. Hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "You're okay, you're here," he reassured himself.

You moved your arms to wrap around him. Moving to a more comfortable position in his lap. "Kix, hey, what happened?" You asked. Running your hands over his back. Then moving then to rub his shoulders. The two of you didn't speak for a moment longer. You wanted to know what was going on, but you didn't have the heart to push him. This was the first time he's woken up from a nightmare next to you, and you didn't want to scare him off.

He steadied his breathing, you humming softly to him as you resting your head against his. His fingers plating at the hem of your shirt. "Did you wanna go make some tea with me?" You asked, and he nodded. "I'd like that." You could barely hear his voice. It wasn't even an octave above a whisper.

You climbed off him, though he reluctantly let you go. Soon trailing behind you through the dimly lit rooms. His hand reaching out to hold yours, as if to be sure you wouldn't disappear when you rounded the corner. You accepted it, squeezing his hand softly as if to reassure him.

You had him sit down after you turned on the light. Beginning to boil your water and get the tea bags out for the two of you. Leaning your back against the counter. "Did you wanna talk about it?" He looked up to you, then back down. Hands in his lap. Shoulders slumped forward. "No, I don't want to burden you."

Burden.. you were in a relationship together. Being a burden was the least of your worries, and it should be his. You were there to help each other, not keep feelings back. "Kix.." he looked up to you again, watching as you walked over to where he was sitting. Now standing beside him.

His hands didn't move. He just looked up at you. Eyes full of pain and fear. Your hands moving to gently hold the sides of his face. Making him lean into your touch. His eyes falling shut with a sigh. "You're not a burden to me, you should know that." You spoke, and he opened his eyes again. "I don't want to worry you with a stupid dream." You sighed out sharply. "You can't just bottle everything forever, talk to me Kix, please.." you spoke in more of a demanding tone. Making his brows raise. Then his eyes dropped back down.

He pondered for a second, then leaned back. Your hands slipping from his face. Bringing your arms to fold them across your chest as you leaned back against the table. "I had another nightmare," well that was obvious. "This time.. You were there." He spoke. Hands fidgeting in his lap. Looking up to you with watery eyes. You were about to reach out for him. Pull him into a hug and tell him everything would be alright, but the kettle was whistling for attention.

You gave him a look that said, ‘I’ll be right back, I love you.’ And he nodded. He didn’t want to listen to the kettle any longer than he had to. His head was pounding already. Watching from afar as you looked the water into two cups. Each having their own baggy of tea in it. “I couldn’t save you,” he murmured as you started walking back to him. Frowning as he looked up with creased brows. “You were injured, and I couldn’t help you.” His voice was a whisper. Afraid if he spoke too loud it would break and he would break with it.

You held the cups in both hands. Motioning to the couch with your head. “Let’s go sit, okay?” You told him, and he nodded. Standing and tacking his mug. Feeling the warmth with his hands as he trudged to the couch. Sitting down next to you. “You know I’m okay, right? It was only a dream.” You told him. Setting your mug onto a coaster on the table. Arms snaking around his waist. Leaning your head on his shoulder.

A sigh escaped his nostrils. “I know, but.. it’s just.” He let out a frustrated noise. “I’m always gone, y/n.” He spoke, voice wavering, and you shushed him. Hands moving to rub his shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay, Shh.” You spoke, feeling him tense then relax. “You’re here enough for me. I treasure each time I see you, each time I hear your voice. Even if it is over a call on the holo.” You informed and he set his tea down on a coaster.”I know you do, but I.. I can’t be there to protect you. Not like I should be.” He added. Placing his face in his hands.

You hated how distressed he was. You wish you could do something to make him feel better. Leaning in and pressing soft kisses to his shoulder. Then up to his cheek. “Kix,” you kissed him again. “Look at me.” He hesitated, but soon turned to look at you. Your heart nearly wrapping itself apart at the sight of tears running down his face. “Oh baby,” you cooed. Reaching up to cup his face. Wiping the tears from under his eyes. His arms moving to fold over his lap.

“Kix.. focus on me okay, I’m here.. I’m with you, I always will be. No one’s coming after me,” “you don’t know that!” He nearly shouted. You sighed this time. “No, no I don’t, you’re right.” You agreed and he reached up to hold the backs of your hands. “I just wish I could be there for you.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You are, Kix, all the time. And I love you for that. I love you, and I will until the day we die.”you spoke, resting your forehead against his. “Now take some deep breaths and just focus on me, okay? Focus on now, not yesterday or tomorrow, or even a month from now. Just.. this moment. Can you do that for me?” He took a deep breath in with you. Closing his eyes as he sighed it out. Nodding his head softly. “Okay, I can..” he murmured, and you smiled. Leaning in and pressing his quick, but loving kiss to his lips. “I love you,” “I love you, too.” He whispered back.

#kix x reader #he’s so fine #medic kix #clone trooper kix #kix #star wars #star wars writing #the clone wars #writing #the clone wars x reader #clone wars x reader #clone wars #clone x reader #medic kix x reader

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quietmyfearswith · 4 years ago

Text

setting off ; stucky x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 2,463 words

summary — in which steve and bucky get the happy ending they deserve with their best doll.

warnings — implied smut, fluff, talks of starting a family, no curse word i think?

pairing — stucky x fem!reader

a/n — pretty self-indulgent lol,, feedback is appreciated and asks/messages are open!

tagging — @la-cey @pedropcl @iloveshawnieboi @isysen

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

“Can someone at least give me a hint of where we’re going?” Y/N whined for what would be the fifth time in the last hour. She had been asleep for the first three hours of their travel, but now that she woke up she struggled to return to slumber so instead she ate some snacks as she begged her two boyfriends to give her a faint clue of where they were going.

Steve was currently driving to their destination; he was exceeding about five kilometers the stated speed limit, which was enough evidence that he was excited to reach the end of their trip. Thankfully, the pick-up truck they bought allowed two more passengers beside the driver in the front so she was sandwiched in between the two super soldiers.

“It’s not a surprise if we tell you where we’re headed, doll,” Bucky swatted her thigh playfully, before gulping down the rest of his water bottle. “It still would be,” She argued as she swatted his thigh too, “You can tell me the location of where we’re and I still would be surprised with the actual place we’re gonna be staying at.”

Pissed with her logic, his metal fingers tickled her sides, causing her to attempt pushing his hand away, giggling as she squirmed further into Steve’s side. “Stevie! He’s being mean to me again!”

“Knock it off, you two!” Steve scolded them, chuckling to himself when they settled down immediately and both pouted at him. “Are you sure you’re our boyfriends and not our babysitter?” Bucky giggled at her comment, even pecked her cheek to show how proud he was of her remark.

The former Captain America playfully rolled his eyes as he sighed, “And here I was pulling up to our destination when I should have gone here alone and not show you the present we got you.” Upon registering his words, she sat up straight and twisted left and right as she excitedly asked, “Your present? What did you get me? Please give me a clue! Please, please, please!”

Bucky laughed at her pumped up state, bopping her nose he assured her, “Well the only clue we’ll give is that we looked and searched hard for this gift of yours — we knew you had to have the best one.” Pouting and nose scrunching up in confusion, she turned to Steve and before she could even speak, he was already saying, “What Buck said is true, we hope you like our present.”

Pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek — she wanted to kiss his lips but didn’t want to distract him from driving — then a short, teasing kiss on Bucky’s lips she reassured them, “You both know I will always appreciate whatever it is you give me.”

Covering her eyes with his flesh hand, the former Winter Soldier smirked, “Well the only way to find out is when you see it. Keep your eyes closed for a while okay?” She whined but was quickly being shushed, “We’re pulling in now and you’re about to see your present!”

Once she felt the car come to a stop, she clawed at the hand that was shielding her from seeing her present as she thought she was permitted to look at it. But as she was being guided out of the truck with the hand still covering her eyes, she felt that maybe it still wasn’t the cue for her to see it.

“Okay stand there, are you alright?” Steve asked after guiding her to stand at a certain angle. “I’m fine, Steve! Now show me already! I’m getting impatient,” She was about to beg their ears off until Bucky slid his hand out of her eyes and she gasped out upon seeing the house. “Here you go, doll. Our brand new home.”

Her eyes became glossy as tears were peeking out, as she turned over to them and choked out, “A lake house?” Steve nodded, wiping the tears off her eyes before they got the chance to spill and kissed her lips, “Yes, doll. Your dream lake house.”

“We chose a secluded one so that way no one can complain when we’re too loud at night,” Bucky’s cocky reply was short-lived since Steve hit his arm which only made their girl laugh and hug them both. The two took her tight hug as a sign that she loved it. Removing himself early from the hug, Steve called, “Come on now! We still need to show you around the house!”

With every step she took, she clung onto each of her boyfriends’ hands tightly. The white coat of the house made her feel even more serene. Having multiple levels, she wondered about how many rooms there were, “How many floors and rooms are there? There seems to be way too many.”

“Five rooms, excluding the game and theater room that is. And there are two stories plus the basement.” Steve recalled as he opened the front door, the sight of the living room immediately greeted her. Soft couches, neat fireplace, and bookshelves beside a vinyl player greeted her. Sitting down on one of the seats, she giggled when the mattress was soft enough that it almost engulfed her completely, “I love this so much!”

Bucky picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder, “Wait ‘til you see the kitchen!” Placing her back to stand on her toes, he showed her how they fulfilled her dream kitchen of having two refrigerators, two ovens topped with an incredible gas stove, as well as a spacious countertop for when she baked and cooked for them. Smiling, she hugged Bucky and kissed his bearded cheek, “I love it so much! ‘M gonna stay here all the time now.”

Perking up at her statement, Steve smirked as he offered his arm for her to hold on to, “May I show you my favorite part of the house?” Finding it silly with how fancy he was being, she tangled an arm around his, while her other arm stretched out for Bucky to hold on to and his bionic hand laced with hers, “I’d love to see it, Mr. Rogers.”

Opening the black, wooden door, she was shown the master bedroom with a bed large enough to accommodate the three of them. “You cheeky bubba! The bedroom?!” She laughed as she plopped herself down on the soft mattress.

You’d think despite them being centenarians they would be stiff and boring, but the way they jumped in the bed and tickled her sides or rubbed their beards on her neck to elicit even more giggles from her suggested that they were more lively than you would suspect.

“Stop! I concede,” The last word was prolonged into a squeal with the way they were attacking her gently. Taking mercy on her, they stopped as they laid beside her, an arm draped over her figure as they traced her skin with their fingertips.

“I love it,” She spoke, filling the tranquil silence, “Thank you so much for this. I love you both so much.” Bucky cleared his throat and kissed her tricep, “Well this was something we hoped you’d love. And something we wanted to give you, as a thank you.”

Both super soldiers agreed not to mention the little part he slipped up; Steve smacked his flesh hand and groaned a bit. “As a thank you?” She sat up as her eyes shifted over between the two men. They followed her as they sat down too and explained to her, “Buck and I have come to realize how much you have sacrifice for us.”

“The way you stood up for me when the whole Accords happened,” Bucky continued and recalled how she stopped their airport battle when she stopped them upon uncovering the truth and seizing Zemo for discovering his plans. “You fought and stood up for me when everyone else was convinced I was the bad guy.”

Her hand caressed his cheek — her touch had cured him of his terrible association with physical contact. Images of when HYDRA treated him horribly in Bucky’s own time vanished from his mind every time he physically came in contact with someone thanks to her gentle handling of him and her incredible patience. He nuzzled his cheek into her palm, she was about to speak until Steve spoke up, “When we said that we wanted to step down from being Avengers, it was because of you.”

“Me?” This shook her to her core. She knew about their exhaustion with all the fighting that they had to do in order to save the world — everytime they needed to be patched up and taken care of, she’d done all that for them without complaints. But never did she imagine they would quit being part of the team for her, “I’m so sorry if I made it feel like you have to do all this for me.”

Sensing her panicked state, they both calmed her down as Steve rubbed her thighs while Bucky massaged her shoulders to settle her squirming body, “It’s not like that, doll. I should have been clearer with what I meant.”

Managing to relax, she looked up at Steve with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, encouraging him to speak his mind, “Buck and I talked about how tired we are. All this fighting — even though they all were for a good cause, of course — has started to take a toll on us. Not just physically, but emotionally as well,” He cleared his throat as he felt himself beginning to tear up, “It was evident that we badly needed an exit from this lifestyle that was forced upon us.”

“But we somehow got a hint that maybe there would be no way out for us,” Bucky continued when Steve stared at him to go on, Y/N too followed his gaze and looked at him, “That maybe it was set in stone that our fate would be to fight in battle forever.” Her heart clenched and fell into pieces at that thought. “What a cruel fate that would be, love,” She sympathized.

“Then you came along,” Steve resumed with a smile on his lips, “We now found a reason to keep going and fighting. Because we wanted you to live safely and feely.” She thought that what he said would be impossible to top off with the way her heart was beating wildly against her chest, lips pursing as she pouted in adoration. But Bucky wasn’t going to let anyone — not even Steve — outdo him so he pressed a kiss on the top of her head as he spoke sincerely, “We wanted to give you the life you deserve. A life far from danger and uncertainty. So we bought this secluded lake house — giving us the chance to be ourselves and do whatever we want.”

What Bucky said was a close runner up to Steve’s words and she couldn't help but coo at their word as she tried her best to wrap her smaller arms around their hulking figures, “I love you both! So so so so much! I’m incredibly blessed to have the two of you in my life!” Wanting to snap out of their dreamy state, Steve clapped his hands, “Well how about we prepare our lunch.”

Excited at the thought of preparing a meal in her new kitchen, Y/N jumped off the bed with a smile as she scurried off to the kitchen, “I’m gonna make us some sandwiches!” As the two two super soldiers looked at each other after both taking note of how excited their girl was they both thought of the same thing — they made the right and best decision.

After munching down the delicious turkey avocado sandwich with chipotle mayonnaise, they all retired to the deck; both Steve and Bucky were lounging around on one of their chaise lounge chairs as they were clad in their swim shorts while Y/N swam around for a bit on the clear, warm water.

“I can get used to always swimming,” She stated once she reached the top of the pool’s ladder and walked towards them, sitting down on Steve’s lap as she drank some of the iced tea they had prepared. “I, on the other hand, know that I can get used to seeing you in your swimsuit,” Bucky wolf whistled as he openly gawked at her bikini-clad figure.

Despite being with them for quite a few years now and getting used to Bucky’s playful behavior, she still gets bashful when she’s on the receiving end of Bucky’s silver tongue. She clicked her tongue at him as an attempt to weakly silence him, “Bucky Barnes! You and your silver tongue; someday I will catch you off guard the way you do to me.”

Steve decided to join in but unfortunately it didn’t help her cause, “Oh doll, I love you but we all know you get flustered even at the mere thought of flirting at us.” His arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he placed a kiss on her shoulder, as if he was comforting her; which Bucky found amusing as he chuckled. She hit Steve's shoulder as she scowled at Bucky, the two then decided to end their playful banter against their girl.

Upon being signalled to pull his chair closer to where Steve was sat, Y/N played with Bucky's metal fingers as she laid her head on her other boyfriend’s chest, “I love you both. Really, I do,” She lifted her head to kiss Steve’s slightly chapped lips deeply before muttering, “I love you, Steve.” To which he said the same without missing a beat.

“I love you, Bucky,” She declared before leaning over to kiss his lips with the same passion and vigour. “Can’t wait for this new chapter that’s waiting for us,” She sighed out, blissed and content.

Steve’s warm palm caressed her stomach as he spoke with hope, “Who knows? Maybe we can start our family now.” She knew it was something he wanted — even way back in the 40’s he was already hopeful for a family of his own. Bucky, however, always wanting to spite and retort Steve just for the sake of it quickly countered, “Or maybe just adopt a bunch of dogs so the house isn’t too quiet.”

Y/N laughed when both her boyfriends stuck their tongue out and made silly faces to tease each other even more; breaking up their fight, she turned to them and reassured them, “No matter what lies ahead, I know we all can agree that we will venture it together.” And the silence laced with the content smiles they had on their faces gave her the confirmation that indeed, they will go through it all together.

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sunjaesol · 4 years ago

Text

serendipitous encounters

juke | human au | fluff

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"I think I met my soulmate!" Luke shouted as he barrelled through the front door, announcing his presence.

Alex, cuddled up with Willie, groaned from his place on the couch. "Not this again. Luke, soulmates do not exist!"

"Well, I'm curious," Willie joked. "What happened?"

Bouncing through the small living space, he propped himself on the coffee table. His eager lips spouted everything he knew so far. "Her name's Julie and she's beautiful and she drinks lattes with caramel syrup."

The two boys blinked at each other, an amused smile growing on Willie as the scowl deepened for Alex. Yeesh. How did these two work?

The blonde tried keeping composure. "You think... you met... the person you want to spend the rest of your life with... in a coffee shop?"

Luke nodded. What was his point?

Luckily, Willie was on his side. "Did you talk to her?"

Sighing, he slumped to the floor. "No. But I'm telling you, it's her."

"This oddly feels like that Zooey Deschanel movie," Alex mused.

"No! She's not some fantasy! She-I can't explain it." Dreamily looking up at the ceiling, he added. "She's it. I'm calling it."

"I think you're horny," Alex deadpanned. Willie snickered.

He rolled his eyes and swatted their legs. "Very cool, you guys.”

The doorbell rang. Jumping up and saving himself from further embarrassment, Luke went to open it.

And it was her. Holy shit.

She smiled up at him, holding up his trusty songbook.

"Hello. You left this journal on your table at Starbucks? It has your address inside."

Gobsmacked, Luke stared at her. Holy fucking shit. Because of his whole daydream about her in Starbucks, he forgot his book and then she took it upon herself to find the rightful owner. That was fate, right? Take that, Alex!

Stammering vowels, he plucked it from her grasp and let out a breathy laugh.

"Y-Yeah, thanks, that's- yup."

An amused smile pulled on her lips, nodding. "No problem. Have a nice day!"

Her goodbye snapped him out of his stupor, calling out for her with a raised hand.

"Wait! I didn't catch your name!"

She turned around, the girl looking so foreign in the grimy hallway of the apartment complex.

"Why do you need my name?"

Cause he knew it already and didn't want to seem like a creep.

He shrugged. "I want to thank you."

"It's Julie," she said after a beat.

"Thank you, Julie." His grin must've been comically wide, heart beating a mile a minute as he was still convinced she was his freaking soulmate.

And then she left. He was certain he'd see her again. In a non creepy way, that was.

— — — — — —

It was wholly coincidental once more.

It was an early Sunday morning, Luke donned in sweatpants and a ratty cut-off and bedhead, as he meandered in the the shop of a tailor. Reggie owed him for this.

The bassist loved buying vintage clothing, but never stuff that quite fit him. Hence, a tailor. His name was Peter and basically Reg’s best friend at this point, based on the disappointed look the man gave Luke as he handed him the the slip. He could hear the question on his tongue - “Where’s Reggie?” - and was happy when he didn’t ask.

One, cause that was fucking rude.

Two, cause Reg was currently fighting for an exclusive comic book on the other side of Los Angeles with a hurdle of other nerds.

As Peter was sifting through the clothing racks, searching the order, the bell jingled behind him.

“Oh, Journal Boy?”

He stilled. Holy shit.

Whirling around, he came face to face with Julie. Just as beautiful as a week ago; maybe even more disarming in sandals and her curly hair up in a messy bun.

“Hi,” he breathed, unsure if he wasn’t just imagining her. It was a pretty hot day. It could easily be a sun stroke.

Her smile widened. She was probably amused by his goofy behaviour, but he couldn’t help it. What were the odds he’d see her again, in a different location, this early after the first encounter? What was the statistical probability of meeting his soulmate twice?

Before he could say anything else, Peter appeared from his rack and placed a leather jacket on the counter. Their attention diverted, Luke couldn’t help but feel heat travel up his back from having her so near.

— — — — — —

No, he didn't want to go to silent disco.

Alas, Willie and Alex were that quirky type of couple that always liked to do the weirdest shit, including the most impersonal activity ever: a silent fucking disco.

They told him to bring a date, as Reggie was bringing his Tinder match Kayla, but he wasn't feeling it. One, because he still couldn't believe he saw Julie again at the tailor-

("It's Luke, by the way," he added.

She smiled and tasted the name. "Luke. Haven't lost your journal again?"

His name sounded heavenly on her tongue. Keeping the blush at bay, he nodded with a grin. "Yup. Uh-"

And then the man came back with her stuff, and that was that.)

-two, cause he wanted to win from Alex. Soulmates did exist and he hadn't lost hope it was her.

So there he was, in some old factory turned disco, with hundreds of idiots wearing headphones as they danced in a frenzy to whatever song was playing. The whole point of art - connection - was lost. Luke wanted to die.

Until he saw Julie from across the space. Again. And she saw him.

They smiled and waved and suddenly, this whole thing wasn't so bad anymore.

— — — — — —

There were about a 130,000 people living in East LA. It had sprawling neighbourhoods and hundreds of communities and subways that connected it to the other parts of LA. She could’ve been anywhere.

And yet, he found her again.

Even though he was still sticking to his guns that Julie was someone special, he also had his own needs. Which was how he found himself slipping out of a redhead’s bed at seven in the morning, dazed from being in an unknown place, and pulling his clothes back on. He was pretty sure her name was Meredith, though that could also just be entirely false. It was a weird, albeit good night.

She mumbled in her pillow he could let himself out, waving half-heartedly and rolling on her side.

Softly closing the door behind him and cracking the knots in his neck, he didn’t notice how he bumped into a person.

Into Julie.

His eyes widened in shock, the two letting out a surprised yelp. Her hand clutched her chest and took a step back.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Sorry!”

Her mouth opened and closed in confusion, about to say something, when her gaze trailed past him to the apartment he just left. She cleared up.

“Meredith? Good choice, she’s nice.”

Luke flushed red. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Awkwardly scratching the back of his head, he drawled, “Uh, yeah... what’re you doing here?”

It was then that he noticed she had athletic wear on, duffle bag around her shoulder and keys dangling between her fingers. She confirmed his suspicions when she replied.

“I, uh, live here.” She laughed. “So... have a nice rest of the day?”

He wanted to say a lot. He wanted to ask if she wanted to grab breakfast, that Meredith wasn’t his girlfriend, that he had this crazy feeling they were always meant to meet - again and again and again ‘til they got it right.

But he couldn’t. He’d sound insane. Hell, it was insane. Instead, he wished her a nice day as well and scurried out the hallway. He didn’t look back, but he did wonder if he was imagining he felt her eyes on his back.

— — — — — —

Luke was typing on his laptop, the hustle and bustle of Starbucks at three in the afternoon and the methodical tap tap tap of the keys lulling him into a fast-paced trance. As always, he procrastinated some work for Pitchfork and had to get it done in two hours or else his boss would be yelling in his emails.

The bell jingled, Luke looking up automatically and almost rolling his eyes at the sight of her. This was getting insane.

Julie saw him too, changing her course from the register to his round table with a confused grimace twisting her features. As always, she looked pretty; the girl never looked bad and it was kind of messing with his head.

"Alright, fess up," she exclaimed, slipping into the seat opposite of him. "Are you stalking me?"

He snorted and leaned forward with a wry grin. "I can ask the same about you."

Her lips pursed, assessing him for a beat. With a sigh, she mellowed down. "I guess... we live in the same neighbourhood..."

"Still kinda crazy though," he mused. "East L.A. is big."

She nodded, pensive, and then looked over her shoulder to the menu board. "Is it okay if... I sit with you? I was going to grab a latte to go, but since you're here..."

But since you're here - rang in his ears, a careful smile blooming on his lips. Fuck, he really needed to work, but Julie wanted to sit with him, hang with him, be friends with him, outside of all the coincidental meetings they've had.

He wouldn't call it a date yet. He wanted to properly ask her when that day came.

"Sure," he mumbled, biting down the smile from becoming bigger.

His reply satisfied her, the tendrils dancing around her bright eyes as she matched his smile and stood up to make an order.

— — — — — —

Weeks passed with quick meetings here and there, Julie slowly bleeding into his life with laughs and smiles and whirlwind stories about her life. She was always on the go, always bright-eyed and easily matching his energy. He knew his enthusiasm could put people off, but she was never taken aback.

Wit against wit. Snark against snark. A dumb joke met with an amused roll of the eye. It worked. For a while, he even settled on the fact that hey, they might be platonic soulmates. Julie was a great friends and sometimes he felt his emotions fleeting. If they remained friends, he'd be perfectly content.

But then she closed gaps and barriers that had pointedly been kept before. After they got boba, her hand wrapped around his bicep, stretched on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. Before he could register it, she was back on her feet waving him goodbye. Luke had a dopey look on his face for the rest of the day.

She kept up cheek kisses, he let his warm embraces linger, their short hangouts turned into hours.

Then one night, she kissed his cheek after they got ramen and he shifted his face 'til their noses brushed. Julie held her breath. Tentatively, their fingers curled together - the simple touch sparking lightning up his arm.

"Is it weird that I've dreamed about you?" he asked, cautious, looking at their joined hands.

Luke wanted to tell her about his initial gut feeling; that he saw her and he knew. But it was too insane and he didn't want to scare her off. But he knew. He's always known.

"No..." Her mouth ghosted his. "I've dreamed about you too."

Luke closed the little space between them, lips slanting together and instantly deepening as one hand came up to cradle her cheek. His heart was bursting with euphoria. It felt as if his body sighed in relief, like it had finally come home. And then he did: he sighed and grinned and giggled when her arms wrapped around his neck.

Oh, man... he might already love her.

— — — — — —

Nothing definite happened afterwards. Though this is what he wanted, he felt weird confirming their relationship when he had always somehow ‘known.’ It had to come from her side, the more level-headed person in this situation.

So, it was casual, even though he was anything but casual.

It was pretty great though, walking past Meredith’s door towards Julie’s, having her yank him inside and kiss him like she’d been waiting for years. Kissing Julie was fucking heaven.

Besides that, they were the same Luke and Julie as before. They got boba or ramen or any new spot that opened up like weeds. She listened to new music with him, sharing earbuds, for his Pitchfork articles. He watched her sing and play the piano at music clubs, becoming more and more enamoured each time simply by the sound of her angelic voice. He built a shelf for her. She taught him how to make friendship bracelets. He met her best friend Flynn. She stayed over for dinner with the guys and got drunk on white wine, giggling along to the jokes.

They fit. But they weren’t exclusive. He had no clue if she was also seeing someone else. He presumed she didn’t, the two constantly revolving around each other, but he couldn’t be certain.

Alex was gobsmacked the first time he properly met her. Stunned that Luke had been right, that it worked out, that East Los Angeles was apparently nothing more than a small town. Luke reckoned he was just jealous he didn’t have to meet his person by getting maimed on the street - ha!

His finger trailed along her sleeping silhouette, gently and drowsy, observing in awe how a smile subconsciously quirked on her lips and shifted closer to his touch. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose in the back of her neck. There were worse ways to wake up.

— — — — — —

Eventually, Julie simply decided for him.

She was moving apartments and he was helping her pack, move furniture, throw shit out, the whole nine yards. For one person, she had a lot of stuff, her cabinets an endless supply of decor, souvenirs and memories.

They were whirling around each other like clock-work, never bumping and smoothly handing things over. Rap music was playing from the stereo, its sound drifting from her opened front door into the hallway.

One of her neighbours popped their head in.

"Oh!" The old man perked up, surprised. "You're moving, Julie?"

She looked up from rummaging through her CD collection to shoot him a tired smile. "Yeah," she puffed, "my lease is up, so..."

"Change of pace, I get it. That's wonderful," he nodded, gaze shifting to Luke walking out of the bathroom. "Hello!"

Luke smiled at him, waving with the box of oddly shaped soaps Julie had for some reason. "Hi."

"This is Luke, my boyfriend," Julie introduced, Luke freezing in his tracks all at once as the words utter from her lips. Boyfriend. Holy shit. It didn't faze her, smoothly babbling more than he wasn't processing.

Boyfriend. Which meant that she was his girlfriend. Which meant that now, he had to threaten the guys to not say a fucking word about how mentally deranged he was the first week after meeting her. This wasn’t planned. This was fully her. This was past fate and serendipity - this was by choice. It felt better than he thought.

The man bid goodbye and left. Luke dropped the box on the coffee table, sliding towards her with a shit-eating grin.

"Boyfriend," he drawled exaggeratedly.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. ‘Cause you are. I know you well enough to know you can only do exclusive."

"Can you?"

"I said you were my boyfriend, didn't I?"

His smile widened, leaning in to kiss her. She met him halfway, loose curls tucked behind ears before her arms were slung around his waist. I love, I love you, I've loved you forever.

And then the truth tumbled out. Part of it, at least.

"I, uh," he gulped, looking at her through his lashes. "I saw you, that first day, and I thought you were the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Her face turned tender, a pout jutting from her lip as she gauged his reaction, like she was waiting for him to make a joke. He wasn't.

"Really?" she whispered, voice so small it took him aback for a beat.

His thumbs gently caressed her cheeks, withholding himself from saying anything more. This was enough. It was the truth without the crazy - being with her was crazy enough. Luke settled on a simple nod.

Her head tilted, shy amusement lilting her tone. "Good thing I'm moving closer to your neighbourhood then."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

@blush-and-books @bluefirewrites @willexx @pink-flame @constantly-singing @unsaid-emily @ourstarscollided

#juke #jatp fanfiction #otp: i think we make each other better #queue

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august-bleeds-red · 4 years ago

Text

Texas Heat (Part Three)

Alpha!Tommy x omega!Reader (AFAB). When you find yourself trapped within the Hewitt family’s web of murder, violence and pain, the last thing you expect to do is fall in love.

Warnings: This chapter is almost exclusively dub-con. Also Hoyt being a gross jerk. Bad stuff under the line.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Hoyt sniffs the air appreciatively as your scent is contained within the confines of the basement. The blonde girl is gone, to where and to what end you can only imagine.

“Set ’er down there, boy,” Hoyt’s toothy grin is frighteningly animalistic – more so than Thomas himself – as you’re deposited on the filthy mattress. The stuffing squelches unpleasantly beneath your weight, and you’re met with a sudden wave of scent – the frightened pheromones of the many poor girls trapped here before. Now it’s your turn.

“Now, son,” Hoyt lays a hand on his heaving shoulder, his voice lowering to an almost comforting timbre. “This is your first time, and you’re not gonna know what t’do. But I’mma talk you through it.”

“What?” the horrified squeak escapes you before you can stop it. Strange as it sounds, you were prepared for Thomas to take you as an alpha would, but a redneck cheerleader had not been in the equation.

Grabbing hold of your hair, Hoyt squats down behind you and holds you in place. “Now, you listen here, omega bitch,” he growls in your ear, and you cringe away from the stench of stale tobacco on his breath, “you’re gonna just take this how I tell you to. I won’t have you ruinin’ this for him, y’hear? Tommy, spread ’er legs nice and wide.”

Thomas takes hold of your knees and splays them apart, leaning in close to breathe in the saccharine aroma of the slick still fresh on your thighs.

“Sure smells good, don’t it, boy?” Hoyt reaches down over your shoulder, one large hand pushing past the waistband of your shorts and into your panties. You cry out in disgust as he slips a finger through your folds and pulls it out dripping with sweet-scented slick. He waves it under Thomas’s nose like a dog being baited with a bone.

“You’ll wanna taste summa this,” he places the moist finger in his own mouth and sucks at the juices with nauseating satisfaction. Thomas rumbles deep in his chest and Hoyt chuckles.

“Sorry, son, forgot myself there – she’s your little bitch, after all.”

Settling his hand down to fondle one of your breasts, he secures the other over your mouth.

“Now just y’all keep quiet, don’t wanna go wakin’ Momma from her beauty rest.”

You numbly allow Thomas to rip your shorts from your hips, tossing the ruined garment aside into the shadows.

“Get on in there and get a good taste ’fore you stick it in her,” Hoyt says.

Leaning in close, Thomas takes a long, unapologetic inhale of your scent and you see his pupils dilate. With beginner’s caution, he presses the muzzle of his mask against your clit and laps at the delicate pink flesh, the ridge of the leather adding an extra layer of sensation. You curse yourself for the moans that Hoyt’s fingers are stifling, but pressure against your clit married with the attention of his tongue is just too much. You can feel your orgasm already starting to build, like the smallest of waves far from shore. When Thomas pulls back, his mask is shining with your slick, and you see his tongue seeking out droplets from around the muzzle.

“That’s it, boy,” Hoyt encourages, “now for the main event. You stick your little bitch good, knot her right up.”

You can’t hold back a whimper at the size of Thomas’s cock when its revealed to you. At least nine inches long, thick as your wrist, the reddish-purple head already leaking precum. You want to be horrified, want to shy away from such a fate, but the urge to be claimed by such a cock as this, to have that cum filling you up ‘til it spills from you is like trying not to breathe.

“Hold up,” Hoyt removes his hand from your mouth and you flush beet-red with shame at the moisture on his palm. “Well, I’ll be! This bitch is gaggin’ for ya, Tommy!” He fists the back of your hair and pushes you forward. “How’s about we give ‘er somethin’ to really slaver over?”

The overpowering musk of Thomas’s scent fills your nostrils, and your mouth falls open with almost no help from Hoyt as he rubs your face against the head of Thomas’s cock. You can taste Thomas’s discomfort with the way Hoyt forces your head back and forth, your mouth barely wide enough to accommodate his cock, but it clearly feels far too good for any morals he might have to get in the way. Your eyes fill with overwhelmed tears and you gaze helplessly at the behemoth above you.

Please, you try to express without words, please, alpha – help me.

With a growl of frustration, Thomas grips your shoulders and pushes you off of him, his strength more than enough to combat Hoyt’s, who sits back with an accepting shrug.

“Y’want me to hold ’er down for you?”

He backs off when Thomas shoots him a sharp look, leaning back on his haunches to watch the alpha at work, a proud grin on his shit-eating face. You whimper helplessly up at Thomas as he cages you in against the mattress, hands splayed either side of your head.

“That’s it, boy,” Hoyt’s voice is low now, as though deep in concentration. From the corner of your eye, you can see him palming his crotch through his pants. “Show this omega bitch who the real boss is here.”

Your scream as he enters you is quickly stifled by Hoyt’s hand. You feel yourself stretch impossibly wide around him, searing pain bleeding into intense pleasure as he drives into you with the force of a rutting ram. His undiluted alpha scent washes over you, rendering you utterly helpless to him. You can hear Hoyt as though through water, urging Thomas on, his drawling voice getting rougher and more aggressive as he touches himself to your desperate cries. You’ve never known a pain to cut so deep – the physical toll of such an enormous man as Thomas thrusting into you combined with your omega instincts screaming against such abuse from the alpha you’ve submitted to. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be; once an omega submits to an alpha, that alpha is supposed to take care of them. Your vision swims with tears, and even the warm rush of orgasm can’t soothe the betrayal that bites at your core. Your blood runs cold with hatred for Hoyt, his satisfied grunts as he ejaculates making you feel sick.

“C’mon, Tommy,” he slaps the damp mattress, the stink of beta cum strong on his hand. “Give her your fuckin’ knot, boy! This bitch is yours – claim her!”

You’ve never seen a man so torn as Thomas in that moment. His scent is thick with predatory arousal, but his eyes are filled with bewilderment.

“God damn it, Tommy!” Hoyt’s voice rises in anger. “Don’t go bein’ a pussy on me, now! Fuck her bloody! Be a fuckin’ man!”

“THOMAS BROWN HEWITT!”

Both men turn to stare at Luda May standing at the foot of the stairs, a motheaten bathrobe wrapped around her. Fury is etched into the lines of her face, and Thomas recoils from you, retreating into the shadows while tucking himself back into his pants. Your abused pussy feels cold and empty, but you can’t deny your relief at the ordeal’s end.

“We’re a little busy here, Momma.” Hoyt responds, looking equal parts sheepish and pissed off.

Satan himself would have flinched from the look Luda gives him. “I tolerate you doin’ whatever wicked things you do on your own time, Charlie,” she says, “but I will NOT stand by and watch you drag my sweet boy down with you.”

A burst of hysterical, tear-laced laughter escapes you at the description of Thomas as ‘a sweet boy’, but Luda doesn’t look at you. You get the feeling she’s ashamed to.

“He needs a real man to show him how things’re done,” Hoyt – Charlie? – says.

“Oh, and you think that’s you, do you? Shut your dang mouth,” she snaps. “Tommy, get over here.”

Thomas glances at you, for all the world as though he’s imploring you for help. The heady scent of his alpha pheromones is already fading.

“Now!”

He jumps and shuffles over to his mother, large boots splashing through the water. He barely moves when she deals him a sharp slap across the face, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Get this poor girl to bed,” she says, unwrapping her robe from around her shoulders and pushing it into his hands. “I don’t want a peep from you ’til mornin’.”

Despite everything he’s done to you that night, you find you’re more eager to get away from Hoyt than you are from Thomas. You take the robe he drops on the mattress and wrap it round your shoulders, tucking it over your bare legs. You try to stand but your knees give out before you can rise even halfway. You stumble, grabbing on to the nearest thing that can offer you support – which happens to be Thomas’s muscular arms. As easy as one might lift a child, he scoops you up and cradles you against his chest. Too exhausted to be afraid, you simply allow him to carry you up the stairs, leaving Luda and Hoyt’s furious voices behind you.

The last time you were in these arms, all you knew was fear and dread. The fear still remains, but at least you know the worst.

Comments are greatly appreciated because I’m a needy little trashbag.

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #tommy hewitt x reader #tommy hewitt #slashers #slasher lover #slasher community #slasher fandom #the texas chainsaw massacre #the texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #tcm #tcm the beginning #slasher x reader

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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years ago

Text

30. Katsuki Bakugou

Theme: Werewolf

Kinks: Hunter/prey play, rough outdoor sex, biting, oral (receiving), one spank, doggie style, cream pie, commando

All canonically underage characters are aged up. Katsuki Bakugo is 18+.

Masterlist

The wind howled through the trees. Or was it the wolf chasing you? You smiled either way at the chase. The wind in your face, the damp earth beneath your pounding feet, the blood rush surging through you. A full moon cast a silver glow on everything before your eyes. You smelled the air full of fir, pine, and unsoiled earth. It was the perfect night for a hunt, and you were the willing prey.

When Katsuki suggested it, he turned red in the face and on the tips of his ears, though he was eager to deny it. The full moon was a dangerous night for him, not knowing if he could control his urges. A werewolf-human couple could be deadly, even. You'd gotten used to the scratches, bites, and the strength he used to pin you down to the bed. Tonight was different. It was going to be different and unique in ways that you only began to imagine. Tonight wasn't just a full moon. It was a Blue Moon. It didn't happen very often, and nobody could remember when it last occurred auspiciously in October on Halloween night. While everyone else you knew was partying or getting drunk, you were being hunted down by your boyfriend.

You didn't want Katsuki to lose. The thrill of the chase was enough for you. That didn't stop you from making it harder for him to catch you. You wore a new perfume and washed your hair and body in heavily-fragranced shampoo and body wash. With the smell of the damp earth and evergreens swirling around you, you might have made it too tricky for Katsuki to catch a whiff of you.

However, Katsuki was a lot smarter than that. He wasn't going to pass up a Blue Moon and be tricked by such girly smells. If anything, covering yourself in perfume and fragrances most likely helped him sniff you out. That was why he was hot on your tail. Katsuki was so close you could hear him panting for breath.

Twigs snapped underfoot, leaving a trail for Katsuki to follow. You ducked behind a tree and used it swing your body in another direction. You laughed into the wind as you ran against it. Katsuki's heavy feet pounded the earth, not very far behind you.

"Just wait 'til I get my hands on you, Y/N! You're not gonna walk for a week afterward!"

"You have to catch me first!" You shouted back.

You jumped over a fallen tree and over thorny bushes. Outstretched branches snagged your clothes, leaving tears and rips that left your skin exposed to the night air. Katsuki sprinted closer. Once he got a little closer, you pushed your legs and ran ahead of him. You chuckled at his frustrated snarl. He almost had you in his grasp, but you weren't about to let the game end so soon. Not when you were both having so much fun.

Shouts and cries echoed on the wind. Friends and members of Katsuki's pack having their own fun. You bit your lip as you slid around yet another tree. Katsuki was once more catching up to you. Your heart and lungs couldn't take much more of it. Despite your desire to keep it up, your body was getting close to its breaking point. You whirled around a tree to stop and catch your breath. Katsuki seemed to have lost you in the bramble because you couldn't hear his footsteps chasing after you anymore.

Sweat beaded down your face. The night wasn't cold, but you almost wished you had a sweater. Your skin felt clammy to the touch, and if you didn't get somewhere warm soon, you were in for an uncomfortable night. You clenched your toes to ease some of the aches you felt. Once your heart slowed to a steady rate, you leaned off of the tree and sprang back into the woods.

You didn't get very far. Katsuki had been waiting behind another tree. His patience rewards him with you practically springing into his arms. He grabbed your forearms with a firm but not a brutish grasp.

"Caught you," Katsuki snickered, offering you a devilish smirk. "What are you going to do now?"

"Beg for mercy?" You jokingly replied.

Your response was enough to make your boyfriend tilt his head back and laugh. Katsuki gently pushed you against a nearby tree. Slivers of moonlight heightened the ash-blonde tufts of hair on his newly sprouted wolf ears. His eyes were a darker shade of crimson, and they stared right into you. Claws carefully caressed your skin and tugged at your ruined clothes. You both were splattered with dirt and a little bit of blood.

"Kiss me," said Katsuki. Only it wasn't a request. It was an order.

You obliged and wrapped your hands behind his neck. You pressed your cool, moist lips against his warm ones. Tongues fought for dominance, a battle Katsuki always won. He shoved you against the tree while running his hands up and down and over your body. One hand found purchase on your hips with the other preoccupied knotting his hand in your hair. Katsuki gave your hair a soft tug and exposed your neck to him. He wasted no time leaning down and gracing your neck with feather-soft kisses. Fangs nibbled on your sensitive skin. You arched your back to press your body close to his.

"Are you hungry for me, Y/N?" Katsuki thumbed the button of your jeans.

"Always," you answered with a needy whisper.

"What do you think I should do about it, hm?" Katsuki bit into your shoulder, causing you to moan.

He suckled your skin and nibbled on your flesh. Katsuki quickly switched sides and gave the other side of your neck the same treatment. Claws tore at your clothes. Katsuki pulled at your torn and muddied t-shirt like it was tissue paper. When the night air hit your chest, the nipples on your breasts became taut before Katsuki even touched them. Goosebumps crossed your skin like a fever.

"No bra?" Katsuki flicked open the button to your pants and delved his hand down your crotch. His sharp brow rose. "No panties either?"

"I was expecting you to catch me." You smirked.

"Were you now?" Katsuki pulled the zipper down and coaxed the hem of your jeans down your hips.

"I expected nothing less from the great Katsuki Bakugo," you said.

"Tch," Katsuki feigned annoyance. "As if you had a chance. Smellin' like a fucking garden. It's like you wanted to get caught." He was careful with his claws as he rubbed your clit. You moaned at the touch of his warm hand against your bundle of nerves.

"Maybe…AH! That was…the idea. Oh, my god. Right there!"

"Slick for me already? We haven't even started yet!"

Katsuki was right; you were absolutely soaked. The thrill of the chase and the anticipation Katsuki had been building up all week (not to mention the abstinence forced upon you to make the Blue Moon extra special) left you an excitable mess. You knew before Katsuki even touched you that you soaked through your jeans. Katsuki had to be careful not to cut you as he massaged your clit with just the pads of his fingers.

"I need to know what my meal tastes like tonight," Katsuki growled. Katsuki hefted you over his shoulder like a potato sack. He shimmied your pants down to your ankles and shucked them off. He threw them unto the ground before laying down on a pile of fallen leaves next to them. Grabbing your hands, Katsuki set them behind your knees and pushed your legs apart. Even in the shadows, you saw his tail wag.

"Don't fucking let go until I make you come, got it?" Katsuki ordered. Hazy with lust, you nodded.

"Good."

Katsuki bent his head towards your weeping cunt. His rough tongue lapped at your wet folds before diving in between them. You dug your nails into your legs as you clung unto them for dear life. Katsuki slurped with lewd eagerness. He drove his tongue in and out, stimulating your walls into quivering around him.

"Does it feel good, baby? Do you like being eaten alive?" "Y-Yeah," you moaned.

"Then, there's more where that came from!" Katsuki sat up long enough to rip his shirt off. He returned to the spot between your thighs.

His lips and mouth worked your pussy into a fit and slurped at the wet mess your body was making. Your juices spilled all over the ground underneath you. Your legs trembled with the effort of his tongue against your clit.

"K-Katsuki!"

"Feel like you're gonna come?" Katsuki murmured against your cunt. He devoured it like a starving man.

"I'm so close!

"Then I better finish you off. Gotta get you prepared for my fat cock, don't I?"

Katsuki wasted no more time with words. He drove his tongue like a surrogate cock between your folds. You struggled to keep your legs up and open for him, but it was so hard to concentrate while he lapped at your juices. He dragged his thumb across your clit while digging his tongue into your pussy. With a few flicks, you spiraled quickly. When Katsuki finally raised his head, his mouth was covered in your essence, dripping in it. You panted for breath as you came down from your high, interrupted only by Katsuki pulling down his fly and pushed his jeans down to his hips. You weren't the only one who chose to go commando. His proud member was fisted in his hand. Pre-cum oozed out of the tiny slit on the blunt head. Katsuki leered at the hazy eyes you were making at his cock.

"It's going all the way in, Y/N. You're going to fucking enjoy this," said Katsuki.

He swatted your hands away from your legs and rolled you unto your stomach. You grasped at fallen leaves as you felt your hips being shifted off the ground. Katsuki lined up his cock then slowly impaled you on it. Your cunt was wet and warm and more than ready for him. You dug your nails into the dampened earth to compensate for the sheer pleasure shooting up your spine. Katsuki was fully seated and buried inside you.

"That's my girl. You're so tight for me." Katsuki gave your ass a playful smack. "You're gonna howl for me, won't you?"

"Fuck, yes." You groaned into the first thrust of his hips.

Indeed, Katsuki had you howling. There was no place for you to muffle the sounds you were making since you'd rather not have dead leaves in your mouth. Skin slammed against skin as Katsuki rammed himself deep inside your body. He was stretching you open while pounding you into the dirt. Over, over, and over again, he was buried in your cunt and sealed it up. That didn't stop the fluid gushing out of you; the more he attacked your cock. While fucking you, Katsuki had very little to say, at least in human speech. In this form, half-beast, and half-man, more of the animal side of him came out to play. Claws dug into the flesh of your hips while his teeth nibbled on your shoulders. You heard the brushing of his tail as it swung behind him. He was incredibly strong.

Katsuki grunted like an animal while beating your insides. He plunged his cock as far as it would go. You met him thrust for thrust and howl for howl. The pair of you were little better than dogs in heat. You panted and stuck your tongue out like one. Katsuki snapped his hips harder into you and pulled you close.

"Fuck, fuck," Katsuki canted. "I'm coming."

His pace became erratic. The thick cock inside you found your G-spot, which sent you over the edge again. You cried out his name as you gushed around him. Your body twitched from the impact of coming so hard. Katsuki fell right behind you, burying himself deep so that the ribbons of come shooting inside your walls had nowhere else to go. You remained stuck like this for what seemed like forever. He pulled out eventually against your wishes. You loved the feeling of him buried there and felt empty with him gone. Katsuki helped you back into your jeans and shoved his t-shirt over your head.

"Like hell any extra is gonna get a good look at your tits. These bad girls are for my eyes only, got it?" Katsuki came up from behind, wrapped his arms around you, and gave you a hug, which was really an excuse to grope your chest.

"Whatever you say, Katsuki," you chuckled.

#my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha smut #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #bnha smut #reader fic #kinktober #kinktober week #kinktober my hero academia edition #katsuki #bakugo #katsuki bakugo #Bakugou x reader #Werewolf!Katsuki #AU #minors dni #Minors begone

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dem-obscure-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Stay Here With Me

George Weasley x Reader

Fandom: Harry Potter

Summary: When you get hexed, George is there for you until it wears off.

Note: FUCK J.K. ROWLINGGGGG!!! Trans Rights are Human Rights <3.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 0.8k

It was Neville who’d found you wandering through the halls, crying and getting dangerously close to the moving staircases. Immediately, he’d walked you back to the Gryffindor common room so you would be safe until he could get help for you.

So, until help arrived, you were planted on the couch in front of the fireplace, waiting in total darkness.

That was how George found you. He walked into the common room through the portrait hole after one of his classes and waved to get your attention, but you didn’t look up. So, instead, he walked closer to you, crouching in front of the couch.

“(Y/N)?” He asked softly.

You jumped and held a hand over your chest, your heart racing at the unexpected voice. Sadly, you asked, “Are you Fred or George?”

George, your boyfriend of well over a year, laughed in disbelief. Since your first year, you had never mixed him up with his brother, and now you couldn’t tell? What was going on?

“You’re George, aren’t you?” You asked, reaching for his hands, but not quite finding them until he put them in yours. As soon as you held his hands in yours, you knew you were right.

He leaned forward and kissed you gently. “Does that answer your question, love?”

“Yes. It does.” Your eyes didn’t meet his, and it wasn’t until he looked at you closely that he even knew there was something wrong. Instead of their usual (y/e/c/) hue, they were fogged over and white. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. What happened?” He sat on the couch beside you, his hands still tight in yours.

“Malfoy hexed me. I…I can’t see anything. Neville found me and brought me back here and I’m waiting for him to come back with help.”

George stiffened, anger bubbling up in his chest. “Malfoy did this to you?”

“Yeah, he did.” You nodded. “I don’t think it was meant for me, but it sure did hit me.”

“I’ll kill him.” George reassured you, his voice rising. “Oh, I’m going to kill him.” He stood up, but you reached out for him.

“That’s great, George, but for the time being, will you stay here? With me?”

His angry expression melted and he sat back down. He pulled you into his lap and you squeaked at the unexpected movement. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, darling.” He whispered into your ear, his long arms wrapping around you and holding you tight. “I’ll be over soon, though. And then I’ll hex Malfoy’s balls off.”

“Let me know how that goes.” You giggled, curling further into his warmth and pressing yourself against his broad chest.

Softer, George murmured, “No one hurts my girl and gets away with it.”

Something in you flipped when he said “my girl.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach and you reached up, carefully feeling his face so you could kiss him. George matched his lips with yours, kissing you tenderly.

“You know…” he grinned, lightening up a bit now that he knew you were alright. “Fred and I never considered something that causes temporary blindness…”

You laughed. “Glad I could inspire you.”

“Oh darling…” He smiled softly and kissed your cheek. “You do that every single day.”

“You flirt.” You giggled.

“Anything to make my girl smile.”

You sat there with George for a while longer. He stroked your head, running his hands through your hair and braiding it to pass the time. He told you some stories from his childhood, mostly about shenanigans with Fred. You laughed and imagined the faces he was making as he told you while you sat there in total darkness.

“How are you feeling, darling?” He asked quietly, kissing the top of your head. “Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine.” You reassured him. “I’ll be a lot better when I can see my boyfriend’s handsome face again.”

“Should be any minute now, love. Don’t worry.”

Just as he said it, the portrait swung open and Neville returned holding a leaf very carefully in his hand. “Here. Eat this.”

“You’re gonna have to put it in my hand. I can’t see you.” You smiled, holding up your hand. Neville gently set the leaf of whatever magical herb he’d brought you in your palm. “Thank you so much, Neville.”

“Don’t thank me til it works.” He laughed.

You nodded and popped it into your mouth. Once you’d swallowed it, you waited, and gradually, you started to see shapes and colors.

“Can you see?”

“A bit, yeah.” You nodded. “It’s getting clearer, though.”

Gradually, everything sharpened back to normal, and you looked at Neville, smiling brightly. “Thank you so, so much, Neville. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Any time, (Y/N).” He grinned, giving you a thumbs-up before retreating up to the boys’ dormitories.

“Well, how do I look, love?” George asked, his eyes sparkling and soft.

“Handsome as ever.” You told him, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Now you are free to do whatever you want to Draco Malfoy.”

“Hmmm…” George thought for a moment before. “Well, love, how do you think he’d look with green hair for the next week and a half?”

You grinned. “I like the way you think, Weasley.”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #george #george x reader #george imagine #hp #hp imagine

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years ago

Text

The Groupie (part 2)

Warning - smut

Part One

Cillian has just turned 30, and has no children. Reader is a fan, has been since day one and is a plus size girl. I myself am a UK size 16, so I hope I don't offend anyone with my story (I'm writing about my own insecurities a little here so be kind please).

Your mind made up, you locked your hotel room door and headed to the lift.

Pressing the button, you took a deep breath and bit back your self doubt. The elevator opened on the 5th floor and you scanned the signs looking for where his room was. Finding it, you knocked on the door.

"Didn't think you'd come..." He smiled as he opened it for you. You stepped inside, nerves fluttering around your belly making you feel a bit sick.

"I don't understand why you're doing this... With me?" You almost mumbled, placing your handbag on the coffee table.

"Because you're beautiful." He took your shoulders and lifted your head up to look at him.

"You could have your pick of any girl Cillian, they're practically falling at your feet after the shows every night..."

"But I don't want them, I want you." You weren't convinced, but you tried desperately to swallow the nagging doubts in the back of your mind down. He stroked the side of your face gently, making your eyes flutter closed and your heart race. His thumb grazed your lower lip, you couldn't help but groan softly as he gently pressed his lips against yours. A soft kiss, which you were hesitant to return at first.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" He asked, pulling away.

"I want to do this... I really do... And I thought I'd be okay with it, the whole one night stand thing.. but I'm not and I can't do this I'm sorry!" You pulled away from him, grabbing your handbag and making your way quickly to the door.

"Stop!" He shouted, making you jump. You froze, hand on the doorknob.

His hands snaked around your waist, turning you to face him. Your hand was still on the door handle, eyes looking into his.

"I don't want a one night stand either y/n. I've never done them, and I'm not about to start now. I have wanted you, and only you, for years... Let me show you how much I want you..." You saw it in his eyes, he wasn't lying. He wasn't like the other men you'd been with - he meant what he said... Didn't he?

"Then why did you marry Kate?"

"Because I didn't think I stood a chance with you." You scoffed, laughing at how ridiculous he sounded.

"You never even tried Cillian!"

"Well I'm trying now. Look if this isn't what you want then I'll stop. There's no pressure to do anything you don't feel comfortable with. I want to see you again though?"

Your head and your heart were in the middle of the biggest battle of your life. Your heart telling you to rip his clothes off and ride him til he can't think straight - your head telling you to run a mile, he's clearly lost his mind. Your heart won, as you crashed your lips against his quickly before your head got a word in. His body reacted immediately, pulling you closer and moving you into the bedroom.

Your tongue pushed past his lips, requested access which was quickly granted. His hands in your hair, pulling the hair tie out and running his fingers over your scalp, tugging at the strands gently eliciting a groan from you. You felt his slight smirk under your lips before he pulled away, slowly playing with the hem of your shirt.

"Can I take this off?" He asked, and you nodded. He lifted it slowly over your head and his hands quickly made their way to your back, unclipping the bra and letting it fall to the floor.

You lifted your hands, covering your breasts and stomach, before he shook his head and raised that eyebrow at you, moving your hands to his own shirt hem. Getting the message, you lifted it over his head, your nails scraping the back of his neck as you did making him hiss.

"Fuck... You're stunning... And I get this forever, yeah? All of this...." His hands over your breasts, tweaking your nipples gently and roaming over your back and waist. You couldn't speak, the sensations taking over you like a steam train. Your core was literally crying for him when his mouth took one of your nipples in his mouth, his hand working the other one as he kneaded the flesh. His actions becoming more powerful now as the need in you both grew in intensity.

He pushed you back onto the bed, before unbuckling your jeans and pulling them to the floor, biting his lip at the sight of your underwear, a damp patch clearly visible. You groaned as his lips planted kisses over your breasts again, moving down over your stomach and towards your core. Once again you tried to cover your stomach but he quickly moved your hands away.

"Don't cover a damn thing baby... Every single inch of you is fucking perfect - and I want to taste you, all of you... I'm gonna make you feel so good..." He pulled your panties down your legs and parted your thighs. Squeezing the flesh of them as his tongue slowly dragged up your soaked slit, quickly finding that small bundle of nerves near the top.

"Oh god..." You couldn't help the words leaving your mouth as he devoured you. His tongue rolling the swollen bud around sent your hips into overdrive as you writhed against his face. He held your hips steady, and drove his tongue as deep as he could inside you, gathering as much of your juices as he could before continuing his assault on your clit. Two fingers pushed inside you, you felt them curling upwards, roaming around, what was he doing?

"Holy fuck!" You cried, gripping his hair as he chuckled against you. The pace of his fingers inside you picked up, the sensation running through you was so intense you had to cover your mouth to stop from screaming his name.

His other hand reached up to your breast again, squeezing it tighter making your hips grind harder. He removed his tongue from your clit but continued pounding his fingers deep, rubbing against that sweet spot he'd found inside you.

"You gonna cum for me?" His voice now at your ear as you writhed on the bed, his mouth on your neck, biting at the skin and sending you higher than you'd ever been.

"Oh fuck.. Cillian stop, it's too much..."

"Relax... Let it happen, it's okay, I've got you..." His voice eased you instantly, and you felt your core explode with the most intense, powerful orgasm you'd ever had. Your back arched, and you were aware of liquid flowing from you as his fingers slower down.

"That's it... Fuck y/n.... Keep cumming, you feel so fucking good...." His fingers moved to your clit, rubbing small circles over it, prolonging the intensity of your climax even further. You came again within minutes, his hips grinding into your thigh so you could feel his hard arousal pressing against you.

Gently, he eased his fingers from your core, bringing them to his lips to taste your climax.

Your breath came in short bursts as you came down from your high, before you looked at him, your eyes meeting again.

"That felt incredible... Jesus Christ..." he chuckled, and groaned as your hand fell on his erection through his jeans, palming it. You pulled at his belt, still slightly breathless from your orgasm. He moved to his knees, unbuckling the belt and his jeans as you pulled yourself up to pull them down to his thighs. His hard cock springing up, you admired it for a second before running your hand over it, stroking gently from the base to the tip. The sounds he made turned you on no end, small gasps as you squeezed just under the head, your other hand cupping his balls as you took the tip into your mouth. Blowjobs were never something you liked to do, but it felt different with him - you wanted to pleasure him the way he had with you. His hand on the back of your head, gripping your hair lightly, spurred you on as you tried to take as much of him down as you could.

"That's it... Keep doing that.." he encouraged, leaning back to rest on his ankles, watching as his cock disappeared down your throat. Your nails scratched lightly against his perineum, making his hips jerk slightly as he gripped your hair tighter.

"You're gonna make me cum if you keep doing that and I don't want to end it here..." He groaned, reluctantly pulling you away from him and wriggling his jeans off completely. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a condom before you stopped him.

"I'm on the pill - are you clean?" You asked making him laugh.

"I'm clean. Are you?" You nodded and flipped over onto your front. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" You turned your head to face him.

"Turn back around - I want to see you..." He flipped you onto your back and kissed you, parting your legs with his knees and resting his now leaking erection against your core. He lifted one of your legs up over his arm and pushed inside, your mouth hanging open at the feeling of him filling you completely. His eyes scrunched closed, a deep groan leaving him as he bottomed out against you.

"Fuck you feel good... So wet... So hot... I could cum deep inside you right now..." His forehead resting on yours as he slowly moved his hips, thrusting gently into you. The angle was perfectly executed - his cock hitting that magical spot each time.

"Right there - don't stop!" Your nails scraped down his shoulder blades as you felt that intensity in your groin again.

"I'm not rushing this... I've waited too long for you..." He gasped, his hips speeding up a little but not too much.

"I don't care how fast you go as long as you don't stop," you panted, his forehead still pressed against yours before he lifted himself onto his knees again, watching his cock pushing in and out of you.

"You move those hands over you again and I'll be forced to tie them to the headboard.." he warned, moving your hands away from your torso again. His hands replaced yours - roaming over your entire upper body, feeling every inch of you. Not caring that there were bits that wobbled as he thrusted into you. Not caring that your stomach wasn't flat. Not caring about the stretch marks that lined your waist and abdomen. He looked at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. No one had ever looked at you like that before and it just added to the intensity.

"Harder, Cillian, please...." You whimpered, needing more. He smiled, and his thrusts became more powerful and fast. As much as he wanted to take it slow, he knew he was powerless now. Holding your hips as high as he could, he pounded into you, making your back arch as you gripped onto the headboard above you.

"Gonna cum over me baby? Flood me... Give in to it like you did before, let me have it.... Fuck yes...." He was practically growling now as your walls began to clench around him, your orgasm building quickly.

Once again you were at his mercy - your orgasm came hard, your juices covering his thighs as he rubbed your clit again, making you cry his name over and over.

"Cillian!! Oh shit, oh shit... Fuck....!"

"I'm gonna cum... Fuck baby I'm gonna cum...." He froze, his seed emptying into you. You felt it fill you, hot pulses of cum filling you, his cock throbbing as you squeezed your muscles around him, milking every drop. His body collapsed onto yours, foreheads together again as you panted against each other.

"So good... You were so good for me..." He breathed, kissing your lips before slowly pulling out and pulling you close. Both of you drifting off into a deep sleep wrapped around each other, not even bothering to clean up.

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

You woken up the following morning around 8am, and after another round with him underneath you this time, he showered with you. Your self doubt had disappeared, you loved how he showered your body with kisses and caresses as he cleaned you under the warm running water, before taking you a third time over the sink when you'd gotten out of the shower. He was insatiable - and you loved every second of it.

Checking your watch - 10am, you kissed him, before heading back to your room to pack ready for your 11am checkout. You put your number in his phone and he kissed you again hungrily, promising to call you later that day. You left the room and entered the lift, internally rolling your eyes as Neve held the door before stepping inside with you.

"Good night then?" She smirked.

"Yes thanks."

"Never thought he'd actually go through with it." She looked you up and down again, noticing you were wearing the same clothes as the night before.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh he didn't tell you? Shame. I'm sure you were worth the €100 he's earned though right?" You heart dropped at her words....

"I don't understand..."

"Oh honey... You think he actually wants you as more than just a quick fuck? A quick fuck that won him our little wager from yesterday? Please... Like a man like him would wanna be seen in public with someone like you..." The door pinged on the second floor and you bit back your tears as you left it, leaving Neve smirking wickedly in the lift.

You opened your hotel room door and saw yourself in the mirror. Curves... No makeup... Hair tied back in a messy bun... How could you have been so stupid? So naive? You were a bet, nothing but a stupid game to him..

Packing up your things, you dried your tears and headed to reception. Looking around, fortunately there was no sign of him as you quickly left the hotel and headed to your car.

Opening your phone as it pinged with a message.

"Dinner? Cx"

You deleted it and blocked his number. You'd never felt so humiliated in your life.

#cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fanfic #cillian x smut #cillian murphy x smut

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spookysmujer · 4 years ago

Text

Amor Prohibido, O. Diaz

Summary: Oscar Diaz use to get a kick out of making fun about you back in high school, but what is he like all these years later and after serving time in prison?

warnings: teasing, teenager!Spooky, cute s h e t 😚

word count: 1.5K

anonymously requested!

A/N: Me and @youare-mysonshine always bounce ideas off each other about teenage Oscar so getting this request made me do a little happy dance. Thank you for requesting, anon! I am loving all the requests I am getting! Please consider: following my blog, heart/comment/reblog my content as well as turning on the notifs for when I post new content!

(Gif belongs to @leelakoiwolff 💫)

There are many things in your life that you want to forget and one of them is high school. You weren’t a lone wolf or some kind of loser, not at all. But to a certain to someone you were a easy target to mess around with, the one and only, Oscar “Spooky” Diaz.

Whenever he got the chance to make fun of you, he did. And by some sick twist of fate, you had majority of your class with him during senior year. It’s like it fueled him, the teasing. As you jog pass Freeridge high as a part of your daily exercise, the memories flood you.

It’s finals week and all you can think of is finishing these exams so you can stop the constant stressing and excessive studying. As you swap out textbooks for your AP Chemistry class in your locker, you hear someone clear their throat from behind you, though it’s no question to who it is.

Without even turning to look, “To what do I own the pleasure this time?”

“Just wondering how the weather is down there? I know it’s sunny up here, but what about down there, hm?” Oscar leans against the lockers besides you and give you his famous smirk.

You roll your eyes and give your best fake smile, turning your head you look at him, “Do you ever think of anything new to say or are the four brain cells up there all juiced out from the coke you snort in the bathroom during study hall?”

Oscar stares at you and pushes himself off the locker, walking away without another word. You look over shoulder and see him exit the school. A scoff comes out of your mouth as you roll your eyes. It’s a cat and mouse game with him, most of the time he is the one chasing but there are a few occasions where you get to be the mighty feline.

When your fit bit vibrates to alert you that you’ve reached you goal, you come to an abrupt stop. Hunching over with your hands on your knees trying to catch your breath. A few students walk past you, laughing away and in a heavy conversation about the homecoming dance.

You start to walk back to your place, remembering the night of your homecoming dance, senior year.

“Wow, it wears dresses. I wasn’t sure that you knew how to be a full functioning girl. I mean, considering no one’s tapped that yet, sad really.” Oscar’s voice sounds from beside you as sat at your designated table to take a break from dancing.

He pulls a chair out and flips it around so his chest is leaning against the back rest. You look over and nearly spit out your drink, “What the hell happened to you? Oh are you... oh no, are you sick? Are you dying? Jesus really is coming back.”

Oscar laughs and runs his hand over his now shaved head. He looks completely different than he did yesterday in AP Bio. You continue to sip on your punch, he reaches over and pours what smells like vodka into your cup from a metal flask. “What the fuck, seriously?”

“What? Maybe it’ll loosen you up. Always got a fuckin’ stick up your ass. Ay, maybe then someone will wanna blow your back out tonight, I mean trust me we ain’t got much standards. Not a single fuck given about your new straight hair you went and spent all that money you don’t got.” He ruffles with you hair, you swat his hand away and he laughs, getting up to leave. “Could never be me though.”

Once you get on your street you mentally damn yourself for thinking of those days. It use to take a lot out of you to stand up to Oscar. Those days far behind you for a reason. You make your way up the driveway and stop in your trek, it couldn’t be.

The shiny exterior of cherry red shines back at you. You’re staring at it making sure it’s not your mind playing tricks on you. Oscar’s car is parked in your driveway. Right?

“As I live and breath. Sup, Y/N.” Your thoughts are disturbed as you hear his voice sound, he stands on your porch, leaning aside the post. He looks the same but a little different as well. Sporting some ink on his face and neck.

You look around and hope when you turn back it’ll be just a hallucination or something. But as God permits, there he is. His physique definitely changed, his biceps bulging a lot more than the last time you saw him.

“Uh, hey, Oscar.” He smiles and licks his lips, stepping down and walking to stand in front of you. Well one things for sure, he still towers over you. He looks down at you and chuckles, taking his hand ontop your head and measuring it to his chest.

A snicker erupts from him as you push him back, trying to hide your smile, “Still the fucking same I see. Shame, all these years and you still haven’t grown up. Where’ve you been anyways?”

“Corcoran. Got out this morning.” He tells you as he walks over to his car to lean against. You wait it out a few secods before he nods his head for you to join him.

“Shoulda known you’d end up in Prison. Kill someone?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, “Drug possession, but ain’t no surprise I was slinging then. I got this while I was inside, ran the whole operation.”

“Yeah, well a part of me isn’t surprised you ended up there and the other part is surprised.” He looks over at you with a quirked eyebrow, “You’re smart, Diaz. You think people didn’t know but we all knew. Just no one questioned you since you hung around the gang, then you joined it. Or how is it? Jumped in?”

He nods his head in agreement with a smirk on his face, you study him for a moment before moving your gaze to in front of you when he looks at you, “Sad you didn’t take the college route. Could’ve been a head chef at some fancy restaurant I bet. My little brother would hang with Cesar. He’d tell me that you’d make such a bomb grilled cheese that he’d refuse anything I’d make. Said you really had knack for being in the kitchen.”

It felt strange to be sitting and talking to Oscar like normal people would. He would tease you any chance he got til the end of summer when you up and left for college in Arizona. Suppose prison truly does change people.

“Yeah, well at the time college wasn’t going to take care of my brother so sacrifices had to be made. Just how life goes.” He sniffs and pulls a cigarette from behind hid ear. You snatch it from him and break it with you heel. “You may have survived prison, but I promise you this will kill you, dummy.”

Oscar wouldn’t normally stand for people acting that way with him.

“What? Not gonna call me names and remind me I’m the most unattractive girl ever?” You turn to him and he turns his body towards yours. He peers down to your lips and brings his hand up to your chin.

You’re confused with what’s happening right now. Oscar not retorting with a comeback and nearly pressed against you, “Never said you unattractive once in my life. Actually thought the opposite since 7th grade.”

“What? You thought I was attractive since we were 13 years old?” Oscar nods and drops his hand from your face.You scoff and step back, walking a few feet away from him.

He clears his throat, feeling like everything is caving in. He digs for his keys from his pockets. The sounds catches your attention and you turn back, “Wait. I’m just trying to process it all. If you thought I was cute or something, why didn’t you ever tell me? All you would do is tease me and always annoy me.”

Oscar stops fiddling with his keys and steps closer to you, cocking his head to the side, a smile cracking from his serious face, “You never heard that when a guy likes you he is mean to you?”

You roll your eyes and smack his head, “For someone who is smart, that was really stupid to think. I mean.. I would say mean things to you too and you kept comin-... oh. Ooooh, I see it now. Fuck, uh.”

He sees your calming up with the realization, “Let me take you out.”

“Oh, okay. Um, what are you doing tonight?” You ask him, feeling your heart racing.

“Got some shit to handle tonight, but I’m free right now.”

Before you can say anything, he dips down and pulls you over his shoulder, you squeal and protest for him to put you down. He only laughs carrying you into your place.

So by some weird twist of fate, high school wasn’t the worst after all.

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