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https-murdock · 6 months ago

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You’d Like That, Huh? - Matt Murdock

summary: Matt would love to put a baby in you, huh?

word count: 1.8k

warnings: porn with a lil plot, breeding kink, blowjob, unprotected sex (no!), swearing, use of ‘good girl’ and some insults like ‘whore’, oral F receiving, multiple orgasms.

note: trying to explore new kinks in my writings and obviously had to do one of my faves

You’d noticed immediately.

The sheen of sweat just above his brow, the blush that rose so quickly across his cheeks - and that damn cute awkward laugh he did when he got all nervous.

Matt knew how to keep it together, he’s a lawyer after all. But not with you, everything to you was so painfully clear - he had no secrets.

“Oh, my god. you are into it.” You smirk, standing up from the couch in shock, looking down at Matt and his giggling face as he tries to wriggle out of the silent admission.

“No- well, i-“ He’s stuttering now, an even more telling sign given he’s always been such a confident speaker.

This realisation came from a little joke that had come from you so casually you hadn’t even thought about it - you were used to keeping your secret kink to yourself, thinking Matt would have the opposite reaction to… this.

“You’d like that, huh?” You smile, coming to straddle his suit clad thighs, hands meeting his stubbled cheeks.

“So what if i would?” He asks, and he’s becoming more confident again. You decide to have your fun, watch him squirm, “What if i’d like that too?,” you begin, “What if i’d like you to put a baby in me, Matt?”

It’s something you’d thought about so many times before, being so full with his cum that you could feel it for days. A little swollen belly full of him, feeling him there always.

“Fuck.” Is all Matt is able to whisper, meeting your lips with his in a time-stopping kiss, teeth clashing, lips smacking. It’s messy, it’s loud - it’s hot.

Kissing Matt like this always felt as if it was happening for the first time all over again. Desperation, clinging to each other, the feeling of needing to rip his clothes off no matter where it was happening. Fingers gripping into his suit jacket, hips rocking down over his bulge.

You let yourself slide downward, leading a trail of kisses on his neck behind you, lifting his hands and motioning for him to take his shirt off. When your knees hit the floor and you start palming over his already hard bulge in his suit pants, he groans lowly.

“Fuck, sweetheart. S’hot.” It’s painfully obvious how flustered you’ve gotten him, and you’re relishing in it.

“What do you want? What’s it you always tell me, Use your words, hmm?” You’ve managed to slide his belt off and his pants down, looking up at him, still with those red glasses on that for whatever reason always made you that much wetter.

“Your mouth, sweetheart. please.” He seems out of breath, and you aren’t sure whether that’s still the remainder of shock that you’d also been daydreaming about him filling you up, or pure excitement for what he’s about to get.

You finally slide down his boxers and launch them across the room, now impatient yourself to taste him. Running your tongue over that sensitive vein near his tip, you listen closely to the way his breathing hitches - and his shoulders are already more relaxed than they were from his work day.

Matt always craved you, in any form of way. Nothing could ever quite fill the space that was left when he wasn’t buried deep within you. He always needed to be as close to you as physically possible, whether that was your little punishments for being bratty, or when he was feeling more like the one that belonged underneath you for a change.

Tasting the precum that’s already leaking from him, you hum to yourself, whispering “Always tastes so sweet.”

“Need to fill you, full of me.” He’s speaking, and there’s something in his voice you’ve never heard before. He’s usually the dominant one, but now he’s telling you this as if it’s the last chance he’ll ever get.

You let your lips enclose around him now, hollowing your cheeks. Your head slowly begins to bob up and down with the feeling of his fingers tied within your hair, helping the movements.

“S-shit, so good. Take me so well.” Matt grunts, pushing your head down a little further and throwing his head back when he realises he can smell exactly how wet you’ve already gotten for him, knowing he’s going to absolutely ruin you by the end of the night.

You take him right to the hilt, feeling him push strongly at the back of your throat. He lets your head fall up and down slowly for a few minutes, his hips bucking upwards when he feels the strings of spit attaching to him.

Suddenly, he’s pulling on your hair to remove your mouth from him, much to your dismay.

“Stand up.” He’s being strong with you now, you can tell by the low growl he’s adopted when he talks. You immediately do as you’re told, something you’ve learned with the many punishments you’ve endured over your time together.

As he stands up in front of you, his strong, firm hands gripping onto your thighs - he lifts you up and you toss your legs around his waist, immediately reconnecting your lips. Matt carries you into his bedroom, throwing you into the bed and smirking when he hears your heartbeat, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

“So beautiful, and all mine.” He smiles, kissing your thighs as he lets himself drop between them, slight stubble causing little burning sensations across your skin. “So good for me.” You aren’t sure if he’s talking to himself at this stage, looking down to see his dark hair nestled in between your legs like it’s where he belongs. And that’s exactly how he feels, like he belongs here.

He lets his tongue slip through his lips, meeting your already soaked folds and moaning to himself when he finally gets his first taste of you.

“F-Matt please.” You start to beg as soon as the feeling of his tongue disappears.

“Hmmm, knew you wanted this. Could tell the second i came home. Such a little whore for me.” Matt says, and you love when this side of him gets released. The dark, sometimes a little mean side of him.

Next thing you know, your clothes are all around the room and he’s going feral for the taste of you. Tongue sliding its way into your hole, the edge of his nose bumping against your clit. Your hips buck to try and meet his face, trying to find some release for the tension he was building in you. You bask in the way his mouth makes you feel as he kisses, licks, sucks - anything to taste as much of you as he can.

“Matt, i’m so- I’m gonna cum.” You rush out, pulling tightly on his hair as his arms fight to keep your thighs open as well as he can, the vibrations of his own moans running through you and leading you right to the edge of the cliff he’s pushed you so far toward.

White specks of nothing cloud your eyes as your body morphs, back arching into the bed. Your orgasm rips through you so strongly Matt holds down your hips as they buck at the feeling. “Fuck, love it when you come on my face.” He mutters, sitting up and wiping some of your slick from his lips.

Running his two middle fingers through your folds, collecting some of your wetness onto them and lifting them to your lips, he says “taste yourself.” leading you to accept his gesture, running your tongue around his digits and watching the way his facial expressions immediately morph into more pleasure.

“P-please, let me feel you. Need you.” You speak, the only sound being your voice and the traffic outside as Matt basks in the way you beg.

“Mmm, such a little slut for me, You wan’me to fill you up?” He’s asking, tapping his cock on your clit, your body jolting at the sensitive feeling.

“Yesyesyes” You spit, desperate just to feel him.

He pushes into you, the familiar feeling engulfing him as your walls suck him in. The stretch he always brings along with him is always a tight but easy feeling, his size shocking you each time he rolls his hips home again.

“H-Holy shit, sweetheart. So tight.” He leans his hands next to your head, pushing forward until he hits his limit, sitting with the way your slick walls hug him.

You feel like you could transcend, feeling the little bulge of his cock in your lower stomach, and immediately getting an intense feeling between your legs, saying “You gonna put a baby in me? huh?” and listening to the way he moans in response.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Want me to get you pregnant. fill you up so deep and let you feel me.” Matt grunts, hips slamming full force into yours, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the thought of him releasing.

“Y-Yes fuck yes.” Your sentences aren’t making sense any more, just words half strung together.

He can feel it approaching for the both of you, the way you clench around him so hard it feels like he has to bully his way back in. Matt tries to hold his orgasm off, knowing he’ll be far too sensitive to push you over the edge again after he falls, so he leads his thumb over to your mouth, letting you take it in and wet it before he rubs tight circles around your clit, listening to the way your moans get more high pitched the closer he gets you.

“F-Shit, come for me. Come all over me babe.” He’s telling you, voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it before. “Gonna fill you up so good, put a baby in you.”

Again, you’re tipping over the edge into a world you’ve never felt before. Eyes rolling backward into your head again, it’s almost painful the way you convulse underneath him, the slight pinching feeling still there from the size of him pushing continuously inside of you feels amazing.

As your hearing starts to return, you can feel the way his hips stutter slightly, before finally releasing into you - and it’s the loudest you’ve ever heard him moan. As he pulls out, he collapses to the side of you, panting and out of breath.

“You not gonna clean me up? what happened to my gentleman?” You smirk, giggling when he does.

“D’you not want it to stick? thought you wanted me to put a baby in you…” He flirts, hugging you close to his chest, kissing the top of your head with the gentleness he always possessed. “That’s what you’d love isn’t it, Mr.Murdock.” You tell him, looking up and seeing him gently closing his eyes, clearly satisfied.

“Having a little you forever? of course i would.” He smiles largely, white teeth flashing that charm he always carries with him.

Matt would love that, and even if it doesn’t happen - he’ll always love trying.

— tags :)

@lambmurdock @parker-murdock @silas-aeiou @blushingrn @audreyclimbs @pupmurdock @millennial-birkin

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #daredevil #matt murdock x you #marvel daredevil #daredevil fanfic #daredevil marvel #https matt fic #matthew murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matthew murdock smut #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut

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monstera-modd · 22 days ago

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Mother

DPxDC #5

____________

There were stories and legends shared from one kid to another, saying that if you were ever lost, abandoned, or unloved there was someone out there. A being that would find you and take you in. A presence to pour endless amounts of love into your care and upbringing, claiming you as their own.

Everyone only knew them as Mother. With his bright, calming green eyes and cool hands that also felt warm when he cradled your face, you just knew that you were loved, that you were safe, and had someone to call your parent- call a Mother.

Tim had heard the rumors and read about them online during those lonely nights when his parents would be who knows where, but he never let himself believe in it, in them. Why get all worked up about some deity that only has whispers and stories?

There were no pictures or concrete descriptions- just green eyes and cold-warm hands.

And even if he did let himself believe, if he let himself hope… what then? What happens when they never come?

His parents sang promises all the time, but every time, he would be dismissed- treated as if he were merely part of the groundskeeping staff, not their only kid, their son.

And yet here he was.

Alone on his seventh birthday.

A card on his table, telling him his parents were in Guatemala for an exhibit. Or something.

Tears blurred his vision as he flicked the lighter on and off, the small flame dancing in the dark. With a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and wished—God, he wished—that the being from the stories would come. Would save him and hear a gentle voice say, It’s all right now. I’m here.

That they would cradle his face like those stories, press a kiss on his forehead with other words of affection, hold him tight, and take him away.

Anywhere but here.

Away from a cold, empty manor.

Away from distant, unloving staff.

Away from parents who were never here.

_________

When Tim dreams, it’s of dazzling stars streaking across the sky. Walking on belts of moons and planets, and a being with bright green eyes and flowing white hair.

They pulled him close, cupping his cheek with a kind, loving look.

“My poor boy,” they murmured, voice laced with sorrow. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner, baby. But I’m here now—Mother’s here.”

A gentle thumb wipes away tears, and Tim dives into that loving embrace, loud sobs seem to echo and not in the strange, star-lit space.

He doesn't know how long they stay there. But the warmth around him never faded, and those loving hands cooled his heated cheeks and puffy eyes. Arms wound closer around him as he's hoisted into the air and cradled close.

Mother rocks him gently back and forth, fingers carding through his hair.

“I can’t take you with me, baby,” they whispered. “It’s not safe right now. But I’ll always come visit—to tuck you in every night, to hold you close when nightmares cloud your starry sky.”

They pressed a kiss to his hair.

“I have someone that I trust to look after my sweet boy. Sleep, baby. You'll be safe when you wake up.”

_____

That night, Alfred got a call.

He made promises to look after his new baby brother. Mother was fighting so hard to keep them all safe, and he could see the exhaustion in his eyes as he left that night.

But just as he promised, every night, Tim’s Mother appeared through glowing green portals.

With kisses and soft words, he tucked him in and told him stories of ancient pharaohs and great green witches. And every time nightmares gripped him, he felt gentle fingers threading through his hair and heard the soothing hum of a familiar voice.

Because Mother was there.

Mother never left.

And Mother never broke a promise.

_______

I love my baby Tim ❤️🥹🫶🏼

ALSO!! Go check out this fabulous Fic @moonmeetsthestars wrote!!

An Answered Cry by: Moonmeetsthestars

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dpxdc #tim drake #Tim drake is just a little baby who needs love #trans danny?? perhaps #alfred pennyworth #Alfred is Dannys kid as well!#Danny loves all his kids and wants nothing bad to happen to them #Also I was zooming writing this out lol #writing prompt #really its more like a little one shot

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dollveis · 13 days ago

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☆ ┆ KISSING IN THE BATHROOM. ellie williams — “ are you ready to cry? 'cause i'm no good. "

𔓘۫ ⊹ 𓈒 things get a little complicated and confusing after Ellie fucks you at that bathroom party, you can't stop thinking about her. MINI SERIES : FIRST PART. 8.8K WORDS.

featuring. tattoo artist!ellie x afab!reader content warning ! MDNI, smut, angst, fluff(?), reader is described using a dress and a skirt, ellie doesn't seem emotionally available, lack of communication, commitment and abandonment issues from ellie's end, she's actually pretty much an awkward loser with a cool appearance, average wlw situationship tbh, ellie pseudo flirts w a random girl, top!ellie, bottom!reader, reader is a bit of a brat, strap usage (r!receiving), tit play, degrading names (slut, it's used like twice tho), ellie refers to her strap like her dick/cock, petnames (baby, sweet girl, etc), breeding kink, mention of joel abandoning ellie and i think that's all??

❀ after two years i decided to write a second part for kissing in the bathroom 😭 i just randomly found inspo for it and idk, someone might still be interested and have fun reading it 'cause i sure did have fun writing it, either way i think this is a bit all over the place??? this is also kinda based in my experience with my gf before we started dating so this is pretty much based in real events i fear but enough yapping!

The bathroom air is thick with the scent of alcohol, weed and something more, something sweeter, maybe Ellie's cologne. The tile is cold against your back, a stark contrast to the heat still lingering between your bodies. Your breath still uneven, your mind spinning and even a little confused— not because of the drinks but because of her. Ellie Williams, the city's most sought tattoo artist, the same Ellie who barely spared you a glance when you approached her earlier, now she's standing in front of you, her hair messy and damp from the sweat, adjusting her belt with lazy fingers, her pupils blown wide.

Her gaze looks up from her belt, looking at you, her expression unreadable, “you good?” she asks, her voice rough from booze, weed and whatever else she's taken tonight.

You nod, though good isn't exactly the word to describe how you are feeling. Your heart is still hammering, you can still feel the imprint of her lips, her hands, the weight of her body pressing you against the bathroom's counter.

Ellie runs a hand through her messy hair in an attempt to fix it and she exhales sharply, like she's grounding herself. Then, just like that, she turns toward the door.

“That's it?” those words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. God, you want to hit your skull against the wall, stupid, stupid.

The freckled girl freezes for half a second, then she laughs— not cruelly but not exactly nice either, more like she's amused that you'd even ask that, “yeah, that's it,” she glances back at you, raking over your figure, taking in your flushed cheeks, your swollen lips and your bruised neck, “unless you expected something else?”

You swallow hard. You didn't expect anything else, not really if you were honest, but there's still a sting at how easily she's slipping back into her detached, too-cool persona. You just shake your head, “no. Just making sure.”

Ellie gives a lopsided smirk and reaches for the doorknob. Before she leaves, she pauses, ��if you ever want a tattoo,” her voice low, “you know where to find me.”

And then she's gone. You stay there for a moment, gripping the edge of the sink, trying to process what just happened because this isn't just some random girl at a party, this is Ellie Williams, you just can't believe it.

The party is still going strong when you finally step out of the bathroom, music thrums through the floor, the bass of the song vibrating through your chest but everything feels a little off now. The lights are too bright, the voices too loud, the crowd too suffocating or maybe it's just the fact that Ellie was nowhere to be seen. Now you're not really sure of what you expected, maybe for her to stick around, maybe for her to acknowledge you but she's disappeared like smoke and now you're standing here, feeling raw in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol in your veins.

You don't stay much longer after that.

The morning after the party you wake up with a dull ache in your head and Ellie still lingering in your mind, the sharp lines of her jaw, the ink decorating her skin, the way her fingers pressed against you. It's ridiculous, really, you barely know her and yet she's stuck under your skin like ink sinking too deep to fade.

You spend half the day trying to shake it off— running errands, scrolling through your phone, convincing yourself that last night was just that: a night. But then your fingers are typing ‘Ink & Desire’, her business’ name into the search bar before you can stop them. It doesn't take long to find, the website is sleek, with a black and white theme, filled with pictures of Ellie's work and her two coworkers but it's easy to recognize hers, sharp and intricate designs, those are undeniably hers. Below that, a small section labeled Booking Information:

Appointments only. No walk-ins. Currently booked out for a week.

Of course, city's most popular artist wouldn't just be sitting around waiting for someone to wander in. Stil, before you can even try to talk yourself out of it, you're clicking the booking link, filling out the form with shaky hands.

‘Name’, you hesitate before typing it in. ‘Preferred artist’, Ellie Williams. ‘Design idea’, you pause again, the truth is you don't even know what you want, just that you want her to be the one to do it. After a moment, you type ‘Something small, fine line. Open to ideas’.

You hover over the Submit button. This is insane, you think to yourself, she probably won't even remember you and even if she does, last night was just a hookup— it wasn't an invitation for anything more. Still, you press send.

────────────────────────────────────

A week passes, and you try to not check your email every ten minutes. When a response finally comes in, your heart kicks up.

‘Hey. I've got an opening Friday at 6. That work for you? — E’

Short. Direct. No indication of whether she remembers you or you're just another client but you don't let yourself overthink that.

‘Yeah, that works. See you then’

And when Friday comes, you're standing outside Ink & Desire ten minutes early, heart hammering. You take a breath, push open the door and step inside. The shop is buzzing— tattoo machines humming, the scent of antiseptic and ink filling the air. A couple of other artists seem to be working on some clients, their stations cluttered with ink caps and paper towels stained with black and red.

Then, there's Ellie, she's at the front desk, flipping through her sketchbook. When she looks up and sees you something flickers across her face, recognition maybe, but it's gone just as fast, replaced by something unreadable.

“You're early,” she says, closing her sketchbook with her gaze still fixated on you.

You shrug, trying to seem casual despite the fact your stomach is twisting itself into knots, “didn't want to be late.”

She leans against the counter, arms crossed, “alright. You said fine line and small piece, got anything in mind or you're trusting me?”

You meet her gaze, pulse racing, “trusting you,” her lips twitch ever so slightly, something like amusement or approval. Then she nods towards the chair in her station.

Ellie's station is tucked near the back of the shop, dimly lit by a warm overhead lamp. Sketches and stencils are scattered across her workspace, some half finished, others crisp and ready to ink, something about the whole space was making you feel closer to her, like watching it was giving you a sight inside a part of her brain. You sit down in the chair, heart pounding just a little too fast.

She grabs a stool, rolling up beside you, “where do you want it?”

You blink, realizing you haven't even thought about a placement. You swallow and then extend your wrist, “here… maybe?”

The girl takes your hand without hesitation, tilting it slightly in her grasp. Her fingers are calloused but her touch is surprisingly gentle when she runs her thumb over the inside of your wrist as if she's mapping out the space.

“This works,” she mutters, more to herself than to you, then she pulls out her iPad and starts sketching.

You watch as she works, completely focused, the same way she was that night at the party except this time it's also different. This time her attention is completely on you, on your skin, on creating something meant last. After a few minutes, she turns the screen towards you, it's a delicate design— fine lines, a mix of floral and geometric elements, simple but pretty.

Your throat goes dry, “that's perfect.”

Ellie nods like she already knew it would be, “alright, let's stencil it on.”

She moves through the process with ease, cleaning your skin, pressing the stencil down, smoothing it with her fingers. When she peels it away, you glance down at the faint purple outline on your wrist.

“This is your last chance to back out,” she teases when she sees you looking, a slight smirk on her lips as she adjusts her machine. In response you just shake your head, her smirk lingers but she doesn't say anything else, just turns on the machine, the buzz filling the air. Then she starts.

The first few seconds are sharp, tiny needles pricking into your skin, not unbearable but definitely there. You exhale, trying to relax.

When she feels your action, she glances up, “not too bad, right?” she asks.

You huff, a bit out of breath, “i've had worse.”

Ellie chuckles under her breath, “yeah, i bet.”

She keeps going, her touch steady, her focus unwavering. The shop hums around you— the other artists chatting with their clients, music playing low from a speaker in the corner, but all you can focus on is her, the way she leans in close, the way her brows furrow slightly in concentration, the way she occasionally glances up, making sure you're okay. The whole thing takes maybe twenty minutes but it Feels both longer and shorter at the same time.

When she finally leans back, wiping down your skin with a paper towel, you glance down at the finished piece, it's stunning, crisp lines, delicate shading, every detail perfectly placed.

“Damn…” you murmur, unable to hide your smile.

Ellie arches an eyebrow, “yeah? you like it?”

“Like it? i love it.”

She grins a little, and for a second, it feels like that cold, untouchable version of her from the party isn't here right now. Just this version, the one with ink-stained fingers and a quiet kind of pride in her work.

She tapes a bandage over the tattoo and sits back, “alright, you're all set, I'll give you aftercare instructions at the front desk.”

You nod, but you don't move right away and neither does she, there's something in the air, unspoken, heavy.

Then Ellie clears her throat, breaking the moment, “come on.”

You follow her to the front, where she hands you a small aftercare sheet and rings you up, the price is steep but for Ellie Williams’ work it’s more thaspeakin

As you pull out your card, you hesitate for a second before speaking, “so, uh…” you glance at her, “are you always this professional or just when you're sober?”

Ellie stills for a second, then she exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head, “you're really bringing that up right now?”

You shrug, looking away for a moment, “just curious.”

She hands you your receipt, her fingers brushing yours, “what happens at parties, stays at parties,” she says, voice low.

And you don't know why that stings, but it does. Still, you manage to force out a smirk, “got it,” you say as you grab the receipt, turning to leave but when you reach the door, Ellie's voice stops you.

“Hey,” you glance back, she's leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, “if you ever want another one,” she says, “i'll bump you up the waitlist.”

Your heart skips, you don't know what it means, if it means anything at all, but still you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips, “yeah,” you murmur, “i think i will.”

────────────────────────────────────

It takes about three days for you to cave and text her on instagram. Not about the tattoo, that's healing just fine, the lines perfect against your skin, it's her that's messing with your head, the way she looked at you when when she said she'd bump you up the waitlist, like maybe and just maybe, last Friday hadn't been just another appointment for her. But Ellie is not easy to read so you keep it simple and a bit casual.

‘hey, the tattoo's healing great. just thought u should know your work is still perfect :)”

To be honest, you don't expect a response, the first time you texted her a month ago she completely ignored you but barely a minute later, your phone vibrates.

‘yeah? you've been taking care of it?’

You huff a small laugh.

‘obviously, i don't wanna ruin ur art’

This time, Ellie doesn't answer right away and you're about to chalk it up as just a casual check-in when another message comes through.

‘you free tonight?’

Your stomach flips, you weren't expecting that.

‘depends, why?’

Another pause, then—

‘come by the shop when i close, 9pm’

She doesn't give any more details but you don't really need them, your body moves before your brain catches up, already heading to your closet thinking what the hell you're supposed to wear when Ellie Williams text you out of nowhere telling you to come over.

At 8:58PM you're outside Ink & Desire again, heart hammering in your chest, your hands fixing your sundress or gripping your purse. The Closed sign is flipped in the window but the front door is still unlocked. When you step inside, the shop is quiet, dimmed lights, Ellie is at her station, wiping down her equipment. When she looks up and sees you something flickers in her green eyes.

“You actually showed.”

You arch a brow, stepping further inside, “did you think i wouldn't?”

She smirks, setting down the cloth she was using to clean, “most people don't like late-night invitations with no explanation.

You shrug, chuckling, “guess i'm not most people.”

Ellie watches you for a beat, like she's trying to figure out what to do with you, then she nods towards the back, “come on.

The girl leads you through a doorway, past a break room, until you reach a small patio. It's quiet out there, the city noise softened by the high walls. There's an old couch pushed up against the brick, a few stray potted plants and a neon ‘Ink & Desire’ sign hanging above the door, casting a dim blue glow over everything.

Ellie sits down on the couch, stretching her legs out, looking completely at ease. She pulls a joint from her pocket, lighting it before glancing up at you, “smoke?”

You hesitate for a moment before sitting next to her, “yeah, sure.”

She passes it to you, watching as you take a slow drag, the silence between you isn't awkward— it's charged, thick.

“So,” you exhale, tilting your head at her, “you invite all your clients for late-night smoke sessions or just the ones you've fucked in a party bathroom?”

Ellie lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head, “you don't let shit go, huh?”

You smirk, passing the joint back, “nope.”

She takes a slow drag, letting the smoke fill her lungs and then exhaling it towards the sky, “no, i don't do this with clients.”

Your pulse jumps at that. Ellie flicks ash onto the pavement, then glances at you, her voice lower now, “you been thinking about that night?”

Your eyes open slightly and you swallow hard before answering, “maybe.”

She hums, studying like she's been waiting for something. Then, slowly, she reaches out, her fingers brushing over your wrist, the one she tattooed, the touch is featherlight but it manages to send a shiver up your spine.

“Looks good on you,” she murmurs, tracing the edge of the design.

You breath catches, this is dangerous territory, you can feel it but you don't stop her, instead you shift slightly, closing a bit of the distance between you, “Ellie…”

Her emerald eyes meet your gaze and for a quick moment, it feels like she might close the distance completely but then, she exhales, leaning back.

“Fuck,” she mutters, dragging a hand through her hair, “this is probably a bad idea.”

Your stomach tightens at her words, “why?”

Ellie flicks her lighter open and shut, not meeting your eyes, “because i don't do… this. I don't do people.”

Your throat feels tight, almost as if a rope was around it but you force out a casual, “you did me.”

She snorts, shaking her head, “that's different.”

“How?”

She doesn't answer right away, just looks at you, something conflicted flickering in her green eyes and then— soft, almost too quiet— “because i haven't stopped thinking about it either.”

Your breath catches, the air between you is thick again, charged, electric, but this time Ellie doesn't pull away. This time she leans in and when she kisses you, slow and deep, you know you're in trouble.

Ellie kisses you like she's trying to find something out, slow at first, then deeper, more certain, like she's decided she doesn't want to fight it anymore. Her hands curl around your jaw, finger rough and calloused, grounding you in the moment.

Your head spins but not from the weed, it's her. The way she moves, the way she tastes like smoke and something undeniably Ellie.

She pulls back just enough to search your face, her breath warm against your lips, “you sure about this?”

You don't hesitate at all, “yeah.”

That's all she needs. Ellie tugs you onto her lap and you go willingly, hands threading into her hair as she kisses you again, harder and needier this time. Her fingers dig into your hips, pulling you closer like she can't get enough. Her hands start to roam, to grip, slipping beneath your dress, shamelessly touching your ass or inner thighs.

You don't know how long you stay like that, tangled in each other, the cool air doing nothing to dull the heat between you both but eventually Ellie exhales against your skin, resting her forehead against yours.

“This is a bad idea,” she mutters, but she doesn't sound like she really means it.

You smirk, fingers tracing the edge of her jaw, “then why'd you invite me here, huh?”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head softly, “because i'm fucking stupid apparently.”

You grin, but there's something behind her words, something hesitant, like she's waiting for the other shoe to drop so instead of pushing, you soften, “Ellie… I'm not expecting anything from you.”

She studies you, eyes searching, “you're not?”

You shrug, “i just like being around you.”

Ellie exhales again, her shoulders loosening just a little, “yeah,” she murmurs, “i kinda like having you around too.”

It's quiet for a second, then she nudges you, “you wanna stay for a bit? hang out?”

You smile, “yeah, i do.”

So you do, you sit there with her, passing the joint back and forth, talking about nothing and everything. The city hums around you, but in this little back patio, it's just the two of you.

You don't leave the shop until well past midnight, Ellie walks you to the door, hands shoved in her hoodie pocket, her expression enigmatic as she leans against the frame, “so,” she says glancing at you, “was this a one time thing or…?”

One of your brows arches, “you tell me.”

Ellie exhales a short laugh, “you're a pain in the ass, you know that?”

You just smirk, “and yet here we are.”

She looks at you for a second— really looks at you, then she huffs, running a hand through her auburn hair, “you wanna get food sometime?”

Your stomach flips but you keep your cool, crossing your arms over your chest and tilting your head with a cocky smile, “are you asking me on a date, Williams?”

Ellie scoffs as she rolls her eyes, “Jesus, you make everything difficult.”

You grin, “you're deflecting.”

She rolls her eyes once again but doesn't deny it, “you want food or not?”

You pretend to think for a second, just to mess with her, “i think my schedule is free… yeah, i want food.”

Ellie nods, satisfied, “good, i'll text you.”

────────────────────────────────────

And with that she steps back inside, letting the door swing shut behind her and you stand there for a quick moment, grinning to yourself before heading home.

The next few days pass in a weird, anticipatory haze, Ellie doesn't text back immediately but you're not surprised, something tells you she's not the type to jump into things quickly. Still, when her name finally pops up on your phone, your heart stutters.

‘theres a diner near the shop, come by tomorrow night’

Short. Straight to the point. Classic Ellie.

You reply without hesitation.

‘sounds like a date :)’

She doesn't text back, but when you show up the next night, she's already there, sitting in a booth by the window, picking at the label of her beer bottle.

She glances up when you slide into the seat across from her, “hey.”

“Hey,” you echo, shrugging off your jacket, “so, this is your usual spot?”

Ellie shrugs, “yeah. Open late. Decent food. They don't ask questions.”

You smirk, “that last part sounds suspicious.”

She rolls her eyes, “you ask too many questions.”

“You keep saying that and yet you keep inviting me to places.”

Ellie laughs and nods her head, “yeah, i guess i do.”

You order food and conversation flows easier than you expect. She tells you about how she got into tattooing, how she started sketching designs as a teenager, how an old friend convinced her to take it seriously. You just listen, fascinated, watching the way she gestures when she talks, the way her eyes light up just a little when she mentions her work.

At one point she catches you staring, “what?”

You shake your head, smiling, “nothing. Just… I like hearing you talk about this.”

Ellie scoffs, but there's a hint of pink at the tips of her ears, “yeah, well, it's the only thing i'm good at.”

You frown, “i doubt that.”

She meets your gaze, “yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She doesn't respond right away, just holds your stare for a second too long before glancing away, taking a slow sip of her beer and for the first time since meeting her, you get the feeling that Ellie Williams really doesn't quite know what to do with you.

After dinner she walks you back to your place. It's chilly and, at some point, she shrugs off her hoodie and hands it to you without a word. You pull it on, breathing in the faint scene of her cologne mixed with smoke.

When you reach your building, you hesitate on the doorstep, looking at her, “you wanna come up?”

Ellie hesitates too, “not tonight.”

You nod, trying to not let the disappointment show, “okay.”

She shifts on her feet, then reaches out, fingers brushing over your wrist, the same spot she tattooed, “text me when you're home,” she says, voice quiet.

You smile, “Ellie, I am home.”

She rolls her eyes, but there's something soft in the way she huffs out of breath, “you know what i mean.”

You do. So, you nod, stepping back, watching as she shoves her hands in her pockets and starts walking away.

And just before she rounds the corner, she glances back, smirks and calls out, “keep the hoodie.” Yeah. You're in trouble.

────────────────────────────────────

After that night you obviously don't receive an immediate text. You tell yourself you're not waiting for it, that it's not a big deal but that's a lie, you find yourself checking your phone more often than you should, catching the faint scent of her hoodie when you wear it around your apartment. It's ridiculous how much she's gotten under your skin in such a short time.

And when her name finally appears at the top of your screen, it's almost infuriating how casual and nonchalant she is about it.

‘u doing anything tonight?’

You bite your lip, staring at the message, willing yourself to be cool about it.

‘depends. u finally decided to see me again???’

Her reply comes pretty fast.

‘don't start, u coming or not?’

You grin to yourself, already reaching for your jacket.

‘where to’

Ellie quickly sends an address, a bar a few blocks away from the shop.

When you arrive the place is exactly what you expected from Ellie— dimly lit, a little grimy, but with a solid crowd and decent music. When you walk in she's already at the bar, a beer in hand, dressed in her usual hoodie and jeans combo.

She spots you with her eyes and smirks, “didn't think you'd actually come.”

You slide onto the stool next to her, slipping your jacket off your shoulders and putting it on your lap, “please, like i'd miss a chance to see you,” Ellie shakes her head but in her eyes there's something, amusement? maybe something else.

You order a drink and the conversation comes easy, she tells you about a client she had earlier, some guy who wanted a giant, badly drawn wolf across his chest. “I tried to talk him out of it,” she says, taking a sip of her beer, “but dude didn't care, just wanted it big.”

You laugh, “did you do it?”

Ellie groans, tilting her head back, “yeah, against my better judgement. I should've made him sign a waiver saying i wasn't responsible for ruining his life.”

You smirk, “bet it still looked good, because… you know, you're kind of a genius.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes with a downturned smile, “you're so fucking annoying.”

“You love it.”

She doesn't respond immediately, just takes another sip of her drink, eyes flickering over you, “maybe,” your stomach flips.

For a while you just sit there, drinking, talking, existing in the same space. Ellie doesn't feel like she needs to fill the silence and neither do you, it's comfortable in a way that surprises you. At some point, she leans in slightly, her knee bumping against yours, “you wanna get out of here?”

Your breath catches, but you don't let it show, you just tilt your head, “where to?”

Ellie shrugs but there's something deliberate in the way she looks at you, “anywhere but here.”

And just like that you're following her outside, into the cool air of the night.

You end up at her apartment, a small place above the tattoo shop, it's cluttered but live-in, sketchbooks piled on the coffee table, an old guitar propped against the arm of the couch, some comics and dinosaur figures on her shelves.

Ellie kicks off her boots, looking at you, “you want a drink or something?”

You shake your head as an answer, stepping further inside, taking everything in. There's a sketch taped to the fridge, something floral, delicate, half finished, you recognize the style immediately, “you draw at home too?” you ask, glancing over at her.

Ellie shrugs, rubbing the back of her neck, “yeah, sometimes.”

You turn back to the sketch, “this one's beautiful.”

She watches you for a moment, then exhales, “i was thinking about making it a tattoo.”

“For a client?”

Ellie shakes her head, “for you,” your chest tightens, you meet her gaze, searching. She almost looks nervous, like she's debating she should've said that at all, “i mean— you don't have to, obviously, just thought… you might like it.”

You step closer, your voice almost a whisper, “i do like it.”

The girl in front of you swallows, her eyes locking with yours, “yeah?”

You nod, “yeah.”

Sometimes shifts in the air, the space between you feels smaller, tighter. Ellie reaches out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, her fingers lingering just a little too long but neither of you move.

Then, she breaks the silence, soft— uncertain, “can i kiss you?”

Your breath catches, “Ellie…”

She shakes her head, “just— tell me if this is too much, if you don't want this, i'll back off.”

You don't hesitate at all, “i want this,” Ellie exhales almost like if she was relieved, like she was bracing herself for another answer. Then, finally, finally, she closes the gap.

The kiss is slower this time, softer, less rushed, less fueled by alcohol and bad decisions. It's careful, deliberate, like she's memorizing the feel of you.

At some point you need to back away slightly, searching for air, Ellie's eyes are locked with yours, both of your breaths uneven. There's silence for a moment, no movement, just tension, then— she takes a step closer, your back hits the fridge before you even realize you're moving, the cool surface pressing against your overheated skin. Ellie's hands come up, caging you in, one palm braced against the fridge and the other curling loosely around your waist and without more thoughts, Ellie crashes her mouth against yours, her mouth hot and desperate, this second kiss is not that soft, not that slow, there's teeth and tongue and need. You gasp against her lips as she presses closer, her fingers digging into your hip.

Her hands are greedy, sliding under your shirt, feeling your breasts, her calloused fingers playing with both of your nipples, caressing, pinching, teasing them, the stimulation makes you gasp softly and tip your head back as her lips move down your jaw and throat.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” Ellie mutters against your skin, voice thick in desperation and need. She nips at your pulse point, then soothes the sting with her tongue.

Your fingers find the hem of her hoodie, tugging it up and Ellie takes the hint quickly, pulling back just enough to yank it over her head along with her shirt, she doesn't even give you a second to admire her before she's back on you, hands roaming, mouth finding yours again.

The way she touches you, like she's been starving for this, like she's been holding back— makes your stomach flip. Your own hands are just as frantic, feeling the hard lines of her naked back, the flex of her muscles with every subtle move she does. Ellie groans when you dig your nails in slightly, the thigh she has between yours and her hips pressing forward instinctively, the friction making you gasp and she takes advantage of it, slipping her tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss until you're both breathless.

Her hands slide lower, gripping at your bare thighs, and before you can react, she's lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrap around her waist as she presses you harder against the fridge, her lips never leaving yours.

“Fuck. I—” you break off with a sharp inhale as her teeth graze your collarbone, biting just enough to leave a mark.

Ellie chuckles, the sound dark and velvety against your skin, “that's the plan, sweet girl.”

She carries you to the couch, laying you down with a look in her eyes that promises you're not gonna forget this night. Ellie hovers over you, a smirk tugging at her lips as she takes in the way you're sprawled out beneath her, already looking like a mess even if nothing happened yet. Her hands are firm on your hips, her body pressing down just enough to keep you pinned.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with amusement as her hands start to roam between your thighs, pulling your skirt up just enough to show her your laced, and already wet, panties, the sight delightful for her, “didn't take much to get you like this, huh?”

Heat flares in your stomach when you feel her fingers tracing up and down your slit over your panties, teasing you painfully, you glare up at her, “shut up.”

Ellie chuckles, shaking her head as she keeps going with her ministrations, “nah, i don't think i will,” she dips down, brushing her lips over the shell of your ear, “you're too fun to mess with.”

Her fingers tug at the hem of your shirt, helping you take it off, she looks at you for a moment, how perfectly your tits sit there, like they are waiting for her. She starts dragging slow, lazy circles around your nipples but not directly touching them, just teasing you to watch you squirm.

You huff, shifting against her, looking for some friction, relief, “Ellie—”

“Ellie what?” she interrupts, smirking, “use your words, baby, c'mon, i know you can do that for me,” she says sweetly.

You bite back a groan, your voice breathless, “please fuck me, just—” and she does not even wait, she quickly gets up, almost pacing to, what you assume, her bedroom. It doesn't take long for her to return, this time a strap peeking out of her unzipped jeans.

She's quick to be all over you again, your head tilting back against the couch as she kisses down your neck, taking her sweet time. Her teeth graze your skin again, and this time, she doesn't stop at just two mark— she leaves another, and another.

“Gotta make sure everyone knows what a mess you turn into for me,” she whispers against your throat, her voice laced with satisfaction, “wouldn't want anyone getting any ideas.”

With one of her hands she manages to properly pull out her strap out of her jeans and ssomeho to completely take off her pants without getting away from your body. You feel the tip of it grazing your cunt over your blue panties, that subtle touch arousing you even more.

She easily, without even needing to look, she pulls your underwear aside, the air hitting your wet pussy, you're able to feel how she positions the strap to your aching whole, the thought of her having inside you making you clench around nothing.

She doesn't rush it, doesn't force it, she lets your cunt accommodate to the girth and length of her dick, slowly putting it deeper and deeper inside you, every inch making you gasp, a small ‘oh my god’ escaping your mouth. But it's not even really hard for you to be able to take it completely, your pussy already so wet making it easier to slide inside and she smirks when she notices it.

When she starts thrusting, her hips hitting the plush of your inner thighs, you grip at her arms, trying to keep yourself grounded somehow but Ellie just laughs, her breath warm against your skin, “what happened to all that attitude, huh?” she teases, nipping at your jaw, “you've been so mouthy all this time. Now you're just gonna lay here and take my cock like a slut?” every thrust she makes feeling like it hit deeper each time.

You glare at her, your eyes a bit glassy from the pleasure, “maybe— oh— i don't wanna feed your ego,” you somehow manage to pronounce.

Ellie grins, enjoying your reactions and quiet whimpers, feeling pity at your attempt to bite back, “baby please— like it's not already massive.”

Her hands tighten on your hips before she pounds her own against you, rough and hard, the friction sends a sharp wave of pleasure through you, your breath stuck at your throat, a pathetic whine coming out and she smirks confidently.

“Yeah, that's what i thought.”

You don't even have a chance to retort before she pounds into you, hitting that spongy spot inside you, as she devours your lips again, passionate and absolutely cocky about it, like she knows she won.

She pulls back after a minute, just enough to look at you, her smirk downright smug. She brushes her thumb over you swollen bottom lip, tilting her head like she's examining her work.

“God, you're cute when you're flustered and fucked,” she murmurs, almost to herself, “didn't think you'd be type to get all shy and sub on me,” she says, her thrusts slower now and her head lowering down to your breasts, her warm tongue circling around your right nipple.

“I'm not,” you grumble, though your voice betrays you, breathless and uneven, the words almost coming whiny.

Ellie chuckles, low and rough, “oh yeah?” she presses slowly and deep against you, hitting exactly where you needed, watching the way your body reacts, how you squirm slightly, “then why you're gripping me like i'm gonna disappear?”

You blink, realizing your fingers are digging into her arms, almost bruising her forearms, holding onto her like she's the only thing keeping you grounded.

A knowing grin, “busted.”

You whimper, a sound mixed with annoyance and ecstasy, turning your head away but she doesn't let you escape, she lets go of your tit and chases your lips, kissing the corner of your mouth, then lower, drawing her tongue along until she meets your chest once again, this time she directly sucks, swapping between both of your tits, your breasts sensitive from the previous foreplay. You shudder and bite your own lip, trying to contain your filthy sounds.

“Don't get all quiet on me now,” she hums against your warm skin, “i like hearing you, babe, oh— god,” she glances down for a moment, watching how good your pussy is taking her strap, almost like devouring it, her eyes going wide fill with lust and desire,” the thought of how your cunt is clenching around her cock making her wetter, she needs to feel your walls milking her cock.

Oh, how she wishes she has a real dick to fill your pretty pussy full of cum.

She mutters, more like talking to herself than you, “i want to make you fill you up so bad—”

Your breath stutters at her pornographic words, your hands reaching to tangle in her auburn hair as you moan softly.

Ellie looks at you for a moment, she tsks and shakes her head, her voice dropping to a whisper and her lips brushing over your ear, sometimes nipping at the shell, “you wanna act all tough? but we both know you like when i get you all worked up, you're just a dirty pretty girl, aren't you?”

And you don't even have the strength to fight back, to continue being a brat, her dick is hitting your g-spot with every thrust, her hands are massaging, pinching your nipples and her mouth is leaving wet kisses everywhere, or at least you feel it everywhere. She's everywhere.

God, how you wish you could wipe that cocky grin off her face but you start to feel dizzy, your bud puffy. You're over the edge and she knows, of course she does.

“Don't you even dare to cum yet,” she says as she manhandles you like it's nothing, this time she's laying on the couch and you're sitting on top of her, her dick still buried inside you, “move, c'mon, don't you wanna cum so bad?”

Fucking mean.

────────────────────────────────────

It starts to feel real after that night.

Ellie doesn't say much when you wake up tangled in her sheets the next morning (and you don't really remember at which point you both ended up in her bed last night), sunlight creeping through her curtains. She grumbles something about it being too early, rolls over and drapes an arm over your waist like she forgot she wasn't supposed to be this comfortable with you.

And for a little, everything's easy. You start seeing her more, sometimes at the shop, sometimes at her place or even yours, sometimes in the late hours of the night when she texts with a simple ‘u up?’ like she already doesn't know the answer. She never calls it anything and neither do you, but there's an unspoken rhythm to it now.

At least you think there is.

The first crack in the illusion happens a few weeks later. It's Friday evening and you're out with Dina and some other friends when you decide, impulsively, to stop by Ink & Desire. You haven't heard from Ellie all day— not that she owes you an update on her life, but still. Something in you itches to see her.

When you push open the door, the place is buzzing. Clients waiting in the lobby, machines humming in the back, Ellie is at her station, leaning over some guy's arm, focused as she works on a new piece. You watch for a second, admiring the way she moves, the way her hands are so steady, so sure.

“Ellie,” you call, stepping closer.

She glances up, her face immediately hardening, not with anger but guarded.

“Hey,” she says, straightening slightly, “what are you doing here?”

The question shouldn't make your stomach twist, but it does, “i was just in the area,” you say, keeping your voice light, “thought i'd stop by.”

Ellie nods slowly, then flicks her gaze towards the guy in the chair, “i'm kinda busy.”

You force a small smile, “yeah, i can see that. I don't wanna interrupt, i just—”

“I'll text you later, okay?”

She says it in a way that makes it clear this conversation is over, like she's already shutting the door on it before it can even be anything more.

Something tightens in your chest, you nod, “yeah. Sure.”

Then you turn and walk out before she can see whatever's written all over your face.

She never texts you that night.

Or the next.

You tell yourself not to be that person, the one who overthinks, who waits by their phone, who gets caught up in something that was never clearly defined.

But when Ellie does finally reaches out –three days later– it's just hey.

That's it.

Like nothing happened.

Like she didn't ice out and disappear.

You stare at the message for a long time before replying.

‘that's all i get?’

A few minutes pass.

‘what do u mean?’

You exhale sharply, fingers tightening in frustration around your phone.

‘you ignored me for 3 days, ellie’

This time, it takes longer for her to reply, around two hours, and when she does it, it's frustratingly short.

‘i got busy’

A bitter laugh bubbles up before you can contain it. Of course. She got busy.

‘right.’

You don't send anything else. Neither does.

Another few days pass and things feel off.

Ellie doesn't completely disappear but she's distant. Less responsive, less present. She still texts you, sometimes –little things, casual things– but it's different.

She's pulling away. And maybe the worst part is that you don't even know if you have the right to be upset about it, because what are you to her? She's never called you her girlfriend, never even hinted anything serious.

So why does it hurt like hell when she starts slipping through your fingers?

────────────────────────────────────

The breaking point comes in a night you don't expect.

You're at a bar with some friends when you see her— Ellie, standing at the pool table, laughing at something a girl beside her says. You freeze, you know you don't own her, you know she doesn't owe you anything but does it sting.

The girl leans in, whispering something in Ellie's ear, Ellie smirks and tilts her head slightly.

And that's it, that's all it takes for something inside you to snap. You turn on your heel, heading straight for the exit, but before you can step outside, a hand catches your wrist.

“Hey—”

Ellie's voice.

You spin around, yanking your arm away, “what?”

Her brows furrow, “what's your problem?”

You laugh, but there's no humor in it, “seriously? that's what you're gonna say to me?”

Ellie sighs, rubbing a hand over her face, “look, i didn't even know you were here.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you snap, “you've barely talked to me all week.”

Her body tenses, “i told you— I've been busy.”

“You always have an excuse, Ellie,” your voice is quieter now, rawer, “you shut me out, you disappear and then i see you here, flirting with someone else like— like none of it mattered to you.”

Ellie's jaw tightens, “you're making a big deal out of it.”

You stare at her, you don't even have the energy to cry, your stare just empty, something in your chest twisting, “is it nothing to you?”

She doesn't answer.

And that silence is the loudest thing she's ever said.

Your throat burns, you take a step back shaking your head, “got it.”

You turn to leave and this time, Ellie doesn't stop you

You don't hear anything from Ellie after that night. At first you think she might reach out, maybe not right away but eventually. Maybe she'd text, or show up at your place, or even just try to explain herself.

But days pass, then a week. Then another.

Nothing.

You tell yourself you don't care, that it's for the best, that you should've seen this coming, but late at night, when you're lying in bed wearing that stupid hoodie she gave you, all you can think about is her. The way she kissed you like she meant it, the way she traced over your skin after fucking you stupid, like she was memorizing you. The way she looked at you like you were something more.

And then the way she threw it all away. You should hate her for it.

Maybe a part of you does.

And you try— really try to move on. You throw yourself into work, into friends, into anything that might pull you out of the gravitational pull of her. But it doesn't matter how many nights you spend out, how many times you convince yourself that she was never really yours to lose because at the end of the day, when you're alone in the quiet of your apartment, it still hurts.

Because Ellie Williams did mean something to you.

And she fucking knows it.

────────────────────────────────────

It happens on a Tuesday night. You're walking home from work when you hear someone calling your name, at first you think you're imagining it.

“Hey— wait.”

You stop. Turn.

Ellie.

She's standing on the sidewalk, hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket, looking… rough, like she hasn't been sleeping much, like maybe she's been carrying around the same weight you have.

Your chest tightens, “what do you want, Ellie?”

She exhales, shifting on her feet, “i just… wanted to talk.”

You huff an ironic laugh, rolling your eyes, “you're about two weeks too late for that.”

Ellie flinches, but she doesn't leave. Instead, she steps closer, eyes flickering over your face if like she is searching for something.

Then, quietly, “i'm sorry.”

The words catch you off guard, you fold your arms, trying to steady yourself, “for what, exactly?”

She sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose, “for fucking it up, for shutting you out, for not knowing how to—” she stops, exhales, “for being me, basically.”

You shake your head, “Ellie, this isn't about you not knowing how to do things, it's about you choosing not to. It's about you deciding I wasn't worth the risk.”

Ellie looks at you like you just knocked the wind out of her.

You swallow hard, ignoring the lump in your throat, “and worst part is i was willing to try. I wanted to try, but you never gave me the chance.”

Her jaw tightens, “it's not that simple.”

You scoff, “isn't it?”

She looks away, and maybe that's your answer right there.

Silence stretches between you but finally, Ellie mutters, “i wanted to need you less.”

The confession hits you straight in the chest.

Ellie runs a hand through her hair, looking almost… defeated, “you don't get it,” she mutters, “every time i let someone in, it just hurts. It always ends the same, and i thought if i kept my distance, if i didn't let it get too real, then maybe i could avoid all of that. Maybe i wouldn't lose you.”

Your breath catches, “Ellie,” you whisper, “you did lose me.”

She swallows, doesn't say anything.

You shake your head, voice quieter now, “you can't just show up after weeks of shutting me out and expect me to—,” you stop, “i don't know what you even want from me.”

Ellie finally meets your gaze, and for the first time in weeks, she looks honest.

“I want you,” your stomach flips, “but i don't know how to be good at this. I don't know how to keep you,” she admits.

You inhale, gripping your arms to keep you grounded.

There it is, the truth. And maybe that should be enough but you're not sure it is, so, you shake your head, blinking away the burn behind your eyes, “then maybe you should figure that out before you come looking for me again.”

Ellie flinches, like she wants to argue but she doesn't, she just nods and looks at the ground.

When you turn to walk away, she lets you go again.

────────────────────────────────────

A month after, you don't plan to go to Ink & Desire.

You don't plan to see Ellie at all.

But it's been eating you alive, gnawing at the edges of your mind— the way she looked at you that night, the things she didn't say. And maybe you just need to end it. Maybe you need to say something final, something that lets you walk away this time.

So when you push open the door to the shop, your heart pounding in your chest, you tell yourself this is for closure. Nothing else.

The place is empty, the chairs cleaned and the machines put away, the Closed sign flipped at the door, but you know Ellie. She's always here when it's late. You find her in the back, sketchbook in her lap, a half-empty beer on the counter beside her.

She looks up at the sound of your footsteps, “it's closed—” and when she sees you, something flickers in her face, looking almost relieved, but she shuts it down fast, “what are you doing here?” her voice is guarded, careful.

You fold your arms, “i could ask you the same thing.”

Ellie leans back in her chair, exhaling, “i work here.”

You scoff, “you also avoid people here.”

Ellie's jaw tenses, “what do you want?”

And that—the way she says it like you’re some inconvenience, like you weren’t just in her arms a few weeks ago—sets you off, burning with frustration. Your chest tightens, heat flaring in your stomach, “are you serious?” you shake your head, “that’s all you have to say?”

Ellie rubs a hand over her face, sighing, “i don’t know what you want from me.”

You let out a sharp laugh, “of course you don’t because you never fucking ask, Ellie. You just assume.”

Her eyes snap up, defensive, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you decided that I’d leave. That I’d hurt you so you didn’t even try,” your voice wavers, but you don’t stop, “you shut me out before I ever had the chance to prove you wrong.”

Ellie exhales harshly, standing abruptly, the sketchbook in her lap falling to the ground, “yeah? and what if i was right? what if you got tired of me? what if this whole thing was just gonna fall apart, like it always does?”

Your throat closes, “then that would’ve been my choice to make. Not yours.”

Ellie looks away.

You inhale sharply, trying to steady yourself, “but you didn’t trust me enough to even give me that choice.”

Silence.

Ellie’s hands curl into fists at her sides. Her breathing is uneven, like she’s fighting something back.

“I don’t do relationships,” she mutters.

You stare at her, something bitter twisting in your chest, “yeah, I got that part already.”

Ellie shakes her head, jaw clenched, “no, you don’t.”

Her voice is low, rough, and when she looks at you again, there’s something vulnerable in her face, something raw and exhausted and real.

“I don’t do relationships because they never fucking last, any of that lasts,” she exhales sharply, pacing now, “my dad left before i could even know him. My mom died. And Joel—” She stops like the name physically hurts to say, “he was the closest thing i ever had to a real family, and then he was gone. Just like that. No warning. No time to prepare. And I had to fucking live with that.”

Your breath catches.

Ellie lets out a sharp, bitter laugh, “so yeah. I don’t do people. I don’t do feelings. Because every time i have, they’ve either left or something’s ripped them away from me," she turns to you, eyes dark and serious, “and you—” her voice falters, “you were the first person in a long time that i actually wanted to stay, and that scared the shit out of me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. The anger, the frustration—it all dulls under the weight of her honesty.

You swallow hard, “Ellie…”

Her hands flex at her sides, “i don’t know how to do this,” she mutters, “i don’t know how to be what you need.”

You exhale, stepping closer, “then we figure it out. Together.”

Ellie looks at you, hesitant, unsure, “and if I fuck up again?”

You shake your head, “then we talk about it, we don’t just run, we don’t shut each other out.”

Ellie studies you and she lets out a breath, a real, shaky breath.

“Okay,” she murmurs.

Your chest tightens, “okay?”

She nods, “yeah. I wanna try. For real this time.”

You don’t realize how much you needed to hear that until the weight in your chest finally eases. Slowly, you reach for her hand, and this time, she lets you.

Lets you hold on.

Lets herself hold on back.

#𔓘 vi's works. ꒱#ellie williams x female reader #ellie wiliams #ellie williams tlou #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #tlou fanfiction #the last of us part 2 #tlou x reader #tlou smut

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inkdrinkerworld · 7 months ago

Note

Heyy!! I absolutely love your work and was wondering if I could make a request?

I read your Logan x Scott’s sister blurb a little bit ago and adored it and was wondering if I could request another one?

Maybe reader is crying in her room over a book or show or something and Logan comes in to soothe her but then Scott comes in and sees his sister crying and thinks that Logan did something to her? He gets all defensive and protective.

If not, obviously no worries but lots of love and hope you’re doing well!! 💗💗

“Bub? Where are you sweet girl?” Logan comes into your room, looking around for you. “I need a hug kid.” He had a fucking horrible day- some of the kids were more shits than he remembered.

Logan finds you in the bathroom crying on the toilet. You’re in your towel, and your hair is dripping down your back with suds following them.

“What’s wrong?” Immediately, Logan’s on his knees in front of you.

You sniffle and wipe at your nose, eyes all red as you look up at him.

“I hurt my wrist when I went on that thing with Jean and Ororo and I thought the pain would go away but when I was washing my hair I think I fucked it up some more.” He pouts, reaching for your wrist.

“Let me take a look, princess.”

You set your wrist in his hand carefully.

It looks more than sprained. Maybe a little twisted and a touch out of place.

“I can set it for you. Wanna bite down on my belt?” He teases and you giggle wetly while shaking your head.

“Will you count me down?” Logan coos, your words are soft and a bit insecure. He gives you a kiss on your cheek and then your wrist.

“I’ll count you down bub,” he rubs a little pressure on your forearm. “Look the other way f’me.”

You turn your head and Logan gives you a count from three to one, and twists your wrist making you cry out. “Fuck that’s rough.”

Just then, the bathroom door bangs open and Scott glares at Logan.

“What the fuck did you do to her? Why’s she been crying? And what the fuck happened to her wrist?”

You roll your eyes, Logan just stares at Scott like he can’t believe he’s in the bathroom right now. He really can’t. He also can’t believe Scott thinks he’d hurt you.

“I’ve been crying because I fucked up my wrist and Logan set it back for me while I was being a baby.”

Logan pinches your thigh, “You were hurt, not being a baby.”

Scott can’t help but soften his stance a bit. Logan treats you well, even if he gives him shit everyday. Sue him for not liking that you’re dating.

“You mind getting out so I can finish washing my girlfriend’s hair, Cyclops?”

Scott’s scowl is back. “When you’re finished can we go get lunch? I miss you.”

Logan gags, “I’m in love with your sister, Scott. Not you.”

You laugh and Scott glares harder. “I was talking to her, dumbass! Why would I miss you? I see you just about eleven hours a fucking day.”

“Yeah, we can grab a bite after Scotty. Give me thirty minutes?”

He nods and walks out, shutting the door behind him.

“What about me, hm?” Logan teases as he helps you out of your towel. “Gonna leave me to sleep in that cold ass bed all alone?”

“I’ll be back in an hour Lo, I swear.” You cup his cheek with your good hand and kiss his bottom lip.

“Yeah yeah,” he keeps you in place for a second kiss. “Did you factor me into those thirty minutes?”

You laugh against his mouth, “Not this time baby, come wash my hair please my love?”

Logan rolls his eyes playfully. You always know the right thing to call him. “You’re not leaving this room the second you come back; fucking missed you today.” He pats your butt as you step into the shower, your laugh making his chest swell.

God he loves you.

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xinganhao · 3 months ago

Text

11:59 PM ⏰ joshua x reader.

there's only one thing that joshua wants for his birthday: to kiss you at the stroke of midnight, come the 31st. with a little help from his friends, this might just be the year that he finally succeeds.

ⓘ mentions of alcohol consumption. writing (word count: 1.7k) under the cut. happy shua day! ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

TIME CHECK: 9:34 PM.

Joshua Hong is in love with you.

He’s been in love with you for eight birthdays (counting yours and his), four Christmases, and two shitty Valentine’s (one for each of you).

Has he done anything about it? Not really.

Will that stop him from trying? Absolutely not.

The two of you had promised to make it to Minghao’s by 9:30 sharp, but the song on the radio had been just a little too good as he pulled the car into park. It’s in those four extra minutes that Joshua is reminded just why he’s been so infatuated with you all this time.

The enthusiastic way you sing along to the AJ Rafael track. The giggles you let out when you trip over the lyrics only to barrel right on to the next verse like nothing happened. The upturn of your lips, the ghost of a smile—

God, he is so in love with you.

He plays the part. He pretends the steering wheel is a drum. He bobs his head up and down in time with your off-tune crooning. He belts when you ask him to, his riff of maybe you could save me from this crazy world we live in breaking off into a laugh when your voice cracks.

The final verse is still playing when you finally give up, nudging Joshua’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” you prompt. “Before Seungcheol blows a gasket.”

Of course Seungcheol would be the most upset if the two of you were late. Joshua chuckles at the mental image of his friend pouting the whole night. “Alright, alright,” he concedes.

He’s out of his seat in the next second, jogging past the front of the car so he can open the passenger door for you. You have that exasperated look on your face— the same one you wear when you’re about to insist that he doesn’t have to do this— but it’s softened by fondness.

“After you, m’lady,” Joshua says loftily, selling the whole act with a little curtsy.

You’re laughing as you take his hand. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Once you’ve stepped out of his car, you surprise him by not dropping his hand. “C’mon,” you urge, instead keeping your hands clasped as you tug him forward.

He stumbles on his first step but follows easily, the biggest smile beginning to spread on his face. The song from the radio is playing on repeat in the back of his mind— a refrain that could be as good as a promise, if he squinted.

We could happen, Joshua thinks dazedly as you drag him up to Minghao’s front door. We could happen.

TIME CHECK: 10:42 PM.

“Oi, loverboy.”

The pet name snaps Joshua out of his reverie. His head snaps over to Seokmin, who had been chatting his ear off for the past couple of minutes.

“Don’t call me that,” Joshua grumbles.

His friends are merciless. Seokmin snickers. Jihoon bites back a smile. Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“We were asking what your birthday wish was,” Seokmin repeats.

Jeonghan chimes in, “Y’know, after we all pulled lies out of our asses to make sure you could spend the day with the love of your life.”

“Stop,” whines Joshua, the tips of his ears already beginning to flame red. He composes himself just enough to huff, “And I can’t tell you what my birthday wish was. Otherwise it won’t come true.”

Jihoon mumbles something like ‘true’, but Jeonghan and Seokmin are relentless.

“Give us a hint,” Jeonghan insists.

Seokmin raises his index finger and his thumb. “Just a teensy, little hint!”

Autonomously, Joshua’s eyes flick over to where you are. You’re across the room, engaged in conversation with Mingyu and Vernon. The distance is far enough that Joshua can’t make out what’s being said, but it must be a good one; you’re grinning, nodding, gesticulating.

He holds back the urge to swoon. It’s a futile attempt; his friends all share looks before bursting into raucous laughter.

“No hint needed,” Seokmin says amusedly.

As much as Joshua hates to admit it, the man is right. The answer to what he wished for is clear as day, is in the very same room as him.

TIME CHECK: 11:10 PM.

Unbeknownst to Joshua, there’s a plan in motion. It’s a rather simple plan, too, and the boys had been convinced they could see it through.

After all, they only had to make sure that you and Joshua were at each other’s side by 11:59 PM.

Simple, right?

Except Seungkwan, Soonyoung and Wonwoo are knocked out of commission after sharing a champagne bottle.

Minghao gets into a spat with Junhui over one thing or another. Seungcheol and Jeonghan bicker to the point that Seungcheol has relegated himself to one corner, his arms crossed over his chest as he sulks.

“These idiots,” Seokmin huffs disbelievingly. Must he do everything himself?

He checks his watch. He has forty more minutes.

He could probably afford one more drink.

TIME CHECK: 11:43 PM.

Joshua can’t believe his friends.

If they’re not drunk, they’re feuding. Seokmin— who had earlier been so insistent on seeing the telecasted ball drop— is sprawled out on the couch, knocked out cold.

“That’s one way to usher in the new year,” you muse.

Something in Joshua’s chest thrums.

“Guess it’s just us,” he says smoothly. He thinks he deserves a standing ovation for just how even his voice sounds, betraying nothing about the hammering in his chest.

His nerves are somewhat eased by the smile that breaks on your face. “It’s just us,” you repeat, and you don’t sound particularly opposed to the idea.

You even sound… excited?

Joshua tries not to overthink it. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat, just to keep himself from reaching out for you. “The view of the fireworks might be better from outside,” he says. “What do you say?”

It’s a selfish offer. Joshua is trying to mastermind his way into being your New Year’s Eve kiss. God forbid a man try to make a move.

“I say that sounds good,” you respond, and Joshua barely holds himself back from breaking out into a little dance.

TIME CHECK: 11:57 PM.

Out on the sidewalk, it’s just the two of you.

The streetlamps cast a warm halo over your head. The fireworks bathe you both in multicolored flashes of light. There’s the sounds of bells ringing, and children screeching, and trumpets being blown.

All of it feels inconsequential to the thrill running through Joshua’s veins.

You’re standing by his side, talking about your resolutions for the new year. And you’re so lovely. And there’s nothing Joshua wants more than to finally, finally—

“Oh?” You fish your phone out of your pocket. “Ah, sorry. Give me a minute, yeah?”

Joshua’s hand twitches at his side, like he’s tamping down the urge to keep you. “Take your time,” he says.

His eyes follow you as you hurry off, ducking someplace where he can’t quite see you. Joshua tears his gaze away to look up at the night sky instead.

TIME CHECK: 11:59 PM.

Most of the apartments in Minghao’s building have left their windows open. Some superstition about inviting in good luck.

While Joshua is standing outside, he can faintly hear a blaring television beginning to count down the seconds.

“Seventeen… sixteen… fifteen…”

Joshua exhales, his breath coming out as a visible puff of air. His eyes flutter close, the image of the full moon burning behind his closed lids. The thought of being underneath it without you makes the earlier thrumming in his chest twist into something that almost aches.

He supposes that some wishes aren’t meant to come true.

TIME CHECK: 12:01 AM.

“Shua!”

Joshua startles. He hadn’t noticed your return, and he’s momentarily distracted from his thoughts as his eyes snap open. You look panicked; it makes his chest squeeze with concern.

“Hey,” he says immediately, his hand instinctively resting on the side of your arm in a bid to soothe. “What’s wrong?”

“I missed it.”

“Missed—”

“Missed you!”

Before Joshua can question your words, you’re already ranting. “The clock on my phone is a couple of minutes behind, and I thought I had enough time. I just wanted to pop a mint, put on some lipstick, maybe—”

The implications of your words hit him like a truck. His eyes widen, and then something almost like a laugh breaks from the back of his throat.

“You— for what?” he manages, even though he already knows the answer.

“For this,” you say, and then you’re standing up on your tiptoes.

The press of your lips against his is better than every goddamn firework in the world. Joshua is sure that absolutely no one in the world feels the way that he does right now.

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t freeze up for a minute. His free arm snakes around your waist, gently pulling you flush against him. His other hand goes to rest at your cheek as he tilts your head ever so slightly, just so he can deepen the kiss.

When the two of you break apart for air, Joshua lets you breathe for all of five seconds before he’s kissing you again.

You giggle against his mouth. And it’s dizzying to him, the way the two of you are smiling as this unfolds; the way the rest of the world is a flurry of noise, but he’s standing still with you in his arms.

“Shua,” you say his name like a reprimand, gently pushing at his chest to get him off you for a moment.

His body doesn’t seem to register it. His head instinctively ducks to follow your lips. The sheer desperation of it makes you smile.

“I’m sorry for being late,” you say, almost shy in your apology.

“My fault,” he responds hastily. “Told you to take your time.”

And, to hell with his dignity—

“One more, please?” he asks, his tone just a little breathless.

You’re laughing, again. Not at him, hopefully. He can’t bring himself to care, though, because your hand is already at the back of his neck, tugging him down.

“One more,” you murmur.

Birthday wishes be damned. A quiet voice in the back of Joshua’s head whispers a disbelieving this is happening as he goes to kiss you again, knowing fully well by the way you respond that this won’t be the last time.

It’s a fulfilled promise.

This is happening. We’re happening.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ we could happen by aj rafael. what are you doing new year's eve? by zooey deschanel and joseph gordon-levitt. 7PM by bss and peder elias. tell me it's not a dream by 10cm. fallen by lola amour.

240525 #joshua 🦌 carats, thank you always. i will work hard to live up to the love that carats give me. so i'll be continue to be in your care. yoshi yoshi~ carats, the moon is pretty.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

#joshua x reader #joshua hong x reader #joshua fluff #joshua imagines #joshua smau #joshua text imagines #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt smau #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen smau #── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine #[ ily my shuamonroll!!!!!!!!! ]#[ i need to improve my shua texting tone. that's my 2025 resolution lol ]#[ too late to redo so for now enjoy a hashtag Nonchalant shua ]

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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 1 year ago

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Overprotective Dad

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (y/n)

Warnings: google translate spanish..

Girl Dad Carlos series continues, enjoy!

Carlos, Charles and Pierre participated in the World Stars Football match. It was a charity football match and it was happening tonight so you and your now three year old daughter Bea decided to go with Carlos and cheer for him.

It was no secret that Carlos loved football and is an avid fan of Real Madrid, so the fact that his wife and daughter will be watching him play tonight made him all too excited.

"Están mis niñas listas?" Carlos asks entering Bea's room where the two of you were getting her ready. (Are my girls ready?)

"All done! Go show daddy what you're wearing." You say as you tighten the red ribbon on her tiny curly ponytail and put her down from your lap. Bea excitedly runs towards Carlos and spins around in front of him showing him the small grey Ferrari sweatshirt that had Sainz written in big red letters on the back and number 55 on the front in the right top corner of the sweatshirt.

"Wow, mi amor, eres hermosa." Carlos says picking her up in his arms and kissing her chubby cheek that was blushing. Bea was a truly girly little girl and she loved compliments and attention especially from Carlos. And Carlos being the best girl dad in the world loved spoiling her. "What does it say on your back?" He asks her.

"Sainz" You whisper to remind her.

"Sainz" And she repeats after you.

"Are you gonna cheer for papa tonight?"

"Yes!!" She screams clapping her hands.

"Did you show him you hair?" You ask stepping closer to them and fixing the ribbon on her hair.

"Let me see." She quickly turns her head and reaches for her ponytail for him to see. "Ayy, maravillosa!" (Gorgeous!)

You put on your long trench coat and high heel boots and Carlos took his backpack and Bea into his arms. Soon you were out the door on your way to the stadium. Since it was big event with a lot of famous athletes, there was a ton of reporters impatiently waiting for them to arrive.

As soon as you saw it, mild anxiety washed over you. You got used to it by now, but you didn't like them taking pictures of Bea. So far you have successfully kept your three-year-old out of the media eye. It's not that you were hiding her, but you didn't like them sharing pictures of her all over the internet.

Besides, as much as Bea is an extrovert and loves attention, she's still just a little kid who gets terrified of a crowd of strangers shouting in her face. And that's exactly what happened this time.

As soon as you got out of the car they spotted you and the camera flashes went off like crazy. You took a deep breath opening the back door of the car to get Bea out of her seat. Carlos stood behind you with the backpack in his hand and held the door of the car open.

"Come here, baby" You say unbuckling her belt as she stretched her arms towards you. Bea already noticed from the car that something was happening outside. They were calling for you shouting your names out loud and she was very confused about who these people are and how do they know her name.

You positioned her on your hip and tightly wrapped your arms around her. At first her big brown eyes widened watching all those people standing in your way as you started walking towards the stadium. Carlos had his arm around you as you walked close to him, but you were struggling because it was hard to see clearly from the flashes and in addition to all that, you were wearing high heel boots and holding your child.

"Mama.." You could hear Bea's heart pounding against your chest and it didn't take long for her to burst into tears. It all became too much for her.

"Baby, it's okay shh.." You tried, but it didn't help and you completely understood why. "Oh my God, I'm gonna trip and fall"

"Give me her" Carlos slung his backpack over his shoulder and stopped walking for a second to take her from your arms into his.

"Are you okay? Hold on to me." He asked you and you quickly gave him a nod. She hid her face into his neck and you held on to his arm as you started walking again.

You could feel Carlos slowly starting to fume with anger because they scared and made his little girl cry, and she was so excited to come here and watch her daddy play. You tightened your grip on him trying to calm him down, but once one of them tried to shove their camera into her face, Carlos was about to lose it. He was not having any of that.

"Do that one more time and I'll smash the fucking camera against your head you fucking piece of shit" He stopped in tracks, his brown eyes darkened. If he hadn't been holding Bea, he would have punched him for sure.

"Carlos, no please" You said pulling him away.

When you finally managed to make your way through the crowd and reach the inside of the stadium you ran into Charles.

"The Sainz family!" Charles yelled smiling, but he quickly noticed something was wrong.

"Just give us a second please." Carlos said to him as you two stood to the side to calm Bea down. "Bebe, it's okay, you're safe, daddy wouldn't let anything happen to you" He said softly wiping her tears away and placing a kiss on her cheek. After a few minutes of comforting, the tears dried up and the sweet smile returned to her face.

"Papi no nos dejes" She said quietly playing with the collar of his t-shirt. (Daddy, don't leave us)

"No bebe, tu y mami vendrán conmigo. Vas a apoyar a papá, sí?" Carlos said tickling her tummy making her laugh and nod in agreement. (No baby, you and mommy will come with me. You're going to cheer for dad, okay?)

"We'll be daddy's loudest cheerleaders, okay?" You said gently pinching her cheek.

"Y más hermosas" (and the most beautiful)

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 21 days ago

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steve singing the cheesiest pop songs into a fake microphone at eddie just bc he's in a good mood and because eddie 'hates' it

steve singing these songs morphs into steve singing the same songs but swapping out lyrics to whatever eddie is doing, or they're doing, or to something that happened in a hellfire campaign etc

steve still singing those songs around everyone else but also starts to sing his changed lyric masterpieces to eddie specifically

One particular instance being when Steve starts to sing Frankie Valli at him while trying to convince him to go out with him and robin to this club they'd heard about.

He and Robin were trying to convince him from their spots behind the counter at Family Video, arguing about if he should come with them or not long enough for Steve to come around the counter and actually do his job, stacking away tapes onto the closest shelves, when Sherry comes on over the radio.

Steve starts to bob his head along while Robin tries telling him again that it's a good place, that she has it on good authority that it's a place for other Friends of Dorothy, but she doesn't get far before Frankie AND Steve start to sing.

Eddie can quite literally not believe what he's seeing.

Steve is staring him down, his eyes full of glee as he croons Eddie's name back at him, a well-worn copy of Gremlins acting as his mic.

"Eddie~! Eddie Baby! Eddie~! Eddie Baby--" Steve's long, high pitched (though somehow still in tune) crooning of his name in place of Sherry's is (luckily) funny enough to keep his face from showing exactly how he's feeling about being called baby.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

"I agree with Buckley."

Steve ignores them, signing about his moonlit party or something, putting the tape where it goes on the shelf to Eddie's right just in time to turn and snatch up Eddie's hands in his to sing "I'm gonna make-a you my-i-ine~!", right to him, tossing his head around with the last line and spinning away to keep shelving tapes.

Eddie's face blazes hot.

"Oh my god, this is actually doing it for you, isn't it?"

He looks over at Robin, ready to snap at her, deny it all, but she looks so sincere under that mirth.

He sighs.. "Yeah."

"Can you come out tonight?" Steve sing-asks, jumping into his space and startling him.

"Really??"

He's grabbed up Ghostbusters this time, "YooOOOuUU better ask your Uncle~ Tell him everything is alright"

"He won't care!"

Steve's voice pitches lower as he continues to ignore Eddie's comments, stepping away to a nearby shelf "Why don't you come out?" then higher immediately after, as he slides the tape onto it's shelf, "With your red flannel on"

"I can't wear a dress?"

"Mmm, you look so fine~!"

"Shut up, Harrington!" Eddie's cheeks are on fire

Steve continues to ignore him, stepping back into Eddie's space and snatching him up in a spin, one hand on his hip, one grabbing his opposite hand, "Move it nice and easy,"

He's front to front with the man of his dreams and said man is, shimmying his hips to the tune, "Well you make me lose my miiiind!"

Steve goes into more long belts of "EeeEEdie bay-ay-bee" as he spins away back to shelve more tapes, leaving Eddie both entranced and bewildered at the front of the store.

"He'll be so bummed if you don't come now."

Eddie sighs, leans back against the counter to wait out the rest of the song, "Yeah.. I know."

- - - - - - - - - - -

and then they go to the bar and then steddie kiss and robin kisses a super cute girl and they live happily ever after the end

this exact scenario has haunted me every time sherry comes on the radio so today you finally get it too lmao

#drops this and runs #steddie #song fic #kinda #stevie's singin' lmao #and woo-ing his man while he does it #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #noelle writes

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unknownplane · 5 months ago

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The Court Jester Part 2

Yandere Batfam x GN Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

As Batman questioned his life choices, his other children listened in on the conversation.

"So that's what happened to (Y/N). I thought they had just moved out." Tim stated.

"How did that weak-" Damian started but was cut off by Tim. "You didn't even know them! They were nice and understood how important our work was, so they tried to stay out of the way!"

Dick and Jason just blocked out the arguing as they started to remember all the things (Y/N) did for them. How they tried to help even in the smallest ways. Like how they would always make sure there was a fresh pot of coffee or how they would rotate the types of cookies in the manor so everyone got one they liked.

When (Y/N) first moved out, the first thing the family realized was how much they did. It felt weird the first couple of weeks, but they eventually got used to it. Seeing (Y/N) like this made them worry, even if some of them wouldn't admit it (Damian). This awoken something in each of them.

Dick saw someone who was with him since the beginning. Someone he could always trust to be there for him when he needed it, and now he could see it was gone. The twisted smile on their face showed all the pressure he and his family put on them, and he felt nothing but guilt.

Jason saw someone who went through something similar to him. He saw the torture in their eyes. He heard the manipulation in the words that came out their mouth. He knew that if he could just get to them and talk like they used to, it would all be fine. He was determined to get them back, and this time, they weren't leaving his sight.

Tim saw the calculation that went into this trap. He saw the brain of (Y/N), who even in this state was brilliant. He saw the planning, the research, the trail and error of each detail in this plan, all to catch Batman and have a conversation with him before your "Dad" got there. He wanted to bounce ideas off you. He wanted to talk about plans with you. He even wanted to just hang out and chill with you, but in order to do that, he would need to get you back. And when you came back, he would do all those things with you.

Stephanie saw the abandoned side of you. She realized that she didn't know anything about you. Your age, your favorite color, your birthday, she didn't even know your last name. She knows what it's like to have a distant relationship with a parent figure, and she wants to help. She wants to know all of those things. She wants to know you. And if you let her (you will), she wants to be the closest person to you.

Damian saw a weak follower who needed not only to learn but also needed to be protected. Even though you are older than him, he can see a flame in you that with the right training and teacher could become a full-on blaze. He would be that teacher. He would be the one you look up to. Nobody else. He just needed to get you back to start training.

They all looked at each other as if thinking the same thing,"Let's go get (Y/N)."

Back with (Y/N)...

"Dads gonna be so proud when he sees this! I mean, look at you! You look totally defeated!" (Y/N) said between giggles. They were giddy. They had talked to dad about if they could try something with the Bat, and surprisingly, he agreed. After the Bat was caught, they sent the signal to their father so they could show off their work.

Batman was tied to a chair. His utility belt on the floor as they made him make a choice. Drop your utility belt, or I will kill these two parents and make a boy and a girl orphans. They knew what they were doing. They knew it was wrong. But God did it feel good. To have his eyes looking at them and having him see what they truly are. Not their mother but (Y/N). Even if they look a little different now.

As the Bat was beginning to start a sentence the door busted open.

"Hello Peanut!" The Joker exclaimed as he came in. "Look at all the fine work you've done. My little Jester".

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

Thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this! Everytime I see your guys support I am baffled at how wonderful you all are. Quick question do you want this to be completely platonic or do you want some people from the family to be romantic? Also should I add more people from the DC Universe? Thank you so much for reading!

@asillysimp

#yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #yandere batfam #batfam #batfam x reader #gn reader

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bunny-jpeg · 7 months ago

Note

I did the last request the vanilla cheesecake with a side of champagne and root beer and I forgot to add my person can it be max verstappen sorry!

bakery menu

thank you for the submission!! also i saw that this was your first time requesting a fic so THANK YOU! if you want to submit an order of your own, hit up the menu for all the information! i write for more than just formula one so go crazy! thank you and enjoy!!

vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?") + champagne (sugar daddy au) + root beer (filming/recording) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, filming/recording, collars, degrading language, mean!max, dom/sub dynamics, bondage, sex toys, orgasm denial/control, jealousy

max thought that you were sweet like honey, something to drag his tongue along as he had your ankles at your ears, his cock buried inside of you.

you didn't mind being the play thing of one of the best drivers in the world. you didn't mind that you'd be in your apartment one day and the next day you're in the back of his car heading to his jet to go anywhere in the world.

money wasn't an object to someone who made close to sixty-million dollars a year. even the time he was off racing, you'd still get a pretty deposit in your banking account.

it was a charmed life, but being the sugar baby to a man like max meant indulging in the needs of his. you were a paid service, company as you were once told it was.

and max had some sick little kinks. nothing that bordered on illegal (thank god), but the flying dutchman liked his girls behaving and begging. and you were the prettiest beggar of them all.

"head. forward." he said. he was seated on the couch and you were on your stomach with your arms tied behind your back with a belt and a toy stuck in your slick pussy. you had dropped your head up against the floor for a moment before max corrected you.

you looked up at him and whined a little, "please, sir. please, i promised i'd be good! i didn't realize what i was doing." and tensed up when max turned up the intensity of the vibrator via the remote in his pocket.

max currently looked fairly sleek, in slacks and a white button up. the suit jacket was draped over the arm of the couch and his sleeves were rolled up. those strong forearms were exposed. he was leaned back against the leather couch with his hand in his pocket with the remote in his hand.

he sighed through his nose before he said, "i don't think that's the case, treasure. you know what you did tonight, i'm surprised that you didn't whore yourself at that party."

you tensed up when he lowered the vibrations of the toy. he shifted in his seat a little and kept a stern eye on you. his gaze felt oppressive and it made you squirmed on your stomach. you felt like a worm, weak and vulnerable. prey.

"please, max. please, please, please! i'm sorry! it won't happen again." you arched your back a little and squirmed in your binds.

he made a face, that he wasn't convinced of your apology. he turned off the vibrator and got up from the couch. you could see the painful erection in his slacks more clearly. he walked over to you and held you by the back of the head to look at him. he said, "you are very dumb, treasure." his words were biting, "a dumb little thing." he shook his head a little, "oh max gives me money, so i can act like a slut. norris' hands were up your skirt. i don't like when people touch what is mine, especially another driver."

you flinched a little, but your core swam with want. he was domineering like this. scary in a way that left a thrill of excitement through you. you licked your lips and said, "it wasn't what it looked like."

he nudged you with his shoe and then stepped on the center of your back, right under where your hands were bound. he made a small noise before he turned the vibrator back on to full intensity. you tensed up and threw your head back, but you weren't going far. not bound and under max's shoe.

"i'm not too sure, treasure. i told you when we started this little agreement that you were going to be exclusively mine. i didn't want to share you with other men. i pay you enough to keep you mine." he pressed a little bit on your back and you arched it.

you felt the heat in your cheeks and the wetness between your legs. you panted a little bit, "i promise, i promise i will never let another man touch me." the lust in your body was short circuiting any logical thinking.

he chuckled, a little more convinced now. he took out his phone out of his other pocket and filmed your quivering body. he played with the remote in his other hand as he continued to film you. he took a good shot of your pussy as he watched your wither and moan.

"please, max. please, i'm sorry. i won't let lando touch me again. i thought he was just being friendly!" you moaned as you tried to shift your hips in a way to get the pleasure you need.

he put the camera in your face and your head in his other hand. he chuckled and got the camera close to you, "say that to lando right now, treasure. tell him you're off limits." he could feel the heat in his body grow, you were so painfully pathetic in front of him withering on a toy.

you looked up to the camera, your lips in a pout and your eyes were wet. you sniffed a little bit as you said, "lando. never touch me again. i belong only to max." then arched your back further as he lowered then intensity, only to put it to the max once more.

max rubbed your head and chuckled, "that's it, that's a good little slut. you actually know how to behave. i guess i haven't fucked all of your brains out."

you whimpered when you realized that max had full control over your orgasm. he was edging you when he finished filming you. you wondered if the video would actually be sent to lando at the end of this. the prospect of it excited you, maybe you liked the way max treated you like an object when he was upset.

he eventually had enough of the teasing he was doing to you. he got behind your naked, bound form. his phone on the floor beside him. he was still clothed with his cock out of his pants.

he loved the sight of you naked under him when he clothed. you shuddered at his oppressive gaze and winced when he took the toy out and replaced it with his cock. you squirmed under his touch and bucked against him. but a swift slap across the ass calmed you.

"you're so pretty like this." he said, "you're so painfully pretty on your shoulders and knees, letting me fuck the daylights out of you. you look good under me. it's where you belong."

you gasped against the hardwood floor under your. your cheek pressed against it as he started to rub against you. his large hands on your hips, keeping you pinned to him as he thrusted into you quickly,

there was no time for romantic pleasantries, he needed you at that moment. he needed to feel that sweet cunt around his cock as he fucked you. his possessiveness for you grew with each thrusts of his cock.

"please, max." you panted, "shit, please." you gasped as you moved against your binds. you felt the knot in your stomach as he fucked you without much abandon.

"see, you can be good." max groaned. he was obsessed with you, that was why he was luring you in with heavy stacks of cash. he could bruise your insides with his cock if it meant that you'd get something shiny out of it. it was almost cute, too easy for him to trap you.

the rabbit between the lion's jaw.

"max, i'm sorry. please, i want to be your good girl." you panted heavily.

he held onto the meat of your hips tighter and bullied that impressive cock of his deep into your sweet pussy. he wanted to make sure that he marked you inside and out.

pretty thing like you need to be owned. kept next to him, not running off with the likes of lando. things sparked in the back of his mind as he thrusted in and out of you.

he'd make sure next time that you knew who you belonged to before you both went out partying. maybe a collar next time, a nice piece of sturdy leather with a lock that only he could open.

so even if lando got his hands on you, max's name around your neck would be a reminder to him and anyone else that you were claimed territory.

"i know you can be my good girl." he said, "just lie there and let me fuck you. you're mine, got it?"

you swallowed, "yes, max!" you felt the heat curl in your gut the more that he fucked you. your head swam with pleasure, the aggressiveness to his movements were all getting too much.

he shuddered and pushed his cock as deep as it would go. he felt his pace stagger when you clenched around him and finally came. it was all too much for you. usually he'd make you beg to climax, but he had done enough damage tonight. your poor pussy was probably nice and bruised.

max would make it all up in the morning with something expensive. he'd wave a stack of euros in your face and all would be forgiven. he thrusted heavily a few more times before he pushed it in all the way to the base and finished inside of you.

he prayed the birth control he paid for worked like it did every other time. but a sick part of his brain hoped that it failed. he hoped that you got pregnant and stuck carrying his kid. then at least lando wouldn't touch you, hard to get his hand up your skirt when you're nice and pregnant with a verstappen brat.

he grit his teeth and grumbled, "that's it, that's a good girl." he landed a smack across your ass as he finished. his pace slowed and he panted heavily. he leaned back on his heels and admired the sight of his cum dripping out of your poor pussy.

you've learned your lesson. you were going to be max's good girl. you were simply his expensive play thing, but the more max sank his cock into the gummy soft pussy of yours. the more the addiction came over him, max was getting greedy with your time.

and soon he'd want to devour your whole <3

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 7 months ago

Text

Birds Of A Feather

Rating: Teen Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Words Count: 5,320 Summary: Your four hour flight home to Philadelphia turns into a 24 hour trip where you're marooned in the St. Louis airport thanks to a snowstorm. You and Joel Miller, the handsome man you just met on your flight, keep each other company. Warnings: fluff, like the amount of fluff inside of a 7 foot tall stuffed bear fluff, snow storm, pov switching, cinnamon rolls and apple juice, flight anxiety, comfort, kinda soulmate vibes, good dad joel, proud dad joel, sarah's in college, reader is an interior designer from philadelphia, the whole one bed in the hotel room trope as well, nothing bad happens to joel miller in this house, lying for a ticket.

A/N: This was written for @burntheedges' Roll A Trope Challenge. I received snowed in and thanks to the always lovely @maggiemayhemnj she helped me with suggesting snowed in at an airport. This is very very soft and cute, I hope you enjoy! ❄️💕

Masterlist

❄️❄️❄️

Early morning flights are your favorite. The TSA line is usually short, coffee from the kiosk is fresh, the magazines in the newsstand are in order, and the airport is quiet in an early morning hush versus the roar of the afternoon crowds. You stop at the newsstand to pick up a magazine and a cinnamon roll before heading to your gate. You stuff your customary travel treats in your backpack looking forward to enjoying your newest Architectural Digest and sugar rush once you’re in the air.

❄️❄️❄️

A deep throat clear grabs your attention while you watch the tarmac crew prepare the plane. A broad man stands before you in the aisle, clad in a flannel and faded gray shirt taking up most of the tight space. Instant panic bubbles inside when you realize this gorgeous man is who you have to share a tiny cubicle with for the next four hours.

“Hey, uh,” he stammers, a hand brushes the back of his neck in a nervous stance, “s’alright if I take the window? It’s… helpful to me.”

His voice is deep and husky with one of those famous Texas drawls, of course his voice is just as attractive as him.

“Not at all, I can take the aisle,” you say, awkwardly bending over to grab your bag.

The handsome stranger attempts to back up as much as he can yet your body still brushes against his, he tenses before moving into the row and sits down with a big huff; if you thought he took up a lot of room in the aisle, the room he takes up in the cramped business class seat is something else.

He adjusts his shoulders to try to give you more space and fails miserably. He lets out a grumbly sigh while attempting to find a more comfortable position. His arm bumps into yours before you angle your body towards the aisle, trying to give the large stranger more room. At least he smells just as good as he looks… mint, coffee and burnt wood. There’s way worse looking people to be packed in like sardines with.

The flight attendants walk the aisle and do their pre boarding steps, checking seat belts and doors before going into their safety spiel. Your seat neighbor shuffles nervously, tapping his fingers against his thighs. He’s a nervous flier, you can spot them a mile away.

“Why are you headed to Pennsylvania?” you ask, turning towards him trying to cut through his nervous tension.

“Oh, uh, to visit my daughter, she’s a freshman at UPenn. Wanted to spend the holidays with her,” he cracks a smile at the mention of his daughter. God, he’s handsome.

“That’s nice, it’s beautiful in Philly for the holidays. I’m from there, so if you need any tips on where to go and what to do, I can help.”

“Thanks,” his fingers still tap against his lap. “Guess you’re going back home then?”

“Yep, I just finished a job and I haven’t been home in a month, just hoping to beat the snow.”

“Here’s hoping… I’m Joel by the way,” he reaches his large hand out to shake yours. You grab his calloused and overworked hand then give him your name, he nods softly and repeats it. His deep voice echoes through your head, sending a shiver up your spine.

“It’s nice to meet you Joel, even if it’s in this cramped airplane cabin.”

“S’nice to meet you too,” he lets go of your hand, placing it back on his thigh, you notice that it’s no longer nervously tapping.

Flight attendants, prepare doors for departure and cross check.

Joel lets out a big, deep sigh.

“Nervous flier?” you ask.

“You could say that,” he grumbles. “Never liked giving up control of my life to someone I don’t know.”

“I understand that, but this happens to millions of people a day, you only hear about the bad.”

“I get that,” he chuckles, quickly stopping as the plane begins to roll on the tarmac. “Still don’t have to like it.”

“Well, I fly all the time,” you reassure, “I’m sure everything will go smoothly.”

“Here’s hoping,” he sighs, sinking deeper into the seat.

You are the opposite of your seatmate, you love how the engines rumble as the plane picks up speed, the way your stomach drops when it lifts off the tarmac, the brief thud underneath when the wheels are tucked into the plane. Flying has never bothered you, it’s always been exciting and a means of getting to new adventures.

The plane speeds across the pavement preparing for liftoff, your stomach drops before the wheels leave the ground... Joel’s hand grasps yours. Golden, thick fingers cover your hand squeezing tightly. You turn to him and your heart breaks a little at the sight, his eyes are squeezed shut with his nostrils flaring as he puffs deep breaths out. There’s something so heartbreaking watching this large, strong man look so scared.

“Hey, you’re alright, it’s quick, very soon we’re going to be in the air and all we have to do is wait,” you try to sound as gentle and comforting as possible. It’s easy to take fearlessness for granted, especially when someone as large and seemingly intimidating as Joel looks so helpless.

He nods, his eyes still tightly closed before swallowing a thick gulp of air.

Your free hand reaches up and opens his air vent before angling yours toward him.

“Can you look at me Joel,” you whisper. His hand still clasps yours tightly. It hurts like hell, but you don’t mind; if it makes him feel better, he can clasp as hard as he needs.

His brown eyes open wide and focus on you.

“That’s good, Joel, can you take a deep breath for me? Iiiiiin and ooooout. Very good,” you encourage with a grin on your face holding his eye contact. “This is worth it, you’ll get to see your daughter, tell me her name and what she’s like.”

“H-her name’s Sarah, she’s uh, studying to be a doctor, sh-she’s way smarter than her old man, sh-she plays on the soccer team, got a scholarship for it ‘n everything, she loves music and going to too many damn concerts. She’s going to go deaf like me if she ain’t careful.”

“She sounds awesome,” you smile.

“She is, don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“What do you do for work?” you keep him talking, making sure to distract Joel’s anxiety.

“Contractor, I own a contracting service with my brother, we specialize in retail and office buildings.”

“Oh, that sounds like hard work, but it’s nice you get to work with your brother.”

“Could be better, could be worse,” he shrugs.

“Hey, I’m an interior designer, we’re both in similar fields. How many carpenter pencils do you have? I probably have three floating around in my purse right now.”

He chuckles, his face loses its tenseness, Joel doesn’t attempt to take his hand from yours, and you don’t move to do it either. You work with contractors all the time, you’ve never seen one as gorgeous as him.

“My daughter always tried to get me to let her use ‘em for school work because they were a different shape, kept on having to take them away from her.”

“She sounds tenacious.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he muses.

Good afternoon passengers. This is your captain speaking. First I'd like to welcome everyone on Flight 86A. We are currently cruising at an altitude of 33,000 feet at an airspeed of 400 miles per hour. We’re going to try to avoid the snow the best we can, we’ll keep you updated in case anything changes.

You’ve been entertaining Joel so much both of you didn’t notice you totally missed lift off and your ascent into the sky.

“Would you look at that? We’re in the air, you only have four hours until you get to see her.”

“Thanks for that,” he says, moving his hand from yours. “I feel ridiculous.”

“No need, I’m happy I could help,” you shake the tenseness out of your hand after the twenty minutes of being in Joel’s vice grip.

“You alright? Did I hurt you?” his eyes round in guilt under his furrowed eyebrows focus on your hand.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure. “You just have a strong grip. Must be all of that contractor business.”

He sends you a shy, crooked grin, “M’sorry.”

“I’ll survive, just like we’ll survive this flight together, Joel,” you wink.

He looks at you, his brown eyes turn darker and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “You’re quite someth–”

“May I offer you a drink?” the flight attendant interrupts. Worst fucking time.

You order an apple juice. Joel orders a black coffee.

“Apple juice?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a tradition I have. I always get a cinnamon roll and apple juice every time I fly in the morning. Tastes kinda like apple pie when they’re together.”

“Hm, I don’t know about that,” he scrunches his nose and shakes his head.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” you shrug before pulling the cinnamon roll out of your bag.

You ask for an extra cup when the attendant brings yours and Joel’s drinks before ripping off half of the cinnamon roll and handing it to him. “Here.”

“No, no, it’s yours.”

“Yeah, but I want to share,” you urge, “I got you a cup for apple juice too.”

“If you insist,” he obliges, taking the soft pastry.

Half of your juice is poured into the extra cup before you hand it to him and raise your cup up to cheers.

“To four hour flights and apple pie” you quip.

“Cheers,” he says, gently shaking his head with eyes lit resembling something akin to affection.

You both take a drink of the sweet juice before picking up the cinnamon roll and taking a bite.

“See?” you say, still chewing the sweet pastry.

“Mmf,” he shakes his head and swallows. “Not apple pie, but pretty damn good.” He wipes the errant crumbs off of his mustache, you wonder if his lips taste like cinnamon and apples.

“I’ll take pretty damn good,” you muse, picking up your magazine and settling into your seat.

❄️❄️❄️

Joel glances towards you every chance he gets. He’s a realist, sometimes too much of one, he knows why he’s so calm during this flight– your comforting presence. He’s hated flying his whole life, his father never understood his fear, always telling him ��I flew on planes bigger and louder than this all through the war, kid, buck up.’ Thanks dad, that’ll surely help the terrified eight year old crying and clutching to his mother. Sarah damn near broke his heart when she met him at the door excitedly waving the acceptance letter to a school 1,700 miles away. How could he crush his little girl’s dreams because her old man hates being in the sky? He got to bide his time, driving her in the moving truck to her new school, but now– with her first Christmas out of state and unable to fly home due to work– Joel was forced to step on the scary metal tube.

He could hardly believe his luck when the pretty girl gazing out the window ended up being his seatmate; the excitement over being so close to you helped shield a bit of his trepidation over his first solo flight and then he went on to embarrass himself. You didn’t shake your head or shun him, you accepted and supported him. He can still feel your soft hand wrapped in his and hear your gentle voice coaching him down from a panic attack. You’re a complete stranger, and yet you’ve shown him more kindness than he’s allowed himself to accept in years.

You adjust in your seat, your elbow brushes against his, little do you know he bunched up the sleeve of his flannel so he could feel the touch of your skin.

He doesn’t know why you affect him the way that you do, it’s only been a couple of hours in the sky next to you, but he’s already trying to think of a way to give you his phone number.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Captain Scott has informed us that we will be diverting to St. Louis due to the weather conditions at Philadelphia. We will be landing in approximately twenty minutes and will keep you advised about the continuation of this flight to our destination as information becomes available. We apologize for the inconvenience this may have caused. Thank you for your patience and understanding. We are aware that many of you have connecting flights departing Philadelphia. Our ground staff will work with you to confirm you on the next available flight to your destination. Thank you for your patience.

“Well, shit,” you sigh, placing your magazine down, rolling your neck and stretching your arms. “Had a feeling this might happen.”

“Shit indeed,” he sighs.

“How are you with landings, Joel?” you softly question. “Can I do anything for you?”

His heart skips, he hasn’t felt this feeling in years. Sure his little girl steals his heart every second of the day, but for a woman to make his heart race the way it is now making butterflies flutter through his stomach… that hasn’t happened in two decades.

“No, I should be okay, thank you,” he says, feeling a bit foolish.

“I’m here for you, okay?” The gentleness of your voice void of any judgment helps soothe his shame.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into St. Louis. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for landing, please be certain your seat back is straight up and your seat belt is fastened. Please secure your carry-on items, stow your tray table, and pass any remaining service items and unwanted reading materials to the flight attendants. Thank you.

His breathing turns rapid, he feels the phantom of fear rearing its ugly head 10,000 feet above the ground. He’s seen far too many videos of planes spurting flames and panicked passengers escaping down blown up slides. He remembers Captain Sulley and the miracle on the Hudson… that ain’t no miracle. Joel Miller is a realist, how about everyone almost died in the Hudson? He tries to breathe like that weird lady on TikTok Sarah showed him… make a square with every breath? Or make a line and then breathe? Christ, he can’t remember. His lips part to inhale more stale pressurized oxygen trying to calm his pulsating heart. This time your hand grabs his, he looks over at your face set soft with a reassuring smile, a wash of calm runs through him. You’re so beautiful.

“You’re alright Joel, I’m here with you,” you gently lilt.

He focuses on the soft back and forth of your fingers against him, centering himself and making the phantom back away. He loves the way your soft skin looks against his. Your nails are painted a light blue, it reminds him of the bright Texas morning sky.

The plane descends as you hold his eye contact with that same beautiful and assuring smile lighting up your face.

“We’re almost on the ground, you’re doing so good,” fear and veneration perform a duet in his heart making it pound against his chest.

The wheels hit the tarmac, he lets out a huge breath of relief. Your hand still holds his, even as he visibly relaxes. He watches the light blue of your nail polish swipe back and forth against the top of his hand.

Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to St. Louis. The local time is 9:45 AM. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisle clear until we are parked at the gate. The Captain will then turn off the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign, indicating it is safe to stand. Please use caution when opening the overhead compartments and removing items, since articles may have shifted during flight. We thank you for your patience, rest assured our staff is here to help you.

“Well, I know it’s not home, or Sarah… but we’ll make the best of it,” you say, pulling your bag out from underneath the seat. He loves how positive you are, he needs someone like you in his life.

❄️❄️❄️

Three hours of being stuck in the airport have slowly ticked by, at least you have the company of your new travel partner. You check your weather app for the millionth time, no change at all… snow still falls all along the tri-state area.

“Anything?” he asks, looking up from his Sports Illustrated.

“No luck,” you shrug, “I’m starving.”

“Come on,” he points his head towards the restaurant near the gate, “my treat.”

You follow him, wondering why you feel so excited over this impromptu lunch date. You can’t deny your attraction to him, an inkling inside of you makes you believe Joel might feel the same. Yeah, you might be stuck in St. Louis, your return to your comfortable bed and bathtub postponed due to the falling snow, but at least you have your handsome flight partner with you.

The restaurant is nice, a typical Concourse B type place full of simple people enjoying a hot meal, simple menu, a simple design inspired by of all things– airplanes.

Joel asks for a table near the window, the hostess obliges, leading you to a table in a quiet section of the restaurant. He pulls the chair out for you, southern manners and all.

He takes a seat with a humph, mumbling how tight his back is from all of the damn sitting. You order a hot tea, he orders a coffee.

You’ve known him for a grand six hours and yet you’re going to remember this usually milquetoast adventure for a long, long time.

“What’re you thinking?” he asks, perusing the menu.

“Turkey sandwich and soup,” you answer, mouth already watering at the idea of your meal. “You?”

“Burger ‘n fries. I’m hungry though that half of a cinnamon roll sure did satisfy,” he sends you a barely perceptible wink.

“So, do you have any plans for you and your daughter?”

“She says she has an idea or two for us, she’s a planner, I’m just there to see her, this is the longest I’ve been away from her.” His voice drops, a slight hitch in his breath appears, you can feel the sadness radiating off of him. He must be such a good dad.

“Sounds rough,” you empathize, wishing you could recreate what happened on the plane and put your hand over his while telling him everything will be okay.

“Yeah, it’s been difficult, it’s just been me and her since forever. I know she’s happy and fulfilled, that's all I can ask for.”

You wonder where Sarah’s mom went, why it’s just the two of them, and most of all if he’s single. How can you be falling for this almost stranger and his big heart that sits below his broad, flannel covered chest?

“I moved far away for art school and it was the best decision I ever made. I'm so thankful for my parents letting me have that experience. You should be proud of her… and most of all you should be proud of you.”

He looks over the brim of his coffee mug, takes a drink, and places it down on the table before grabbing your hand.

“You’re so– I’ve never met anybody like you before,” he says, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles.

The restaurant and airport disappear from your periphery, it’s only you and this man from Austin on the way to your hometown to see his daughter. This has never happened to you before… a spark of something you have no clue what to call shared between the two of you.

“I could say the same thing to y–,” you're interrupted by the waitress’s arrival, Joel’s hand retreats from yours; the physical and emotional connection between you and Joel is broken by your food being placed on the table.

“So, what’s the plan?” Joel asks as he grabs the Tabasco bottle and shakes a smattering of drops over his burger.

“No clue,” you sigh, “I wish I could take a nap. What did your daughter say when you told her?”

“Oh, she was fine, disappointed but she told me she’ll still get over a week with me once I get there,” he shakes his head, his face lifts with a doting grin. “She’s always the glass half full type.”

“And let me guess, you’re much more of a ‘the damn glass is half empty’ type?”

“Always.”

“Mm,” you nod, before taking a bite of your turkey sandwich.

❄️❄️❄️

His heart beats harder against his chest as he watches you approach him from the ticket counter.

“Any new update?” he’s nervous, he hasn’t felt this nervous in years. He never realized how much he missed this type of emotional tension that pulls his back to stand straighter.

“The storm hasn’t let up, all airports in the area are on a ground stop, and now with the storm here, I think we’re screwed,” you close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. You look exhausted, spending all day in a packed airport has obviously taken its toll on you. He wants to wrap his arms around you, carry you to whatever destination you need to go to and never let go. He can’t believe he’s thinking like this, he doesn’t even know your favorite color or movie. “I’m sorry Joel.”

He hates watching your face drop, you’ve done nothing wrong. “Hey, none of that,” he takes a tentative step forward, he’s worried to overcross a line, but your sunken shoulders and defeated posture pushes him forward. He wraps his flannel clad arms around you, pulling you into a hug. Your body instantly molds to his, finding the perfect spot on his chest to rest your head against. A sweet and grateful sigh breathes out of you, radiating through his whole body.

“Looked like you needed this,” he says against your hair, breathing the feminine scent of you in. He hasn’t been this close to a woman like this in years. Sure he’s had some hookups here and there, but a real honest to goodness connection with someone after only half of a day spent together? Never happened. He feels lucky.

“I did, thank you,” you breathe out. He still holds you, making zero attempt to let go. You imagine to the average passerby you resemble a couple in love, standing in the airport terminal, holding each other.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, still holding you tight. “I think there’s a pretty good restaurant here.”

“I am, a real nice guy once took me to lunch there,” you pull away. “It’s my treat this time.”

❄️❄️❄️

Joel stands at the ticket desk, it’s now his turn to see if there have been any changes. It’s been twelve hours of being marooned in this airport, you should feel more miserable at this point, but the constant support the two of you trade back and forth to each other has helped alleviate the ugliness of stress.

“Any luck?” you ask, perking up when he stands in front of you.

“Actually, yeah, they have a 9 AM flight to Philly tomorrow afternoon,” he says, tucking his ticket into his pocket. You can’t look him in the eyes, if you do you’re going to think about how much you’re going to miss him… this man you’ve only known for a grand total of twelve hours. “There’s two seats left… and I got one. The lady at the desk is waiting for my fiancee to go get her ticket.”

Your eyes widen at what he implies.

“Oh, ohhhhhh,” you grin. “Clever man.”

“Yeah, I need your help, since I’m a nervous flier and all…”

Your knees feel weak from the doting smile Joel gives you. “Thanks love,” you stretch and kiss his cheek before heading to the ticket counter.

❄️❄️❄️

He can’t keep his eyes off of you as you walk over to the counter. He can still feel your lips against his cheek, there’s a foreign feeling in his heart. He’s already thinking about introducing you to Sarah, what the hell is this?

The airport worker laughs at something you say, of course they’re charmed by you, you’re such a sweet thing, like cinnamon rolls and apple juice.

You turn, a big smile lights your face when you walk back to him, waving your ticket in the air.

He chuckles out a nervous snicker when you skip over and wrap your arms around him.

“The agent pulled in a favor and got us a room at the hotel attached here, she said she has a softness for ‘lovebirds’ like us,” you pull away with a mischievous glint lighting your face. “Plus, she thinks my fiance is handsome.”

“Uh… okay,” he’s not sure what you’re implying, you’re far too special to him already for a one-night romp in a hotel room.

“No funny business Joel,” you wink as you grab your bag. He can’t believe how well you read him. “Now, let’s go get our luggage and check in.”

❄️❄️❄️

You enter the keycard into the door thanking that lovely ticket agent for access to a comfortable bed. And it’s just as you feared… a bed… just one, singular bed that greets you in this average airport hotel room.

“I can take the chair,” Joel nervously says.

Part of you wishes he wouldn’t have offered.

“If you want, but the bed is big enough for both of us,” you shrug out of your jacket.

“S’okay, wouldn’t feel right.”

It’d feel just fine to you, but you don’t say anything, instead you open your luggage and fish out your toiletry bag and your pajamas.

“It’s almost midnight, I’m going to get my shower and get ready for bed.”

❄️❄️❄️

His foot nervously taps against the carpet, goosebumps prickle along his arms when he hears your sigh reverberate against the shower tiles. Why is he so anxious? It feels like prom night all over again; he’s just a shy boy waiting for the beautiful girl to give him a sign, any sign, that she likes him. The last time he felt like this Sarah was born nine months later.

He grabs the TV remote trying to find a reprieve from his anxious thoughts, flipping it to the news. The anchor drones on about the great holiday snowstorm. In a way, he’s thankful for the blizzard– sure it means even more time in a flying panic tube, but at least he met you. He vows to not let any type of temptation get in the way of what feelings are developing between you two. No matter how much he thinks about your naked body in the shower and how good your body wash smells.

❄️❄️❄️

You emerge from the bathroom, clean and fresh in your pajamas.

“Should’ve figured you’d be an Eagles fan,” he says, smirking at your oversized and faded sleep shirt.

“Let me guess, Cowboys fan?”

“Forever and always.”

“Oh, well, you’re my enemy now.”

He laughs, “I’m sure I am.”

You tuck yourself under the covers while Joel takes his shower, quickly falling asleep to the sounds of whatever generic late night host is cracking jokes on the TV.

❄️❄️❄️

He quietly opens the bathroom door, the hotel room is bathed in the dim glow of the television. You're already fast asleep, cuddled under the white duvet, you look like an angel surrounded by clouds. Of course you're beautiful when you sleep. He tries not to stare too long, and yet he's planted in the threshold of the bedroom admiring you. He feels lucky at this moment, being able to watch someone as pretty as you slumber peacefully, while trying to silence the fact that tomorrow you both will go your separate ways. He doesn't want to say goodbye.

❄️❄️❄️

A bassy groan and shuffle in the dark floats through the air waking you. The clock reads 1:45 AM. “There’s enough room in the bed for you, you know?”

“I know, just don’t want to overst– I’m still a stranger.”

“No, you’re my fiance, remember?” you shuffle the sheets on the other side of the bed down, “Joel, please, I insist.”

He sighs when he stands and makes his way to the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, you can feel heated tension radiating off his body, the strong specimen of all man lays insecurely next to you.

“Joel, relax,” you whisper before placing your hand on his chest feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

“I’m okay, I-I just– haven’t done something like this in so long.”

“What? Laid in bed next to someone you’ve known less than a day? I’ve actually never done this.”

A quiet laugh rumbles in his chest. “No, just haven’t met someone as real as you in a long time. Is it real?”

“It’s real,” you say, shuffling closer to him, replacing your hand with your head. He wraps his arm around you as you listen to the pitter patter of his heart. “Goodnight Joel,” you whisper, closing your exhausted eyes.

“G’night,” he purrs, you feel the ghost of his lips against your hair as you drift to sleep.

❄️❄️❄️

He lays awake most of the night, too afraid to fall asleep and disturb your beautiful sleeping form. He wishes he could record the cute sounds that emit from you as you slumber and dream, he’d listen to them forever if he could. He can’t believe he’s thinking this way, what should’ve been a terrifying and lonely standard trip to see his daughter has turned into an adventure of a lifetime with a woman he’s already crazy for.

Sure, he’s shared a bed with others since Sarah’s mom, he’s had a couple of flings here and there, but he never allowed himself to cuddle or care for them. They were never good enough for him… or most importantly Sarah. He thinks Sarah would adore you.

The red digits on the alarm clock read 3:00 AM, he’s known you for a grand total of twenty hours. Meaning he only has about eight hours left, he’s already dreading saying goodbye.

❄️❄️❄️

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Your groggy eyes open, you move to silence the alarm but you quickly realize you’re trapped under a heavy weight. Joel. He groans against you, with his arms held tight around your stomach and his face nuzzled into your shoulder.

“Joel, it’s time to get up.”

He tenses against you and quickly unwraps your body from his hold.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly says, reaching across you to turn the alarm off.

“It’s okay,” you want to tell him you didn’t mind it all, that you haven’t slept that well in years, but you stay quiet.

“I’m just going to… get ready,” he stands, stretching and wiping his tired eyes. You try not to focus on the glimpse of his stomach remembering what it felt to have the soft swell of him against your back. “Don’t think I’ve slept that well in years.”

The bathroom door shuts as you flop back into bed, welcoming the fluttery feeling inside your body. “I feel the same way,” you confess to the empty hotel room.

❄️❄️❄️

Flight attendants, prepare doors for departure and cross check.

“Well, we’re back to where we started, it’s been quite an adventure,” you smile.

“It has,” he clears his throat, reaches for your hand and sends you a soft smile. “I have ten days in Philadelphia, I was wondering if you have any good suggestions for a nice, romantic place to take someone I really like to?”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #tlou joel #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #the last of us hbo

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tavolgisvist · 17 days ago

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One night at Cavendish, Paul and I sat and drank scotch and Coke for so long that the first light of dawn started to appear as we were still putting the world to rights. ‘Come on, Al,’ said Paul. ‘I need some fresh air. Let’s take Martha for a walk.’ We were pretty relaxed but we weren’t drunk. Martha leapt up from the rug by the fire and Paul and I piled into the DB6 and he drove us the half mile or so to the foot of Primrose Hill. We left the car outside London Zoo and went through the fence up the hill. It was very muddy at the bottom and Paul looked at my footwear and laughed, ‘So much for the man with the shiny shoes.’ We enjoyed the spectacular view in the first light of dawn. There was a real freshness in the air as Martha hurtled off in all directions in search of sheep or, better still, bones, and Paul and I enjoyed a few stolen moments of the day before the rest of London woke up. At 5.00am there was so little traffic noise that we could hear some early morning noises from the occupants of the zoo. It was chilly in the breeze that rustled the kites stuck up in the trees. Paul and I kept strolling around enjoying the experience and keeping warm. ‘Look at that dawn,’ said Paul in a whisper. ‘How anybody can say that there is no such thing as God, or some power bigger than us. If you stand and look at that sky, you know there must be more to life than we can comprehend …’ We were totally absorbed in the sights and sounds of the universe in front of us, as if we were the only men in an abandoned city. Then, suddenly behind us, a stranger appeared. He was a middle-aged man, very respectably dressed in a belted raincoat and he appeared to have come out of nowhere. One second Paul and I were alone, straining to see which direction Martha would come bounding back from, and the next, this man was there. He said, ‘Good morning,’ politely. ‘My name is John.’ Paul said, ‘Good morning. Mine’s Paul. This is Alistair and that’s Martha the dog,’ as our four-legged friend returned swiftly. John said, ‘It’s lovely to meet you. Isn’t this wonderful?’ and he walked away. Paul and I looked at each other and I said, ‘God, that was peculiar.’ I looked round and there was no sign of the man. The stranger had completely disappeared from the top of the hill as if he had just vanished into thin air. There was nowhere for him to go, yet he had just evaporated. Paul and I both felt pretty spooked by this experience. We both thought something special had happened. We sat down rather shakily on the seat and Paul said, ‘What the hell do you make of that? That’s weird. He was here, wasn’t he? We did speak to him?’ ‘Sure. He was here only seconds ago,’ I said. ‘Let’s go home,’ muttered Paul. Back at Cavendish, we spent the rest of the morning talking about what we had seen and heard and felt. It sounds just like any acid tripper’s fantasy to say they had a religious experience on Primrose Hill just before the morning rush hour, but neither of us had taken anything like that. Scotch and Coke was the only thing we had touched all night. We both felt afterwards that we had been through some sort of mystical experience, yet we didn’t care to name, even to each other, what or who we had seen on that hilltop for those few brief seconds.

(Alistair Taylor, With the Beatles, 2003)

John: Who’s the fool on the hill, Paul? Paul: John.

(Get Back sessions, January 14th, 1969, Twickenham Film Studios)

#alistair taylor #paul mccartney #john lennon #john and paul #sessions: get back

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subbmissivesuccubus · 1 year ago

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Bully Part 3

A/n: Happy new year/ New year's eve everyone! As promised, here is part 3. Thank you all for following and supporting me these last few months. Here's to a great year of smut ahead <3 <3 <3 I hope you enjoy your favorite pervy menaces <3

Disclaimer: Gojo X Geto X Fem!Reader. DUB-CON WARNING. READER ENJOYS WHAT’S HAPPENING TO HER BUT IT’S MESSY!!! Blackmail!!! Humiliation. Degradation. Free-use dynamics. Spankings. Public sex. Filming. Gojo gives a stranger permission to touch reader!!!

"Who knew the three of them were...well...like that." Utahime said, immediately gossiping once the taxi started to move. "I can't say I'm surprised though." Shoko said, "They're practically attached at the hip."

The girls and Nanami were sharing a cab to get back to their dorms, gossiping about what had happened during dinner. It was a fun night of drinks and banter, ended with their friend being kissed by Gojo and Geto. When asked about the nature of their relationship, the two men responded by saying they were…fuck buddies.

"She could do better." Utahime said, "I don't get why she's settling for those assholes."

Nanami looked out the window as he allowed the chatter to wash over him, not really paying attention. His mind couldn't help but go back to a week ago when he and Gojo were in class together, the only ones there and he noticed his lock screen...

"Gojo, what the fuck?" Nanami snarled as he looked at Gojo's phone, his screen flashing up as he received a message. There was a naked woman's photo set up as his lock screen, her face out of frame to accommodate her breasts and her spread legs and Nanami didn't want to even think about what was dripping out of them.

"Oh, my bad." Gojo said casually as he picked up his phone, "But she's hot right? She's my new fuck buddy~"

"Not interested." Nanami said, clicking his tongue in annoyance, "Just keep that shit to yourself. Why do you have that as your phone background?"

Before he got an answer, Geto and you walked into the room, asking them what they were talking about and when Gojo showed them the screen, Nanami noted your reaction. He didn't too much of it at the time, assuming your flustered and angered expression was over how vulgar Gojo was but now he wondered...

No. There's no way that was you, right?

Right?

~~~~~

"What the fuck was that?!" you screeched once Gojo closed the door of the taxi, smacking them both across the shoulders, "Why would you say shit like that?! Telling everyone we're fuck buddies- what will they think of me!?"

"It's the truth, right? Stop your bitching." Geto snarled on your left.

"Exactly. I'd rather you use your mouth for something else." Gojo said on your right, his fingers moving to tug at his pants, starting to undo his belt.

"Wh-What the fuck are you-" you sputtered, your eyes flickering over to the taxi driver who seemed to be paying you no mind but-

"Oh, don't worry about him. He works for my family." Gojo said, pulling his hard cock out of his pants before he tapped on the driver’s seat, "Hey, you don't mind if this whore sucks my cock back here, do you?"

You yelped at Gojo's words, face a bright red as you heard the taxi driver chuckle. "Enjoy yourself, boss." he said, not even looking back as he put up the divider, giving the three of them some privacy.

"There we go. Happy?" Gojo asked as he leaned back against the leather seat, his arm reaching up to grab you by the back of your head. You gasped as he gripped onto a handful of your hair and tugged harshly, his hold on your unrelenting as he started to pull your head down to his lap.

"Get to sucking."

~~~~~

Oh God.

You ran your hands through your hair, eyes wide as you went over what happened last night. You had hoped it was a dream but...it wasn't. You got fingered in the restaurant, got kissed in front of everybody by your bullies before said bullies announced that you were all fuck buddies.

They got you back to one of Gojo's penthouses, (the bastard so rich he had multiple houses he could just use whenever he wanted) and once you reached it, having sucked them both off in the taxi, they cleaned you up the best they could before the three of you passed out on the bed. You fell asleep the second your head hit the pillow, too drunk and loopy to do anything else.

Which is how you found yourself in between them, the two men still sleeping as you contemplated moving country and changing your identity.

To your right, Gojo groaned, his eyes pressing tightly as he fought away the need to wake up, moving from his back to his side and throwing an arm around you. You froze as he pressed himself close to you, nuzzling his nose against your neck. "Fuuuuck..." he cursed, frowning, "My head is killing me..."

"Don't make it our problem." Geto groaned, woken up by his own hangover and Gojo's whining. He looked over at you, taking your appearance in, looking quite delectable in Gojo's oversized t-shirt.

"Mmph- gimme those tits..." Geto said as he fisted the hem of your t-shirt before he pulled it up harshly, bunching it all underneath your chin. You gasped as he immediately leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue lapping at it a few times before he sealed his lips around it. A groan on content left his throat as he started suckling on you gently, truly using your boobs as stress relief for his hangover, the pressure at which he sucked your nipple increasing and decreasing at a slow pace.

"I-I hate you two." you said even as a hand came up to thread through Geto's hair, watching as he closed his eyes and suckled on you. It was honestly a bit soothing, feeling him suckle on you gently and not maul on your nipple the way they usually did. Gojo grunted as he too moved down your body and took your other breast into his mouth, sloppier than Geto but still suckling on you hard enough to make your toes curl.

"Oh God...people are going to think I’m a whore..." you lamented, tossing your head back and accepting your fate, fingers threading through their hair as they used your body. "It's accurate." Geto teased, giving your nipple a few kitten licks before going back to sucking. "Exactly. And who cares what they think." Gojo said, running his tongue over the plush of your breast, making your whole boob wet with his saliva, "You're our whore and that's all you'll be."

"Whatever." you said, not even having the energy to argue. You simply lied down, almost going back to sleep from the sensation of them gently nursing on you. But within five minutes, Gojo was bored.

"Come on, let's go take a shower." Gojo said, pushing himself up with a groan as he got off the bed, but not before grabbing your wrist. Geto growled as Gojo pulled at you, not appreciating being interrupted as he wrapped his arms around you and glared at his friend even as he continued to suckle.

"Don't look at me like that." Gojo said, sticking out his tongue, "You can take her after I play with her."

'Play with her' meant him taking you to the shower and running his hands all over your body like a pervert, squeezing your flesh and washing every nook and cranny as he ordered you to stay still. Sometimes he'd fuck you- other time's he'd simply jerk off and cum on you- always something new with Gojo.

Geto growled, making you shiver at the sensation around your sensitive bud before he pulled away with a pop, a hickey already forming on the fat of your breast.

"Let's all shower together." he said, sitting up as well, "We have a mission today and the principal will kill us if we're late."

Oh right. You were assigned a mission with these two menaces. And if it wasn't tough enough dealing with them before they started fucking you, you can only imagine the shit you're going to have to put up with now. You sighed as the two men grabbed you and lifted you off of the bed, taking the t-shirt off of you and smacking your ass before pushing you towards the bathroom for a very...thorough bath.

~~~~~

"What's with the face?" Geto asked, tapping his finger on his arm as he waited for Gojo to finish getting dressed, "Doesn't it fit?"

"This- I can't wear this! It’s too short!" you protested, tugging at the skirt...if you could even call it that. You were wearing the school uniform but instead of your usual pants, the boys had demanded you wear something else. A mini skirt. The skirt only reached your thighs, even the slightest movements threatening to flash your whole ass.

"Might as well give the curses something to ogle at before they die." Geto teased, looking you up and down, nodding his head in satisfaction.

"Fuck you! I'm not wearing this!" you said, pressing your legs together as you reached for your discarded pants. But before you could even touch the fabric, you felt a sharp pain on your behind, a slap so loud and hard that it made you yelp, the force pushing you face first onto the bed. You whipped your head around, face hot as Geto stood above you, pushing up the skirt a bit to marvel at the red handprint he left behind.

"You don't have to wear it if you don't want to." he said as he pulled his phone out, pointing the camera at you and you couldn't stop him from taking a picture, "But it would be a shame if I accidentally sent this to the schools group chat~"

"...I'll wear it."

"Smart girl." Geto said with a laugh, the sound making your ears heat up in embarrassment. It made you shiver, thinking about all the material they had on you. Pictures, videos, text messages... they continued to torment you and it didn't seem like they'd get bored anytime soon.

And neither would you.

"Get on your knees and keep your face down." Geto ordered, still pointing his phone at you while he used the other hand to push the skirt up entirely, bunching it at your waist and exposing your panties, "Shake your hips. Grind that ass on me."

You gasped as you felt him move forward and press his crotch against your ass, his hardening cock obvious even through the fabric. He started to gently dry hump you, a somewhat bored expression on his face, like it was a chore to use your body to get off. He landed another sharp spank on your butt, reminding you that he was waiting for you to follow orders.

You bit your lower lip, fisting the bed-sheet tightly as you did as he asked, wiggling your hips and shaking your butt against Geto, gasping as you felt him grow harder against you. As you continued to shake, the door opened and Gojo walked in, dressed in his uniform as well.

He whistled as he watched the two of you, noting the redness of your ass cheeks. "Was she being naughty?" he asked, taking Geto's phone from him and continuing to film, giving his friend free reign to humiliate you easier. "She tried to be." Geto said, reeling his hand back and spanking a cheek one more time before he grabbed your hips tightly, "But you know how she is. It's easy to put her in her place."

You yelped as Geto started to thrust against you, pushing his clothed erection against your clothed cunt as he dry humped you, the flesh of your butt rippling against him as he fake fucked you. Somehow, this felt more embarrassing than if he actually stuffed his cock inside you- it was like he couldn't be bothered to put in the effort but still wanted some pleasure.

He humped you a few times before he called it, pushing your hips away from him and making you collapse on the bed, your knees giving out as you panted against the bedsheet, face red hot with shame. You barely processed Gojo coming behind you, sliding his hand up your waist before he whisked your panties off, tugging them off of your legs before throwing them to the side. You were about to spread your legs, assuming the man was either going to eat you out or fuck you but he simply gave your butt a pat before saying:

"Get up. We gotta go."

"Wh-huh?" you babbled, watching as Gojo grabbed your skirt and pulled it down over your butt, the fabric barely covering you. You pushed yourself off of the bed and stood up, ears flushed as you once again were made aware of just how short the miniskirt was. All it took was for one small movement for anyone to see your privates. "Th-then why did you-"

"You thought being spanked was your punishment?" Gojo asked, a smirk on his face as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, "Nah. You don't get to wear panties."

"No- You can't!" you protested, pressing your hand between your legs, trying to pretend like your cunt wasn't gushing.

"Principal is asking if we've left yet." Geto said, interrupting the conversation, "I could send him a picture of you over Gojo's knee, getting your ass spanked and explain exactly why we're running late. Shall we do that?"

"...Let's go."

Gojo’s driver from last night was picking the three of you up and to your horror but not surprise, Gojo ordered you to sit in the passenger’s seat. You could feel the driver’s eyes on you as you tried to get into the car without flashing him, all decency thrown out the window as you practically covered your bare pussy with your hand as you sat down beside the stranger.

"Did you see her pussy?" Gojo asked once he settled down in the back, Geto beside him.

"I'm afraid not, Sir. She was covering herself." The driver confessed, quite expressionless.

"How rude. Hey," Gojo said, getting your attention as he tugged at your ear, "Spread your legs. Let him see your cunt."

You jumped, your ears ringing at his command, jaw dropping to the floor at the shameful demand. You pussy was already wet- "I- that's- I can't do that!"

"Either you spread your legs or I rip that skirt off and toss you out of the car. Your choice."

With a gulp, you took a deep, shaky breath, your heart hammering in your ears before you slowly started spreading your legs. You heard the driver’s breath hitch as your skirt bunched up, completely exposing your puffy pussy to him. He even leaned forward a bit to get a good look at you, making you close your eyes shut so you wouldn't have to see it.

You pressed your mouth close tightly so they wouldn't hear you moan.

"What do you think? Good pussy, right?" you heard Gojo ask, the other two men also leaning forward to look at you like they weren't more than familiar with your body.

"She's beautiful," the driver responded, "so puffy and cute~"

"Why don't you touch her a bit?"

You gasped, back arching off the seat as you immediately felt a hand on your pussy. Your eyes snapped open, watching as the driver had indeed slid his hand between your legs and was touching you. A total stranger was rubbing your cunt!

"She's so wet~" the man teased, a smile on his face as his fingers glided between your folds, the slick sound of your wetness echoing through the car, "Oh, she feels amazing."

"Doesn't she? She's a perfect little fuck toy~" Gojo said, biting his lower lip as he watched you get touched by the driver, a twinge of possessiveness popping up as he eventually ordered him to stop. The man immediately listened, pulling his hand away from your pussy before licking his fingers off your juices, the action making you moan in embarrassment.

"You know where to take us, right?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Get to it. And you," Gojo said, kicking your seat and getting your attention, "Keep your legs spread, got it? Give him something to look at while he drives."

After the long and awkward car ride where you kept your legs spread the whole time, the three of you were dropped off at your location (but not before the driver got to cop another feel). It was an abandoned location, decrepit and having a strong vibe of curses. The cursed energy was so strong it made your skin crawl and your teeth chatter. But you knew you had nothing to worry about. Not only were you strong, but you also had the two idiots with you who were labelled the strongest sorcerers.

It was strange that the curses were not the things that were making you nervous. You tried not to think about how you were used as a toy. As a plaything. As something they can give other people permission to use as they pleased. You couldn’t believe that just seconds ago- a random stranger had their hands on your most private part.

You tried not to think about how much you loved it. "Lead the way." Geto said, giving your butt a pat before you started walking. You didn't need to look behind you to know that they were taking pictures of you, Gojo one time practically putting the camera between your legs and taking an upward shot.

"Stop- I'm trying to focus!" you complained, pulling down the skirt as best as you could which you knew barely did anything.

"You'll only focus once you stop worrying about your outfit. It's just us here, after all." Geto said, "So flash that pussy and find the curse."

"I don't see you two doing any work." you said, cheeks red as you glared at them, "Find the curses, why don't you."

"Nah." Gojo said, idly scrolling through his phone, his glasses reflecting the photos he just took of you.

"The fuck you mean, nah?"

"It's your job to find and defeat the curses today." Geto explained, giving you a sly smile, "Do a good job and we might put in a good word with Yaga. Our recommendation means something, you know."

"...you guys are never that nice." you said, smelling a scheme, "what do you want?"

"We don't want anything." Gojo said, "And as long as you do as you're told, of course. Now push that skirt up and show me your ass."

You huffed, quickly realizing what this mission was going to be.

But hey, if you get a promotion through this...then perhaps you can stick it out.

You gripped your skirt and pulled it up, not having to do much as your peach butt got exposed. The two men laughed and whistled, getting enjoyment and more blackmail material: many pictures of you, in uniform, at a location of curses, flashing your butt. And this was only the beginning.

As you started tracking down the curse, your senses were on high alert and you gradually forgot about the skirt, the shiver you felt as you got in contact with the thick cursed energy making you decide that you needed to focus on the task as hand. You blocked out the two of them following behind you and you blocked out the sensation of your skirt riding up enough for your lower half to be almost bare. When you sprinted up the stairs, feeling a curse nearby, your skirt rode up completely and you only pulled it down once you reached the top.

In front of you was a curse, not a special grade but not weak either. It was a large, disgusting looking thing, oozing power but you knew it was not as strong as you.

"I'm guessing the two of you aren't going to help?" you asked, getting ready as the curse spotted you. "Nope." they responded, Gojo's phone out and pointing at you, taking a video, "all yours."

You didn't have time to respond as the curse suddenly lunged at you, dragging its disgusting body with surprising speed as it gained to attack. You sprinted around it, your body swift and deadly, understanding the way the curse worked in a matter of seconds. You countered every move with your own, slowly weakening it before you exorcised it, the curse dissipating in the wind.

"That was pretty decent, even for you." Geto said once Gojo stopped recording, "you didn't even let the fact that your whole pussy is out stop you from doing the job. Well done."

You looked down and sure enough, from all the running and the dodging and the fighting, your skirt had ridden up once more and your cunt was totally out in the open. You blushed and you quickly pulled the skirt back down, your ears turning red from the embarrassment.

"Fuck. I'm horny now." Gojo muttered as he pocketed his phone, "Hey, hands on the wall- I'm gonna fuck you."

"Wh-" you sputtered, blushing heavily, "But we're busy!"

"Geto can deal with it. My balls come first. Pun intended."

The black haired man rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face as he said: "Fine. But I'm fucking her once I’m back so you better finish by then."

"No promises~"

Not caring about your response, Gojo walked upto you, gripping you by the back of your neck before he pushed you gently against the nearest wall, his other hand pulling your skirt up. Geto walked past the two of you, following the curse as he left you behind to get a pounding.

"Oh, you're so wet, you nasty bitch." Gojo snarked, grinning as he felt you up, his fingers sliding between your folds, "You loved walking around in this slutty little mini skirt, huh? Yeah, I know you loved it. Probably wanted us to fuck you this whole time."

"D-Don't flatter yourself!" you retorted, wincing as he pinched the plush of your butt before he changed your position a bit. "Mhmm. You're real fucking convincing. Now spread your legs. I want to fuck this nasty pussy."

Grabbing you by the hips, he made you bend forward, your palms against the wall and your ass presented to him. He continued to play with your pussy, two fingers easily sliding inside of you while his other hand got to work on his pants. He simply slid them down enough for his cock to pop out, hard, throbbing and leaking pre-cum from the red tip. He tapped it against your ass, staining your skin with his fluid before he took his finger out and pressed the tip against your cunt.

He didn't care for foreplay and he didn't care if you felt good. He was here to fuck and that's what he was going to do. And you were going to take it.

"Oh yeah, that's a good pussy~" he groaned as he started pushing inside of you, his cockhead popping into you easily from how wet and dripping you were. You hated to admit it but running and around and flashing your privates had gotten you hot and bothered, even if you were just exposing yourself to the two men who were more than familiar with your body.

You gasped as he continued to bully his cock inside you, eventually bottoming out and spreading your cunt so deliciously wide. His groans were audible through the empty hallways, both his hands now grasping your hips greedily. With a lick of his lips and no warning, the man started to thrust, starting off a bit slow. Your moans jumped with each thrust, your ass rippling against his hips each time he fucked his cock deep, deep inside you.

Despite the many times you've gotten thoroughly pounded by Gojo, you simply can't seem to get used to his size. His cock was deliciously long and thick and each thrust in had his leaking cockhead pressed up against your womb. You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises on instinct, slick dripping down your legs and staining the floor.

"Fuuuuck- I'm addicted to this free use pussy!" Gojo growled as he not so gently smacked your ass, laughing at your squeal, "Bend you over and fuck you anytime- claim you as my personal whore. I fucking love it!"

“Shut the fuck u-u-upppp!” you squealed, his cock curving just right and bumping against your special spot, a rush of pleasure sparking through your spine. Gojo simply spanked you again before he used that hand to grab your hair, pulling at it roughly. You gasped as your head was pulled back, the pain of your hair being tugged at addicting.

“I felt your pussy tighten, bitch~” Gojo snarled with a smirk, “You love being bullied by us so much- it’s so pathetic and I love it.”

“You’re pathe- ohhh right there- right there!”

“Yeah? Here? Little bitch likes it when my cocks hits her right here?”

Gojo angled his hips so he hit your g-spot with every thrust forward, the clap of his hips against your butt practically echoing through the hallway. You couldn’t hold back your moans, little ‘uh-uh-uh’s leaving you as he pounded your cunt like a toy. You didn’t know how long the two of you were there for, fucking in the open, in the middle of the abandoned building. You were so focused on the pleasure that you didn’t notice the pressure of the curses suddenly disappear.

“Are you done yet? It’s my turn to cream her cunt.”

You groaned as Geto walked over to the two of you, wiping his mouth.

“I still got the taste of a curse on my tongue. I’d like to wash it down with her pussy.”

“Fuck- wait for a bit.” Gojo said, panting heavily, sweat marring his brow, “I’m almost done.”

“Nope. I’m not waiting.” Geto said, punching Gojo in the shoulder and ruining his rhythm, “Plus, there’s another curse that needs killing and I’m pretty sure it’s your turn.”

“You want- fuck-“ Gojo cursed, stilling inside you to give Geto a look, “You want me to fight a curse with a hardon?”

“Well, she fought one with her pussy out so I’m sure you can manage.”

Gojo sighed, rolling his eyes before he conceded, “Fine, fine. But you owe me one.”

“I do not. Now get going.” Gojo pulled out of you, the slick sound of it making your body shiver as his erect cock stood tall, covered in your juices. He tucked himself back in his pants the best he could, his dick still straining against his pants as he quickly walked away, a determined look in his eyes. He wanted to finish off this final curse as soon as he could so he could get back to destroying your pussy.

Before you could even blink, a bit dazed from the lack of pleasure, Geto was on his knees behind you, his hands gripping your asscheeks before he pulled them apart and surged forward. Blood rushed upto your cheeks so fast you felt dizzy as Geto stuffed his face between your cheeks. He groaned as he rubbed his face on you for a bit, enjoying the feeling of your soft flesh against him like a pervert before he stuck his tongue out and got to licking. He took a long, greedy lick from your clit all the way upto your asshole, teasing your rim before slightly sticking his tongue inside.

Your body shivered, little gasps leaving your mouth at his shameless actions, the man starting to eat you out like a messy meal. He clearly didn't care if you felt good, his movements sloppier than usual, and obviously just wanted a taste. But that didn't stop your body from responding to him, your hips subconsciously pushing out in a silent plea for more, your pussy dripping. He lapped up your juices, drinking you down with a groan as his hands continued to squeeze and pinch at your cheeks.

“Fucking- perfect.” He moaned against you, his words vibrating your clit and making your knees shake, “Just what I needed.”

With a final, toe-curling suck to your clit, he stood up, ordering you to turn around and face him as he started undoing his pants. Your back was pressed against the wall, Geto standing close enough for your chests to almost touch. “Take your top off. Get naked for me.” He groaned as he fished his dick out, giving it a few tugs as he eyed you down like you were a piece of meat. You gulped, heart beating fast in your chest as you hurriedly started to unbutton your blouse, trying to pretend like you weren’t eager.

If they knew just how needy you felt…

Geto suddenly grabbed you by the waist once your buttons were undone before he lifted you up like you weighed nothing. You yelped as he slammed you tightly against the wall, feeling his cock throb against your eager cunt as your legs wrapped around his waist. He grabbed onto the cup of your bra before pulling the right one down, exposing that nipple. He bent down and took it into his mouth, the man clearly having an obsession with your tits as he started suckling.

His eyelashes tickled your skin as he ran his tongue over your sensitive bud, giving it a few flicks with the tip before sealing his lips around it and giving it a toe-curling suck. As he suckled, his other hand slid down and grabbed his cock, tapping it a few times against your pussy before he slid in, the glide easy thanks to Gojo’s previous pounding.

“Ah- fuck-yes-“ you gasped out, unable to hold yourself back, briefly registering that all traces of curses had disappeared in an instant, Gojo having finished the job. It was only a matter of time before he rushes to the two of you, demanding to be back inside you.

This was what you were expected to do for them. Be a pair of spread legs for them to use whenever they want- to be fucked silly- to be bred- to be truly and utterly degraded. Maybe Gojo would make you suck his cock. Maybe the two of them would swap places. Or maybe they’d finally fuck your ass.

From the corner of your eye, your vision blurry thanks to the tears from how harshly Geto was pounding into you, you could see someone hurriedly walk towards you, unbuttoning his pants along the way and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh among your moans.

Today was going to be a long day.

~~~~~

#subby writes #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu geto #gojo x reader x geto #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #geto suguru smut #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru

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vifilms · 1 year ago

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# LETTING IN WHITE HEAT ✶ abby anderson!

❝ vision go black, blood, letting in white heat.❞ ft. brakence

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, f!reader, wlw sex, poc!friendly, labeling this as dubcon bc abby is mean but she’s sweet after, mean!abby, top!abby, bottom!reader, sub!ellie, loser coded!ellie, voyerisum, kinda mean rough sex, jealous!abby, slight nipple play, strap use r!recieving, abby has one filthy mouth, mommy kink, aftercare, abby is kinda really mean

her jealousy is soft at first, small ticks easily missed if you weren’t looking. the way her blue eyes would become cold like the atlantic, void of any warmth anytime another girl hugged you for a little too long, lingering touch your smooth arms, or the one time at a frat part this ellie chick your hair wrapped around a slender finger. she wouldn’t really react, besides pulling you closer to her, resting her chin on your shoulder, abby’s long fingers intertwined with yours. she knew you were gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see it, people were going to hit on you and it maybe it was annoying at times when abby just wanted you to herself, but she ignored them and just focused on you. but tonight? god, she couldn’t control it. she was failed miserably to keep her cool. it was happening right in front of her, and you weren’t dismissing ellie’s advances like you normally would. no. not at all. you were encouraging her by batting your long, luscious eyelashes at her emerald eyes. leaning away from abby and into her, letting your fingertips grazing the tattoo on her forearm as you giggle, fucking giggling, at a lame joke ellie was telling you. abby would deck her if you wouldn’t get upset about it. you’d forgive her, eventually, but abby knew some groveling would have to happen on her end. no, she wouldn’t have it this way. still, the situation nagged her in way she despised. apparently abby wasn’t giving you enough attention you had to seek it elsewhere and god, abby was going to make you regret it. baby let’s go somewhere more quiet, yeah? your little friend can even come, quietly she whispered in your ear.

it’s how you ended up in this position, getting fucked within an inch of you life, on all fours and your delicate fingers gripping the railing of the frame at the edge, headboard crashing against the wall the abby’s thrusts. lamely, ellie was fully clothed sitting in a velvet green chair placed next to the mirror, not like she could move. abby made sure of it. her brown leather belt bound ellie’s wrist so they laid flat in her lap, lust building up in her eyes as she took in the scene before her. abby’s pierced nipples on display, burly arms flexing as they gripped onto your ass, slapping every few thrusts, letting her meaty hands smooth over the sensitive area. all ellie wanted was to be in the mix, but abby would not let her. every grunt from abby’s lips made ellie’s dripping pussy clench. it wasn’t fucking fair, her keeping you like this, all to herself. the recoil of your ass and abby’s moans mixed together was enough to make ellie cum just from rubbing her thighs against each other, but the blonde’s filthy mouth only made matters worse, pushing her to the edge quicker than she would have liked. really, even expected.

“what you think she could fuck better than me, baby? is that why you were flirting with her? huh? what? too drunk on my cock you can’t fucking talk?” abby laughed before picking up her pace, a light mumble of mommy slipped past your whimpering lips, but it was loud enough for them both to hear. “that’s right, baby. mommy always has to punish you when you’re being a spoiled brat. what? you think she can fuck you like this? she’s half my size. couldn’t even pick you up even if she tried.”

ellie felt humiliated but she couldn’t stop herself from the pressure building up in the pit of her stomach. “c’mon ellie, i know you’re close. show me what a fucking loser you are and come for me. right now, baby. yeah, just like that. ruin those pretty boxers for me.” it doesn’t take anything else ellie to squirm in the chair, spurts of white, hot cum flooding her boxers, pretty eyes rolling into the back of her head as she slumped in the chair.

abby could fully focus on you now, all the attention she could give fully on you.she slipped her the strap out of your swollen, puffy pussy and made you ride her. intentionally, she wanted to punish ellie. she wanted her to see the pussy she would never have, gush over abby’s cock. your beefy girlfriend watched as you bounced on her cock, the swell of your tits bouncing rapidly as you fully sat on the girth. abby could feel the base nudge against her clit each time, her breaths becoming more erratic, watching her stupidly pretty girl chanting out mommy mommy mommy as her hips jerked sinfully. abby decided to help you, even if you didn’t deserve it.

she met you halfway, bucking her hips, meeting you with her strong thrusts as she bent her head down to suck on the perky bud. “mommy, fuck, please can i come?” but it seemed abby still had a bit of cruelness left in her. she released your nipple with a soft pop! she shoved her middle finger and ring finger into your mouth, before instructing you “suck.” abby chose to ignore you, but you obeyed. continuing to ride her cock as she made you practically gag on her long digits. when she felt like you had enough, she circled them on your clit. “you tell me, baby? do you deserve to cum?”

abby smirked as your eyebrows furrowed, trying to concentrate enough so you wouldn’t come without her permission. she’d only punish it for you later when the two of you were back at home. “i think….” abby slapped your ass with her free hand, letting her blunt fingernails digging into the delicate flesh. “you’ve been a bad girl tonight. haven’t you? what have i told you before? c’mon, let me hear it.”

“mommy only lets good girls cum.” between every word, abby delivers cruel thrusts to your cunt, making your pussy clench around her cock.

then abby was whispering in your ear, “but since we have an audience, i’ll just punish you at home, yeah?” she pauses, before she applies more pressure on your clit. “now, ride my cock like you mean it, baby.”

once your pace quicken, abby could feel the pressure build up, could feel her clit pulsating. she was close, but she needed you to cum first. need more than the air she breathed. god, she knew you were close too. you were slamming on her cock, chasing the high you could only get from abby and she knew exactly what you were craving. she removed her grip on your ass guiding you and wrapped it around your throat, applying just the amount of pressure you craved.

“yeah, is this what you needed? just needed mommy to choke you? i know, babygirl. are you going to cum for me? yeah, you are aren’t you? cum all over my cock. fuuuckkkkk, yes. yes. good girl, such a good girl for me.” you practically screamed out her name as you squirt everywhere, abby finds her release with you. abby’s thighs, yours, the sheets beneath you drenched in your sweet slick. and all ellie could do was watch as you collapse into abby’s body. your entire body shivering as you seeked comfort in your lovers’ arms. she watched as abby soothingly rubbed your back from the tip of you spine to your lower back. whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but ellie couldn’t hear them, intentional by the blonde for her not to. abby nearly crumbled as she watched abby take care of you, cleaning you up and assisting you with putting on your clothes. you sat on the edge of the bed, completely in a daze, waiting for abby.

once abby was dressed, she walked over to ellie, towering over her, sitting or standing didn’t really matter. with a mean grip, abby held ellie’s chin, applying enough pressure to get her almost bruise. “next time you flirt with my girl, it’ll be you getting fucked an inch within your life and unlike my beautiful baby, i’ll leave you alone like the dirty slut you are, unable to fucking walk, talk, move. got it?” abby left with you in her arms, but to ellie it sounded more like music to her ears.

pathetically, ellie watched as the couple walk out of the room, abby whispering in your ear as abby kissed your temple, shutting the door behind them. and then it dawned on her. she was still fucking tied up. fucking anderson.

an: yeah.......so this is a thing. hope you enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it! god do i need a blonde girl to fucking rail me

#god im so horny!#ahh!#abby anderson x reader #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson smut #ellie williams smut

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ambiguous-avery · 2 months ago

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When He Slides In...

Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 2768

Summary: ...And says “Fuck, I missed you.” After a hookup with the (in)famous Dean Winchester, you figured that would be the end of it. Too bad you could never seem to get him out of your mind. People always told you that you got attached too easily. And they were right. You were just another notch in his belt. He couldn’t possibly remember you...

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, no use of Y/N, she/her pronouns, femme nicknames (sweetheart, pretty girl), reader is AFAB, oral (f receiving), P in V sex, PWP (Plot? What plot?), pining, pure filth because I have no chill, no beta we die like men

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for far too long. This was the title of an audio I listened to, and the line lives in my head rent-free. Plus I figured this would be a great birthday gift for our one and only boy!

The first time you met the Winchesters – and subsequently ended up beneath the eldest – was when you had called for some back up with a vampire nest you had found in a rural town in South Dakota. It was a routine hunt, but the nest had taken up residence on a farm with far too many places to be ambushed from. Thankfully, there was enough practiced experience between the three of you that the hunt only left you with several bruised ribs, Dean with a too-close-for-comfort almost bite, and Sam with a bloody gash cutting across his cheek. All in all, it could’ve been much worse. You had joined the two of them at a bar in town, eager to take a well-deserved moment of reprieve. And you left the bar with Dean. Just Dean.

After you parted ways, you fully accepted that it would be a one night stand, and your paths would never cross again.

Fate had different plans for you.

It was a standard haunted house case that pulled you to a small town in the middle of bumfuck, Iowa. Something something father killed his family when he was discovered having an affair before turning the weapon onto himself. And now he was killing other cheaters in the town. You’d have been tempted to leave him be – was he really doing harm by getting rid of those kinds of people? – if it weren’t for the fact that he would go after the affair partner as well who wasn’t always aware of just who they had gotten in bed with. It was a cut and dry case. Except you couldn’t find where the damn body had been buried, so you were having a hell of a time salting and burning the bones. The extended family had been so ashamed of what their son had done that they had buried him in an unmarked grave on the outskirts of town.

You had just about hit the end of your rope when two very familiar Winchester boys rolled into town in a sleek Impala that purred like a kitten. And there he was. The one and only Dean Winchester, all swagger and bravado, and fuck, had he gotten hotter? Seriously, God hadn’t played around when chiseling him from marble.

“Hey, sweetheart, long time no see.” He grinned at you, his voice rumbling.

Leave it to the grave-desecration-brothers to pinpoint where the cheater had been buried. It took several hours in the library pouring over a convoluted family tree before the three of you eventually found a living descendant and another hour talking with her and convincing her to let you guys go through old family books she had stored in her attic. Cheater’s sister happened to jot down which grave was his in her diary. Bleeding heart saved the day. You had ‘cheers’ed to that before knocking back your beer and excusing yourself from the bar with Dean in tow.

Despite the long span of time you had spent apart, Dean was still familiar to you. The way his lips felt as he kissed you. The way your body seemed to slot against his just right. You couldn’t forget how he felt. Not when every touch of his had seared your skin and left imprints in its wake. Dean had ruined you for anyone else. Because he didn’t just leave his marks on your body. He had carved out a piece of your heart and taken it, leaving a hole in it that ached with every beat. Dean was a heartbreaker, and you were just another name on a long list of casualties. But you were on that list, and you lied to yourself, convinced yourself that it was good enough for you.

“Dean,” you sighed against his lips, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Glad you didn’t forget me, sweetheart,” he said quietly, kissing you again. You could never forget him. Could never forget the way his hands felt as they teased at the hem of your shirt before sliding up your side. Could never forget the scent of leather and bourbon and cedar that encompassed him. Could never forget the way he looked at you and you let yourself believe just for a fleeting moment that maybe, maybe, you were something more than a hookup in his eyes. Dean’s touch was a flame, and he was going to kindle your entire world to ashes. And as long as he kept looking at you like that, you would let him. Over and over and over again.

He trailed kisses along your cheek, across your jaw, and further down the side of your neck. His lips left your skin just long enough to slide your shirt over your head and make quick work of the clasp of your bra. He sucked a bruise just below your collarbone then soothed it with his tongue before dipping lower. Dean was attentive, leaving no part of you physically untouched but all of you still wanting. His nose dragged between the valley of your breasts, leaving another mark there.

“You’re gorgeous; I hope you know that, sweetheart,” he murmured, and your response died in your throat as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, toying with it with his tongue.

There was so much you couldn’t say. Couldn’t tell him how much more you wanted from him. It was silly. You barely knew him in the bedroom and even less outside of it. But there was an undeniable spark between the two of you that you couldn’t shake. An unspoken pull. Something that kept the two of you in the other’s orbit. You were doubtful Dean felt it. It was just you and your silly little heart looking for anything to quell the loneliness that threatened to consume you.

Dean moved lower, deftly ridding you of the last of your clothing so you were bare for him. And then his mouth was on you, stubble scratching lightly, and all thoughts were wiped from your mind in an instant. His fingers dug into your thighs, all lips and tongue on your clit and folds and fu-uck. You carded your fingers in his short hair, nails scratching against his scalp. He groaned, a low and guttural sound that sent vibrations through your core, and your answering cry was breathless, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his head or the bed sheets or anywhere. The sigh you let out when he slid a finger in you must’ve unraveled some of his self control because a second one joined it none too soon. He curled them, and your back arched.

If you could form coherent thoughts, you might have had the wherewithal to wonder about when or where or how he learned his talents. But such wasn’t the case as everything tightened. Your tension collapsed into a litany of moans and gasps, and Dean was a solid presence between your legs. He was a maestro, and you were his instrument. He plucked at your strings until you came shuddering around his fingers, your nails biting into his skin. He coaxed you through your release, gently sucking and keeping a steadying hand on your leg. Your head fell back against the pillow, chest heaving. There were too many words that threatened to be the next to spill from you, so instead, you pulled Dean up by the hair and put every word you wanted to say to him in a kiss. It was deep and longing and you tried so hard to tell him just how lucky you felt that you got him for the night with it. If that’s all you ever got of him, it would be enough. It wouldn’t really, but you could delude yourself long enough to convince him.

He met your passion, one hand tangling in your locks and the other slipping beneath you to press against your lower back to provide counterpressure as he rolled his hips against yours. Your jaw went slack as you felt the length of him pressed against you, hot and heavy and hard beneath his jeans. You tugged at his shirt, desperate to get more skin to skin contact. Gasoline coursed through your veins, and if Dean didn’t set you ablaze this very instant, you were sure you would spontaneously combust. Thankfully, Dean was a smart man. He picked up on your desperate plea and stripped out of his shirt before briefly standing up to strip out of the rest of his clothes.

As he looked down at you, his green eyes met yours, and you could see him searching for something. Acceptance? Approval? Adoration? All three? You’d give him all of those. Whatever it was, you could only hope that he found it as you looked up at him, sprawled out on the bed and propped up on your elbows. You took your time taking him in. The cut of his jaw. The broad expanse of his shoulders. The tattoo that sat just above his left pec. Your gaze dropped lower, and you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip before dragging your eyes back up to his again.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” you ask, a sly smile tugging at the edge of your lips.

Dean pounced. He yanked you into a kiss, messy and primal, crushing you into the bed with his weight. You responded in kind by dragging your nails down the length of his back, needing to leave a mark of your own on him so maybe he’d remember you for more than a fleeting night. Dean groaned low in his throat, the sound ringing in your ears. There were no barriers left between you two, and you arched your body up into his, looking for all the contact you could possibly find. His hand dropped down to your ass and pulled you against him, his cock frotting against the junction of your hip. You raked your fingers in his hair and pulled it, pressing your mouth to the side of his neck and biting and sucking there until Dean was cursing under his breath.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” Dean bit out. You released him, eyes locked onto the angry red mark you had left. He fumbled with his discarded pants for a brief moment before pulling a condom from the pocket.

“Smart man... smarter than me."

It was good that he had his wits about him because you were more than ready to throw caution to the wind. You were a hunter. You risked your life every day. What was one more risk? You knew you’d be thankful when your brain wasn’t drowning in lust, though. He rolled the condom over himself before kneeling between your legs again. He grabbed the backs of your knees and spread your legs wide, lifting your ass off the bed before settling it on his thighs. Dean took a moment to guide his cock into place. His gaze met yours again, waiting and pleading. You gave him a subtle nod.

Dean rolled his hips, sinking into you with slow thrusts. You audibly sighed as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He said your name, reverent and sincere. He said your name. Not sweetheart. Not baby. Not some nickname he probably used to mask the fact that he forgot the name of the woman under him. Your name. You whimpered.

“Dean... I missed you too,” you admitted. But he didn’t understand the depths of your words. He couldn’t. He kept a hand on your knee, keeping you splayed open for him. You braced a hand on the headboard and turned your face aside, biting the knuckle of one of your fingers and panting into it.

“No, no, pretty girl. Keep your eyes on me,” he said, leaning forward to grab your chin and guide your eyes back to him. The shift caused him to sink just a little deeper into you. You squeaked when your eyes met green ones. There, behind the lust and desire, there was Dean. And for a moment, you could see the vulnerability there. The lonely man who wanted to be needed. Needed to be wanted.

“Move, Dean. I need you.”

And that’s all it took. Dean surrendered to what felt good and snapped his hips, pounding into you, thrilling at the way you moaned and moved with him and accepted every aggressive stroke like you were made for it. He lowered his body and leaned forward onto his hands so he could drive himself deeper into you. His hands found yours, and you entwined your fingers with his. He pinned you to the mattress, caging you beneath him. You shouted in response, your legs clenching against Dean’s sides and the drag of his cock setting every nerve alight.

“There you go, pretty girl. You can take it. You can take me. I know you can.” His words were fuel for the inferno that threatened to devour you. You were trembling. Aching. He was the musician; your body was the instrument. You were a violin string. You were tuned too tight. You were breaking.

Your groans and cries turned to fervent whimpers, and you fought against his hold as your release danced just beyond your reach. Your eyes fluttered shut, and Dean clicked his tongue, commanding your attention. You stared up at him, eyes wide and bright, drinking in the sight of him as though it would be your last.

“Please,” you begged. Your voice sounded so utterly wrecked in your own ears, but you didn’t care. You had abandoned your dignity long ago. “Dean, please. Need more.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He let go of one of your hands, and his thumb found your clit, drawing tight circles around it. “Come on, pretty girl. Need you to come on my cock.” His breaths mingled with yours, and your answering cry was high and thready as you lost yourself in him. Your voice, so needy and desperate, must’ve been enough to be Dean’s undoing because the hand holding yours tightened as he rutted into you until he came in hot, throbbing pulses that sucked the energy out of the rest of his body. You clenched around him, and he let out a strangled groan as his whole body shuddered above you.

He pressed his forehead against yours, brushing stray hairs out of your face with his free hand. His other still clasped yours tightly, fingers still laced together. You leaned up to kiss him, and your lips met in a tender way. An unburdened, unhurried kiss. A kiss for the sake of kissing. You could’ve stayed like that forever, but all too soon, Dean broke the kiss and peeled himself off of you, his hand leaving yours. He stood, moving to discard the condom before grabbing a towel from the bathroom. You sat up, watching his retreating back and taking pride in the red lines your nails had left in their wake. You could only hope he would remember you.

When he returned with a damp washcloth, he coaxed you back against the pillow as he wiped the sweat from your brow, muttering sweet nothings all the while. There was silence between you for a long while, and you realized too late that your time with him was coming to an end. He had set you aflame, and now you would have to find a way to rebuild. But you’d do it all again if Dean asked it of you. But when he spoke, you hadn’t expected the words that came out of his mouth.

“Do you maybe wanna... you know... stay?” he asked quietly. “For the night,” he added. You swallowed.

“Um... isn’t Sam due back sometime... soon?” Why were you making excuses? This opportunity didn’t even show up in your dreams. Dean wet his lips, not quite meeting your gaze.

“Well... not to be presumptuous or anything... but I might have told him to get his own room for the night.”

“Oh.” Oh. He had planned on you staying with him? You were done for.

“Yeah... Uh, nevermind. You don’t have to. You’ve probably got somewhere better–”

“I’d love to stay,” you blurted out. “With you,” you clarified, as if it weren’t obvious. The smile that split across Dean’s face was blinding, and it became your new life’s mission to do whatever it took to see it directed your way time and time again.

“How about I order us some food? We can watch a movie and cuddle?” And really, you were only human. A request like that from Dean Winchester was as easy to fulfill as breathing.