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ddejavvu · 3 months ago

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Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Two) (18+) / Part One

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 5.3K / navigation / inbox

A/N: if you've been on my blog anytime since last year and you've heard me mention 'my big hangman fic', this is it! I've been working on Spring Fling for almost a year now, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm glad so many new people are making their way into our top gun fandom because of twisters and Glen's role in it. Welcome, and enjoy!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

An uncomfortable nap taken out of sheer spite does nothing to improve your mood. Your neck is stiff now, as is your spine, and it pops when you stretch from your place on the tiny loveseat.

“Well, Sleeping Beauty has risen,” Jake grins, the cocky expression boiling your blood, “Ready for dinner, sunshine?”

“I’m going to push you off of this boat.” You grumble, and Jake blinks, toning his smile down into a grimace.

“Well, maybe some food’ll improve your mood.” Jake rises from where he’d been presumably sleeping as well, though you’re surprised he fell asleep after you and woke up before you. His bedhead gives him away, and he runs his fingers through it, “We’ve got a table reserved in the restaurant for 6, darlin’. We should get there a little early, though, wanna head out now?”

Your nose wrinkles involuntarily, though you wouldn’t have stopped it, “You reserved us a table? I’m not eating with you.”

“We eat together all the time,” He scoffs, “Come on, Y/L/N, this is no different from eating in the mess hall.”

“It’s different because everyone who sees us is either going to think we just had sex, or that we’re about to,” You protest, but he’s out of sympathy to feign.

“Or both,” He grins, running a hand once more through his slightly less messy hair. He’s still barely dressed, and it takes effort for your eyes not to naturally drift away from his face.

“You’re usually wearing a uniform when we eat in the mess hall, Hangman,” You narrow your eyes at him, glancing pointedly below his neck to his bare chest, but straying no further, “Unless they’ve hired you to be a stripper on board, and I’m just now finding out?”

“Nah, I auditioned but they said I was too good,” He crosses his bulging biceps over his chest, a haughty smirk on his face, “I didn’t wanna steal any tips from the ladies.”

“Right,” You drawl, aiming to move past him to reach your suitcase that’s been mysteriously moved from beside your head to the side of the bed opposite from where Jake had been sleeping. Except, the man blocking your path doesn’t move, and you’re stuck in the small hallway-like space that the loveseat is squished into.

“Hangman,” Your teeth are gritted, and they warp your words slightly, “Move. I need my suitcase, I’m going to change for dinner.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with your dress,” He eyes the fabric with feigned consideration, “Except of course that it’s a little long. It only needs to go up to about here,” He snakes a hand towards your waist, laying two hefty smacks against the skin on your hip that lines up just beneath the curve of your ass. He moves faster than you can back away, but you land a valiant smack against his hand when he withdraws it, “Then you could join my stripping act.”

“Hangman, if you touch me again, I’ll rip off your balls,” You swear, but there’s still a glint of mischief far too bright in his eyes for your liking, so you shove past him, making sure to tap your knuckles gently between his legs for good measure.

He groans, hunching over and breathing heavily, “Shit, Y/L/N, you trying to take out the Seresin line?”

“It’s not that bad,” You drawl, setting your suitcase on the bed and delving into its contents, “But a world where you can’t reproduce sounds like one I want to live in.”

You’re already halfway to the bathroom, your evening dress in hand when he calls back, “You act all high and mighty now,” You can hear the grin that Jake’s voice indicates, even if he’s rummaging through his own suitcase for something to wear, “But later tonight I’m gonna have you beggin’ for me to knock you up, darlin’.”

Jake’s efforts to break into the bathroom you’re changing in are certainly impressive, if nothing else. He tries the knob at first, like you’d have forgotten to turn the lock before stripping naked. When you demand a reason he claims he’d forgotten his deodorant, which is a perfect excuse seeing as you miss no chances to point out his sweat-stench after training.

You spot the stick on the counter and give yourself the satisfaction of rolling your eyes, even if he’s not present to see it.

The second time he knocks, having learned his lesson, “Y/N, I need to pee.”

“I’m changing!” You cry, the straps on your dress proving impossible to untangle. Apparently being jostled in a suitcase wasn’t ideal for the dress’s shape.

“Changing what, seasons? By the time you get dressed our leave will be over, and you’re gonna have to get back into uniform.”

“If you’re so anxious to get to dinner, go by yourself!” You insist, frustration laced tight to your tone, “I’ll figure this fucking dress out, enjoy a leisurely meal, and then I’ll meet up with Daniel afterwards!”

You’re so used to Jake’s rapidfire quips that the silence ensuing after your declaration feels awkward. But it’s a victory, one that you don’t often win against the man outside the bathroom door, and you let it ease the sharp sting of annoyance that your dress is needling into you.

A fist lands heavy against the door, and Jake’s voice is unusually devoid of mirth, “Open up.”

“Jake, no!” You spit out his first name like a hex, “I fucking told you-”

“I’m going to help you,” He calls through the door, knocking incessantly, “Come on, you said you can’t figure out your dress, I’ll help you.”

“Nice try!” You scoff, finally pulling at the correct string and watching as the others fall into precarious place around them. You jab your arm into the hole it’s created and slip the rest of them into formation, standing triumphant in front of the mirror and realizing you look quite like you’ve had sex after all.

You smooth down a few flyaway hairs, grab Jake’s deodorant, and fling the door open, just as Jake flattens his hand to slam his palm into the wood, no doubt trying to make more noise than a simple knock.

You’re looking at his face, and he’s looking at yours, but both of you can feel his hand pressed firmly into your tit. You don’t doubt that he’d intended to hit the door instead of you, but he’s not moving away, either. You both stand paralyzed until his brain catches up with his body and he jerks his hand away, lashes fluttering as he blinks bewilderedly despite the wry grin purposefully etched into his features in an attempt to remain nonchalant.

“Didn’t mean to do that,” He simpers, and you’re certain that’s the closest to ‘I’m sorry’ he’s ever given you. You know him well enough to know he’s adequately flustered, but outsiders might not catch the barely-there pink tinge to his tan cheeks, too distracted by his charming smile.

You overlook the accident if only to save yourself the awkward confrontation, ducking your head and shoving the deodorant stick against his chest. His hands come up to catch it and you make a break for the heels you’d set out by the closet, intent on strapping them on instead of talking to him.

He mumbles a distracted, ‘Thanks,’ when you hand him his deodorant, but the stick remains firmly capped in his hands as his gaze trails after you.

“Your dress looks nice.” He concludes, voice a tone softer than it normally is. It’s- nice. You’re too used to the bite of his southern drawl, the way he pairs a cocky quip with an eye-roll more vicious than even the most belligerent teenager. Now they’re soft and gooey-brown as he stares at the straps on your shoulders. This isn’t the first kind thing he’s ever said to you, but it’s certainly the first in a long time, and you swallow the urge to use it against him.

“Thank you.” You grumble, then, to steer away from the thick silence you’ve been enveloped in, “Not sure it’s worth it, though, those straps were fucking confusing.”

You swear you hear a mumbled, ‘It was,’, but Jake’s back is turned to you as he sets his still-capped deodorant on the bathroom counter, so you can’t be sure.

You’re surprised to find that the elevator is just as empty as you’d left it when you and Jake board to head to the 9th floor. The restaurant Jake had reserved your table at is upscale, and you presume everyone else is too busy boning to manage a sit-down meal. You settle against the back wall of the elevator in silence, looking but not watching as Jake presses the 9 button with a thick finger.

The last time you were in this elevator, Daniel was backing you up against the railing and kissing you.

Just the thought brings heat to your cheeks, and you’re thankful for the support that the wall behind you offers. If it wasn’t there, you’re not sure your weak knees would withstand the crushing weight of your weighty crush.

“Was that where he sucked your face?” Jake’s voice shatters your reverie into a million tiny, unsalvageable pieces, and you forget any momentary truce that you might have had with him only moments ago.

“Excuse me?” You level a glare at the man across from you, unimpressed with his accusation even though it was accurate, “He did not suck my face. He kissed me like a gentleman.”

Jake lets out a bark of laughter, “Right. Because gentlemen smear a woman’s lipstick halfway over her chin.”

Despite knowing you’d have seen any makeup smudges when you’d been in the bathroom earlier, your hand darts to your chin.

Jake takes it as an admission of guilt, and his sharp grin only grows, “Exactly. I’ve sucked faces before, I know what the result is.”

A rather unsavory memory assaults you of Jake crowding a vacationing New Yorker up against a wall of the Hard Deck. You push away the nauseating burning in your chest at the image, intent on never seeing Jake Seresin’s tongue inside of anyone’s mouth but his own again.

“You suck faces,” You conclude, still slightly bothered by what you’d recalled, “Daniel kisses.”

“Daniel,” Jake snorts, grasping for something to tease, “That’s not a very moan-able name, is it?”

“Neither is Jake,” You retort, “Jake sounds like a toddler running loose at the mall.”

“That’s why the ladies call me Hangman,” Jake grins, his eyes narrowed in an attempt at a smirk, “Well, some of ‘em call me Hungman by the end of the night.”

“Oh,” Your face twists into a grimace, and you’re thankful for the dinging of the elevator, “You’re not allowed to talk at dinner.”

“Only way you’ll get me to shut up is if you gag me, darlin’.” Jake laughs, stepping out of the elevator and following behind you even as you storm ahead towards the entrance to the dining room.

It’s an opulent room, chandeliers and crystal adorning every surface. You slow your pace before you reach the reception desk, so that the poor employee doesn’t think you’re going to vault over the counter and attack him, but you’re fairly certain there’s still a scowl on your face when you attempt to speak with him.

“We have a table reserved,” You inform the man, conscious of Jake’s impressive build lingering behind you, present and firm, “Room 838?”

With a quick few buttons pressed on the screen before him, the host nods, customer service smile on full force as he gestures to his left, “Of course, right this way.”

You let him lead, and you try not to get distracted by the grandiose decor. Whether it’s authentic material, or just plastic spray-painted gold, it’s beautiful, and you’re so absent-minded that you don’t acknowledge your table until you’re stopped in front of it.

“Here you are; have a lovely meal.” The man politely excuses himself, heading back to the front to greet whoever else is waiting to be checked in for their tables.

You’d been too overwhelmed by finding out that your hot sexy mystery man was actually your brutally combative fellow pilot to think about what dinner would entail beyond heated bickering. He’d drawn a comparison to the mess hall and your brain had run with it, but this is decidedly different from the drab benches you’re used to.

This is a small, delicate, round table, a white tablecloth draped elegantly overtop. It’s two candles, giving off a small aura of warm light around the dim restaurant, crystalline dishes framed with polished silverware. It’s an enclosed space, it’s knees brushing and eyes twinkling with candlelight, it’s electric shocks when skin meets skin. It’s romantic by design, and you refuse to share it with Hangman.

But you can’t refuse.

The waitstaff is limited and overworked, evidenced by the mountain of covered trays you see them rushing to different tables. It would be rude to storm out, and while you’re not worried about offending Jake, you don’t want to inconvenience the staff.

Jake sniffs out your internal conflict by only a glance at your stiff stance, a skill he’s acquired after years of working out the perfect way to get under your skin. He can read you like a book, and he knows fury and guilt are waging war in your head right now.

You’d like to think he thought fury would win, but it’s guilt in the end. You step towards your chair, reaching out with two fingers to pinch the candle on your side of the table. The flame snuffs out beneath your touch, and the mild burning sensation is worth it to hear Jake scoff.

“Nicely done, killer,” He drawls, sounding offensively unperturbed by your obvious dislike of him. To your complete and utter indignance he reaches behind your back to pull the chair out from it’s seat, offering it to you as a peace treaty.

You are not a peaceful person, not when it comes to Hangman.

You take the opposite seat, maintaining sharp eye contact with Jake as you sit down. He inhales, and you take satisfaction in the puff of his chest, a telltale sign that he’s beginning to get aggravated. He lowers himself into his own seat, but notices the way your hand darts for the one candle that’s still lit, and he snatches it out of your way before you can snuff it out. It causes the silverware on the table to rattle, and you and Jake are required to send placatingly charming smiles to the people at nearby tables who turned at the commotion.

He turns that once-dazzling grin on you like a weapon as he relights the blackened wick of the candle you’d pinched, letting it burn once more to illuminate his features.

You don’t waste a second in snuffing it out again, “The point was so that I didn’t have to see your ugly face.”

“You are the most charming dinner guest I’ve ever had the pleasure of dining with,” Jake croons, unflappable as ever, “Put your napkin on your lap, Y/N, it’ll keep your dress dry when you’re drooling over me.”

You take ash-stained fingers and leave streaky, dark prints on the white cloth napkin, draping it over your lap and folding your hands neatly over it.

“Careful, Hangman,” You warn, your voice low and your face deceptively cheery as you nod kindly at a passing waiter, “They gave me two different knives to stab you with.”

“God, why are you so pissy?” He asks, and for a moment, you don’t know the answer. It catches you off guard, and that’s never supposed to happen, not around Hangman. He speaks again before you have the chance to respond- typical.

“So, we ended up on the same sex boat. Whatever, Y/L/N, shit happens.” His jaw is tense, fraught with annoyance while his eyes blaze like the jet engines he’s so used to gunning, “I’m just teasing, y’know. You know me, I’m not a monster, I’m not going to force you to have sex with me. If you don’t want to, then we won’t, and that’s that. You don’t have to keep snapping at me, I won’t bite you.”

It’s possibly the most heartfelt, sincere thing that Hangman has ever said to you, albeit in exasperation, and you��re not sure you’re comfortable with that. Your rapport with the man has always been full of quips and jabs, nothing like what he’s just unleashed. You’d known he must have had a soft side, but you thought perhaps he’d left it back in Texas, because this is something new. You see a waiter approaching from behind Jake and smile politely at them, clueing your dinner date in to their appearance.

“Unless you want me to,” Jake adds with an insufferable wink, using the last few seconds that you’re able to speak freely to tease you.

“Welcome,” The waiter smiles, once more with that impeccably tuned customer service politeness as he hands a wine list to Jake, “What can I get started for you this evening?”

As much as you hate to admit it, Jake’s teasing quip is familiar, a well-worn blanket you find comfort shrouding yourself in, and it breaks the awkward tension that had arisen when Hangman had spoken so sincerely towards you.

You don’t dare let a smile grace your features, but one tries; instead you settle for a kick to his shin beneath the elegant white tablecloth.

“We’ll have- mm! The- uh, the…” Jake trails off, eyes roving down the selection and realizing too late that he’s more attuned to cheap liquor in a beachside bar than he is to elegant pairings of food and wine. He recovers quickly, that special brand of Seresin charm, grinning across the table at you, “Actually, we’d like it if you surprised us. Money’s no object,” He throws in a grotesquely over-the-top wink, “Just make it special for my roommate here.”

Your teeth ache as you grind them together in a smile, and you swear you can feel your right eye begging to twitch, “How considerate of you, Jake.”

“Anything for you, dear,” He replies easily, accepting two dinner menus from the waiter and thanking him. You maintain the common courtesy of waiting until the poor man is out of earshot before tearing into Jake, and he’s lucky he’s got both of the menus still in his hands, or you’d smack him upside the head with one.

“I’m not paying out of my ass to get drunk at a candlelight dinner with you.” You hiss, courteous of the other patrons, but barely able to contain yourself.

“No, you’re not.” He agrees, blinking like he’s not sure why you’re close to shouting, “I am.”

“That’s- ooh!” You fume, eyes clamped shut and jaw so tight it hurts. You take a second to breathe, “Hangman, you know damn well I don’t like owing you money.”

You have a very strict no-loans policy, though it only applies to yourself. You have no problem spotting Natasha for a few drinks, or treating Javy to animal fries at In-N-Out, but you’d rather die than let someone use their dollar for your snack at a vending machine. Feeling like you owe something makes your skin crawl, and it’s something your friends have all had to accept. All, of course, except for Hangman, who seems to delight in making your skin crawl.

“You don’t owe me money,” He laughs, taking a sip of the glass of ice water that had been waiting at his place on the table, “And you don’t owe me anything else either, darlin’. I’m paying for the wine.”

“Then I’m not drinking it,” You decide, still caught in your blustering fury, “I’m too tired to deal with your bullshit - you can mill around the ship and beg some poor woman to drink with you, and I’ll go back to our cabin and sleep.”

You wish that the man across from you wasn’t so adept at setting your nerves on fire. You chalk it up to years and years of flying together, at each other’s throats despite being on the same team, but Jake really is able to infuriate you with something as simple as a grin. The way that hollow manipulation glazes over his eyes each time he doles out a charming smile makes your chest burn, and you wish you could get a handle on your frustration. It’s embarrassing, really, that he knows how to pick you apart and induce insanity; you wish you improved at resisting him through practice, but that’s not how it works. It only gets worse, worse and worse and worse until you’re sitting across from him at a candlelit table, yearning to whack him over the head with a black-foldered menu.

“Fine,” Jake snorts, setting the glass down in the wet indent it had made on the tablecloth before, condensation beading at its base, “You don’t have to have any. But you have to take me back to our room - if I get wine drunk, you’ll have to stop me from kissing everyone.”

The startling admission does exactly what Jake intended it to, and you’re caught off guard, the rapidly ticking bomb of frustration inside your chest temporarily disarmed.

“You’re a drunk kisser?”

“A winedrunk kisser, yes ma’am,” Jake nods, the ammunition he supplies you with a far cry from his typically competitive nature, “First and only time I’ve ever had wine was at my sister’s wedding a few years back.” He reminisces, still holding tight to both menus as candlelight flickers on his tanned face, “She wasn’t necessarily thrilled that I started kissin’ on the groom, but I looked good in the veil when the photographer came around.”

He’s good-natured about the snort you let out in response, and finally he offers the menu to you like an olive branch, “You gonna whack me with this thing?”

“How’d you know I wanted to?” You arch an eyebrow, taking the menu from him. Prices aren’t listed - the cost of your meals was included with the boarding pass, but extras like drinks are something you’ll need to pay a tab on later. Nevertheless, the food looks to be worth your money.

“You get this look in your eye when you’re feelin’ feisty,” Jake notes, taking a look at his own menu, “Your jaw gets all tight, and I start gettin’ the urge to cover my crotch.”

Today was not the first time you’ve ever whacked him in the balls; evidently he does learn, even if he chooses not to apply that knowledge.

You neglect to respond, no longer irritated enough to tell Jake that he’s deserved every hit he’s taken from you, but never vulnerable enough to apologize. Instead you bury yourself in the menu, appreciating the array of cuisine that you’re not often treated to on a naval base.

Jake lets you remain silent until the waiter comes back with the wine that he’d ordered, and you nod in thanks with a poorly-concealed clenched jaw to the man when he pours you a glass.

“That looks wonderful, thank you,” Jake gushes, eyes slightly narrowed as he raises his glass to his nose, inhaling the aroma wafting from the wine that he swirls gently, “Smell that, darlin’, ain’t it good?”

You reach for your portion with tense fingers that nearly shatter the stem of the glass as they wrap around it. The scent of the wine is oh-so-tempting; surely Jake’s objective for getting you to smell it was to wear you down into tasting it.

You won’t give in.

“Smells fantastic,” You concede, and if the waiter’s realized he’s in the lion’s den, pinned between two aggressors ready to rip into each other’s throats once more, he doesn’t show it. He merely bows, stepping away again and leaving the bottle on your table.

“That’s good,” Jake muses nonchalantly after a sip, glancing down at the menu in his lap as if you’ll believe he’s perusing it instead of plotting a way to make you explode at the table.

“Well I’m glad you like it, because you’ve got a whole bottle to finish,” You snipe, “I’m not a toddler, Jake, you can’t trick me into eating my broccoli by pretending it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Who said anything about tricking you?” He leans back in his chair, wine set back on the table, “Y/N, I can enjoy a nice glass of wine without it being about you, thank you very much. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you, and you’re not the only thing I think about.”

You’re more than used to Jake’s accusations of your egocentrism, not because it’s true, but because it’s what he defaults to whenever he can’t think of a response, but is too stubborn to let the issue go. They don’t worry you anymore like they used to, but they do irritate you, and you’re glad for the deep, smooth voice that calls your name from your left to distract you from Jake’s insults.

You know it before you turn; Daniel is there with his roommate. She’s gorgeous, her dark hair intricately braided and styled, a compliment to her skin that’s only a shade lighter, and you’re only slightly jealous of the way his arm is draped around her middle. You quell it by reminding yourself that you’d frenched him in an elevator only hours after meeting him, and this is a cruise meant for casual sex.

Perhaps your voice is a notch too sincere when you greet him, “Daniel.”

You miss it, your attention fixed on the couple approaching your table, but a muscle jumps in Jake’s jaw as it tightens.

“Well, I guess you’re all some people think about,” Jake drawls, his grin now wolfish and lethal, and while your voice was slightly too kind, his voice is slightly the opposite, scathing in a way, “So you’re- uh, Elevator Boy?”

Daniel’s slight smirk is bashful where he bites the inside of his cheek and nods, “I guess that’s accurate. I- uh, I hope you don’t mind.”

“He doesn’t,” You reply before Jake can conjure up any more misplaced snark, “We’re not hooking up.”

Daniel’s brows furrow for only a split second, a confused reaction he hadn’t been able to politely mask in time. His roommate glances back at Jake, and the knit of her brow is less fleeting; clearly she’s thinking you’re out of your mind for not fucking him.

“Random roommates don’t always work out, I guess,” Daniel smooths over the awkward silence that’s befallen your table, and you want to kiss him for it. Well, you want to kiss him regardless, but now you’re positively fiending for a repeat of earlier.

“He’s my coworker,” You explain, “We really can’t.”

“Oh!” He laughs, and his roommate seems equally amused by your poor fortune, “That’s crazy, and- there’s no changing roommates, is there?”

“She’s stuck with me,” Jake continues aiming that deadly grin towards Daniel, and you’re surprised he hasn’t caught on fire yet.

“Well, if you ever want to switch for a night,” Daniel squeezes his roommate’s side, his fingers ghosting over her exposed skin in the cutout dress she’s sporting, “I’m not an idiot; Danica’s ogling you.”

You marvel at the friendly banter they share after only a few hours of knowing each other, but Daniel seems fantastic to get along with. Danica laughs at his teasing and manages to look barely bashful when she nods at you, “I wasn’t gonna say anything when I thought you two were enjoying yourselves, but I’d be happy to step in if you wanna get lucky for a night.”

“That sounds great,” You jump at the offer, but Jake speaks at the same time, voice a hair louder than your own.

“We’re not interested.” He dismisses Danica’s offer but he looks at Daniel to do it, something dangerous gleaming in his eyes that you’re only used to seeing on the tarmac.

A laugh escapes your throat, horridly disguised as something casual and not your breaking point, “Oh, we aren’t interested? I am.”

Jake blinks, shifting his sharp gaze towards you, “No switching rooms, Y/N.”

“That’s for official placements,” You sit up straighter in your chair, turned fully towards Jake now instead of angled towards Daniel, “But they’re not gonna come check on us at two in the morning to make sure we’re all in our bunks. We can swap for a night.”

“I don’t know why you’re fighting so hard for a night in his bed, the elevator seemed to work just fine. Maybe Danica and I can have a few drinks tonight, and you can slip off and defile floors 1-4.”

“That’s not-” You’re hot on Jake’s trail, intent on defending Daniel and pointing out the hypocrisy in Jake’s scathing statements, but a firm hand falls on your shoulder that silences you. Daniel’s grip is firm, but not painful, more grounding as his touch practically sucks the fire out of your veins and replaces it with calm.

“I think drinks after dinner are a great idea.” Daniel speaks coolly, with all the perfect composure you wish you had around Jake, instead of the barrel of gunfire perpetually smoldering inside of you.

“Me too,” You add, and one of Jake’s eyebrows ticks up.

“Really? I thought you said you were going to bed after this. Something about being too tired to deal with-”

“Your bullshit, Hangman.”

What you engage in next would preferably be described as a battle of wills, but to the outside eye, might look like a staring contest. It’s your vicious glare against Jake’s lazy grin, eyes alight with mischief as he does what he does best - piss you off.

“We’ll plan on drinks, then,” Danica breaks the ice, and you’re grateful for the tones of her sweet voice, “There’s a bar on the ninth deck, do you want to meet there?”

“That sounds great,” You hope she takes your kind smile for what it is; gratitude, “We’ll head there when we’re finished with our food.”

“Right,” Daniel nods, squeezing your shoulder and letting go, taking Danica by the waist once more to lead her to the table their water had pointed at, “See you then.”

Whatever farewell you murmur is lost in the general hubbub of the restaurant, something that you wish would happen to the grating tone of Jake’s drawl.

“So,” He muses, playing coy, but you won’t have it, “You’re not tired anymore?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” You steel yourself, inhaling and letting your chest puff with the breath, “But whatever you’re doing here; trying to ruin this for me just for shits and giggles - it’s gotta stop. I’ll leave you alone, and you can fuck as many people as you want on this ship, okay? You can have what you came here for, a week-long hookup, and all I’m asking in return is for one chance. I just want one. fucking. chance. to enjoy myself. Okay?”

His eyes cloud over throughout the duration of your speech, and it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. It’s unsettling, like something’s dimming his spirit, though you can’t tell what. You’ve quipped back at him before, practically every time he’s ever teased you. But perhaps he’s just as unsettled with your newfound sincerity as you were with his, because his face settles into a hesitant expression. You press on.

“You told me earlier that you’re just teasing me, and that you’re not a monster. If that’s true, then leave me alone.”

He looks wounded only by a slight twitch of his eye; perhaps the prospect of being around you and not lunging teeth-bared at your throat is too much to bear. But he nods, slow and rickety like the joints in his neck protest the movement, “Fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.” You respond stiffly, glad for the menu in your lap as it provides an easy out for you; you’re not sure if you can stand looking him in the eyes. You’re afraid you’ll see disappointment there, perhaps real dislike, and you don’t want to find out that the only reason he speaks to you is to mess around with you. You’re content in feeling like you’re friends as well, and if he gives himself away now that you’ve asked him to ease up on the teasing, you’re not sure you’ll enjoy yourself at all on this vacation, no matter how much cheap, distracting sex you have. The truth of the matter is that you value the blossom of his friendship no matter how thorny it can be, and you’re not sure if he’s capable of playing nice without an occasional bite.

You’re sure things will go back to normal on the weathered tarmac, but until then, bobbing along on ocean waves, you want Jake Seresin to be your friend, not your frenemy. If he’s incapable, you want no part of him.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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joostsblog · 5 months ago

Note

joost klein x fem!reader who has a thing for his hands? loving when his hands wander all around her body.. fingering her during a pre-party then dragging her to hus room to finish the poor girl off both of them competing in eurovision

maybe joost even whispering things in her ear.. lots of neck kisses and reader wakes up in the morning neck, thighs, collarbones basically her whole body having hickeys ☺️

tysm if u do this

here you go :)

the one about his hands and also waking up covered in hickeys ~ joost klein smut

My masterlist here ✨��

Pairing: Joost Klein x fem!eurovision contestant!reader

Description: Only fantasising about Joost's hands just isn't enough. You need to get the fellow eurovision contestant to actually touch you where you need to be touched.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: in this version of eurovision no drama is happening, no dq etc, everything is just nice ❣️ i'm leaving for vacation tomorrow (to the netherlands actually lmao) so i probably won't be able to write anything for two week, i'm sorry babes :( filling up my inbox with requests, thoughts, feedback etc is still encouraged tho 💌

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, SMUT, nsfw, fingering (f receiving), protected sex, piv, swearing, consumption of cigarettes, not proofread

His hands were the first thing you noticed about the man. The way he held out his hand in front of you, greeting you with a handshake (which you thought was a bit odd). His hand felt firm yet gentle in yours and you couldn't help but admire the digits tattooed on his fingers.

"Nice to meet you," he had smiled at you and your heart had fluttered just a bit.

Your quick infatuation with Joost and his hands really was poorly timed. You were at eurovision to represent your country and you were supposed to be on your best behaviour. Absolutely no distractions allowed. Too bad thoughts of the blonde dutch man doing ungodly things to you kept intruding into your mind.

So you really shouldn't be spending as much time with him as you did. Always finding an excuse to talk to him in between rehearsals or at breakfast (your favourite because it meant you saw Joost's messy hair in the morning and maybe sometimes you imagined your hands were the ones responsible for that). Your vocal coach would be furious with you if she found out that you had been starting to sneak off with Joost whenever he went for a smoke. Just talking and laughing with him as you watched him smoke. Always paying close attention to those hands when he lifted one of them to his mouth to take a drag in between sentences.

"I think I might be a bad influence on you," he said. "You need to take care of your pretty voice," he mused with a smirk and you swear you caught him eyeing you up and down.

"Don't worry about me, I'm already corrupted," you joked.

"Really, how so?" Joost asked with a grin.

You watched as Joost took another drag, his cigarette delicately placed between his fingers. Oh, what those hands could be capable of doing to you. You couldn't help but let your thoughts wander off again. You wondered how his hands would feel on your hips if you were sat on his lap, his hands guiding you to grind against him. How his hands would feel in your hair, pulling on it while his mouth would kiss along your neck. How his hands would on your throat while he would thrust into you. How his fingers would feel slowly pumping inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

Joost raised an eyebrow when he noticed your absent state.

"You will have to find out," you said smirking.

"Mysterious, I like it," Joost said and finished off his cigarette. "After you," he said after he opened the door. You walked past Joost and your hands lightly brushed against Joost's. Shivers on down your spine.

You decided that maybe the only solution to your problem was to actually get into Joost's pants. Because then all your thoughts and fantasies about the man wouldn't have to plague your mind anymore when they would become reality. So you decided you would do anything in your power to achieve your goal.

You were sitting across Joost in a waiting area. He was handsomely dressed in that black jacket with the dark europe tie and his glasses with the thick brims. His fingers were nervously playing with the cord of his headphones. He looked ravishing. You crossed your legs which caused your thighs to be on full display with the short skirt you were wearing. You hoped Joost would notice and maybe also think about how his hands would feel so good on your thighs (and other places also).

"Excited for tonight?" you asked Joost.

"Huh?" he asked confused.

"The semifinals preparty," you reminded him.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded as he remembered. "Are you gonna be there?" he asked.

"Only if you're there," you said and Joost smiled.

"Then I'll be there, anything for you," he said.

"Anything?" you asked cheekily. Joost narrowed his eyes at you and gave you a grin.

"You will have to find out."

Joost's eyes immediately landed on you as you saw him enter the party. You were swaying your hips to the beat, hands up in the air as you enjoyed yourself on the dancefloor. You grinned at Joost and he didn't need to be told twice as he made his way over to you. You wrapped your arms around Joost's neck to hug him hello, still swaying to the music. Instead of hugging you, Joost put his hands on your hips and smiled at you as he probably assumed you wanted to dance with him. You didn't complain. The thin fabric of your skirt didn't serve much as a barrier between your skin and Joost's grip and still you wished the skirt was gone. Your fingertips cautiously dipped into the hair at the nape of Joost's neck and Joost responded by pulling you closer to him. It still wasn't close enough. Joost leaned down to whisper into your ear.

"You look very nice," his breath ghosted over the skin on your neck and your breath hitched.

"You do too," you said and it was almost sweet. You needed to get him out of here as fast as possible. "You wanna go for a smoke?" you proposed.

"I don't have any cigs left," Joost said.

"I think I saw a cigarette vending machine in the lady's restroom," you said and took Joost's hand in yours to lead him through the crowd. As you reached the door to the restroom you could feel Joost hesitating. "Don't worry, there's no one inside," you said and scurried through the door frame. The door closed behind Joost and the music was reduced to some sounds in the distance. Beside the vanity was the vending machine you had spoken of.

"This is a condom vending machine," Joost stated.

"Oh," you giggled. You took out a euro from your purse and proceeded to buy one condom. "Well," you said as you took the condom from the slot. "There's always other vices you could indulge in instead," you smirked at him.

"What are you proposing?" Joost asked, his hand leaning against the wall beside you.

"What does it sound like I'm proposing?" you looked up at him, condom in hand.

Joost took the condom from your fingers and put it in his pocket before he leaned down and his lips crashed into yours. His right hand held the back of your head, the other grabbed you by your hips. Your lips hungrily moved in sync with each other before they opened and your tongues met. Your arms wrapped around Joost to pull his body closer to yours. You wanted him to feel your breasts pressed against his chest. You sighed into the kiss as you could tell that this kiss alone wouldn't satiate either of you. You blindly reached for the door of one of the stalls and pushed it open before you both stumbled into it.

You broke off the kiss briefly to lock the door of the stall, Joost's mouth eagerly kissing along your neck instead. His hands were resting on your waist, slowly pushing up the fabric of your top to reveal your stomach. You were pressed against the wall of the bathroom stall, not an inch left between you. Joost's lips found yours again. You opened your legs slightly so Joost's leg could slip in between yours. His right hand trailed down your hip until it rested on your upper thigh. You couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hip against Joost's thigh as vivid images of him fucking into you flickered through your mind. You moaned against Joost's lips as you desperately needed to make your wants known.

"I- I- I need," you tried to get out in between kisses. "I need you."

"You got me," Joost murmured against your skin as he kissed down your neck again. "Don't worry, m’en meisje."

His hand ghosted up your thigh and pushed up the hem of your skirt. Your arousal was hot with anticipation. As his hand reached your panties his fingers softly grazed over the fabric right where your clit was. Your hips bucked lightly and Joost grinned against the skin of your neck.

"So eager," Joost tutted.

His fingers carefully pushed your panties to the side until his fingers could dip into your folds. Your head fell back and you bit into your lip to stifle any moans you otherwise would have let out if you two were in private.

Your folds were slick with arousal eliminating any friction as Joost's fingers started circling your clit.

"You're so wet for me," Joost whispered against your ear. Your hands were desperately grabbing onto his shoulders, keeping yourself upright as your knees buckled. Joost's other hand was resting by your side, keeping you close to him. "So ready for me," he said, voice as soft as ever.

Joost stopped circling your clit and you almost let out a groan in frustration. His fingers inched closer to your entrance until they slipped inside of you. Your mouth slacked open, eyes tightly squeezed shut and Joost's hand caressing your side. Your nails dug into Joost's skin as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you.

"You feel so good," Joost murmured against your ear. "I bet you would feel so good around my cock." You let out a loud moan as his words triggered your vivid fantasy. "Would you like that?" Joost grinned against your skin. "Me fucking you properly?"

"God, Joost," you could only whimper.

"God, you're barely holding it together," Joost whispered. "You're so good for me," he said as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you.

Suddenly you could hear the restroom door fling open and the voices of two women enter. Joost swiftly pressed his hand on top of your mouth but still continued moving his fingers inside of you. Your mind didn't even register what the voices outside the bathroom stall were talking about as all your mind was occupied with was Joost. Your body was trembling and you did everything in your power to keep yourself from orgasming right then and there as you knew that you would not be able to keep quiet through it. Joost pressed gentle kisses to the skin on your neck as your heavy breathing only intensified.

A few moments later the door closed and you were alone again. Just as you were about to allow yourself to climax Joost withdrew his fingers from you, leaving you trembling uncontrollably.

"Pleaseplease, Joost please," you could only press out. Joost's hand caressed your side and his lips trailed along your neck.

"Sshhh, mijn lieverd," Joost shushed, slowly brushing your hair behind your ear. "I need you to be a little bit more patient," he looked at you fondly. "I'm gonna take you back to my room and we're gonna do this properly." You let out a frustrated groan. You could feel your slick arousal almost dripping down your legs. Joost smoothed down your skirt and top (and his own pants that hid his raging boner) and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "Come on," Joost said with a grin, his hand held out for you to take as you still stood there dumbfounded.

Reluctantly you took Joost's hand and let yourself be led outside the restroom. You didn't take too many steps before you noticed Mona, one of the stylists on your delegation come up to you.

"(Y/N)!" she hugged you. "How are you?" Mona asked and you just stared at her blankly for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I'm good," you managed to sound out. Mona raised her eyebrows amused.

"Are you drunk? I thought they didn't serve alcohol here," she laughed. Joost looked at you with a knowing smirk.

"Aaaww, she's just a little exhausted," Joost saved you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders playfully. "I was just gonna walk her to her room."

"Oh yeah, she probably just needs some rest," Mona agreed. "We need her on her best game tomorrow," she joked and squeezed your shoulder lightly. "See you tomorrow!"

"See you," you smiled weakly as Mona walked away. Joost giggled beside you. "Shut up," you said and rammed your elbow into his ribs.

"Alright, let's get out of here."

Joost could barely close the hotel room door behind him before your lips were attacking each other again. Hands quickly roaming each other's bodies, grabbing onto any piece of clothing you could get a hold of to get rid of it. Joost's t-shirt was the first to go, swiftly followed by your top and bra. Your fingers fiddled with Joost's belt as the back of your knees hit the bed and you fell on it. You lay on top of it, only your short skirt covering you. Joost grinned down at you, observing your body spread out in front of him as he unbuckled his belt and took off his pants before he joined you on the bed.

You anticipated his lips to press onto yours again but instead, they found your neck again. His hands held onto your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried them in his hair, softly massaging his scalp. As Joost situationed himself in between your legs you could feel his hard-on press against your vulva through the fabric of your clothes. You let out a moan and Joost hummed approvingly against your skin as you could finally voice your lust for him.

Joost's mouth slowly moved down to your collarbones, alternating between peppering your skin with kisses and sucking at it. His fingers found the hem of your skirt and as he kissed along down your body he pulled the skirt down as well until you were only left in your panties. Your chest was heaving with how heavy your breathing was, anticipating Joost's next move. You let out a groan as his lips connected with the skin of your inner thighs.

"Stop being such a tease," you groaned and Joost grinned against your skin. Joost's fingers hooked in your panties before he finally pulled them down.

"What is it that you want, mijn lieverd?" Joost asked innocently.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you moaned frustrated. "I want you to fuck me finally."

"With pleasure."

Joost got up from the bed and you watched as he got rid of his underwear and you admired his length.

"Hurry," you nagged and Joost rolled his eyes with a soft laugh before he put on the condom you had bought earlier and got back in bed.

"So needy," he tutted, his lips just softly grazing yours. You held onto Joost's shoulders, his hand holding the side of your face before he slowly pushed into you. Your eyes momentarily blacked out as the pleasure spread throughout your body. Joost grunted against your skin also being lost to the pleasure. "So good for me," he praised and you wondered how much longer you would be able to keep it together.

He started slowly moving in and out of you. The slow rhythm, your hands in his hair and his lips pressed to your neck made all of this almost romantic. You wrapped your legs around Joost's hips to help him penetrate into you even deeper. With your hands in his hair, you grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head from where he was still kissing your neck until his lips found yours again. You moaned into the messy open-mouthed kiss before you softly pulled his hair again to make him look at you.

"Harder," you begged and Joost grinned at you.

Joost snaked his arm around your body to keep you in place, your bodies almost pressed against each other before he started pounding into you. Your nails dug into the skin on Joost's back as the moans tumbled out of your mouth uncontrollably. With each thrust, you were edging closer to your orgasm as Joost hit all the right spots inside of you. The sounds Joost was letting out of his mouth were heavenly, his grip on you dominant yet caring.

"You feel so good," Joost grunted and the sound of his voice pushed you over the edge.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath hitched and your muscles clenched until the wave of pleasure crashed down over you and you came with a series of obscene moans. As you were still riding out your high you noticed Joost's thrust becoming slopier and his moans louder until he came with stuttering hips and plopped down beside you.

You looked at each other breathing heavily and both let out a soft laugh. Joost lifted his arm to invite you to cuddle up to him. You rested your head on Joost's shoulder, your fingers softly drawing along the lines of Joost's tattoo on the side of his stomach.

"Was this okay?" Joost asked. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," you smiled. "This was perfect."

The ringing of your alarm on your phone woke you two up in the morning. Your limbs were entangled with Joost's, his heartbeat steady where your hand was laid on his chest. Joost rubbed his eyes, his hair messy and you never saw him look any cuter.

"What's this?" he complained before you got out of bed to turn off your alarm. As you turned around to face Joost again you noticed his eyes widen in shock. You stopped.

"What's up?" you asked blushing as Joost stared at your naked body. Confused you looked down your body and let out a gasp. "Fuck fuck fuck," you whispered, your hand in front of your lips. "This is bad." You sat down on the edge of the bed and you could feel Joost shift behind you to get closer to you. You looked down at your thighs which were littered in pink and purple hickeys. You desperately rubbed your fingers over them as if doing that could help you get rid of them.

"Oh, liefde," Joost said, his hand cautiously resting on your waist. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," you laughed unconvincingly, trying to calm yourself down. Joost's fingers softly grazed your collarbones and you looked down only to discover even more hickeys. "Oh god," you groaned.

"On your neck as well," Joost said meekly.

You put your face into your hands and cursed yourself for having chosen a very revealing stage outfit. "It's fine," you actually laughed this time.

"Are you sure?" Joost looked at you like a puppy who had just been caught breaking an expensive vase.

"Yes," you said and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Nothing some good foundation and an impromptu costume change can fix," you said although you already dreaded what you would have to tell your delegation about those hickeys. You leaned forward to gently kiss Joost's lips. "It was worth it," you said after pulling back and Joost gave you the proudest sweetest smile you had ever seen. Definitely worth it.

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

Text

two for the price of one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you've ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That's what brothers are for, right?

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader & Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Like, I literally don't even know anymore. Tommy is a cuck in this one, Joel is a dirty talking menace. Pre/No Outbreak AU. Talk of infertility, mention of consuming alcohol, Breeding kink, girlfriend sharing, masterbation (M), oral (F receiving), unprotected PiV sex, creampie, plenty of dirty talk, praise kink.

Word Count | 4.2k

Authors Note | I just want to shoutout the anon who left this request in my inbox. It rotted my brain and now we're here. Special shoutout to the JFC - specifically @sinsofsummers for telling me I could do this and @dinsdjrn and @cavillscurls for their help with some of the dialogue here. This is just filth. Pure unadulterated filth. Enjoy.

That damn piece of paper was haunting you, even from its place deep in the drawer where Tommy had stuffed it when he’d opened it and showed you. Its words telling you what you’d both anticipated but had wanted to prove wrong. Tommy. Infertile. Dashing those hopes of your beautiful babies with thick curls and big, beautiful eyes. He’d taken it hard, like it was an abject failure of his own manhood – the one thing he should be able to do beyond anything else, give you the child you so desperately yearned for, he couldn’t.

There was a week of tension, where you treaded on eggshells, trying not to bring it up, despite desperately wanting to discuss other options. Then came his acceptance of his emotions, late at night, curled up behind you in bed. It started with a light sniffle, then you could feel his tears drip onto the skin of your shoulders, then the whole-body sobs as he held you, told you he was sorry. You’d turned in his arms, wrapped your arms around his neck and held him, whispering softly that it was okay, that it didn’t matter, that you had options. You could still have a family, just perhaps not in the traditional sense.

Then came the weeks of appointments. You’d met with an adoption agency first. They’d talked you through the application process, what they expected of you, talked about the type of family you want, but Tommy had been adamantly against it for your first child. He wanted something borne of your blood, of your flesh, even if it wasn’t his that joined it.

Then there were the medical appointments talk of special drugs Tommy could take, or the possibility of IVF, even a sperm donor. It had started to look like these could be an option until the cost was placed in front of you. There was no way either of you could afford it, not even together, not even if you sold the house for something smaller. You’d reached the end of the line with no answers and the thought that you’d have to resign yourself to being childless.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? You could take all the love you’d wrapped up for a baby and put it somewhere else. You could love your niece Sarah harder, give some of it to the children you worked with each day at the school – you didn’t need to be a mother to feel complete. The longer you sat with it though, the more you felt something missing. The end of the line was frustrating and lonely. That was, until Tommy came up with an alternative.

It's late on a Thursday evening. You’ve just cleaned up from dinner and you’re lounging on the couch with Tommy’s arms wrapped around you, your head resting on one of his shoulders.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He muses above, settling his lips on the crown of your head.

“Always.” You squeeze the hand you’re resting on his thigh.

“What if we ask Joel?”

“To fix the back steps?” You ask, referencing the rotting steps that had needed sorting since winter cleared, “Can’t you just do it yourself?”

“No sugar,” He clears his throat, “Y’know what, forget I said anythin’.”

“Tommy,” You grumble, pushing yourself off his shoulder, you rest an arm across the back of the couch where he’s sitting, “You can’t just say that and not elaborate.”

He’s nervous. You can see the bouncing of his knee, something you’d clocked was a nervous habit on your first date. He’s also running a hand along the back of his neck, exactly what he always does when he’s got to say something difficult. You can also see the start of prickles of sweat on his brow. He’s not just nervous, he’s uncomfortable. You rest a hand on his shoulder, the way he’d taught you to do it when you’d first met, when he was still grappling with the anxiety and PTSD of being a veteran.

“I’m worried I’m gonna scare you, sugar.”

You run a hand through his thick head of curls, “Tommy, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise to just hear me out before freaking out, okay?”

You stick your pinky up, motioning for him to join his own with yours, “Pinky swear, Tommy Miller.”

“What if we ask Joel, you know….” He trails off, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he searches for the words he needs, “Fuck, I don’t even know how to say it.”

“Just take a deep breath and say it all at once.”

He takes a deep breath in like you instructed, blowing it out through his mouth, “What if we ask Joel to help with gettin’ you pregnant?”

It takes a minute for what he’s said to properly sink it. Your first train of thought, stupidly, is that Joel is a carpenter, not a doctor, so there’s no possible way he’s qualified to help with this. Then it washes over you all at once. Heat prickling at your cheeks, breath hitching in your throat, you think you might be sick.

“You want me to sleep with your brother?” You ask, tone coming out far more accusatory than intended, you soften your expression and squeeze his shoulder when you notice how hurt he looks.

“Well, it certainly ain’t my first option, or the second and third for that matter,” He sighs, “Look, it was stupid, forget I asked.”

He moves to get up from the couch, but you’re dragging him back down, fingers gripped around his wrist, “It’s not stupid Tommy, but you gotta help me understand how this is an option.”

He’s looking at you now, big brown eyes with a hint of sadness staring into your own. He cups your cheek in one of his palms, “I know how bad you want this sugar, how much you want a family,” He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “And I’m sorry I can’t give that to you, sorry we can’t afford the fancy drugs that would make this easier,” He sighs deeply, “The only option we have is to do somethin’ like this, and if I’m gonna let another man touch you, I want it to be someone I trust, and he’s the only person I would ever trust with this,” He rubs a hand over his face, “Least I know it might have a chance of lookin’ somethin’ like me too, instead of goddamn Steven from Ohio or whoever they’d use.”

You feel your gut twist when he speaks. This absolutely batshit crazy idea is actually coming from an incredible place of care. He knows you want a child; lord knows you were trying your hardest together to make it happen before that damn piece of paper had to go and ruin it all.

“You wouldn’t find it weird, knowing I’d had sex with your brother?”

“Well, it doesn’t mean anythin’, does it baby?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” You shrug, it was just a means to an end, “You think he’ll agree?”

“I don’t know baby,” He answers honestly, wrapping you back into his arms, “I’ll take him out this weekend, ask him and see what he thinks.”

There’s still something here that doesn’t sit right with you. Sure, it makes sense, and of all the people who you could choose for yourself you’d probably have settled on Joel too. Stoic and sensible Joel, brooding and grumpy Joel. He’d always been kind, had welcomed you into the family with open arms, praised you multiple times for finally keeping his brother on the straight and narrow. He was a good man, loved his little girl with all his heart, would never hurt a hair on your head, but you were still uncomfortable.

“If he does agree,” You shift nervously on the couch, “I want you to be there.”

“You don’t trust him?”

“No, of course I trust him Tommy,” You sigh, “I’d just feel more comfortable if you were there.”

“Anythin’ for you, sugar.”

It’s early on Sunday morning when Tommy rolls into bed, 3am to be exact, smelling of whiskey to tell you he’s finally asked Joel to help you. He slinks onto bed and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing over your neck and down your shoulder to wake you. When you finally grumble and admit you’re very muchawake now, with his hand gripping your hip, he’s speaking in a hushed whisper.

“He said yes.”

“He take much convincing?” You ask, shuffling around in his arms so you’re facing him, his face gripped in your palms.

“He was wary, thought I’d lost my mind for a good few minutes,” Tommy leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips, “Told him it was my idea and you’d thought the same, but he came around, think he knows how much we both want this.”

A part of you had thought he’d say no. That there was no way that stoic, sensible Joel would ever consider sleeping with his brother’s girlfriend in order to knock her up, but he’d proved himself a man of many surprises before. As Tommy presses kisses to your lips and settles you both to sleep, there’s the bubbling of nerves in your belly, of doubt. Are you really doing the right thing? Is this going to make the dynamic between the three of you awkward as hell? Sure, you’re all grown adults and this is just a means to an end, but there’s still the unknown of what comes after.

Tommy goes out that morning and brings back a bag, filled with ovulation tests and, perhaps a little prematurely, pregnancy tests. You do one of the ovulation tests that morning and as expected, the screen shows a sad face, gratefully showing you that you still have time to prepare for what you’re going to do. Three days later when you do the test again, there’s a grinning happy face, almost taunting you that it’s time to face the music. You show the test to Tommy, who places a palm on the back of your head, bringing your forehead to his lips. He murmurs that he’ll tell Joel, and that’s how not even twenty-four hours later, it really is time to bite the bullet.

It's late, Joel having insisted that he needed to make sure Sarah was settled and asleep before he came over. You’re sitting at the foot of the bed, legs dangling aimlessly whilst you wait. You really had no idea how this was going to play out, so you’d dressed yourself in a simple cotton nightdress, silk robe tied around your middle for extra coverage. There was an empty whiskey tumbler on the nightstand. You’d had three, maybe four? Enough to take the edge off, but not too much that you weren’t aware of what was happening.

You hear the doorbell chime and then Tommy’s heavy footsteps downstairs as he opens the door. You can hear his voice and Joel’s mingling together, but you can’t decipher what either are saying. You probably don’t want too either. What could two brothers’ possibly have to say to each other when one is getting ready to sleep with the others girlfriend? You listen to them talk for a bit before you can hear two sets of feet ascending the stairs. You stand from the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself for another layer of comfort when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!” You call, bouncing nervously from foot to foot.

The door swings open and Joel is stood there, dressed in his usual attire, dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt, work boots obviously discarded downstairs, Tommy knew you hated people tracking dirt into the house. He takes a moment to take the sight of you in and you think you must look ridiculous, silk robe making way to bare legs – it had seemed like such a good idea at the time, he could just push the material up, do what he needed to do and be gone, but now you wonder if it looks like you’re trying to seduce him.

“Hey sweetheart,” Joel’s voice is soft and when you look into his eyes, they are too, and it does put you at some ease, “C’mere.” He’s motioning for you to step closer, opening his arms so he can pull you into a hug.

You’ve hugged Joel hundreds of times before this, in much the same way. One of his arms wrapped around your shoulders, the other squeezing into the middle of your back. It’s usually friendly, meaningless really, but when you take in the press of his broad frame, you can’t help but realise you’re going to know him far more intimately than you’d ever imagined by the end of the night.

He releases you and you’re semi-aware that Tommy has slunk into the room behind his brother, he’s leaning against the wall as he watches Joel take hold of your hand, guiding you back to sit on the bed where you had been before. God, you think, he’s not wasting his time, he wants this to be over just as much as I do. You look up at his broad frame towering over you, if this was anyone else, you’d be intimidated, but he’s still got that soft look to his brown eyes. He shocks you next, cupping your jaw in his hand and running his calloused thumb over your bottom lip.

He turns his head to Tommy, “You wanna tell me what she likes?”

Oh. Oh. You’d expected something much more clinical than this. You’d never imagined he’d work to make sure you enjoyed it. You also turn your head in Tommy’s direction. He’s still leant against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other with his arms crossed.

“She likes getting her pussy eaten, don’t you baby?”

Joel is gently coaxing your face back to look at him, staring directly into your eyes, “That right, darlin’?” You look up at him as you nod, mouth open a little in shock, “Wanna make sure you enjoy this,” He’s saying, “Gonna take real good care of you.”

Then, he’s dropping to his knees at the front of the bed, shifting so your legs are draped over his wide shoulders. Whilst Joel is focused on kissing trails from your knee, slowly up the expanse of your thigh, you look to Tommy, who has moved from the wall to sit in the small chair in the corner of the room that you would usually use to read in. He gives you a nod and a small smile, silently telling you to enjoy yourself. Your turn your attention back to Joel between your legs, who has slowly hitched up the cotton of your nightdress to pool at your hips, exposing your pussy to him.

You can feel his hot breath skittering across your skin and there’s an anticipation building that you hadn’t expected. You’re moving your hips, almost subconsciously, to chase the relief you know his mouth was about to bring. Joel has his big palms on your hips then, holding you steady before he’s licking up the length of your pussy, tongue dipping ever so gently between your folds to find your clit. You let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t noticed you were even holding in, then Joel is moving again, tongue dipping into the entrance of your pussy, licking all the way up again before he’s laser focused on your clit.

Your hands instinctively rake through his hair, gripping the strands between your fingers to keep him in place as he uses the tip of his tongue to run tight, wet circles to your bundle of nerves. You’re propping yourself up with a hand on the mattress behind you whilst the other keeps its place locking in Joel’s hair. Then, you’re actually grinding your pussy into his mouth, desperate for more but scared to ask for it.

“It’s okay baby,” You hear Tommy speak from his place on the chair, “We want you to feel good, don’t be shy about askin’.”

You look down between your thighs and see Joel looking up at you, mouth still latched to your aching pussy, “Joel,” You groan, “Fingers, please.”

“So polite, darlin’.” He murmurs against your skin before he’s doing as you asked.

He’s still showering your clit with attention, the sounds of his literal slurping doing nothing to stop the flush of arousal you’re feeling right now, as he pushes two of his thick fingers inside your slick cunt. You don’t know what you’d expected of Joel in this kind of scenario, perpetually single Joel, who never really seemed interested in anyone. You knew now, as he was curling those fingers inside of you, pressing into the spot that had you crying out and gripping his hair tighter than ever, that it wasn’t because of his abilities that he was single.

“Fuck, holy shit Joel, I think….”

“You gonna come for him baby?” You hear Tommy ask from the corner of the room.

“I think…” You let out a sharp cry, “Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps thrusting his fingers into your pussy, tongue still running those tight circles over your bud, but now he latches his lips around it and sucks, actually sucks at your clit. You’re lost. Your elbow buckles and you collapse on your back onto the bed, crying out a string of expletives as Joel works you through your high. Pleasure has burst across your skin, finding every single possible nerve ending and setting you on fire, your thighs are gripping his face as you ride out the last of the shuddering aftershocks on his fingers, pussy walls fluttering around them as you try and catch your breath.

You can feel Joel recoiling from between your thighs. You can hear the sound of him undoing his belt and then it clattering to the floor. You use your weak arms to push yourself up the length of the bed, head settling in the pile of pillows at the top. You turn your face to Tommy and gasp, hunger igniting in your belly at what you see. Somewhere in the middle of Joel shattering your world between your thighs, Tommy has shucked his jeans and underwear down just enough to free his cock. He’s using his fist to work himself in slow strokes at the sight of you.

You can feel Joel’s body clambering onto the mattress with you, settling between your thighs with his wide hips spreading your legs an obscene amount to accommodate him. He’s taking hold of your jaw in his hand, dragging your attention back to his face, “You’re fuckin’ me tonight pretty girl,” He growls, “Eyes on me.”

It isn’t a torturous job by any means. Joel is weathered, his skin holding the early sign of wrinkles at his eyes, beard starting to grey, but you can’t deny that he’s handsome. Especially when he’s looking at you with eyes that are begging to devour you. He sits back on his knees, taking hold of the belt that is keeping your robe shut across your body to undo the loose knot you’d tied in it. He’s dragging you up by a wrist just far enough to shuck the material from your shoulders, laying you back down to play with the straps of your nightdress.

“Can I undress you properly, darlin’?” He asks.

You gulp. Finally noticing that he’s stripped to just his boxers, outline of his incredibly hard cock visible when you let your eyes drag down that far.

“Go on baby,” Tommy encourages from across the room, “Let him see how beautiful you are.”

Your eyes are back to holding court with Joel’s own and you nod. He’s pulling you up by the wrist again, sitting you up so he can drag that final bit of material off your body. You lie back down and watch as his eyes drag over every single inch of your skin.

“Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

He’s got those wide palms dragging down the curves of your sides, holding you in place to just watch you for a second before he’s hooking his thumbs into his underwear and dragging them down his thighs, freeing his cock. He’s fisting himself a few times before he hooks your knees over his arms and slides himself into your waiting cunt.

It’s all you can do to let out a high-pitched moan at the intrusion, but fuck he feels good. You look up at his face, eyes closed and breathing deeply as he stills inside you once he’d buried in you to the hilt.

“So fucking tight, darlin’,” He groans as he pulls himself almost all the way out before starting the long, torturous thrust back inside you, “So fuckin’ perfect, ain’t ya?”

“Fuck Joel,” You throw your head back into the pillow, “Feel so good inside me.”

He’s picking up the pace now, thrusting into you in earnest now. The angle he’s got you folded into means his cock in brushing that fucking spot inside you that is driving you crazy, raising goosebumps and setting you on fire, drawing high-pitched whines from your throat whenever he finds it.

“Touch yourself baby,” You hear Tommy’s throaty request, you don’t dare look at him for fear of the sight of him finishing you off, “Joel’s gonna want you to come on his cock, so show him what a good girl you can be.”

Joel is already circling your wrist with his hand, dragging your fingers to your pussy as he watches where his cock disappears inside you. Your own movements are sloppy but the slick that Joel’s mouth has dragged from you make the movement of circles on your own engorged and sensitive clit easy. It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to hit you, clenching your pussy around Joel’s hard cock which hasn’t let up for a single second since he started pounding into you.

“She’s so fuckin’ pretty, Tommy,” Joel’s voice is low and husky above you, almost desperately so, “So fuckin’ pretty when she comes like that.”

“Don’t I know it, brother.” You hear his strangled reply.

Joel is all of a sudden flipping you on the bed, your legs straddling his hips, palms planted on his chest to steady yourself.

“Take what you want darlin’,” He’s groaning, “Ride my cock and knock yourself up.”

You do just that, grinding your hips backwards and forwards on his cock with your fingers digging halfmoon shapes into the meat of his chest as you lean forward, bouncing on his cock in earnest.

His palms are gripping the globes of your ass, knees coming up to rest on your bare skin as he starts fucking up into you, meeting your thrusts halfway. The sounds of your skin slapping together is obscene but oh so delicious.

“You like when my brother fucks you like that?” Tommy’s deep voice draws your attention to him, he’s still got his cock in his hand but he’s thrusting up into it and you can tell just by the look on his face that he’s close.

You look him dead in the eyes, breathy moan falling from your lips when you say, “I fucking love it, Tommy.”

It all happens at once. Tommy is moaning and you can see him start to spill across his hand. Then Joel is gripping your hips, stilling your movements as you feel him start to come inside you, filling you up with his cum, your name falling from his mouth with a tangle of expletives built in for good measure.

“Fuckin’ take it, pretty girl.” Joel is growling from beneath you, pushing his cock impossibly deep inside you like he’s begging your pussy to soak it all up, to get it to take.

The room is silent save for the sounds of the three of you trying to catch your breath. You collapse, somewhat unceremoniously off Joel’s body and onto the mattress, placing an arm over your eyes to try and calm yourself down. Why the fuck was that so hot? Is all you can think. You’re only semi-aware of him shifting and gathering his things, only semi-aware of Tommy cleaning his hand off on his jeans to re-dress himself. You’re almost asleep when you feel the press of a kiss to your cheek, opening your eyes to find it was in fact Joel who did it, thumb running soothing circles across the skin of your hip.

“Thank you.” You say meekly, reaching up to cup his face in your palm.

“My pleasure, darlin’,” He smiles down at you, “I hope it helps.”

Then he’s gone, following Tommy out of the bedroom and back down the stairs. You can, once again hear their muted voices, but this time, instead of setting you on edge, it lulls you to sleep. By the time Tommy comes back, climbs into bed and spoons you from behind, you’re almost asleep.

“Did so fuckin’ good for me baby,” He murmurs into your ear, “So fuckin’ proud of you.”

Through the haze of sleep taking over you, you manage to mumble out, “Hope it works.”

He chuckles, his body shaking your own where he has you wrapped in his embrace, “Me too baby, me too.”

Within minutes you’re asleep. So asleep that you don’t feel his hand resting above your womb, silently praying that sooner, rather than later, he’s going to start feeling you swell there. Silently thanking the good lord for giving him such an understanding brother and a girl willing to do anything for him.

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

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to all the boys who live next door - masterlist

Hello friends! Wanted to do a fun little anthology series imagining some of our faves as our next-door neighbors. All fics will contain smut, therefore are rated explicit. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Specific content warnings will be listed per fic.

If you'd like to be tagged on any of the upcoming fics below, please let me know in the comments or in my inbox! Thanks in advanced for reading! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Extra Smooth - Suguru Geto

Your next-door neighbor is loud, inconsiderate, and unfortunately, very hot. No matter how many times you bang on his door with another new noise complaint, he’ll continue to repeat his offenses nearly every weekend. You’re too timid to submit a formal complaint to the landlord, so you shrug it off, hoping that one day, he’ll suddenly become nice. That day comes sooner than you think, when he unexpectedly makes a visit to your apartment, discovering the real reason you need your peace and quiet.

2. A Helping Hand - Kento Nanami

You’re so completely insatiable that you’re going a tad bit insane. You enlist the aid of your next-door neighbor Nanami, who you know is more than willing to help. It's almost too good to be true.

3. Cure for a Hangover - Kishibe

Kishibe is your mysterious, brooding, and significantly older next-door neighbor. You’ve lived beside him for a while now, only exchanging basic pleasantries out of politeness, never anything more. One night, he comes home drunk, or so he thinks. It’s not his door he’s slumped against; it’s yours.

4. Double the Fun - Eren + Reiner

You’ve been having a bit of a dry spell recently with how busy you’ve been at work. When you finally manage to snag a date through one of your matches on a dating app, you’re unfortunately stood up, leaving you in a worse mood than before. Lucky for you, your two hot himbo neighbors are more than willing to cheer you up.

5. What Are Friends For? - Takuma Ino

Ino is the cute guy next door that you’ve befriended ever since you moved in. He’s been nothing but kind to you, and sure, there’s attraction there, but you’ve never acted on it considering you’re already taken. When you find out your long-distance boyfriend has been cheating on you, you turn to your friend for comfort, and maybe something more.

BONUS FICS!

6. Make Me Sweat - Aoi Todo

With the start of the new year, you make it one of your main resolutions to become more active. You begin at your apartment's fitness center, where you run into your musclehead, loud-mouth next-door neighbor, Aoi Todo. He offers his gratuitous advice, annoying you at first. But when he suggests a particular kind of workout, it piques your interest enough that you can't refuse.

7. Rub You the Right Way - Choso Kamo

You've always been cordial with your shy next-door neighbor Choso Kamo. One day, you receive the package you've been expecting, finding out a little too late that it isn't your package at all; it's his. What you find inside makes you think that maybe he has a wild side, one you want to see for yourself.

8. A Helping Hand Part 2 - Kento Nanami (coming soon)

After being caught calling out his name during a sex-filled dream involving your neighbor, you try your best to do some damage control to save face from utter humiliation. Nanami, on the other hand, isn't going to let you off the hook so easily.

Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!

#attack on titan smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #chainsaw man smut #aot smut #jjk smut #csm smut #geto smut #nanami smut #eren smut #reiner smut #takuma ino smut #masterlist #to all the boys who live next door series

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lovelybucky1 · 1 year ago

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rivals/enemies to lovers Anakin fic and their tension is 10000000x high all the time like😫😫😫

thank you for the ask!!! inbox open for cillian murphy and anakin

warnings: gender neutral!reader, pushy anakin, semi-public, mentions of masturbation, inappropriate use of the force, teasing, enemies to lovers, 18+ minors dni

masterlist

Anakin Skywalker might be the most infuriating person you have ever had the misfortune of meeting. The praise he constantly received for his skills during his padawan years combined with the title of "Chosen One" that is often bestowed upon him did terrible things for his ego.

He struts around the temple with so much arrogance that you can practically smell it on him. He's rude and demanding, often making some of the younger Jedi do his bidding just because they listen to him.

If they weren't scared of Anakin, they were bowing at his feet to kiss his boots. Everybody knew what Anakin was capable of, and they treated him like a god because of it. But not you.

To you, Anakin was nothing but a spoiled brat in an adult's body. He tried to enchant you, to get you under the same spell he had everyone else under, but you refused. You could recognize talent, but you would rather die than contribute to his inflated ego.

For some reason, your refusal to kiss his ass made Anakin obsessed with you. He knows you hate him, you make it obvious. Anakin has taken this hatred as a challenge; he wants to break your resolve.

Anakin is like a fly, always buzzing around your head at the least opportune times. During training, he always volunteers to be your partner. He always sits next to you at meals and during meditation. While meditating, he invades your mind just to pester you some more. At night, he appears in your dreams and you wake up pissed off at him.

This is a game to Anakin. One you despise with your entire being, but its one he never seems to tire of. It's escalated a bit over time; at first it was just teasing jibes and general annoyance, but now his remarks have a flirtatious edge to them and that makes you even angrier.

"If you were that desperate to get into my arms, you just had to ask," Anakin smirks as he looks down at where you fell against his chest. Training with Anakin is never easy, he plays dirty just so he can get you into positions such as these.

"Get the fuck off of me," you huff, pushing him away.

"What's got you in such a bad mood?" he asks, knowing full well that it's him that has you so irritated.

"One of life's greatest mysteries," you say as you get back into a fighting stance.

Training technically ended an hour ago, but Anakin kept taking you down and you couldn't leave without a victory.

"Come on, you can tell me. I can keep a secret."

You run at him, extending your foot to kick him in the shoulder but he grabs your ankle and flips you over, sending you falling face down onto the mat. You grunt when you hit the floor and roll onto your back, only to find Anakin standing over you, looking impossibly tall.

"You're my fucking problem."

You get up, swatting Anakin's hand away when he offers it to you.

"Me? What have I done to you?" he asks.

Catching him off guard, you hook your ankle around the back of his knee and bring him to the ground. He could have fought back, but he goes down easily. You stand in front of him as he kneels in front of you, not looking any less smug despite his position.

“Why do you continue to train with me if you hate me so much?” he asks.

“You choose me, asshole.”

“I don’t force you to be my partner. You could have anyone you wanted.”

You glare down at him. “I like beating the shit out of you.”

“Have you ever beat me?” he asks with a smirk. “Y’know, sometimes I get a feeling that you like me.”

“Like you?”

“Yeah. You’re always hanging around me, you dream about me, you even think about me when you meditate. That sounds a little like obsession to me.” He walks forward a bit on his knees so he’s close enough to rest his cheek against your thigh, and for some reason you don’t stop him.

“Those are all things you do, Anakin. You put those thoughts in my head.”

Anakin chuckles. “Maybe so, but I know you also think about me at night,” he rises to his feet, once again towering over you. “in bed, under the covers when you can’t get to sleep.”

You gasp, trying to cut it off before he notices but it’s too late. Anakin is close, too close, his chest mere inches away from yours.

“I didn’t put those thoughts in that pretty head. That’s all you. Your desire,” he takes ahold of your wrists and pins them at your sides. “Your dirty secrets.” His gaze is intense and it makes you want to squirm away from it.

“You’re a fucking pig,” you spit, trying to wrestle your way out of his hold but there’s no use.

“And you can’t admit what you want,” he says. “Come on, you can tell me. I promise I won’t tell a soul.” Somehow Anakin sounds earnest and you feel compelled to confess.

“I don’t like you,” you say.

“I don’t want you to.”

“I hate you.”

“I like it that way.” He looks at you expectantly. “But…?”

“There’s no but, Anakin! I’m not attracted to you,” you huff.

He rolls his eyes and smirks. “How about I tell you some things first, and then it’s your turn?” You give him a blank stare in return; he continues anyway. “I hate you. I think you’re a stubborn little bitch who hates me just because you’re jealous. You’ll never be as powerful as I am, and I know that irks you like nothing else. I hate the way you talk shit about me every chance you get to make yourself feel better. And most of all, I hate the way you pretend you don’t want me to fuck you in all the ways you fantasize about.”

You gape at him, feeling embarrassed and angry that he just exposed you so blatantly. You wrench your arms out of his hold and this time he lets you, which makes you even angrier.

“You fucking-”

“Tell me you don’t want it,” he challenges. You stare back at him. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you.”

There is a moment of silence; Anakin waiting for you to deny and you waiting for him to ridicule you.

Anakin steps forward and grabs your hips, pulling you flush to him. You don’t fight back.

“Nothing to say?”

“Fuck you.”

“You gotta say please if you want it so bad,” he grins.

“I hope you choke.”

In a flash, Anakin has you down on the mat, flat on your back. Your legs are spread and he’s slotted between them, leaning up on his elbows to look at you. His nose is only inches away from yours, and it’s making your blood boil.

“Don’t I feel good on top of you?” He does, and he knows it. “Just say yes, baby. I’ll fuck you right here, just how you like it.”

You grit your teeth. “Yes.”

#anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut

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syerra-637 · 8 months ago

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𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓼

(𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

_♡_♡_♡_

A/n : This follows from that post and the comment by @athanasialove. I couldn't stop there. If it's well-received, I could make it into a series.If you have any story ideas for this series, you can share them with me. My inbox is open :) Tw : Mention of death, injustice, nothing more? Number of words : 1338 Reader :I wrote it for a female reader, but maybe it could work for a gender-neutral reader and a male reader?

The sunlight filtering through the golden silk curtains gently caressed your face as you slowly emerged from your slumber. The morning warmth enveloped the room, gently pulling you from your dreams. You blinked, adjusting to the already well-advanced daylight.

Once on your feet, you were greeted by a cohort of servants, their soft steps resonating gently in the sumptuously decorated room. They hurried around you, surrounding you with care and attention. One servant skillfully began styling your hair while another offered you garments befitting your position.

As your fingers brushed against the delicate fabrics, a question crept into your mind. "Where is Sukuna?" you asked, your voice filled with curiosity. The servant styling your hair looked up, her expression filled with respect and reverence.

"His Majesty is in the throne room, Your Grace," she replied with a soft but firm voice.

You nodded, silently thanking the servant for her answer.

As you prepared to make your way to the throne room, the urge to wander through the royal gardens overcame you. The delicate petals of the cherry blossoms danced in the light breeze, creating an atmosphere of tranquility. "Sakura," you murmured, captivated by the ephemeral beauty of these delicate flowers.

Guided by curiosity, you veered off the usual path, venturing further into the lush pathways of the garden. It was then that you noticed a slave, their gaze fixed on the delicate tasks of tending to the gardens. The distinctive symbol on their hand attested to their belonging to Sukuna.

"Slave, do you tend to these gardens?" you asked, a hint of interest in your voice. They humbly bowed, confirming their role in preserving the beauty of this place.

"Yes, Your Grace. I am honored to contribute to the splendor of the royal gardens," they replied respectfully, indicating the presence of others sharing the task.

Your gaze swept over the surroundings, discovering a team of slaves carrying out their duties. As you stood there, surrounded by the lush nature and by these men and women bound by fate to Sukuna, a silent reflection crossed your mind. Despite the marks and chains that bound them, there was a dignity and pride in their work.

With a smile, you continued on your way to the throne room, leaving behind the soothing murmur of the cherry blossoms.

Before the grand doors, guarded by soldiers imbued with the magic of curses, you were about to enter the throne room. However, with an elegant gesture, you halted them in their tracks, interrupting their movement to open the imposing doors.

"What is he doing?" you asked, your curiosity guiding you. One of the soldiers, respectful but attentive, replied: "His Majesty is in audience, Your Grace."

An amused glint sparkled in your eyes as you reacted with a hint of humor. "In audience? He seems to be in a very generous mood. I shall wait. It would be a shame to waste this unique audience. He will likely not grant another until next winter," you declared, injecting a touch of mischief into your words.

The soldiers, accustomed to the intricacies of Sukuna's court, bowed in respect. You stepped back slightly, choosing to wait in the antechamber, letting the mystery and intrigue surround this exceptional audience. The murmurs of the court faded, leaving you alone with your thoughts, mentally preparing for the forthcoming exchange with the powerful king of curses.

The piercing cry that echoed through the palace corridors sent shivers through the peaceful atmosphere of the antechamber where you patiently waited. The desperate pleas that accompanied it resonated in your mind, plunging you into a state of tension and apprehension.

"Mercy, Lord!" begged one voice, while another sobbed, "I repent, please forgive me!"

Your heart clenched at the sound of these heart-wrenching pleas, and you felt overwhelmed by a profound sense of worry. What was the meaning behind these desperate cries? What misfortune had befallen Sukuna's court?

Taking a deep breath to calm the feverish beats of your heart, you rushed towards the throne room, resolved to face the situation with dignity and determination.

Despite your desire to distance yourself from the tumultuous affairs of the court, your innate sense of compassion always urged you to intervene on behalf of the oppressed, even when their fate seemed sealed by Sukuna's whims.

Once the doors of the throne room were opened, you entered with confidence, feigning a false tranquility on your face. As you gracefully approached the throne, an ironic thought crossed your mind: "Oh, wait... this is also my place."

The murmurs of the court subsided as you approached, gazes turning towards you with respect and anticipation. You stopped before the throne, where Sukuna sat majestically, his imposing aura filling the room with his undeniable authority.

With Olympian calmness, you ascended the steps leading to the top of the throne, ignoring the intrigued glances that followed you. You stood before Sukuna, his imposing majesty not shaking your determination in the least.

"Hello, my love," you murmured with a radiant smile, deliberately ignoring the tense atmosphere that surrounded you. "Have you seen the cherry blossoms? They are in bloom," you added, your voice tinged with a slight teasing tone.

A heavy silence enveloped the throne room, broken only by the murmur of whispers and the exchanged glances among the courtiers. Then, you gave a meaningful look to the man on the ground, whose fate seemed to hang by a thread.

"I am sure this man has done nothing grave enough to deserve death," you declared boldly, your voice resonating in the silence. "But we all know that your sense of justice is quite strange."

Your audacity, though shocking to some, elicited little more than a resigned shrug among the courtiers. After all, coming from you, such boldness had become almost mundane, a testament to your self-confidence and independence of mind in the face of court conventions.

Sukuna's cheeky smile did not escape your sharp gaze, and you were gratified by a hint of satisfaction at his amusement with your bold retort.

"Oh really? Am I not the most just of all?" he retorted, his tone tinged with slight irony.

You couldn't help but smile slightly in response. "Perhaps you are," you conceded, "but only in your own terms of justice."

The atmosphere in the throne room seemed to relax slightly as the carefully chosen words you spoke slipped like razor blades through the air. Sukuna, well aware of the subtlety of your insinuation, burst into deep laughter, filling the room with its powerful echo.

Honestly, you realized that only someone like you could dare such boldness in the presence of the great king of curses. If it had been anyone else, uttering such words would have been an instant political suicide. But for you, it was just another day navigating the murky waters of Sukuna's court, where every word and gesture was carefully weighed and calculated to maintain a precarious balance between life and death.

"Well then, to prove my great generosity, I shall let this vermin go. But never set foot here again. As for the audience, I shall end it now," declared Sukuna imperiously, thus putting an end to the turmoil that had gripped the throne room.

As Sukuna rose from his throne, he took your hand with unexpected tenderness before lifting you up like a bride. You were surprised by this gesture but allowed yourself to be carried away by his momentum, letting yourself be guided by his imposing strength.

"Where are we going?" you asked, curious about his intentions.

"To see the cherry blossoms," he replied with an obviousness that made you smile. With such an answer, you could only acquiesce, knowing that the beauty of the cherry blossoms in bloom would be the perfect setting for this moment of shared complicity between you and the king of curses.

Hand in hand, you left the throne room and the tumultuous court behind you, heading towards the royal gardens where the cherry blossoms awaited.

#sukuna ryomen #sukuna jjk #ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #Jjk x reader #soft sukuna #Soft sukuna x reader

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unboundprompts · 1 year ago

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Welcome to unboundprompts!

Please call me J (she/her). I have a writeblr account over at @theunboundwriter if you're interested. I post about my personal projects and participate in tag games over there.

If you would like to be tagged in tag games, interact with this post: Link.

On this account, feel free to edit prompts as you see fit and use them in your writing.

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 4 months ago

Note

Hey can you do reader x Donna.

Reader is an artist, she ask Donna if she could paint her. Donna being mysterious refuse her. Reader kept insisting her so Donna agrees. They were in a room and Donna is ready so she took all of her clothes poses for her, reader blushes but remained compose as she captures her essence and beauty. After the painting reader showed her the finish product, Donna was deeply impressed by this. Then after that she and reader started to get close until they fell in love with each other.

Yess!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :)))

Portrait

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, a bit of angst at first, Donna being Donna

Word count: 5,902

Summary: You, an artist, are about to know the true meaning of "art"

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open, my inbox is so empty and asking for yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“There is too much left?” a seductive voice asked, which made you look out at the canvas you were painting and smile at the woman you were portraying.

“No, not much, you can relax, Lady Dimitrescu,” you said smiling satisfied with your work and wiping your hands with a cloth.

You might think that you chose a stupid profession, a stupid job in that sinister place, but quite the opposite.

As the only artist in the village, you had no shortage of jobs. That kind of ancient life that both its inhabitants and its Lords lived in was very useful for a talent like yours. You were an artist like the previous ones in that village, taking their baton and meeting an egocentric need of the Lords of that place, including Mother Miranda.

Your talents didn’t go unnoticed, especially by the lady of the castle. It was the third painting of her, each time with less and less clothes and more intriguing and seductive looks. If events had not turned out that way, you may have finally ended up giving in to her seduction.

The lady in white lit a cigarette as she got up from the couch, walking slowly towards you and glancing at her own portrait, approving it with her eyes and a soft hand on your shoulder.

“Mm,” she murmured, fixing her gaze on you again. “Excellent work, (Y/N). Well, as always.”

“Thank you, my lady. It is an honor to receive your compliments,” you said, bowing your head respectfully.

“The honor is mine... Maybe I can keep you here a little longer, my daughters need a portrait too,” she commented, amused, pouring herself a glass of wine and filling another one, calling you with a gesture of her hand.

You shrugged, approaching the couch and gratefully taking the glass, thinking of a funny response.

“With all due respect, my lady, but it is impossible to do anything without them moving,” you commented in an informal tone, making the Lord, Alcina Dimitrescu, smile at the truthfulness of your words.

“You're right, that's why I suppose it will be quite a challenge for you,” she murmured, raising her eyebrows and crossing her legs, of course with the most exaggerated movements possible.

“And I suppose that for such a complicated task I would have to stay in the castle,” you joked, with the same seductive smile.

“It would be a pleasure,” Alcina whispered, leaning towards you until a knock on the door interrupted that moment.

“Excuse me, my lady,” a timid voice said behind the door, to which the lady sighed in annoyance and moved away from her prey, from you.

“Mihaela… What do you want? I'm busy,” the tall woman asked, buttoning up that silk robe she was wearing, and making a funny face at you as she opened the door.

“Excuse me, my lady, but Lady Beneviento has come to have tea,” the maid explained, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

You didn't know if she looked at you with envy, or on the contrary with fear or respect. It was difficult to say, all those girls were once friends or colleagues of yours. In fact, you kept a… Curious portrait of that girl.

“Oh, I had forgotten...” Alcina sighed. “Okay, let her come, and bring the tea. (Y/N), I guess three cups will do it, right?”

You nodded curiously. Of all the Lords, Donna Beneviento was the youngest, and the most mysterious one.

“Yes, of course,” you answered, sitting down more comfortably.

“Fine, my lady,” the maid said, giving you one last embarrassed look, to your satisfaction, making you smile mischievously.

“Donna, dear, come in, please,” the lady of the castle said, opening the door for the lady in black to enter, with her face covered and carrying that sinister doll in her arms.

In truth, it was not the first time that you wondered what was behind that black cloth and her mysterious figure.

Lady Beneviento entered slowly, immediately realizing your presence and stopping walking, looking at the lady of the castle.

“Oh, this is (Y/N). I guess you already know her from church,” Alcina explained, pointing to a table at the back of the room and telling you to come with them.

“Lady Beneviento,” you said elegantly, lowering your head. No matter how mysterious she was or how curious she was for you. She was still a Lord, and a dangerous one according to the villagers.

The lady in black moved her head to greet you, but she didn't make a sound.

“Well, what's new in my little sister's life?” Alcina asked when the tea was served, after a few moments of overwhelming tension.

The woman in black shrugged, picking up her own cup, not removing her head from your direction. What made you nervous was not that she was looking at you, but rather, to know if she was really looking at you.

“I see, talkative as always...” Alcina murmured, amused.

“What is she doing here?” The puppet asked, making you almost choke. “She’s a villager.”

Alcina looked at you and smiled, shaking her head.

“Well, she's an artist, right?” The lady in white responded, making you nod with a cautious smile. Now that you knew that Donna’s gaze was locked on yours, you could feel chills. “She was making a portrait for me.”

“You have hundreds of portraits,” the doll murmured, looking at you disturbingly, to which you shrank in the chair.

“They're not portraits, my dear, they're art,” Alcina commented, rising to the canvas that still had fresh paint on it. A fear that the Angie doll would ruin your work made you get up too.

The three of you walked to the almost finished portrait of the lady in white, and Donna lowered her head, probably seeing the few amount of clothing her older sister was wearing.

“It's wonderful, right?” Alcina said, stopping laughing for a second, looking at you and frowning, then looking at the lady in black and repeating her gesture several times.

Yes, it was true, Donna Beneviento didn't seem to want to take her eyes off of you, but you couldn't do it either.

There was something about the dark lady that attracted you, or that made you so afraid you didn't dare look away from her.

“Ahem,” Dimitrescu cleared her throat, interrupting that strange exchange of glances. You both looked at Alcina, embarrassed, you didn't know exactly why.

“It's good, pretty good,” the doll said, pointing to the canvas, to which you responded with a respectful gesture of your head.

“Mm, I was thinking about it, Donna...” Alcina murmured thoughtfully, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “Haven't you thought about having a portrait?”

The lady in black was surprised by the question, but she shook her head effusively to which you took the hint and frowned.

“Come on, you're the only Lord who doesn't have one, or so I think. I'm not going to consider that electric eel as a Lord..." Alcina said amused, looking at you with curiosity and something strange in her eyes.

“No,” the lady whispered behind her black veil with a soft, hoarse voice that you had never heard before.

“Have you seen (Y/N)'s work?” The lady of the castle insisted. “Don't be silly, Donna, someone has to make your beauty known. What do you think, (Y/N), could you do it?”

The mourning lady shook her head again. She seemed nervous

"Of course, my lady, it would be a pleasure," you said, amused by Lady Beneviento's shy attitude.

“I said no,” the lady repeated, with a slightly higher tone, which betrayed a certain annoyance at your insistence.

“Consider it a gift, dear,” Alcina said, with her hands on her hips. “I will pay for it.”

“Money is not the problem, Alcina,” Donna responded, leaving the puppet on the floor, which approached you curiously, making you nervous. That doll scared you. “I don't need a portrait.”

“I don't need a portrait, I don't need maids...” Alcina repeated, with a mocking tone, rolling her eyes. “Donna, please, you should start acting like the Lord you are.”

“No, it’s not necessary, Lady Dimitrescu. If she doesn't want it…” You said, dissipating a bit of that strange tension formed around you.

“You will do as you are told, (Y/N)” the vampire interrupted you with a severe but soft and funny tone at the same time.

After that order, you made a funny gesture to Donna, to let her know that you couldn't help her. You couldn't tell what face she made at your sneer and shrug.

“Can we just have tea?” The doll asked, with a less squeaky tone than usual. Was it Donna?

“Fine, ladies” the lady in white sighed, placing a hand on the smaller woman's shoulder.

Something, something you couldn't explain, made you approach the lady in black and lean towards her.

“Lady Beneviento, I'm afraid that if Mrs. Dimitrescu orders me, I will have no choice but to fulfill her wishes.”

The lady turned her head towards you abruptly.

“Don't come to my house,” she whispered in a dangerous, threatening voice.

You ignored those words and insisted. Curiosity was always one of your virtues, but also one of your worst flaws.

“Well, I don't mean to bother you. I'm just saying that...”

“Don't come to my house,” she repeated, annoyed, leaving you behind on your way to the table.

“Donna, don't be rude... You shouldn't despise a gift,” Alcina commented, of course, attentive to that discreet, not so discreet, conversation. “I promise you that you will not regret it.”

You wouldn't know how to explain the final acceptance of the lady in black. Alcina was a persistent woman and you, well, you were following her orders.

“Hello? Lady Beneviento?” You asked, knocking politely on the door, looking at the beautiful landscape around you, not to admire it, but to check that you were not hallucinating, that your interference in the Lord’s life would not cost your own. You had heard so many things about the lady that you didn't know exactly what your fate would be.

“You have come,” the mourning lady sighed, opening the door suspiciously, with that hoarse and soft voice that you were so unaccustomed to hearing.

“Well, I had no other choice,” you said amused, with a smile that said: don't kill me. “I can come in? I'm sorry, but this is heavy.”

She moved away reluctantly, revealing the Beneviento hacienda, a dark, dusty, sad place. You couldn't find a more appropriate place for Donna, you really couldn't.

“Let's get this over with,” she whispered, her Angie doll faithfully at her side, looking at you curiously.

“Well, don't be in such a hurry,” you said, putting the support on the ground and looking for a well-lit place for your task. There weren't many to choose. “This takes time.”

“I hope it takes not much,” she hissed, with that brusque tone. You rolled your eyes with your back turned and found a perfect corner, with a white wall in the background.

You placed a slightly darker fabric on the wall and pulled a chair closer to it, checking the perspective with your hands.

“Perfect...” You whispered, placing a blank canvas on the easel, centering it and glancing askance at the lady in black, who remained standing, immovable, stoic and annoyed. “Um, sit down, please.”

The lady nodded reluctantly, picking up the puppet from the floor and leaving it limp in her arms while you prepared all the things you needed, which were not few.

When the woman sat down, you noticed a small, big detail. The veil. You couldn't paint a woman like that. There was beauty in art, and there was nothing beautiful in a covered face. Your artistic instincts and the perfectionism you put into your work, made you clear your throat.

“Sorry but...” You stammered while mixing the paint.

“What? Start now,” the lady demanded, gripping the puppet tightly.

“I can't, Lady Beneviento. You have to take that thing off,” you said with your voice broken by fear, pointing to the veil on her face.

“No,” she said, emphasizing the refusal with her head, making you snort. You thought that portraying Alcina was dangerous…

“If you don't, I can't portray you,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Well, don't portray me then, get out,” Donna snapped at you in a harsh tone, her knuckles white from the force with which she clenched her fists.

“It turns out that I can't do that,” you said ironically, beginning to get tired of the childish attitude of the woman in black. “Alcina has paid me to portray you.”

“I'll pay you double if you leave me alone,” she said, in a comical strategy that couldn't help but make you smile and raise your eyebrows.

“You're trying to bribe me, huh?” You said mockingly, something you instantly regretted. “Sorry, that doesn't work for me.”

“Maybe I should throw you over the waterfall to make you reason, what do you think?” She said with a somber voice, getting up from the chair, with her puppet hanging from her hands, white due to the pressure she was putting on them.

You were afraid, but you couldn't let your emotions get in the way of your work. You were still curious.

“Do it, but you will have to explain to Alcina why you got rid of her only portrait artist,” you challenged, hiding the trembling of your hands. She didn't stop on her way to you.

“Portraitist… Don’t make me laugh,” she joked with a sinister tone. “I know what you are to her. I’m not stupid.”

“Congratulations, you are completely wrong, Lady Beneviento. Maybe you’re just jealous because people pay attention to Alcina and not to you.”

“Cagna,” she hissed, stopping her walk and kicking the ground.

“Oh, you insult me, what a good answer,” you said amused, with your arms crossed and without moving an inch.

Donna seemed confused by the fact that you understood her insult, but she didn't stop having that defiant stance.

“Shut up,” she whispered, with the same dangerous voice, but now, somewhat broken.

“Take that ridiculous veil off once and for all,” you whispered tiredly, reaching out to abruptly remove the black fabric from her face, something she couldn't prevent due to your quick movement.

“Give it back to me, now!” She demanded, covering her face with her hands. You shook your head, fighting her attempts to lunge at you and surely strangle you for your audacity.

“Be still,” you said annoyed, removing the hands from her face and discovering a beauty that left you paralyzed on the floor. Your face relaxed at the sight of her face, her perfect features, overshadowed by a horrible scar on her right eye.

She was beautiful, truly beautiful. The concept of beauty you had, changed completely when you saw her black hair, her pale face, her practically perfect features. Donna Beneviento was beauty, she was just art.

Moved by the revelation of what she was so ashamed of, your face relaxed, breathing deeply and stopping fighting with her, returning the veil to her with a gentle gesture. Donna was breathing hard, nervous, with her one eye moist due to tears.

“It's okay. I'm sorry,” you whispered, returning to the canvas, omitting the confrontation and feeling sorry for the lady in black. “I didn't know.”

She didn't respond, just returned to the chair, sobbing.

“I'm not going to force you to take off your veil, but if the scar is what embarrasses you, I won't portray it,” you commented, with a still annoying but more understanding tone.

“Can you do that? Can you remove it?” Donna asked unexpectedly, picking up the puppet from the floor and hugging it, seeking comfort. You nodded.

“Sure,” you said with a dry voice, mixing several paints based on what you had seen of her skin.

She shifted in her chair, thinking about her options and finally, she pulled the black fabric away from her face and let it fall to the floor, her gaze focused on the same spot.

“Good,” you murmured, slowly approaching her to raise her chin and study her features better, something the lady rejected at first, but her insistence faltered under your attentive gaze.

“Don't tell anyone,” she whispered while you studied her profile, her hair...

“I won't do it,” you said with a firm voice, self-conscious about her beauty, a beauty that you didn't understand why it was hidden. “Anyway, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You are a beautiful woman.”

The compliment reached her ears and Donna responded by blushing and shaking her head.

“Stop lying to me and start painting,” she ordered, holding Angie tightly.

“Okay,” you whispered, placing the puppet in a correct position. “Now just… Try to stay still, okay? The sooner it's over, the sooner I'll leave you alone.”

She nodded and you returned to the canvas. Inspired by her beauty, the brush slid across the white fabric in an elegant, determined way. Donna looked at you and tried to be as still as possible.

Silence reigned in that old house while you began your art. Every time you looked up, you wondered more things about the woman in black. Mother Miranda had been to blame for the deformity of her face, for making her isolate herself, ashamed of her appearance.

You wondered why life was so unfair, why such a fragile and sick woman, according to her siblings, had to suffer that terrible blow of fate.

“I think that's enough for today,” you said, sighing, leaving the brush aside and looking at the canvas, which already had her shape, the shape of her figure, her face. “I'll be back tomorrow.”

One day, two, three... So up to a week.

The afternoons were silent, well, until that afternoon.

“You can relax,” you said, sighing. Donna obeyed, breathing normally again. “Do you want to take a look?”

“I prefer to do it when it's finished,” she responded, leaving the doll on the floor, instantly reviving and running around the house.

You raised an eyebrow and smiled, relaxing as well.

“You have more patience than your siblings,” you commented, looking again at that hidden beauty. Whenever your sessions ended, she would cover her face again but that time, she didn't, much to your surprise.

“I'm not like them,” Donna murmured in a brusque, offended tone. You sighed, shaking your head. No, she definitely had nothing to do with them, at all.

“I see,” you said amused, drying your hands now clean of paint. “Lady Beneviento, I...” You whispered, wanting to make that overwhelming tension that always was when you were at her house to disappear.

“Donna,” she corrected, making you close your mouth.

“Donna,” you repeated, with the most respectful voice you could. “I want to apologize. I wasn't nice to you.”

“I want to apologize too,” she said. Her gaze was sincere and her hands played with the black fabric of her dress.

“Well, let's try it again then,” you said amused, approaching the lady and extending your hand towards her. “I'm (Y/N), nice to meet you,” you joked, letting her shake your hand. A shiver ran through your body as you touched her extraordinarily soft skin.

“Sei divertente,” she sighed, making you raise your eyebrows.

“You think so?” You asked jokingly, taking another look at the canvas. The truth is that it was one of your best portraits and, although you appreciated her patience, you were eager for Donna to take a look.

“You know Italian?” She asked curiously. You looked at her over the fabric and shook your head.

“Well, not that much...” You murmured. “I understand it, but I don't speak it,” you commented, giving the portrait a final touch, a habit you always had when you finished a session. Donna nodded with a different, relaxed smile. “Do you cook as well as the stereotypes say?”

That little joke made a small laugh fill that gloomy room. You had never seen her laugh, and now, you didn't want to stop doing it.

“Actually, I don’t know. I have never cooked for anyone,” she said nervously, embarrassed, looking away from you again.

“If you need a judge, well, here I am,” you joked, realizing what you had said and instantly regretting it. It was a joke, but something inside you wanted the answer to be similar to what it was after a moment.

“Do you want me to cook for you?” She asked abruptly and with a nervous voice. “I mean, it's late and... Well, maybe you want to, you know, stay for dinner...”

“I... Well, of course...” You sighed, hiding your blush behind the canvas, as well as your smile. No, it wasn't a date, it couldn't be a date. You had made a comment and she had taken it seriously, nothing else. Nothing else.

Even though it wasn't a date, the tension traveled through the air as if it were. Maybe it was the smell of paint that had permeated the walls, or maybe it was that Alcina was less and less present in your head, replaced little by little by Donna, by that disturbed but... Beautiful woman.

“Did you like it?” She asked with a soft voice, by light of the candles on the table.

No, it wasn't a date.

“I think in this case the stereotypes have been right,” you said amused, wiping yourself with a napkin. “It was delicious, Donna.”

“Thank you...” She sighed, finishing her glass of wine. You smiled, lowering your head to the table, avoiding meeting her gaze more time than necessary.

“Hey, wait, I recognize that doll,” you said when you looked up and locked on a porcelain doll leaning on the cupboard. Surely your mind was looking for a damn stupid excuse to stop thinking about her. “I had a similar one when I was a little girl.”

Donna nodded curiously, standing up to hand you that old toy so you could see it.

“Oh, yes... It's the same doll,” you said, remembering the old and inert confidant of your childhood. “Did you make it?”

Donna nodded with a strange grimace, probably because of that curious question.

“I make dolls,” she explained with a soft voice, revealing the nervousness she felt when being close to you.

“Oh, yes, of course, I already knew that but... Did you know that the doll was my first model?”

“Your first model?” Donna asked curiously, returning the doll to its place and looking at you over her shoulder.

“Yes, well I... I started painting when I was very young and since my parents were very busy... Well, I portrayed the doll,” you explained amused, with a nostalgic tone in your voice. “It's curious, don't you think?”

“What's curious?” the lady in black asked as you sat down at the table again.

“Well, first I portrayed one of your dolls and then I’m portraying you,” you said, regretting how clumsy your words sounded.

“I guess it was easier for you. The doll didn't move,” she said with an amused voice, looking down again.

“Yes, well, but I... I prefer, I prefer to portray you,” you said, almost in a whisper, fighting with the confusing thoughts in your mind, not wanting to see the reaction of the brunette, who remained silent.

“What kind of relationship you have with Alcina?” Donna asked, with a more serious tone. A question totally out of context, which made you look up and your hands start to shake.

“I don’t know,” you said, shaking your head, looking at her downcast, sad face. “I only make portraits for her, nothing else.”

“You were right, you know?” She murmured, playing with her wine glass, letting you know that her hands were shaking too. “I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” You asked immediately, letting your body and mind to do the talking for you.

“Alcina always... she always has everything she wants... Maidens, portraits, affection, love...” Donna whispered, shaking her head. You let her talk. “I've always been alone.”

“Well, I don't understand,” you said with a sigh and a tender smile, resting your hand on the table and tapping the wood with your fingers. “You have nothing to envy her, Donna.”

“Of course I have,” the lady said abruptly, banging her fist on the table, making the plates dance dangerously on top of it. “She is beautiful and I…”

“You are beautiful,” you said, sighing, calming her rapid breathing and looking at her sad face, one that, no matter how many hours you spent portraying it, you never got tired of looking at.

Your hand grabbed hers gently, caressing the addictive softness of her skin, painfully enjoying her touch.

“(Y/N), I...” Donna murmured, letting your hand go as if it were burning, and getting up from the table, regretting what she was going to say. “It's getting late.”

You couldn't help but feel some disappointment at those words, but you nodded with an elegant smile, getting up from the table.

“It's true, besides, I think I'll finish your portrait tomorrow,” you commented, picking up your backpack and walking towards the door. “Thanks for dinner, Donna.”

“Wait,” she said, running to your side hurriedly, grabbing your wrist and forcing your body to turn.

“Mm?” You hummed in a low voice, with your body reacting with more tremors and chills. Her hands hung over yours, keeping you very close to her, too close to her. Her beauty up close was much more than art.

“Since, since you come to my house every day I... I no longer feel... Alone,” she murmured with a trembling voice, getting closer and closer to your body.

Your hands released hers and traveled to her hair, playing with it while your gaze was lost in hers. Her cheek received your caresses and her eye went straight to your lips, just like yours.

But, as if something inside you forced you to pull away, you did, cupping her face in your hands, sighing at the confusion of your feelings.

“I'm sorry, I...” Donna murmured, confused and embarrassed. You shook your head, smiling and playing with her hair again, slowly separating yourself.

“Don’t worry...” You whispered, grabbing her waist, but not granting your body the desire to kiss her. Your feelings were contradictory, too incomprehensible for you to understand why you stopped.

You walked back home wondering why you were so stupid. It was obvious that there was something, that you had feelings for that strange woman. All the alarms in your heart were ringing relentlessly for you to realize it. You didn't even think about Alcina anymore. Only Donna was on your mind, Donna and that kiss that you didn't dare to give to her.

“It's... Wonderful...” Donna said when you finally finished her portrait the next day. She had a serious, stoic expression. The painting perfectly reflected her personality, her seriousness, but above all, her beauty, a beauty that was not real in that portrait, but was real for you.

“Do you like it?” You asked satisfied, while the lady ran a hand over her scar, non-existent in the painting. Something you weren't proud of. You liked her that way. You loved her just the way she was. You loved her

Donna nodded, looking at every detail your brush captured on the canvas, every inch of pale skin you portrayed. She was amazed, really happy to be able to look at herself as she would like, and with a sad air, which was probably due to the fact that it was just a painting, and not a mirror.

“You should hang it somewhere, I think it's one of the best I’ve made,” you commented, stopping looking hypnotically at the lady, who was looking at the portrait in the same way.

“Yes, you are, you are right,” she said hurriedly, grabbing your wrist and dragging you through the living room to the hall, pointing to the stairs. “I thought it could look very good in that wall, what do you think?”

You nodded, studying how that little piece of art would look on those stairs. It seemed like a very visible place, which showed that Donna was truly happy with your work.

“Yes, it's a good place. I'll frame it for you and help you to hang it,” you said, crossing your arms, making her smile happily, a smile that didn't last long, as it faded as Donna walked back into the living room.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You asked worried, putting a hand on her shoulder as she looked at that portrait again. She shook her head.

“I guess you'll leave now,” she sighed, without looking you in the eyes. You bit your lip, knowing that this truth was terrible for you, that last night's mistake was the biggest one of your life.

“Well, I...” You muttered confusedly, interrupted by a pale finger on your lips.

“Don’t worry, I understand. I'm sure Alcina is waiting for you,” she said, with a fake smile. You rolled your eyes and anger pooled in your stomach. You had nothing with Alcina and you didn't want to have it anymore. It was Donna the woman you loved.

“Hey, I... I already told you that I have nothing to do with her,” you said with an annoying voice, raising her chin slightly, a gesture she rejected.

“Last night I... I wanted, I wanted to kiss you,” she confessed in a voice that was barely understandable due to the trembling of her lips.

You opened your mouth to speak, but you didn't, you didn't know what to say, what stupid excuse to make so as not to look like an idiot.

“Me too,” you said in a low voice, getting a little closer to her, untangling her fists and intertwining your fingers, making her face change into a strange and sad grimace.

“I want, I want to kiss you now,” she murmured, approaching your lips. “Allow me, please. I want to know how your lips feel on mine. I don't want you to leave without knowing, please...”

“I could never refuse to be kissed by a master piece like you...” You whispered, finally joining your lips in a soft, slow and tender kiss.

Your hands caressed each other while your lips kissed slowly, exploring that sensation so new for Donna, so desired by you. Her hands assaulted your waist, deepening her first kiss, a clumsy but full of tenderness one, full of desire, that desire for your company, for your look, for your love.

“I want you to make another portrait for me,” Donna whispered into your lips, making your legs tremble and your mind and heart agree.

You loved her and you no longer had any doubts. You never had them, until that kiss made you realize.

“I'll make all the portraits you want,” you said, caressing her cheek, kissing her again, this time with more eagerness, with hunger, with passion.

“Wait, I don't want it to be just any portrait,” she said, interrupting that kiss, gasping at the sound of your heavy breathing. “I want one that you haven't made for Alcina.”

“What do you mean?” You asked curiously, feeling that small jealousy as the beginning of what seemed like a romantic relationship, one that after many failures and lustful adventures, you never had.

Donna separated from you, walking over to the couch in the corner and pointing out your painting gadgets.

You, confused, but obedient, removed the portrait from the easel, carefully leaving it on the floor, next to the inert Angie. Carefully, trying not to trip as you moved your equipment to where the lady in black was, you grabbed another canvas and carefully placed it on the easel.

“Are you ready?” She asked, putting her hands to the buttons of her dress. You nodded, still expectant, and had to close your mouth when you saw what was happening in front of you.

Little by little each of the buttons on her dress disappeared among her fingers, then one sleeve, then the other, until only her skirt covered her legs, along with a black bra that disappeared after a few moments of hesitation.

You sat on the stool, admiring that extraordinary beauty, the perfect figure of her body. Her skin, her shoulders, her breasts... Everything was much more than art, much better than any portrait.

Donna seemed shy, but she didn’t stop trying to undress, slowly lowering her black skirt, leaving it on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

“I want you to paint me like this, (Y/N), can you do it?” Donna asked when her underwear disappeared under her touch, being kicked aside. Her gaze was fixed on you, the blush on her cheeks was evident, as was yours.

“I have never seen something so worthy of being portrayed in my life,” you sighed, observing every detail, every mark, every curve of her naked body. Focusing was going to be a difficult task, but it was worth it.

Donna smiled, her legs shaking from the embarrassment of her exposed body. You thought it was funny. She just did it to show that Alcina never had the privilege of being portrayed that way.

Even so, she posed elegantly, leaning back on the couch, covering her embarrassment like you told her. You didn't want something explicit. You just wanted the subtle, insinuating beauty of hers. A beauty that you would want to explore, that you would want to look for an angle that didn't exist to know there was more skin beneath the black hair her legs hid elegantly.

The brush traveled quickly, disorderly. Your eyes did the same, but their canvas was her body, her figure, her smile, her loss of shame, that look of unexpected love, which reached your soul. It didn't take you long to draw that perfect silhouette, but it would take you forever to forget its beauty.

“You're so beautiful...” You sighed, turning the canvas so she could see it. It wasn't an elaborate portrait. There was no need to hide her flaws, something she admired, slowly standing up and bringing her naked body closer to yours.

“Stay with me, please...” Donna said, looking at her accurately portrayed body, studying the sparkle in your eyes and your trembling hands, placing them on her chest.

“Let me stay with you...” You whispered, approaching her lips and capturing them in a wild kiss. Your hands caressed her soft skin, her back, her chest, her legs, while she followed the rhythm of your kisses, untying your work apron, putting her hand through your shirt, through your skin...

You were always a fair girl. If she was naked, you had to be naked too.

It wasn't long before the caresses ended on the couch, before the gasps and moans filled that gloomy old room with lustful joy. She was your muse, your art, she was the beauty. Donna Beneviento was the woman you waited for, one that you didn't just want for fun. You wanted to know her, you wanted to love her, make your arms to seem a refuge for her.

That portrait that would hang days later on the staircase’s wall served as a reminder of that day, of the moment when an artist like you, found the true definition of art in her beauty.

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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tigerpeachs · 2 years ago

Text

Business or Pleasure - Okkotsu Yuuta

-`ღ´- tags: 18+, fem reader, pet name usage, sex worker, pwp, dub-con (just to be safe), transactional sex, cum shot, choking, shoe licking, fingering, alcohol consumption, oral sex (male receiving), praise, slapping, shoving, tw: assault, scummy yuuta

-`ღ´- wc: 5.6K

-`ღ´- a/n: ya know - I totally skipped over one Yuuta project to flesh this out, but here’s to hoping the other one comes soon as well. also this is my first time trying something like this so hopefully it came out well! if you have any request or comments, my inbox is open ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_

-`ღ´- synopsis: You receive an odd request as a sex worker from a mysterious client. When a large sum of money is provided for your services, you decide to play along, even when things aren’t in your favor.

It was uncomfortable. You felt uncomfortable. There was something different about this meeting. You were used to sex work and selling yourself. It all came easier to you than the rat race others put themselves through. There were people miserable from working a 9-5, going home to their empty homes, and barely living their useless lives. You didn’t want that. You adjusted your dress and rocked your feet in your high heels, looking up at the elevator numbers change.

Top floor, penthouse level. You knew the man must be professional from the way he requested you. First, you were sent an NDA before you were even given access to who the client was. You were still allowed to decline if you decided to forgo seeing the client. Once you sent your signature back, which had to be approved by a notary, you received a care package and an invitation to meet your new client along with some instructions.

Hair must be styled, fresh professional makeup, waxed, shaved, oiled, and moisturized skin. You were to wear a clean-scented perfume, a fresh set of nails, and a tight black dress with red bottom heels. You accessorized with pearls, a black clutch, and a long wool coat. Everything else before this felt like practice. The attempts to look pretty, finding the most flattering dresses, saving up for pretty shoes, and soothing yourself by taking care of your body.

As the number got closer to the top floor, you pressed your shoulders down and back, then straightened up your posture. You chewed at your bottom lip slightly before the door opened. There was an older gentleman standing before you. He wore a suit and had perfect posture. His hair was greying and his skin was loose, letting you get a read that he must be in his late 60s.

You began to wonder if this was the person who you’d soon be working for. Not that you haven’t done it before, but you’d rather not sleep with older men again. There were too many awkward silences as they rutted a softening cock against your entrance.

“Right this way ma’am.” He spoke, leading the way down a lit hallway. You both stopped at a door and he placed his arm out. You looked at him inquisitively before realizing you were still wrapped in your coat. You smiled and thanked him, taking off the material. You felt a chill fall on your exposed back which lacked the warmth from your black dress. He stood in the same position and looked down at your clutch purse. You closed your eyes, smiling one more time; rather more at your stupidity than his kindness, and gave him your bag as well.

“Please enter the room and wait for the head of the house and me to return.” He departed before you could acknowledge what he said. You walked into the room with the release of a tight sigh. You immediately took in your surroundings in order to become more acclimated. There was a large table with two chairs, one on each end. There was low lighting and no apparent area of the lightbulbs location. You grabbed a seat and raised your eyebrows as you sunk in. The level of comfort it provided made you want to slouch and drape yourself over the material. How does one make wood feel soft?

Minutes ticked by and you grew bored of the room you were kept in. That thought of slouching from earlier became more delightful as time passed. Your head drifted as you sat. What might you have for dinner tonight? When was your nail tech available again? Maybe you should finish that book on your nightstand that seems to be collecting dust bunnies from neglect. Your mind drifted to worse places. Although the wait was long, it couldn't be worse than some of your previous clients.

Worst case scenario, you were about to be brutally murdered. Though, with this line of work consisting of mostly male clients, that meant there was always the possibility of assault, rape, or worse. Neutral scenario, the client might be into some shady stuff and just wants to have some fun on the side. Best case scenario? Maybe retiring for life and never having to look at your bank account again. Yeah. That sounds pretty good.

Your daydreaming was cut short by the rustling of the doorknob. You sat up again, back erect, shoulders back, neck straight, with your chest perked up. Your hands remained on your lap instead of the table and you sucked in a slow easy breath. Your eyes glossed over as you got ready to perform.

“My Apologies, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for long.” You looked over to see…a young man in front of the elder gentleman from before. If you were shocked, you didn’t show it. He was handsome with an almost playful and youthful flare to him. He wore a suit as well with the tie slightly undone. A few buttons were already opened up and his hair was out of place.

He walked over and eased a hand over his hairline, pushing it back and fixing his side part - almost as if he could feel you analyzing him.

“No need to apologize. I assure you, it wasn’t long at all.” You were intentional with your words. Although it wasn’t long, it was still a wait.

As he got closer his scent hit you. Warm and sweet. Something with an amber flare that danced across your senses. His natural scent still came through. It entered your nasal cavity and spread through you like a shot of whiskey. You could almost taste him even from his professional proximity. You stood as he reached his hand out to shake yours. You made sure to apply the same pressure and he gave you a charming smile.

“Yes, well then. Thank you for your patience.” You knew he was trying to get a read on you as well. His eyes quickly did a once-over. The only thing that caught his attention was the mess up of your lipsticks. A mark from your restless teeth during your arrival. Nerves getting the best of you took away from the prestige you tried to showcase for him.

“Is there anything I can get you?” He questioned as he moved to take his seat “Perhaps a drink?” He sat down and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he interlaced his fingers. His pace was smooth and his voice soft. Yet his presence was still demanding. It left a sense of unease in the room.

“No, thank you.” You spoke. He nodded at you but spoke his next words to the older gentleman standing by the door.

“Glenlivet Winchester, neat, please.” He moved after acknowledging the young man’s words, “Oh, and water, please. Just in case she’s parched during our meeting.” The older gentlemen paused.

“Yes, right away Sir.”

He left the room and all the attention was back on you.

The man smiled again, “My apologies, I never gave you my name. Okkotsu Yuuta. Although I’m sure you read the paperwork, you know what to address me by right?” He paused and gave you a moment to prove him right. You did read the paperwork. You memorized every line to secure the opportunity in front of you.

“Yes, Sir. That is correct.” He wanted a clean woman who was obedient in every sense of the word. He wanted you to listen to him. It wasn’t uncommon for CEOs, presidents, lawyers, doctors. They all either really liked control or being under control.

He sighed with relief, sitting back. He seemed happy. Pleased with himself to have you across from him. His hands smoothed across his thighs, fixing any wrinkles in the material of his slacks. His leg bounced slightly with excitement. You didn’t say a word, waiting for him to break the silence.

“I’m sorry if I seem improper. I’m just so…” His eyes landed on you again and it felt different this time. His gaze darkened, the polite smile before becoming a condescending smirk. Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought of what was about to become a reality. Yes, he did his research to find the right type of woman for this. He was happy to see your polished and pristine appearance. Not a hair out of place on your head. But more so, he admired how vigorous you seemed. Your body language, your handshake, hell even your tone was unassailable.

Yuuta loved money. Very much. But if there was anything he loved more, it was seeing what money did to people. How powerless they became over it. How powerless would you become for it?

“...So excited,” He finished.

The older gentlemen from before came back in with various items. There were fat cigars, a straight cutter, an ashtray, a gold-encrusted liter, two glasses, and a pitcher of water.

He moves to open the bottle of scotch but your client stops him.

“Have you served before?” You nod your head, knowing what must be coming next. Yuuta gave the older man a look of dismissal, leading him to walk out the door.

“C’mere,” He smiles, beckoning you towards him, “Pour me a drink, Sweetheart.” You stood up and walked over to him. He didn’t pay you any mind, opting to cut open one end of his cigar. Your hands smoothed over the bottle and then you twisted the top off. You grabbed the old-fashioned glass as you listened to the wheel of his liter spin. Once. twice. Then a flame sparked on the third attempt.

Pulling a few puffs through, he relaxed in his seat, leaning back and letting his head fall over the top of the chair. His neck, long and elegant, strained as he pressed the smoke out of his lungs, letting it dissipate above him. He hummed in contentment before pulling his gaze back up to you. You poured him a perfect serving. Two fingers worth. You held it out to him. He gripped your wrist, making you jump slightly from his speed and strength. Your skin burned under his hold.

He kept his eyes on you as he brought your hand to his mouth.

You knew better than to look away. His gaze told you everything you needed to know. Keep. Your eyes. On. Him. He sipped from the glass, once, twice before releasing your hand. You shifted your weight on your heels, holding the glass closer to you as your joints ached. He sits properly on his throne and offers to take your hand. You set the glass down and place your hand in his. He spreads his legs a little bit.

“Take a seat for me,” You didn’t have to guess that this show of dominance and your submission did something to him. You could tell from the strain of his pants that he liked playing this game with you. You liked playing games too.

You stood between his legs as the start of his little competition began. You opt to sit on one leg and drape your legs across the other, knowing it wasn’t exactly what he wanted. You crossed your legs and rested one hand on his chest, the other draped across his shoulders. He grabbed at your waist whilst holding his cigar in his mouth. The expensive smell of his cologne was washed out by thick ringlets of smoke. He removed his smoke for a second.

“Grab the glass for me, baby.”

You did as you were told, leaning over, slightly out of his embrace. When you returned he took another sip, making you hold the glass for him. Although you knew he was somewhat fit, the seat you took changed your perception of him completely. While you saw a skinny man, his suit worked well to hide the heavy expanse of muscle underneath it. His fingers skimmed across your hip, making your body trust his touch.

“You listen very well.” He starts to talk. “I like that about you.”

You remained silent following his cues for another sip of alcohol. His hand came up to toy with the shoulder strap of your dress. This moment felt slow, as though you both were moving through molasses. His eyes ran over you, and he took a tentative touch to your collarbone. He pulled you in a bit closer and you did your best to remain still. Sitting pretty. Like a well-trained dog.

He dragged his nose across your neck, inhaling your scent and groaning in approval. The sound he made caused you to press your thighs together. Thoughts of eliciting that noise out of him again cluttered your mind.

Yuuta felt hungry. His hand dropped to your hip, palming it with excitement. You smelled raw and sweet. It was like a mix of vanilla and brandy. He couldn’t help but press his lips against your neck in a wet kiss, moving up slightly to nip at your jawline. You felt a wave of desire run through you, causing your hands to become unsteady. You retaliate by tightening your hold around the glass and adjusting yourself to press against his erection.

“Mmm, you taste damn good,” He groans against your skin. You could feel his arousal, heavy against you. You arched your back, enjoying the compliment, and quickly discovered the accumulation of arousal in between your thighs. His hands felt rougher, the drink in your hand rippled as he hitched the fabric of your dress up. Your panties were already damp from his light teasing and he was soon to find that out if he kept inching his fingers up.

“Too bad you’re just some trashy prostitute.”

Your rushed hands slammed against his chest, and you quickly moved out of his lap in the process. The scotch fell from your hands, spilling over the rim and onto your client. His cigar ashed out from the process, falling onto his expensive slacks. You swallowed hard as he stared down at the mess you made on him. The glass remained on the floor beneath the two of you. Cracked - just like the facade between you both.

The room is suffocating in silence and time seems frozen.

His eyes stayed down for a minute.

Or a few.

Right as you open your mouth, he takes a stand and tsks in disapproval. The cigar drops into the ashtray and he swipes across his slacks to get rid of the ash. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t come out of the fabric well. Yuuta grabbed at your elbow to position you well. He takes one large deep breath.

A sting spreads across your face. His large hands push roughly at your shoulders, forcing you down so fast that your knees slam against the floor. The sharp pain makes you cry as you hunch over trying to comfort yourself quickly. Yuuta smooths his hair back once more before taking a seat again. He sighs out of exhaustion before taking a look at you. You’re still bowed over, registering the fact that he struck you.

“Hey,” He says plainly.

You look up at him with disdain. No. Disgust.

He tilts his head at the look and then gives a sweet laugh. He views your pout as comical. Sort of like when a child throws a tantrum or a dog is upset at its owner. He leans towards you and his finger slides under your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze.

“I paid a lot of money for you. I know you’ve been in this line of work for a while and you promote yourself well.” He tilts your head to look at the red mark across your cheek. He whistles at the sight, thinking maybe he was a little too heavy-handed on his brand-new toy. He still wanted you to look presentable after all. “You’re a good businesswoman, right? You come up with your end of the deal typically and men, like me, find that admirable. Girls like you work really hard don’t they?” He forced you to nod before letting go of your chin.

He sits back up, creating distance between the two of you.

“You can always leave if you want,” He takes his eyes off of you, looking unamused with the thought. He gives you a moment as if it was the respectable thing to do. As if you could pass up a payout like this. While tears brimmed your eyes, you mentally reminded yourself of that.

“Or,” He drags his eyes back to you and smiles politely. He knows your answer already. It was apparent in the sick look on his face. “Can you be a respectable partner? Do you want another chance to be my good girl?” He leans in a bit, resting his forearms against his thighs.

You knew what he was thinking.

And that's what made you feel so pathetic when you said -

“Yes, Sir.” In a broken tone.

His smile grows before he sits up. He grabbed your face with the same brute strength he used before. Although it hurt, he smoothed his hand over the mark on your cheek, gently touching the skin and leaving a burning sensation in its wake. The look in his eyes was tender, endearing, and loving.

His touch didn’t stop. He slipped a hand under your chin again, holding you in place. The other moved to your mouth, where he pressed his thumb against the seam of your lips. You slowly opened up, allowing him to violate the new expanse of skin. He didn’t have a look of arousal on his face. It was more inquisitive. Like he was examining you with care.

He dragged his fingers across your gums and against your teeth. He stretched your mouth out before he slid his fingers down your throat. You tensed as you suspend your gag, curious if he would prefer for you to fight the intrusion a little instead. He doesn’t switch his body language up to showcase what he wants. Instead, he runs his thumb across your lips once more, impressed that your lipstick doesn’t smudge.

“Stand for me,” You didn’t bother verbally responding, only raising up on shaky legs in front of him. He warms up to your obedient nature, leaning back a little as he pulls you forward just a step.

“That’s my good girl, you’re being so sweet for me.” He sucks at the finger that was just inside your mouth, sending a chill down your exposed spine.

“Strip for me. Keep your undergarments on.” He sat back more and started to relax in the chair. He didn’t bother watching as you stripped. The dress fell smoothly off your skin as he decided to glance at his wristwatch.

He put his hand up, curling his fingers towards him in a beckoning motion. You step out of the dress, moving towards him. You notice that he grabs at his cock, possibly to adjust himself or maybe to alleviate his erection. He tightened his jaw as he concentrated on your form. You were beautiful. Warm skin and a voluptuous body. Prim and proper. Sweet and ripe for his taking. His eyes glazed over in admiration of such a woman. He could jerk himself off in a matter of seconds from watching you. The thought entertains him, but Yuuta was never greedy. He could hold out for something better.

He grabs at your waist, pulling you towards him. His hands skimmed over the thin fabric of your underwear, skimming over your sex. His fingers dragged down your thighs and took in the expanse of your skin. He put some weight against one palm, and lightened the other, making you turn in his hold.

Your back faced him. You wish you could see him but you elected to keep your posture facing away from him. Again his hands skimmed and examined your frame. Light touches pressed against your skin as he felt your spine. He skimmed at the dip of your back, petting over the area as images of you bent over, struggling to take him filled his mind.

You felt his face come near, the hair from his head slightly tickling your lower back. His hands found their familiar place on your hips once more. He couldn’t control himself.

There was no verbal instruction. Instead, you felt his hands bend your forward. You made sure to fold your body over for him, sticking out your ass, waiting to feel his hands explore your frame once more. But he found what he was looking for. You're soaked. The fabric stuck to your cunt, a silhouette of it forming through beautiful threads of fabric.

His touch didn’t come.

He cleared his throat, unable to look away from the sight in front of him.

“Stand up straight for me,” He instructs, leaning back. You slowly raise and you peak at him over your shoulder. He’s covering the bottom part of his face, his unnerving smile gone, and his eyes flit over your frame, landing on your expensive pussy covered by a pathetic excuse for underwear. His mind is still on the place between your thighs.

“Drop to your knees for me,” He says, rubbing his hands together, working to soothe himself. You do as you are told. You drop down and look back at him, giving slow blinks to him. He wraps a hand around the back of your head. You follow his lead as he pulls you forward. You brace yourself against his knees but continue to follow his motion.

Your cheek meets his upper thigh, laying against his hard-on. You can feel how big the mass is through the thick fabric of his dress pants. You take a deep breath as he reaches over you, dragging his fingers from the bottom of your spine upwards.

Once they catch over the latch of your bra, he lightly prods at the fabric. You exhale as he undoes the garment. The lacey piece falls from your skin, your breast chilled from the air in the room. Yuuta pulls the piece off the rest of the way before allowing you to lean back.

You sat pretty for him.

He smiled at you. You smiled gently back this time. Possibly from his warmth.

Possibly from his uneasy nature.

He lifts his shoe towards you. You look down, noticing an amber liquid lightly spread across the leather of his dress shoes. He doesn’t bother playing into your confused nature. Instead, he places the shoe across the warmth of your chest, right over your sternum, and presses in slightly.

“Be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.”

Silence filled the room once more.

You didn’t have to do this. You could get up and leave. You looked over to the table to see if any napkins were present. There weren’t. You assumed he wouldn’t be happy if you used your dress or bra to wipe his shoes clean. You looked up at him once more, uncertain.

He frowned, tilting his head to the side.

“C'mon, lick it up.” You felt frozen in time. That's disgusting. Foul. You don’t know where his feet have been this whole time or how long he’s worn these shoes. You stare at the amber liquid once more and he gets impatient. He grinds the balls of his feet into your chest, annoyed.

You grip at his ankle to alleviate the pressure. If you thought his hands felt heavy, the weight of his foot was unfathomable. It felt like he was crushing your ribs. You had to press into the ground just to stay upright underneath his dirty shoe.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and exhale through your nose. The money. That large sum of money could easily keep you from doing work like this again for a while. Plus, you supposed you’ve licked worse…

Yuuta smiled as you pulled his shoe closer to your mouth. You ran your tongue across the rich leather, the scotch mixing with the unique earthy flavor. You made sure to suck it up, just as you did your ego. You gazed up at your client, his eyes were hazy and his mouth hung open slightly. You noticed a slight movement from his hand and dropped your eyes to see him palming himself.

After sucking up each drop of scotch, the man leaned over. You held the liquid in your mouth as he pulled your head closer from the nape of your neck.

“Don’t swallow yet,” He instructs and you listen. You brace your hands on your thighs, intimidated by his lustful gaze. He leans in more and pulls you in as well. His lips press against yours with hunger and urgency. You moan into the kiss, opening yourself up to him. His tongue pursues yours, and he suckles around it, taking the scotch and grime off his shoe into his mouth. You expect that to be it. Just a kiss for his game. He didn’t relent. His mouth was bruising and demanding. It was a message. You wouldn’t win against him.

You gasp as he pulls away, seeing such a serious look on his face.

He hums in approval. His thumb slides across your spit-slicked lips for a moment before he grasps at your chin. He pulls you closer and you follow his lead. Your face is close to his again.

“Can you be a smart girl for me?” He asks before leaning back. He doesn’t bother waiting for your response. Only one glance down at his erection and you understood what he meant. Your hands slide up the expanse of his thighs, skimming over his cock. He jumps lightly at the touch, forcing his gaze back to you. You meet his eyes, expert hands undoing his belt without a single glance away. He chuckles lightly at that and grabs at the cigar on the table.

You ease your hands into his slacks. Gentle touches, slow moves, teasing in every sense of the word. You tug his pants down just enough for the outline of his cock to no longer be trapped beneath it. There’s a slight light coming from the cherry of his cigar, helping you see the precum that's left a wet mark on his briefs.

Before removing his underwear you lean over him and press your lips right against his covered tip. He stalls, watching you with his interest piqued. You suck gently at his leaky tip, savoring the taste of him. You had to admit… it tasted better than most of the cum you’ve swallowed down. He pulls gently at your hair and you come up only to take his underwear off.

His cock slapped against his button-up, his swollen head leaving a bead of cum on the expensive cotton. He watched intently as you took him in. His cock was pretty in every sense of the word. It was flushed pink at the tip, with a base a bit more tan than his milky skin tone. The veins running down his shaft were thick and continued around his pelvis. He curved upwards slightly and once you grabbed at it, it felt warm and heavy in your hands. Most importantly, it was big.

You got into a proper position, letting your back arch as you leaned forward. One hand braced yourself in between your folded legs and the other led his tip against your lips. He didn’t bother speaking, but you could tell he was excited from the way he scooted his hips forward in his chair. You pressed open-mouth kisses to the underside of his tip, getting the sensitive area wet.

You can hear him inhale the smoke right as you open your mouth more, letting the head of his cock slip in. Both hands rested against the ground now as you leaned forward, taking more of him inside of you. You suckled around the skin, moaning slightly as you pulled back. Soft breaths fell from his lips as you got into a rhythm. He felt heavy on your tongue. Your jaw ached from the weight and stretch of trying to accommodate him.

You persisted in taking all of him, flattening your tongue and sucking more of him down. It hurts. A lot. Your nose finally touched the hairs against his pelvis. You purposely clenched your throat around his shaft causing him to grip at your hair. A broken moan fell from his lips that made your arousal feel heavy. The cigar was long forgotten as he used both hands to lead you up and down his dick.

You kept the pace he set, only breaking it to hold all of him inside you again. Once more, you tightened your throat while licking at his balls. His moans were broken by a slight laugh. He dropped his hands and allowed you to play with him as you pleased. You moved back to his tip, sucking harshly before licking his full length and mouthing at his base.

You couldn’t help but feel smug at the look on his face. He was ruined. His hair was a mess, the shirt he wore had more buttons undone. And the drunk look on his face told you everything you needed to know. You brought one of your hands up to stroke him and sucked at the under seam of his tip. He shut his eyes, restraining himself. It was too much. Feeling the pressure you forced out of him along with seeing your angelic figure pleasuring it. It made you happy to see him working so hard against you.

You tightened the grip on your stroke and sucked just a little harder causing his hips to stutter. You moved to take his whole cock in again but he moved faster. He grabs at your shoulder and forces you back. Your grip was replaced by his and you watched as he rutted his cock into his hand. More moans fell from his sweet lips as he watched you.

Swollen lips and tear-brimmed eyes. Your chest heaved and your skin was wet from his precum and your drool. He liked seeing you ruined beneath him. He liked the mark he left on you. He liked seeing you be his mess. The thought of having you again and again and again plagued him. The images flashed before him as his cum shot out across your tits.

Warm cum dripped across your collarbones and breast. It mixed in with the previous mess you made from sucking his cock. The sight was absolutely vile and yet, both of you couldn’t get enough.

Your break was short-lived.

Yuuta immediately grabs at you before laying you across the table. You try to sit up on your elbows at the very least, but he pushes you back down, shaking all the materials on the surface from his force.

“Fucking hell,” He grunts, laying his still-hard cock across your pantie-clad cunt.

“Look at what you do to me,” You don't have to look through. You can feel him. You can feel the heavy weight of his cock prodding at your lower lips. You can feel the sticky drip of his cum still easing out his tip. You can feel how slick he is against your pelvis. And you wanted to feel him more.

While you’re anticipating the thought of what that delicious stretch inside you would feel like, Yuuta collects some of the cum across your breast and rushes to press it in your mouth. You don’t hesitate to take his offer. You slide your tongue across his digits as he pumps them in and out of your mouth. His cock jumps at the feeling, tensing with the need to be inside you.

You’re being so good for him. You take every drop he gives you and you’re looking up at him like you're thankful to be here with him. Thankful to have his cum on your lips.

And he smiles.

It touches his eyes for once.

“Atta girl.” His eyes drop, taking in your naked frame once more. He ruts his cock against your slick-covered folds one last time, squeezing at your hip to control himself. “Thank you for this.” He leans back, tucking himself away.

He helps you sit up and slowly move off the table.

“Get dressed, then please help yourself to any refreshments.”

He then walks out without a word to you.

You slowly get dressed and the moment you straighten yourself up completely there was a knock at the door. You didn’t bother saying come in, instead, the older gentlemen from before walked in. He doesn’t say a word to you. He holds out your coat, purse, and a special envelope. Once placed in your hands you could tell it was filled with unmarked dollar bills.

You’re led back to the elevator and descend to your normal life.

A few weeks pass by. Life was good. There was no need to schedule new appointments due to the surplus of money Yuuta provided you. You lay across your couch wondering what you could possibly do with your day. There was a new café in town you could try. Or maybe you could hit the farmers market and take a walk into the city. Just go with the ebb and flow of life for a little while. A knock interrupts your daydreaming forcing you to sit up.

You didn’t dare to answer the door right away since you weren’t expecting any guests. A chill ran over your body as you thought of who it might possibly be. You slowly moved towards your door and listened to hear if anyone was out there. Once the coast was clear you creaked open the door slightly. You look around, not seeing anything until you gaze downward. There stood a letter. In the same envelope.

The same type of special envelope you recalled receiving from your last client.

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kyomaakuma7 · 1 year ago

Text

After a very long break I’ve come to finally say my share. For those who want to know in more depth how I feel about the full situation I am writing it down below.

Thank you for everyone who sent kind messages and comforting words and thank you most to my good friend @thisanimatedphantom and Kou who supported me through these hard times.

My statement on the Situation

When I started in Inky Mystery, I never thought that it would get me to where I am today with the friends that I have now. When I was first introduced to it, and reading it I was immediately entranced into the story and wanted nothing more but to illustrate it since I had already planned to remake the original. Seeing such a well-crafted story I knew that this would be the story that I would illustrate. (And TAP knows how much work and behind the scene illustrating I’ve been doing from character turnarounds, layout design, alphabet style, and etc.)

Soon I made the first blog and received overwhelming support which I had not originally imagined would come with making my first post, and to that I am grateful. Soon I befriended the author of InkyMystery as our friendship grew, so did the attention that I received with the comics that I was illustrating for them. Unfortunately deleted against my wishes, and after trying to get it back to no avail I created a new blog where I had to restart from the beginning. This process was not easy and for those who know me, I was completely devastated by the fact that I had lost that account. After making my new account with the support of TAP I started my journey again.

Unfortunately with the positive attention comes negative attention. Soon the posts started to gain traction again, and people started to come under the assumption that I was TheGreatRouge making their come back. What people failed to acknowledge and do was to do further research on was whether or not I actually was. As you can assume I am not them. In fact, I do not like TheGreatRouge. Their content was some thing that I consumed in great mass when I was younger, but soon realized that a lot of the things that they made were toxic and I distanced myself from that. Since then, I have gained certain opinions from on this creator. Nonetheless, I do not find it acceptable that people are taking this approach, even if they do think that I am them.

The words that were said to me in my inbox, comments, and direct messages are not things that I will repeat here. What you should know is that a lot of these things were pertaining to me being a disgusting vile human who should take my own life. As someone who struggles with depression, this was a personal hit to home and it cause my mental health to decline drastically. And I spent days going through and deleting these.

At first, I did not speak out on the issue and distance myself from my friends until eventually I came back and told them what was happening. TAP felt for me and as you may know when they made a post about it which I appreciate greatly along with comforting me and encouraging my break.

I took a long break from working on the comic, along with interacting with the community which worried a lot of people, but it was necessary for me to do since it was harming me so much. I am officially coming back and I will be more active on this account since I don’t have to follow it as a mainly Inky Mystery account.

My final statement on the situation is that even though I am not TheGreatRouge under no circumstances is it acceptable to tell somebody to take their own life or attack somebody on social media just because your beliefs do not align with theirs. No matter how wrong it is, it is not acceptable. If you think that doing those things are OK then you’re not welcome in my space. Please leave.

Thank you and I hope to continue doing this since I love it so much <3

-Sincerely, KyomaAkuma

#bendy #bendy and boris in the inky mystery #bendy and boris the quest for the ink machine #quest for the ink machine #cuphead #bendy the demon #bendy the little devil darling #inky mystery

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weemssapphic · 2 years ago

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Hi! I love your stories! Could you write a story about Larissa Weems and a University Student reader? Something 18+. They do the deed in an art museum restroom and the reader gets caught by their classmates because they still have lipstick stains on their neck. Thanks :3

hello! thank you for the compliment! 🥰 so very sorry that this has been rotting in my inbox for an obscenely long amount of time, my brain for some reason really did not want me to get this done 😣 i hope it's at least halfway decent to make up for that!

thank you to @afeatherformills for the beta-read <3

warnings/content: nsfw, age gap (reader is 18+), cunnilingus/fingering (reader receiving), praise kink, marking kink

words: ~3k

Lipstick Stains

next chapter | series page

“I’ll meet you guys back here soon okay?”

“Sure, just text us when you’re done,” Robin replied, threading her fingers through Christin’s and turning to lead her into an exhibit on modern art. Cassandra offered you a smile and trailed behind them, leaving you to your own devices.

You weaved your way through the throngs of tourists crowding at the entrance, all still deciding which way to go. You’d been here often enough to know the floor plan by heart, knowing which exhibits would be the most crowded on Saturdays. You also knew that your favorite exhibit would be deliciously empty, as almost no one wandered that far back into the museum.

You settled on a bench in front of an ancient Greek sculpture and pulled your sketchbook from your bag, thumbing through it until you found a blank page, and began to sketch, the world around you fading slowly until it was only static in the background.

“Exquisite, isn’t it?” A low voice in your left ear made you jump, your stomach dropping as if you’d just hit the peak of a roller coaster, your heart skipping a beat. In your art-induced daze, you hadn’t even heard anyone else enter the exhibit.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You twisted in your seat to find the source of the interruption: a statuesque blonde towering over your shoulder. A smirk graced her crimson lips as your eyes raked over her shapely form, pausing for a moment on their upward journey at her hips before moving higher and, finally, making eye contact.

“It’s fine,” you murmured, clenching your fingers tightly around your pencil as you worked to get your racing heartbeat under control.

“Larissa,” the woman introduced herself and you noticed that she spoke in a lilting English accent. Her voice had a soothing quality to it, calming you almost instantly.

Larissa. A beautiful name for a beautiful stranger. You smiled at that, heart fluttering at the smile you received in return.

“Y/N.”

“Would you care for some company, Y/N?” Normally, you would say no to such a request, prioritizing your alone time over small talk with strangers. But something about her had you absolutely mesmerized and before you knew what you were doing, you were nodding and the woman was sitting down next to you. She was so close that you could smell her perfume - notes of jasmine and rose, floral and decidedly feminine.

“Keep working,” she encouraged, seeming to notice your hesitation as you watched her. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you turned reluctantly back to your sketch and traced along the paper. Now it was as if your entire body was prickling with electricity at this mysterious stranger’s presence, your nerves alive and burning.

You stole a glance to your left, marveling at how put-together she looked - silver curls done up in an elaborate updo, drawing attention to her long neck and the smooth planes of her rosy cheekbones, eyes the deepest shade of blue you’d ever seen, framed by mascara-coated lashes that brushed against her cheeks when she blinked, lips a bright shade of red, parted ever so slightly as she as she admired the statue you were sketching.

You wondered briefly if you should flip to a new page and start to sketch her when her eyes shifted over to you, trapping you in her gaze, and the world around you stilled. A heavy blush crept up your cheeks and you couldn’t take it anymore, dropping your gaze back to your sketchbook.

“I have to admit I was surprised to see someone else back here, it’s my favorite exhibit and it’s not often I run into anyone here.” Larissa crossed her legs as she spoke, long legs that seemed to stretch on for miles, and you had trouble tearing your eyes away from them.

“Then I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner, I come here a lot. I like it back here, it’s quiet.”

“You’re here alone?” There was an edge to the woman’s voice, something darker swimming in her eyes as she leaned towards you.

“Uh, sort of? My friends are off somewhere, I’m not meeting them until later.” You squinted slightly, trying to discern the woman’s intentions, but she leaned back again, a satisfied smile gracing her lips, any edge she’d previously had dissipating in an instant.

Somewhere between outlining the Greek statue and your conversation with Larissa, you realized you’d begun to sketch her instead, the silhouette of her body slowly taking shape under the tip of your pencil.

“What are you working on?” Larissa tilted her head towards yours, her breath warm on your cheek as she peered at your drawing. The sudden invasion of your space made your cheeks heat and your pulse skyrocket. Her perfume was overwhelming now, it filled your nostrils and clouded your senses, making you dizzy.

You hesitated for a moment - after all, this woman was just a stranger, and being caught sketching her could end up very embarrassing for you. Something about her curiosity and openness, and your intoxication by her sudden proximity, won out though, and you pushed your sketchbook over for her to see. “Just an assignment for class. I’m an art major,” you supplied.

Larissa traced a long, manicured finger over the sketch, humming her appreciation, the vibrations clinging to the air between the two of you. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring earlier,” Larissa murmured, lips pulling into a smirk as she raised her gaze to meet yours. You were a kid with your hand caught in the cookie jar, until -

A warm hand on your thigh.

A quirk of a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

It was as if your ears were ringing and the air around you was thick and all you could do was wonder if Larissa felt it too.

Larissa’s eyes darkened as she hovered over you, lips parting as she waited for you to close the distance, your faces mere inches apart. You hesitated only for a second before crashing your lips into hers, whining at how Larissa’s tongue swiped almost instantly at your lower lip. Your sketchbook and pencil clattered to the floor as Larissa’s hands came to your waist and pulled you towards her, shifting you onto her lap to straddle her thighs.

“Is this okay?” She murmured into your mouth between kisses, breath ghosting over your face.

“Yes,” you sighed, not caring that you sounded more than a little needy as you wrapped your arms around her neck, enjoying the feeling of her palms settling on your hips.

The kisses became hotter, more desperate, and you found yourself beginning to search for a bit of friction as you ground your pelvis onto Larissa’s thighs. She moaned into your mouth and dug the pads of her fingers into your hips, pushing you down onto her lap.

You found a steady rhythm, rolling your hips and getting decent friction from the seam of your jeans, but it wasn’t enough, and it soon left you growling in frustration as the coil behind your navel wound tighter and tighter but found no release.

Larissa let out a breathy chuckle and moved her lips to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe before whispering, “let me take care of that for you.”

She lifted you carefully off her lap and motioned for you to gather your things - of course you did as you were told, you couldn’t possibly refuse this woman - and then led you expertly down several hallways, avoiding crowds converging at different exhibits before stopping at the restrooms.

Larissa pulled you into one of the restrooms, swiftly locking the door behind you before latching her lips onto yours in a heated kiss and pushing you back into the sink. Larissa’s body pressed into yours, your hands pulling at her waist. Her tongue swiped at your lips, begging for entry, and you conceded, allowing her to explore the contours of your mouth. Her hands came up to thread themselves in your hair, tugging lightly as her fingernails scratched at your scalp.

She pressed a plethora of open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, swirling her tongue along the skin there. As she got to your collarbone, she began to nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave a bruise, then soothing her tongue over the little red mark. Her head dipped into your cleavage, nibbling at the soft flesh barely exposed above your shirt, eliciting a low whine from your throat.

Larissa pulled back at the sound, peering up at you. No one had ever looked at you with such unadulterated hunger before, and it unnerved you. Your heart thundered aggressively against your ribcage, so loudly you were sure she could hear it as well.

A fire had been started behind your navel and was radiating outward, setting your whole body ablaze.

“Larissa…” A wetness pooled between the apex of your thighs and you clenched them together.

“You look absolutely divine,” Larissa growled before her lips hungrily crashed back into yours. Her hands settled on your waist, tugging you closer, though they didn’t stay there for long before they began to wander. Her left hand came up to cup your breast, giving it a squeeze through the fabric of your shirt as her right hand wandered down to your jeans, her slender fingers tracing the button in question.

“May I?” She muttered against your lips, voice low and dripping with desire. You nodded into the kiss, your fingers coming to your pants to assist with the process.

With your jeans around your ankles, Larissa’s fingers grazed over your underwear and she let out a sinful moan at the wet patch she found there.

“All this for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet?” She looked at you with humor in her eyes, a smirk passing her lips as she began to kiss down your neck again, moving down your body and pulling your underwear down with her, allowing you to kick them off and to the side.

“Let me get a taste of you, darling, hmm? I bet you taste so good.”

Larissa swiped two fingers lightly through your folds, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the unexpected touch. She brought the digits to her mouth and slowly, obscenely swirled her tongue around them to taste your juices, moaning and gazing up at you through her eyelashes. You gulped audibly, trying to clench your thighs together to keep your arousal from dripping down your legs, but Larissa’s hands came to your knees to force your legs open.

“Ah-ah, let me see that pretty pussy of yours.” You blushed crimson at her words, trying to look away, but a hand on your arm made you look down. Larissa looked at you with such kind sincerity in her eyes. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, darling. You’re beautiful.” The words didn’t help with your blush, but you held her gaze this time and relished in her smile as she turned her attention back to the throbbing ache between your legs.

Heat pooled in your stomach as Larissa dragged her nails down your thighs, placing her tongue at your entrance and trailing it slowly towards your throbbing clit. Her tongue began to circle the sensitive nub and a pitiful whimper clawed its way out of your throat. You were so close already, your excitement beginning to trickle down the inside of your thighs.

Your cunt was aching, wanting - needing - more. You clutched at the sink behind you, white knuckled, pressing your hips forward, anything to get Larissa’s mouth closer, anything to get more.

Larissa hooked your calf over her shoulder to get a better angle, groaning as your pussy opened up for her. She placed her hands on your hips to hold you in place, her nails digging little half-moon crescents into the tender flesh there. Your entire body felt ablaze under her touch, you felt almost feverish as she flattened her tongue against your slit, lapping up the juices that flowed freely.

“Fuck - Larissa,” you groaned as you began to grind your hips into Larissa’s mouth, chest heaving.

One of Larissa’s hands left your hips and you gasped as cool fingers brushed against your center. The action only served to stoke the embers in the pit of your stomach and you moaned as a single digit sank into your hole halfway, pulled back out, then sank in again, further this time, slowly, all whilst her tongue ravished your clit.

A second finger soon followed and you met your hips in time with the thrusts of her fingers, unable to take your eyes off the goddess kneeling before you. A particularly loud moan fell from her lips and vibrated against your center, all but forcing you to slam your thighs shut around her head at the sensation.

“I-I’m s-so close,” you gasped, biting into your bottom lip to keep from crying out as Larissa picked up her pace inside of you, curling her fingers into the spongy spot that had you tensing up and seeing stars behind your eyes. Her tongue latched onto your clit, sucking feverishly as shockwaves began to rack your body.

“That’s it,” Larissa cooed, her lips brushing against the hood of your clit and causing your walls to clench around her fingers. “Be a good girl for me and come,” Larissa’s voice dropped several octaves as she dragged her fingers in and out of your cunt.

Maybe it was the “good girl” that did you in. Or maybe it was just the fact that Larissa was good, really, really good, at what she was doing. But come you did.

Your thrusts became more erratic as you rode Larissa’s face, reaching your high on her tongue as your world exploded around you, vulgar moans dripping from your lips. Larissa carried you through it, lapping up every drop of your essence that poured out of you, tongue flicking languidly at your clit to bring you gently back down to earth.

For a moment everything was still, your leg still hooked over Larissa’s shoulder as she held you in place. She pulled her fingers out of you, slowly and ever so gently, and you mewled at the loss of contact, which earned you a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

Larissa cleaned you up with her tongue, taking her time to explore your inner thighs and your swollen sex. She peppered your mound with kisses, then the tender flesh of your belly, the swell of your breasts, your clavicle, your throat, your jaw - her lips hovered over yours for a moment before finally making contact, though this kiss was nothing like the rest. It was slow and sweet, tender even, and you could taste yourself on her tongue.

“You did so well for me,” she praised against your lips, her hand coming to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking the flushed skin there.

As you pulled on your now-ruined panties and your jeans, Larissa stood in front of the mirror, washing her hands, redoing her lipstick, and adjusting a few bobby pins that had come loose in her hair.

“Will I see you again?” you murmured hesitantly, a bit pathetically, half-hoping that maybe she’d spare you the embarrassment of rejection and would pretend she didn’t hear you.

To your surprise, she grinned and held her palm out to you. At your quizzical gaze, she chuckled and said “your phone.”

You quickly handed her your phone and she added herself as a contact, before handing you back said phone and moving to the restroom door.

“Now, I really must get back to work, but do call me sometime.”

Larissa paused, eyes raking hungrily over your body. They stopped for a moment at your neck and a dark smirk crossed her face, a low hum of approval leaving her throat.

You felt utterly exposed under her gaze, short of breath, thighs clenched together tightly with want. Your heart pounded in your chest at the nod Larissa gave you, cool, almost professional, and in an instant she was gone, the door closing behind her. You steadied yourself on the counter, avoiding your own gaze in the mirror as you caught your breath.

Maybe, if you had bothered to look at yourself in the mirror, you’d have seen the many lipstick stains down the column of your neck that had been left during your little rendezvous, no doubt the thing that had left Larissa smirking at you before leaving you high and dry.

Alright, breathe. You’ll just find your friends, they’ll never realize you were gone. You checked your phone, 5:54pm. Shit, almost time to go. Without sparing yourself another glance (wrong move), you tucked your hair behind your ear, slung your bag over your shoulder and ran out of the restroom and straight into Cassandra.

“Hey, what gives? We spent half the afternoon looking for you!” Her eyes narrowed accusingly, then traveled down your neck, widening comically as her jaw dropped.

“Y/N, what were you doing in there?!” She shrieked.

“W-what do you mean?” You stuttered, your beet-red face giving you away (as if the lipstick stains and blooming hickeys on your chest hadn’t already).

“You’re covered in lipstick,” Cassandra hissed, not caring that several tourists were looking curiously at the pair of you as they passed.

“I’m… I’m what?” You pulled out your phone, turning on the front camera to examine yourself and groaning when you saw the marks dotting the front of your neck and chest. “Larissa,” you whined.

“Who’s Larissa? She the one who gave you those hickeys?” Robin and Christin chose that moment to sneak up on the two of you, Robin slinging an arm around your shoulder and grinning down at you. Your blush extended to the tips of your ears and you swatted her arm away, huffing in embarrassment.

“So I say we order pizza tonight and Y/N tells us alllll about her afternoon with Larissa,” Christin teased.

You turned away from your friend’s laughter, looking distractedly across the main hall of the museum as you tried to cool your blush. A group of tourists passed the front desk and you looked past them, your gaze falling to a familiar tall blonde passing through the exit. Larissa looked up at that moment and your eyes locked from across the room. Red lips stretched into a devious smile, and just like that she ducked through the door, vanishing from sight.

#larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa x reader #it's actually embarrassing how long this took me #so so sorry but i hope it's decent #lipstick stains #lipstick stains series

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saintsenara · 5 months ago

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❤, 💛, and 💜 please!

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

which character do you think is the most egregiously mischaracterized by the fandom?

having seen the state of my inbox, this isn't the only time this one will come up...

so let's start strong by going for... albus dumbledore.

i find dumbledore bashing incredibly boring - not because dumbledore is a character i think of as morally spotless, but because the way he's criticised in certain areas of this fandom becomes dull by virtue of never actually engaging with interesting critiques of his character and decisions.

dumbledore is not some machiavellian evil genius - the entire point of deathly hallows is that the omniscient vibe that he projects in the first six books isn't actually omniscience at all, and it always irks me to see authors miss this, and ascribe to malice what is clearly human fallibility. nor is dumbledore intentionally or egregiously manipulative or cruel. and nor is there something "wrong" with him.

[the closest i've come recently to throwing my laptop at the wall was seeing a nonsensical post proposing that one of the reasons why it's fine to think of him as a villain is that he has anti-social personality disorder. not because i think it's inappropriate to assign diagnoses to fictional characters, but because i think if you do wish to do that you should attempt to know what you're talking about... and (evidently quite poorly) reading the wikipedia summary of an extremely complex disorder is not that.]

dumbledore is a wartime paramilitary leader - and wartime leaders have to make extraordinarily complex decisions, often ones which result in harm befalling their soldiers. the series is generally fairly weak on the realities of war - since its genre conventions require it to end with all being well - but what it shows of dumbledore's tactics is one area in which it shines.

and it also gives us plenty of meat if we want to emphasise the ways in which he's inadmirable.

dumbledore is a creature of stasis - he holds radical views, but he does nothing to actually advance them in society [this is a man who is at the heart of the establishment for half a century, who does nothing with that power to dismantle the oppressive social structures which drive wizarding politics and prop up blood-supremacy], and he also has a tendency to adopt a "wait and see" approach in situations where intervention would be obviously more appropriate. dumbledore is a hypocrite - he’s happy to be depended on by fudge, he is appalled that fudge might depend on lucius malfoy. dumbledore lives in an ivory tower, and clearly has little interest in the ways poverty, violence, and isolation affect people. dumbledore projects his shame and self-loathing onto others in a way which is detrimental to their own happiness. and so on.

all of these flaws have a tangible impact on the arc of the series - and dumbledore's failure to take meaningful action to prevent either voldemort or snape's radicalisation is something i think he can be genuinely criticised for - but they can't be taken in isolation. dumbledore fucks up because he's just one man - and the character flaws which cause him to fuck up also contribute to many of his most admirable traits: his mercy; his courage; his steadfastness; and his faith.

and it's so much more interesting than reducing him to a one-note caricature of evil!

what is a popular ship you just can't get behind, and why?

dramione, because i have a very low tolerance for both fanon!hermione and fanon!draco.

i think it could be done interestingly... i've just never seen it.

which character is way hotter than everyone else seems to think?

which got two more shoutouts:

arthur and molly weasley.

they both clearly fuck - and the lack of respect they receive for this in the fandom is because of the tiresome association of sex with youth and [one, very narrow, view of] beauty [hence why characters like snape often become mysteriously hot when they're being written in romantic pairings...], meaning that both of them being middle-aged, arthur balding, and molly being fat means that the fact that they're clearly obsessed with each other never gets the attention it deserves.

#asks answered #unpopular opinions ask game #albus dumbledore

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the-tmnt-ficfinder · 4 months ago

Text

🐢TMNT Fanfic Appraisal Masterpost🐢

✨Link to Fanfics List Masterpost at the bottom, or here!✨

Hello, and greetings to all those who have stumbled upon my little blog! For anyone wondering, this Masterpost holds all the information you may need to navigate this blog! If you've been here before, here's a fun little To-Do list I've complied to help you all see the going on's of this blog!! Such as the amounts of fanfics in my inbox, or the list of fics to be chosen at random to have their chapters rated individually.

💚The TMNT FicFinder To-Do List💚

Now, to better explain, this blog was created with a few purposes in mind: to let Ao3 creators know that they're appreciated, to help readers find cool fanfics, and to let readers know what they're getting into with a fanfic i.e. like the tags on Ao3 but more in depth.

This blog mostly focuses on Rottmnt fanfics, 2012 fanfics, Mutant Mayhem/Tottmnt fanfics, and crossover fanfics between any of those iterations. I haven't seen the other TMNT shows and/or comics yet, which is why I won't be accepting fanfiction of them. The genre of the fanfics on this blog will usually be dramatic with lots of hurt/angst along with comfort/fluff, (as that's what we all love lol) and there will be NO T*CEST tolerated on this blog whatsoever!!! I will not rate a t*cest fic, read a t*cest fic or even look at one. I'll also be avoiding Oc x canon fanfics, and fanfics where the OC is an MC (Main Character). If you're worried about violence levels, and/or triggers, I will be rating them for each chapter so you can be prepared!!

Disclaimer!! I can refuse to add fics to the list!! While the possibility of that happening is quite low, it may happen. Particularly to fanfics that go against the stated rules, unfinished/abandoned fanfics with a low chapter count, fanfics with a high typo count (and I mean like, really high) and romance fanfics that I find unappealing.

In the event of this happening, if the fanfic in question has been sent to me, I will not delete the ask. I will answer it, along with an explanation as to why it will not be getting added to the list, and recommend it to those who may enjoy it.

What are the Ratings, and what do they mean?

Each fanfic will receive an overall rating consisting of these ten topics, rated 1-5 with heart emojis (For example; 💛💛💛🖤🖤). The rating is similar to a movie rating, letting you know what to expect. Along with each fanfic receiving a rating, each chapter within the fanfic will receive an individual rating. The ratings are;

Plot

Suspense/Mystery

Angst/Hurt

Fluff/Comfort

Emotions Conveyed

Drama/Tension Level

Triggers

Legibility (Reading)

Legibility (Audio)

Length

Now, what do these even mean?

Plot: Plot refers to how heavy the story line is. A higher rating equals a more intense plot with heavy intricate story lines.

Suspense/Mystery: This one refers to how suspenseful the story will be, or how much mystery it will contain. A high rating indicates high suspense and/or mystery and a low rating means low suspense and/or mystery.

Angst/Hurt: This refers to how intense the angst and/or hurt will be in the story. Some stories are high angst, and others low. This one pairs along with fluff/comfort.

Fluff/Comfort: This one refers to how much fluff/comfort the story has. This one pairs with angst/hurt, as some stories are high angst, low comfort, or vice versa.

Emotions Conveyed: This one refers to whether or not the emotions in the fanfic will affect your own emotions. Some writers are incredibly talented, and their chapters will make you get all up in your head, making you smile, frown, laugh, and even cry. This rating is to show how intensely the story will connect to your own emotions.

Drama/Tension Level: This one refers to how much tension will be in the story. Is it a relaxing read? Or will you constantly be on the edge of your seat, biting your nails? A high rating implies high tension which equals a more stressful read. A lower rating implies the opposite.

Triggers: Triggers are something we see often in fanfics, especially since we writers like writing about the most twisted stuff lol. This rating refers to how many triggers the story will have.

Legibility (Reading): This rating refers whether or not the story is easier to read rather than to listen to. Some stories are designed to be read only, as they have special effects, special words, and/or pictures. This rating is designed to you know if it would be better to read the story, or listen to it. This rating goes along with Legibility (Audio).

Legibility (Audio): This rating refers to whether or not the story is easier to read rather than listen to. Some stories, due to the formatting can be quite fun to listen to, especially if the story contains difficult to pronounce or difficult to read words. This rating goes along with Legibility (Reading). A high audio and reading rating, means that the story is fun to listen to, and read. A high reading, but a low audio rating means that its better to read rather than to listen, story quality may be lost in audio form.

Length: This refers to how long the story is, and how much time it may take to read it. We all have busy lives, and sometimes it can be hard to make time for reading, especially if we don't want to pause reading a chapter once we start. This rating is designed to let you know how long the story is, and how much time it'll take to read. A high rating mean a long chapter and a long time, while a low rating means the opposite. The ratings for this one, are a little more specific that the others. First of all, there's Story length, then there's Chapter length. I'll give the following example;

Story Length (Oneshots and Short stories) : 💛🖤🖤🖤🖤 (10-20+ Chaps, or long Oneshots) : 💛💛🖤🖤🖤 (30-40+ Chaps, or long chapters) : 💛💛💛🖤🖤 (50-60+ Chaps/ 2 arcs) : 💛💛💛💛🖤 (70-80+ Chaps/ 3 or 4 arcs) : 💛💛💛💛💛

Chapter Length 1-10 minutes long: 💛🖤🖤🖤🖤 11-20 minutes long: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤 21-40 minutes long: 💛💛💛🖤🖤 41-60 minutes long: 💛💛💛💛🖤 1 hour or longer: 💛💛💛💛💛

As I am a very quick reader, I will be basing the chapter length times off of how long it takes to listen to in audio book form for a more accurate reading.

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e-dubbc11 · 10 months ago

Text

Be Better

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Angst, tears, quick mention of Billy’s abandonment issues, maybe a swear or two? And of course…fluff.

Word Count: 2.1K-ish

Summary: Aimlessly wandering the New York City streets, your heart is broken. You had seen Billy out with someone else and it hurt more than breaking up with him did. But what could you do about it now?

A/N: I don’t know what the deal is with trying to answer the asks in my inbox. Some will let me, some won’t. Anyway, this is the ask I received from my sweet friend @ittybxttykxttytxtty

Thank you for sending this one in. Full disclosure, I wrote 2 fics for this prompt but I liked this one better. Thank you again and I hope you like it! 💚

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

After the rain had passed, the evening sky became a kaleidoscope of bright stars. It was a blanket of indigo heavily stitched in constellations above as you walked along the faded white lines of the crosswalk.

The city feels different at night. It’s mysterious and intimate. It swallows up the emotions of pedestrians as they hurry past you from all directions. You wished the city would absorb the emotions you were having at the moment. Anger…frustration…sadness…love.

You wished they would all go away.

Neon signs flicker from storefront windows. You could feel the vibration in your bones as the traffic hummed along the bustling city streets. The smell of food from restaurants nearby wafts past your nose, then mixes with the scent of exhaust from cars stuck in traffic.

Jumping out of an alley, a lone black cat scared you as it scampered past you, darted across the street and disappeared into nothingness. It was difficult to see where it went but hopefully it wasn’t a bad sign. You’ve had enough bad luck lately.

The city was just a whirlwind of stimulation.

If you could only make it quiet, even if it was just for a little while. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much. The invisible shard of glass in your stomach never dissolved or went away. The pain was constant but the grief came in waves. You tried to keep it from leaking out of you but it couldn’t be helped some days. The quiet sobbing in the ladies’ room at work was embarrassing but no one noticed even if you thought they did. Could the sharp edges of that glass dull over time? You really hoped so.

You walked along the cracked sidewalk, sidestepping puddles leftover from the rain but you had no idea where you were walking to. Aimlessly wandering, block after block, you thought of him. He was your only thought.

Billy Russo

He was stealing your appetite and your sleep and he didn’t even know it. Your stomach begged for food but you couldn’t bring yourself to eat. You covered the purple circles under your eyes every morning so people wouldn’t see how tired you were. The breakup wasn’t even the reason you were so upset. It was seeing him out with that other woman AFTER your breakup.

Billy invited you in closer than he allowed anyone to be but he also did his best to push you away. You weren’t strong enough to hold on and tell him that you loved him anyway. You were almost let go from your job because of him. His jealousy and possessiveness were too much and that’s when you had to say goodbye. You didn’t want to but he didn’t try to stop you.

All he had said was, “Go ahead and leave, they all do, they always do.”

With tears swimming in your eyes, you had replied, “You don’t give me any other choice, Billy.”

The dull ache in your chest as you said goodbye had escalated and your insides twisted with nausea when you walked out and didn’t even look back. Did you give up on him too soon? Possibly.

Billy had always thanked you for being patient with him, for comforting him when no one else had even bothered to try, but in the end you had failed each other.

And you didn’t regret it until the night you walked into that bar and saw him sitting with her. She had dark curly hair, warm tan skin, and was professionally dressed. She looked like his type but he loved you because you weren’t necessarily his type, and weren’t like the rest that only wanted him for his looks and money. Immediately, your heart was caught in your throat and you felt like you were going to be sick so you walked out just as fast as you had walked in.

Holding it together until you got home, you burst into tears as soon as the door was closed. Every inch of your body was numb and you had to remind yourself to breathe. Your heartbreak simply could not be put into words, it’s unspeakable, and you didn’t know what to do.

The memory of Billy Russo was firmly implanted inside every cell of your body and he wouldn’t be erased. It would be easier to forget him and move on but you’d never be able to now. It was clear to you now that you DID give up on him too soon. Was he perfect? Far from it but no one had ever loved him like you did and no one ever will.

And even now, as you wandered through the busy city streets, what could you do about it? He had moved on, which he had every right to do. But you still missed him.

You had no idea what time it was when you finally decided to go home. Wandering around the city at night past a certain hour just wasn’t safe, especially if you were alone.

The nighttime breeze smelled like fresh rain, salt and concrete as it brushed the hair away from your face, preventing the fresh tears from streaking down your cheeks. Why didn’t you try harder? Billy really didn’t know any better, he had been trying but you both needed to be better.

But you weren’t sure you would ever get that chance again.

Before walking into your building, from a distance you could see a familiar silhouette talking to your night manager. He was tall, had ebony colored hair that had tumbled into his eyes, a well-groomed beard, and wearing a black leather jacket with a maroon sweater underneath.

They were arguing with each other and neither of them had noticed you walked in.

“Mr. Russo, I told you she’s not here right now. I can’t let you up there if she’s not here, you already know this!” Eddie said.

“I’ll just wait outside her door for her to come home. What do you think I’m gonna do?!” Said Billy sternly.

As you walked closer, you waved slightly.

“Ummmm, hellooooooo.” You said, raising your voice to try and get their attention.

Eddie spoke first.

“Miss y/l/n, I kept trying to tell him I can’t let him up but he keeps arguing with me. He’s been here for an hour.” He said.

You looked at Billy while addressing Eddie.

“He knows that, Eddie. He is persistent though, you have to give him that.” You said softly with a slight smile.

Billy hurried over to you and went in to cup your cheeks but stopped himself.

“Sweet girl, uh, y/n…can we talk? Please?” He asked, with his eyebrows raised, licking his bottom lip.

“See, she’s home now.” Said Eddie, sarcastically.

Returning the sarcasm, Billy replied, “Yeah, I can see that, Eddie…thanks!”

Nervously, you said, “S-sure Billy, we can go talk. Come on.”

The elevator ride up to your apartment was quiet. The silence was deafening but out of the corner of your eye, it looked like Billy was trying to work up the courage to start the conversation.

Right before the doors opened, you spoke first.

“You’ve really been here for an hour?” You asked.

He was nervously brushing his beard with his lithe fingers.

Billy nodded. “Yeah…probably should have called but I, uh, wanted to surprise you.”

There was a slight flutter in your stomach. All you managed to respond with though was “Oh?”

After unlocking the door, you hung your coat up and walked toward the kitchen. Billy looked uneasy, he had purple circles under his eyes to match yours, but still the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

“Take your jacket off, stay awhile.” You said. “You want some tea?”

“Earl Grey, please.” Replied Billy.

He loved Earl Grey tea because it tasted like candy and you knew how much Billy loved candy. It was one of those little things that you loved about him, your badass marine and his love for all things sweet. Well…he wasn’t “yours” anymore, was he.

“Ok, well…what did you wanna talk about, Billy?” You asked, placing the kettle on the stove.

He picked up a framed picture of the two of you.

“You didn’t get rid of this?” He looked around at your other pictures of the two of you. “You didn’t get rid of any of them, did you.” He said.

You glanced down at the floor, trying to hide the tears in your eyes and biting down on your lower lip.

Shaking your head and you nonchalantly, replied, “No, I guess I didn’t.”

Of course you didn’t get rid of them. It hadn’t been THAT long since you broke up; as far as he knew you just hadn’t gotten around to doing it yet.

Before you could say anything else, he blurted out, “I saw you, ya know…that night at the bar.”

Playing dumb but knowing full well what he was talking about, you replied, “When? What bar?”

Billy took a seat at the breakfast bar with you standing on the other side in the kitchen, next to the stove.

“I saw you walk in.” He gave you a slight smile, the little lines near his eyes crinkled when he did. “You were wearing dark jeans, knee high boots, a black shirt, and that leather jacket I bought you. I’m guessing you ran outta there because you saw me?”

He waited for your response, all you could do was nod.

“I got up and chased after you but you were gone by the time I got outside.” He said, softly. “Was it because I was on a date?” Asked Billy.

With your heart racing, you tried to speak but nothing came out.

“It was, wasn’t it.” He said.

Your voice cracked and you finally let go.

“I was fine, Billy. I was meeting my friends there for drinks and then I saw you with her…and I—“ You paused, trying to control your tears but you couldn’t contain your feelings anymore. “It broke me! All I could think about is you kissing her or touching her and thinking that I’m the reason you’re out with her! This is my fault!”

Billy interrupted you. “It’s my fault too, y/n!”

“I gave up and I shouldn’t have! I told you I wouldn’t, Billy! I broke my promise to you!” You sobbed.

The water in the kettle started to boil. Your hands were shaking so you folded your arms protectively across your chest to try and get them to stop. Billy got up from his stool and walked around to the kitchen.

“Hey, hey…I’ll do that.” He removed the kettle from the burner and set it down onto a cold one.

Pulling you into a firm embrace, he squeezed you so tightly that you had a hard time breathing. Kissing the top of your head, he tried to calm you by slowly stroking your hair and letting his fingers dance up and down your spine.

“I fucked up too, sweet girl. I didn’t make it easy for you, I know I have a bad temper and I can be possessive but that’s because I didn’t wanna lose you. But I lost ya anyway, didn’t I.” He said.

You tilted your chin up to look into his endless brown eyes, your cheeks were soaked with tears as you said. “You didn’t miss me the way I missed you.”

Billy gently brushed your tears away and replied, “Well…you’re right about that.”

“I deserve that, but Billy…” You started to say.

He shook his head and inched closed to your face.

“No, my love. You don’t understand…I missed you more. I went home after I had that drink with her. I don’t want anyone but you.” Said Billy.

Confused, you asked, “You didn’t sleep with her? You didn’t go out with her again? Ya know what, that’s none of my business. I’m sor—“

He cut you off.

Billy’s lips collided with yours, his fingers wrapped around your throat like a necklace as his tongue pressed against your teeth and your lips parted so your tongue could tangle with his.

You felt butterflies in your stomach like it was the first time he’s ever kissed you and you never wanted to feel anyone else’s lips against yours. It’s always been him. His hands moved to cradle your face, chasing your lips with his own, and his gaze raking over you like he never wanted to let you go.

“We can be better, right sweet girl? Because I…” He paused, trying to get the courage to say what he wanted, “I really, really love you.” He said before kissing you again.

You lightly scraped your nails against his scalp and pulled him forward so your forehead was touching his. You knew it wasn’t easy for Billy to say how he felt and somehow it made you feel more loved than ever.

“Yes we can, handsome. Because I really, really love you too.”

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @ittybxttykxttytxtty

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n #ericca answers #winter sleepover 2024

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