#▇ Be silent; you might see yourself in its beams │ Answer

[aflame4goinghome]

Antithesis

j.t.k x reader & j.m.k. x reader

part III

word count: 6.3k

warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!! fluff, swearing, flirting, drinking, cheating *kind of*, possessiveness, Jake's an asshole (that deserves its own warning) SMUT: kissing, sexually implicit language, touching, dirty talk, phone sex, masturbating (f. & m.), fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving & m. receiving), unprotected sex, slight biting, choking, praise kink, a touch of orgasm denial, a hint of a breeding kink, a bit of voyeurism

a/n: hi! it's been a while, i know. but trust me, this chapter is worth it... you're gonna love it. this chapter is pretty much all jake, sorry josh lovers! you'll see more of him next time ;) don't worry, the next part will not take as long. love ya! <3

listen to the official playlist on Spotify here

read part two here

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As you toss and turn in your bed, your mind isn’t thinking about anything but Jake. The feeling of his lips on your skin is burned into the back of your mind and threatens to take root there forever, and that scares you. It’s been over a month now since you’d last seen him– you and Josh have been taking advantage of his time off before he inevitably had to go back on tour, and luckily, it gave you an excuse to avoid his other half. 

From the bits and pieces you’ve heard from Josh, it seems like Jake has been out of town for a few weeks on a solo trip, making his rounds at a few studios and music stores in New York City and doing some recording on his own. Josh beamed when talking about it, it’s clear how proud he is of his brother and his dream. You just felt relieved that Jake’s presence wasn’t there to threaten your composure and complicate your relationship with Josh. 

You turn over on your side to look at Josh next to you, fast asleep. Every once in a while, you hear him breathe in a loud snore, making you giggle to yourself. You’re not sure what it is exactly that is keeping you up at night, but you just want to be rid of it. You didn’t have any room for distractions right now, between work and spending every waking moment with Josh. He hasn’t caught on to your off mood yet, for now. You hope to keep it that way. 

Josh stirs in his sleep, taking in a deep breath and then turning over on the bed, facing away from you. At that moment, your attention is pulled away by the constant buzzing of your phone on the bedside table. You roll over reluctantly to pick it up, the brightness of the screen nearly blinding you. You squint to see better and your breath gets stuck in your throat as you see the name, large on the top of your screen. Jake. 

You look in the corner to check the time: 3:37 am. Why on earth is he calling me this late? you think to yourself, shaking your head. You start to feel concerned that it might be serious or an emergency, so you quietly rise out of bed and tiptoe off to your bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you. Josh is still fast asleep, but you couldn’t risk it. You sit on the toilet seat and then apprehensively slide your finger across the screen, picking up the call. 

“Hello? Jake?” you whisper, trying your best to keep it down. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, his voice sounding hushed and deep. It’s silent for a moment before you decide to break it yourself. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, not even bothering to hide the concern in your voice. You hear him chuckle on the other end and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m okay,” he answers. You can practically see the smirk on his face through the phone. “Just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all. Is that a crime?” You breathe out a quiet sigh as you attempt to think through your words carefully, not wanting to inflate his ego more than you had to.

“No, Jake. It’s not a crime. It’s just nearly 4 in the morning,” you say, a bit of sarcasm dripping off the end of the sentence. It’s quiet again for a few beats before he takes a deep breath and continues.

“I know. I know, it’s late,” he says, and you can hear a twinge of disappointment in his voice. 

“Are you still in New York?” you ask, trying to change the subject to not keep him feeling down.

“I am. My flight is on Sunday,” he says, pausing before he continues. “Why, did you miss me?” You can’t hold back the giggle that comes out and your hand rushes to your mouth, covering it and composing yourself. 

“I was just asking because of the time difference, Jacob,” you answer snarkily. “You wish.” Another laugh comes through the line.

“Maybe I do,” he says, clearly smiling again. You sit there in silence briefly, not knowing what else to say. Before you can attempt to end the call, he cuts you off.

“Listen, Y/N…” he starts. “I wanna see when I get back. And not just in passing, not just at a party. I want to take you out. Let me take you out, baby.” If you didn’t know any better, it almost sounded like he was pleading with you. But you do know better, or at least you think you do.

“Jake, are you drunk?” you ask, rolling your eyes. 

“No. I’m not,” he answers firmly. He’s never called you sober before, which takes you aback. You can’t help but feel the butterflies start to float through your stomach, threatening to rise up your throat and escape. The thought that he’d think to pursue you while sober was one that you never expected. No, you think to yourself, shoving the imaginary butterflies back down. I am not falling this easily. 

“Jake…” you whisper. “Why would you want to take me out? Why now?” You look down at your lap as your fingers fiddle with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. 

The idea that he would be actually pursuing you at all felt like a fantasy. After your past two interactions over the holidays, you had convinced yourself that he was just using you. Hell, maybe he still is. But something inside you was tempted to let him try his luck. You were with Josh, it was wrong, you knew that. But he was leaving soon, and he hasn’t shown any interest in getting serious with you. You were just a companion and a good lay for Josh, nothing more. Just a constant. You didn’t owe him anything. But still, you can’t help but feel guilty even considering it. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I’m going out of my mind here, thinking about you being with my brother and not me. You’re mine– I want you to be mine,” he says, his voice dripping in desire and candor. You knew he was being honest. Your heart sinks at his words and the idea of being the one causing him pain. You can’t bear it. Before you can stop yourself, the word vomit starts coming. 

“There hasn’t been a single night in the past two months that I haven’t thought about you. Every single night. I go to bed thinking about you, and I wake up thinking about you. My mind is full of you, Jake. Only you,” you admit, almost hastily, like you would die if you didn’t let it out. You hear him sigh on the other line, feeling nervous about how he might be reacting. 

“God, sweetheart. You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he mumbles, his voice deep and hoarse, sending a bolt of lightning through your body. His voice alone makes your whole body tingle, going straight to your core. It was ridiculous how easily he could turn you on, he does it without even trying. You fail to stifle the quiet whimper from coming out of your mouth at his voice and you know it’s too late to backtrack now.

“Fuck, you like that, baby?” he whispers, letting out a low groan himself. You picture it in your head as your eyes start to close, thinking about the possibility of him palming himself through his pants while he talks to you on the phone. “I know you miss me. Go ahead and touch yourself for me, sweetheart. Be nice to her just like I would, I know she needs it.” 

Another moan leaves your mouth as he talks to you, and you allow your hand to drift down as you hold the phone to your ear in the other. You lift up your shirt slightly and let your fingers dip into your panties. Your head leans back against the wall and a soft whine leaves your lips as your fingers graze your clit. 

“Are you touching that pretty pussy for me, baby? You gonna be sweet to her?” he asks, the rasp in his voice sending shivers down your spine. You run two of your fingers through your folds, collecting the wetness that has begun to pool there and then slowly inserting them inside you. A moan starts to slip past your lips but you catch it, biting your lip as you start to move your fingers in and out of you.

“What is it, don’t want my brother to hear?” he teases. You roll your eyes as you work yourself slowly, your thumb rubbing circles along your swollen clit. You can hear his labored breathing over the phone, and you know that he’s touching himself too. It was all so taboo, almost turning you on even more. 

“Fuck, I wish I could feel your lips wrapped around my cock right now, baby,” he groans, panting quietly into the phone as he works himself closer. You whimper quietly, but loud enough for him to hear.

“God, me too… you feel so good, Jake,” you whine, getting closer and closer to the edge. “Please, keep talking, don’t stop.” He groans deeply at your words, you can tell he’s getting close.

“Y/N, when I see you… I’m gonna wine and dine you, make you feel so beautiful,” he whispers, you can hear him struggling to get his words out. “Then I’m going to take you home… and I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to even remember Josh’s name… Just me, only me.” His words are getting you so close, thinking about him branding you and keeping you for himself. You moan, almost too loud, as you start to reach your peak.

“Jake, fuck! I’m yours. I’m yours.” You finally go over the edge, coming all over your fingers and soaking your underwear as you slowly still your fingers. You hear a stifled moan on the other line as he finishes with you, spitting out curses and breathing heavily.

“You’re so fucking hot, Y/N, my God,” he mutters, slowing his breathing as he comes down from his high. You pull your fingers out, wiping them on your hand towel then pull your shirt back down over your thighs and take a deep breath. 

“Monday? Pick me up at 8?” you ask quietly, smiling softly as you await his response. You can hear the smile in his voice as it comes over the other line.

“Of course, baby… 8 o'clock sharp,” he says, still lingering on the end of the line. You want to say more before bed, but you’re interrupted by a voice on the other side of the door. 

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” you hear Josh whisper outside the bathroom door. Fuck.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m okay, I’ll be right out,” you answer, hastily standing up from the toilet and running the water at the sink to make it seem like you were using the bathroom. 

“Sounds like duty calls…” Jake teases. You scoff at him and then hastily end the call. You shut the water off and unlock the door, opening it to see Josh standing there waiting. His eyes look groggy and his hair is a curly mess from tossing around on your pillows. You can’t help but smile at his tired appearance as you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. 

“Sorry, honey… I was just going to the bathroom, you know how I get in the middle of the night,” you whisper, knowing he’ll believe your excuse. He smiles softly as he places a soft kiss on your lips.

“Come cuddle,” he says, turning to walk back to the bed. You both lay back down and you place your head on Josh’s chest as you finally drift off to sleep. 

This is never going to end well. It can’t. You’ve seen all the movies and you know how they end. You can’t possibly see both brothers at once, it just can’t work that way. You have a decision to make, and you’re absolutely dreading it.

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You get home from work Monday night, tossing your keys onto the bowl in your foyer then slipping off your heels with a grown. Why you ever suggested a date on a weeknight, you’ll never know. Nonetheless, you only have two hours to shower and get ready before Jake arrives to pick you up, so you have to get to it. 

You walk up the stairs sluggishly and walk into your room, sliding off your skirt and button-down shirt from work and then heading into the bathroom. You start the water, take off your undergarments, then slip into the shower. You lean your head back as the water hits you, warm and harsh. You let it wash over you as you go through the motions, washing your body and then pausing when looking at your razor.

You scoff and then pick it up. You suppose you should, knowing that there’s a very strong chance that you’ll be seeing Jake intimately tonight. You decide to do a full-body shave, which takes longer than you wanted it to. You quickly wash your hair and then step out of the shower and dry off. 

You take a look at your phone for the time: 7:05 pm.  You quickly blow dry your hair then curl it loosely, just enough for some volume. With your hair done, you apply your makeup– more than your usual look, but not too much. When you’re satisfied, you exit the bathroom and walk toward your closet to pick out something to wear. 

You sift through your various dresses and then your eyes fall on the perfect choice: a red bodycon dress, with thin straps and a v-neckline. From what you know about Jake, you know that this is just the dress to drive him crazy. You weren’t going to make this easy on him, planning to play as hard to get as possible. At least, that’s what you planned to do, but in reality, you struggle to compose yourself in his presence. You try to brush that thought off, slipping the dress on and zipping it up. You reach down for your favorite pair of black heels, slide them on, and then walk over to your bed to grab your wristlet.

You grab a tube of lipgloss from your makeup bag and apply it to your lips thoroughly then slide it into your bag. You check your phone, seeing that Jake should arrive in five minutes, then put your phone inside your bag as well. You walk out of your room and shut the door behind you. As you walk down the stairs and peek through the small window beside the door, you can see the headlights of a car out front. With a smile, you grab your keys and open your front door, locking it then walking out onto the porch. 

As you walk down the porch steps and approach his car, you notice that he’s looking down at his phone, not noticing you just yet. You wrap your hand around the door handle and pull it open. Jake finally looks up from his phone and sees you, a small smile growing across his face as you sit in the passenger seat and shut the door behind you. 

His eyes trail down your bare legs, back up to your chest, then meet your gaze. His lips turn upward into a smirk as he extends his arm to rest on the back of your seat, grazing your bare shoulder lightly. Shivers shoot down your spine at his touch and you look up at him with a smile as he breaks the silence.

“You look… breathtaking,” he says, reaching over to place a finger underneath your chin. He leans down and kisses your lips lightly, his fingers brushing your cheek as he cups it softly, then pulls away, turning toward the front of the car. “Shall we?” You smile and nod, then he puts the car in drive and turns off of your street toward downtown. 

“I hope you like Italian… I’ve had this place in mind for a while, been meaning to try it,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road. 

“I do,” you answer, looking over at him. “I’m okay with anything really.” He stops at the stoplight and turns to you with a smirk across his face.

“Good girl,” he says, reaching his right hand over to sit on your thigh then turning back to the road as the light turns and he continues to drive. His fingers grip your thigh tightly as one of them reaches slightly under the hem of your dress to tease your clothed core. You suck in a deep breath and look over at him to see that he’s completely unaffected. 

Jake is wearing a cream-colored button-down shirt, paired with a pair of black slacks. Despite the long, black overcoat he has on, he still managed to leave a few of the buttons on his shirt undone. At least he’s consistent, you suppose. 

Soon enough, you pull into a parking spot in front of the restaurant and Jake removes his hand from your thigh to park. Jake turns the car off and opens his door, stepping out onto the street and walking around to the sidewalk, waiting for you. You open your door and get out of the car, closing it behind you and walking behind him as he takes your hand in his and guides you to the entrance of the restaurant. 

He greets the hostess and gets you a table, then she walks you both to a secluded table in the back corner of the restaurant. The tables are dimly lit by a singular candle, and there are a few chandeliers throughout the room. As the two of you get situated at the table, a waiter comes up to ask for your drink order. Jake orders a bottle of pinot noir and the waiter pours you both glasses of water before retreating to the cellar to get the bottle. Once he returns and pours you both a glass, he sets it on the table for you and then gives you time to look over the menu. 

As you peruse the menu, you can’t decide on what you want to eat. You look up from the menu at Jake, whose eyes are glued to his menu, and decide to ask him what he thinks.

“What are you going to get?” you ask as his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

“Hm,” he says, looking back down at the menu before answering. “I think I might go with the roasted tomato and grilled chicken with fettuccine… What are you thinking of getting?” 

“I’m not sure. I can’t choose between the shrimp scampi and the penne alla vodka,” you say, as he seems to ponder the idea. 

“Get the penne alla vodka,” he says curtly, looking back down at his menu then closing it and placing it on the table. You nod and do the same, crossing your legs under the table and folding your hands together atop the table. He looks up at you with a smug smile, his eyes wandering to your chest briefly before the waiter returns and asks for your meal orders. 

Once he leaves, it falls silent for a moment as you both study each other. You’ve never spent this much time alone before, and frankly, you’re not sure where to begin. Your relationship thus far, if you can even call it that, has been very impersonal and strictly physical. To ease the tension, you raise your foot and graze against his calf softly, which certainly gets his attention. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” he warns, leaning over the table slightly as he folds his hands to mirror yours. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He raises his eyebrow at you as a smirk washes across his face, but you know better than to let him win like that. 

“I can finish it,” you say, smiling smugly back. 

“Yeah? You think so?” he asks sarcastically. Game on, Kiszka.

“I know so,” you answer confidently, brushing your foot against his calf yet again. 

“We’ll just have to see about that,” he says, taking a long sip of wine and leaning back against the chair. You smirk and take a sip out of your own glass.

“Good choice. This is delicious,” you remark, taking another sip. 

“I know,” he says bluntly, smirking at you from across the table. Before you have the chance to make a snide remark, the waiter approaches the table with your food, placing it in front of you before walking off. The two of you eat in silence for a while before you decide to say something.

“This is really good,” you say after you take a bit of your dish. “I appreciate you taking me here, I’m sure it’s so expensive…” You trail off as you start to feel bad, but he interrupts. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I should consider myself lucky to be able to take you out to dinner,” he answers, a hint of his teeth peeking out as he smiles at you– something that you weren’t used to. 

“You look phenomenal tonight, Y/N. Truly,” he continues, reaching over the table to place his hand on top of yours, squeezing it.

“Thank you, Jake,” you reply, smiling before taking another bite of your food.

“My pleasure,” he says with another, then turning his attention back to eating.

You both finish your food, then conversation sparks as he pours you both another glass of wine. You talk mostly about tour, and the new album that they’ve been working on, which you’re interested to hear about. He does ask you briefly about your job and your family, but you honestly don’t feel like talking about that stuff– not when his life is so much more interesting. You’d never say that to his face, though.

Once the wine bottle is finally emptied, he hands the waiter his credit card and then signs the check. He rises from the table and extends his hand out to you, which you take. You stand up and follow him out of the restaurant hand-in-hand. As you approach his car, he wraps his arms around your waist and leans you back against the back passenger-side door. 

“Let me take you home with me, baby…” he whispers, leaning down to brush his lips delicately against your neck. You lean your head back against the car as his lips start to kiss down your neck to your exposed collarbone, making you suck in a sharp breath. “Take me home,” you answer, and he reaches behind you smoothly to open the passenger-side door. You smirk at him as he backs away and you get into the car, and he follows suit. 

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The ride to Jake’s place is silent, but comfortably so. His hand rests firmly on your thigh as he navigates you there, and you can tell that he’s feeling quite impatient. He squeezes your thigh every few seconds with such vigor that you almost fear that it will leave a mark. The anticipation is killing you, everything since Thanksgiving has led to this moment, and it’s finally happening.

He pulls into his driveway and presses the button to open his garage, then pulls into his spot inside and turns the car off. He gets out of the car first and goes around the front to open your door, taking your hand and helping you up out of the seat. He shuts the door behind you quickly then leans your back against it, cupping your cheeks as his lips race toward yours. 

Your hands lace through his hair as his body overtakes you, pinning you against the car. Jake grips your neck tightly, almost as if you might disappear if he didn’t. His sense of urgency and desperate hold on you tell you that he worries that you could leave.

With the hope of reassuring him, you retreat from his lips and grab his hand, walking toward the door that enters the house and opening it. You look back at him and smile confidently as you yank his arm to drag him up the stairs hastily. 

As you reach his bedroom, you swing the door wide open and once you enter the room, he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls your flush against him. His lips find your neck, kissing softly down from your chin to your collarbone, sinking his teeth in ever so slightly. One of his hands travels upward to rest atop your breast as the other reaches for one of your straps, sliding it down your shoulder. 

A shiver bolts down your spine as he repeats the action on the other strap then takes the zipper on the back in his fingers. He slides the zipper down about halfway before he stops and you let out a frustrated sigh. His other hand squeezes your breast harshly as the other grips your waist tightly. As his lips ghost over your skin, they move to rest right on the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and fast, sending your head spinning as he finally breaks the silence.

“Tell me you want me,” he whispers against your ear, his voice raspy and low. You breathe out a stifled sigh as his hand moves from your hip to your outer thigh and squeezes it tightly. His lips work down your neck to give you a moment to respond, but he’s not that patient.

“Tell me,” he growls against your skin, using his grip on your body to pull you against him. You can feel his thick, hard cock against your ass, eliciting an uncontrolled whimper from you. 

After all this time of secret rendezvous, you still had yet to touch him. You haven’t even been able to see him, not fully. The anticipation was killing you, and after the last few times when he’s focused solely on your pleasure, you wanted desperately to return the favor.

“I want you, Jake,” you finally answer, leaning your head back in ecstasy as his lips continue to explore your neck with haste. Not wanting to waste any more time, you flip around and capture his lips in yours, pulling him closer to his king-sized bed.

Your fingers move to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, reaching down to untuck the shirt from his pants. He smirks against your lips as you remove the last button and slip it over his shoulders and down his arms slowly. 

His hands work to unzip your dress the rest of the way and you let it slip down your shoulders and fall at your feet. Now left in only your red lace panties, matching perfectly with the dress, you work quickly to unbutton his slacks and pull down the zipper. 

“Let me make you feel good,” you whisper against his lips. 

“You wanna put your mouth on it, sweetheart? You gonna be sweet to it?” he asks as you back away and he leans his arms against the bed, his eyes darkening as he looks down at you kneeling before him. You nod, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you slide his pants down his thighs. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second as his pants drop to the floor and you start to palm him through his briefs. His eyes are dark and full of lust and desire, his lips are turned upward slightly into a smug smirk. 

Your hands are planted firmly on the outside of his thighs as you lean upward and place small, soft kisses along his length through the thin barrier of his underwear. His eyes roll back at the action, a muffled groan leaving his lips. 

You dip your fingers into the waistline of his underwear and slide them down his thighs, letting them fall atop his pants. You can’t stop your jaw from dropping as you finally see the reality of his size firsthand. Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze and you see him smirking above you– great, as if he needed an even bigger ego.

You reach up to stroke him, slowly at first as your eyes are locked with his. You can tell that he’s trying to keep his composure, but you’re determined to crack it. Gripping his thigh with your free hand, you lean forward and lick a long stripe along his length, eliciting a deep groan from his mouth.

His eyes shut for a moment but he resists, opening them back up to look down at you, half-lidded. You wrap your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue around it as your eyes are glued to his. Then, you lower your head and take him in your mouth fully, moving your hard to his other thigh and letting his hard cock push to the back of your throat until you can’t fit any more. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, that’s it,” he mutters, shutting his eyes again as his face contorts from the feeling of you beginning to bob your head slowly along his length. Y/N 1, Jake 0. 

His right hand reaches down to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail as the other holds him up on the edge of the bed. Unable to restrain himself, he thrusts harshly down your throat and you gag around him, tears forming on the corners of your eyes. Your grip on his thighs tightens as you allow him to take control, fucking your mouth harshly.

You look up at him and watch as his face contorts in pleasure. The front pieces of his hair frame his face as his face angles downward, with his eyes shut tightly and his eyebrows furrowed. You feel like you could cum just from the sight of it, squeezing your thighs together to get any sort of friction. As his eyes open slightly to look down at you, they trail downward to see you struggling to get off below him.

“Am I neglecting her, baby?” he asks, dropping your hair to cup your cheek and rub his thumb along it softly. “Do you need me to take care of you?” You nod feverishly and he bites his lip as he pulls you off of him and back up onto your feet. 

He places quick, soft kisses on your lips as he turns you around and lays you down on his bed, letting your head rest on the large, fluffy pillows as he climbs onto the bed and kneels at your feet. He kisses up your legs to your thighs, using his rough, calloused hands on the outside of your thighs to spread your legs widely for him. 

His hands move to grip your ass tightly as his lips travel up your thighs, to the inside, then to your lower abdomen, right above your clit. You lean on your elbows as you try to be able to see him, not wanting to miss what he looks like with his head between your thighs. You knew you had to commit this to memory while you still could. 

He flashes you a smug smile before wrapping his lips around your clit, starting a fast, unbearable pace as his tongue swirls around your swollen bud. You let out a breathy moan as you feel his pointer finger brush against your folds and then push into you slowly. He curls his finger inside you, hitting you right at your G-spot repeatedly. 

Your eyes fall shut as he adds a second finger, curling deep inside you and bringing you closer and closer to the edge. As you start to clench around his fingers, he swiftly removes them, crawling up your body to lean over you. 

“Uh-uh, baby,” he scolds, placing hot kisses down your jawline to your neck. “The only place you’re allowed to cum tonight is around my cock.” A quiet moan leaves your mouth as his knees push your legs open wider and he grips your waist tightly. He leans over you, his other hand moving from the back of your neck to reach down to stroke himself briefly, groaning before lining himself up with you. 

He brushes the tip against your clit and your eyes roll back as he smirks, rubbing it against you again before slipping it into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. God, he was thick– much thicker than Josh. You hated the thought of it, trying to push any comparison out of your mind. But Jake felt so different than Josh ever did. You hate to admit that he was right. 

Jake’s hand finds its place back behind your neck, gripping your hair tightly as he starts thrusting into you, harsh and deep. Your eyes stare into his as he pounds into you furiously, holding your waist so tight that you’re sure it will leave a bruise. 

“You feel even better than I imagined,” he groans, pulling out almost completely before slamming his hips harshly against you, making you yelp in pleasure. “So fucking good for me.”

His hand leaves your neck to grab your leg and lift it up to rest on his shoulder, adding a new angle as he fucks into you relentlessly. He reaches down for your breast and squeezes it harshly, lowering his lips to wrap around your hardened nipple. He sucks harshly and you whine under his touch, the sensation of feeling him everywhere starting to completely overwhelm you. 

“I feel you clenching around me, baby,” he mumbles against your skin, removing his lips from your breast to kiss hot kisses along your jaw. “You gonna cum for me?” You nod hastily, unable to even form any words as you start to feel that burning feeling in your core. Jake’s hand wraps around your throat as his pace quickens inside you.

“Come on, sweetheart, fucking soak me,” he growls, his fingers tightening around your neck as he pushes you over the edge. Your mouth falls open as your orgasm rushes through you like a flood, Jake’s pace still at an overstimulating speed.

As you start to come down, he slips out of you and flips you over swiftly, gripping your hips harshly as he slams back into you from behind. You hold yourself up on your elbows as Jake’s hards burn into your sides, pounding into you quickly. 

A yelp leaves your lips as his hand comes down and cracks against your asscheek. He rubs the spot softly, soothing the sting before bringing it down once more, repeating the motion several more times. His hips start to falter and you can tell that he’s close as he fucks you harshly into the mattress. You hear a moan fall from his mouth as his pace starts to slow. 

“Where…” he starts, letting out another groan as you clench around him, then continues. “Where do you want me to-”

“Inside, cum inside me, please,” you plead, which is enough for him to pick his pace back up and slam his hips harshly against your ass. 

“Fuck, baby… you want me to pump you full of my cum?” he mutters, groaning as he pounds into you, getting closer and closer to the edge. “Gonna get you pregnant… that’ll show my brother exactly who you belong to.” He spews out a string of curses and you know he’s nearly there.

“You’re mine,” he growls, leaning over you and brushing your hair out of your face, placing a kiss on the back of your neck as his body is flush against yours.

“I’m yours,” you answer as he thrusts one final time, pushing inside you deeply, coating your walls. He places soft kisses down your neck and along your back, thrusting inside you a few more times before pulling out slowly. 

“C’mon, let’s go get cleaned up,” he says, turning you over then taking your hand in his, guiding you to the bathroom. You stand behind me, placing soft kisses along the side of his neck as he reaches into the shower and turns it on, adjusting the temperature. You both step in, closing the glass door behind you then wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you and capturing his lips in yours. 

The two of you help clean each other up, sneaking in kisses and touches along the way, making the shower last much longer than necessary. Once you finally pry yourselves away from each other, you step out of the shower and Jake hands you a towel, taking one for himself. 

You wrap the towel around your body, tucking the corner into the top and Jake does the same. You walk to the bathroom door to step out into the bedroom and gather your things. You have no plans to stay the night.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and turns it, pulling it open all the way. As the door swings open, your jaw drops when you see Josh sitting on the edge of the bed, arms crossed across his chest. Much to your surprise, his expression isn’t one of anger– he’s smirking. 

Absolutely stunned, you turn over your shoulder to look at Jake, your eyes pleading for help. Jake’s hand rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, making eye contact with his twin as he walks past you into the bedroom. You can’t seem to move from your spot, mortified.

“Well, well, well...” Josh says, his voice deep–something you’re not used to. “What do we have here?”

✺⋅∘⋅•⋅∘⋅✧⋅∘⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅∘⋅✧⋅∘⋅∙⋅∘⋅✺

leave a comment or send me a dm to be added to the taglist! thanks for reading! see you all real soon ;)

Taglist:

@itsafullmoon @vanfleeter @klarxtr @itsdannysworld @lipstickitty @peaceloveunitygvf @wildmoonworld @ignite-my-fire @gretasfallingsky @cxffeecakez @highladyofasgard @gvfpal @broken0mens @jordie-gvf

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #jakegvf #josh kiszka #joshgvf #jake kiszka x reader #josh kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fic #greta van fluff #greta van angst #greta van smut #greta van fleet smut

[maerinhearts]

Stay Pt. I

Pt II.

Summary: Sugawara Koushi is your brother's best friend whom you're in love with. You haven't seen him in two years, but now he's at your house for dinner.

College!AU

Warnings: slight mention of self harm, mention of blood, this might get you in your feels.

Word count: 2800+

A/N: Part II will be posted tomorrow night ❤️

It had been long enough that the thought of him was finally on the back burner in your brain. He wasn’t the first person you thought of when you woke up in the morning and he wasn’t the last person you thought of before you fell asleep at night. Occasionally, he would cross your mind and you would get a twinge of pain in your heart, like something was missing. After all, you hadn’t seen him in two years, so technically he was missing. Sometimes, though, you experienced days that would cripple you. Overcome with grief that he had left, unable to get out of bed. Those days were few and far in between, but damn if they didn’t crush you.

He hadn’t even visited on his breaks like he had promised you. What was so important that he couldn’t just stop by to say hello? Or even send a text? He still texted your brother, though. You were reminded of that every time your brother’s phone dinged from another room.

You eventually decided to live on campus your freshman year of college to get away from the constant reminder of him. It was like your house was tainted with memories of him. You’re reminded of this as you descend the stairs of your home, coming down to join your family for dinner. You’re home for Christmas break and you already couldn’t wait to go back to school. Every room seemed to carry a piece of him.

When your foot hits the bottom step, your mom calls for you again. “Coming,” you answer and turn to make your way to the dining room.

The sound of chatter floats into your ears, but you can’t distinguish what the conversation might be about. Your gaze is aimed down at your phone as you enter the room, engrossed in the latest twitter gossip about your favorite band. You greet everyone quietly before your mom stops you.

“Y/N,” she starts, and you finally glance up.

There he is. Sitting perfectly at the dinner table, soft smile painted delicately on his face. He looks even better than the last time you saw him, like he has grown a little. Your breath catches in your throat as he makes eye contact with you. His hair is its usual tousled mess, like he had run his hands through it too many times and then tried to fix it before he got here. His shoulders seemed broader, and he seemed to be more muscular. He also seemed more… confident? Was that the right word for it?

“Did you see who-?” your mother continues.

“Sugawara Koushi,” you cut her off, voice soft. Your stomach does flips, and you think you might vomit. Just when you were finally starting to get over him, he shows up. Here. At your dinner table. It has been two years.

“Oh, your father and I are just so excited he is visiting,” your mom beams.

You break eye contact with him and look over to your mom. “I think I’ll have dinner later,” you decide before turning on your heel to head back up to your room.

“I think not,” your father’s voice booms from behind you, stopping you in your tracks. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Sugawara drove all the way over here to eat dinner with his best friend and his family. It would be rude of you to not eat dinner with him.”

Silently, you turn around and take your seat across from him, refusing to even glance at him again. You stuff your hands underneath your thighs. You think you might die from embarrassment if anyone took notice of how much you were shaking. You can’t believe how much of an affect he still has on you. You mentally kick yourself over and over. Your brain had lied to your heart for the last two years. It told you that you were over him. It told you to date other people. It told you that he didn’t matter.

But it was all a lie.

A lie to trick your heart into believing you were okay without him. But now he’s here, right in front of you and the way his laugh lilts across the table into your ears still gives you butterflies. Damn it.

Your mother piles food up onto your plate and you don’t even spare her a glance as she does. You spend the better part of your evening picking at the food on your plate, shoving tiny bites into your mouth when you think no one is looking.

You end up just pushing the food around on your plate, feeling entirely too anxious to take another bite.

“Sweetie are you alright?” your mother asks. You glance up to find her looking at you with a worried expression.

You fake a smile at her. “I’m just not very hungry,” you tell her. It wasn’t a total lie. “May I please be excused?”

“Honey, you haven’t even said a word to Sugawara all evening,” your dad points out. You know how rude you might be coming off right now in front of your parents, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.

You look over to Sugawara who is gazing at you with an undetectable emotion. His features were soft, and you almost think he is pitying you.

Without a word, you push yourself back from the table and excuse yourself. As you walk away, tears blurring your vision, you hear your mom apologizing for your behavior. Koushi brushes it off, like he always does.

Once you’re back in your room, you close the door and collapse to the floor in front of it. The tears fall freely now. How could you be so stupid? How could you let one man overtake your heart? How could you let Sugawara Koushi ruin every other man for you?

He was everything.

Sugawara Koushi was the soft breeze you needed on a warm day. He was the silence that blanketed the earth during a snowfall at midnight. He was the way the sun kissed your skin just right as it set on the horizon, painting the ground beneath your feet a beautiful orange. He was the way it felt to catch a snowflake on your tongue. He was…

He was it for you. And that was something you had decided a long time ago.

The memory of confessing your love to him before he set off to college crashes through your mind. You begin sobbing harder now at the memory of his rejection, of him saying he can’t be with you. He can’t be with his best friend’s sister. It was wrong. But why? Why was it so wrong?

You push yourself to your feet as you try to fight off the tears, body hiccupping now from crying. You throw open your bedroom window and climb out, bare feet finding the rough shingles on the roof that overlooked the back yard. This part of the roof was flat, lucky for you. It covered the back porch and gave a nice view of the night sky.

It was cold, you knew that much, but it was like you were numb. You could see your breath puff out of your mouth in a small cloud of smoke. You knew you wouldn’t last long without your coat, but you just needed the silence of a winter’s night.

You wipe your face as you sit down, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging them. You spent many nights out here in the summer. Many nights with him too when you were still in high school. You look up at the clear sky to see it littered with stars and you feel a sense of calm wash over you at the sight. There was just something about the night sky that made you feel at peace.

You hear movement from behind you and you whip your head around to find the source.

The source?

None other than Sugawara Koushi, one boot clad foot on the roof and the other still in your room. He throws you a sheepish smile. “I figured you’d be out here,” he comments as he moves fully outside. He holds a blanket in his hands. “May I join you?”

Without a word, you turn away and press your eyes to your kneecaps. Why couldn’t he just go away?

You feel heavy fabric drop across your shoulders and envelope your body in warmth.

“It’s cold out here,” he states to no one in particular. At that, you realize your body is shaking. You hear him park himself next to you with a sigh and silence washes over the both of you.

It feels like hours pass before you’re lifting your head and turning your swollen, tear-stained face at him. When he looks at you, his gaze visibly softens, obviously affected by the state you seem to be in. He knows he is the one responsible and he feels his heart constrict.

“I need to tell you something,” he says softly.

You knit your eyebrows together at that. What could he possibly have to say?

“I don’t even get a hello?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckles at you. “To be fair, I didn’t even get a hello,” he reminds you.

You roll your eyes. “You don’t really deserve a hello,” you say under your breath, turning your gaze back to the sky

He sighs. “I can’t deny that,” he admits.

It’s silent again, and for once that silence is suffocating you. It used to be comfortable, but now the tension between the two of you hangs thick in the air.

“I love you,” Koushi says softly from beside you.

Your eyes widen and you slowly turn to stare at him, incredulous. What? He what? He loves you? He’s just now telling you this, two years later? Two years after you confessed your love to him? Are you serious?

“I’ve always loved you,” he tells you.

Your heart does somersaults. Back flips. Front flips. Back handsprings. It just might burst right out of your chest. He makes direct eye contact with you, honey-colored eyes so sincere it just might kill you.

“Which is why I owe you this much.” His voice is shaky, and you can tell he is struggling to tell you whatever it is he wants to say.

He moves to lean on his left hand, suddenly closer to you. He is still looking at you, but this time with a pained expression.

“I have a girlfriend,” he finally tells you. “That’s why I haven’t been coming around.”

You feel the waves of heartbreak crash over you once again, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes. When the first tear trails down your face, he reaches up to brush it away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry, Y/N,” he begs. “Please, don’t cry. I’m not worth the tears.”

“Why?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. You’re not sure what answer you’re looking for.

He cups your face in his hands, so gentle, like you were made of glass, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I felt like I owed it to you… to tell you why I haven’t been coming around,” he whispers.

He pulls back to press a soft kiss to your forehead, lips lingering. You feel your chest tighten and your breathing pick up. The feeling of him breaking your heart twice over is almost too much for you.

He pulls back and directs your face upwards to look at him. You see the pain swimming behind his eyes. For some reason, that comforts you, to know that you aren’t the only one hurting from this.

“She doesn’t want me to see you,” he admits. “I… I needed to see you one last time.” He continues brushing away your tears with his thumbs as they fall. “Please, stop crying. You’re too pretty to cry.”

You almost cry harder at that, at his admission that he thought you were pretty… And that his snot of a girlfriend was forbidding him from seeing you. Could you blame her? Not really after you found out he reciprocates your feelings. But why couldn’t he be with you? What is he hiding?

“Don’t leave me,” you plead, afraid of never seeing him again. You grip the fabric of his shirt in your fists.

“Y/N…”

“Please,” you whisper.

“I can’t.”

He brushes his fingers through your hair and smiles a sad smile at you. He finally pulls away from you, standing up to take his leave. As he turns away, you find yourself scrambling up, blanket falling off of your shoulders.

“Wait,” you call out as he comes to a stop in front of your window. He turns his head back to look at you with an eyebrow raised. “Kiss me.”

Wait, what? That isn’t at all what you wanted to say to him!

Without a second thought, Koushi turns and makes a beeline for you.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says just before he grabs your face in his hands and crashes his lips to yours.

You let out a small gasp as your mouths make contact, body somehow stiff with surprise. When his hands move to hold your waist, your body finally comes alive, melting into him and snaking your arms around his neck.

This kiss was everything you needed, hoped for, wished for… As his mouth opens over yours, you feel yourself floating. You’d never been kissed before. You had always been too preoccupied with Koushi, hoping, waiting, pining. The way his lips felt on yours was something you’ll never get over now that you’ve had a taste. No man’s lips will ever, ever compare to his. There was something in the way they moved over yours, carrying such a raw emotion behind them that you found yourself crying against him, salty tears making their way into your mouth somehow. This would be your first and last kiss, ever. Because you knew that nothing would ever feel like this again.

No one could make your heart feel so full yet so empty at the same time. Koushi was putting every ounce of his love for you into this kiss, knowing that it’s wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to taste you at least one time in his life.

The tears fall faster as the realization hits you that you might never see him again.

He pulls back from you, centimeters separating your lips, breaths mingling. He’s so close that his next words are spoken against you, the movement of his mouth brushing against your own.

“Don’t cry.” He’s continuously wiping your tears.

You huff out a humorless laugh. “You keep saying that, but you’re still leaving me.”

He presses a soft kiss to your lips once. Twice. Three times.

“I don’t have a choice,” he tells you.

“But you do,” you cry out, voice breaking.

He softly shakes his head before he presses another kiss to your mouth, lips lingering one last time. Then he’s turning away, climbing back through your bedroom window to leave you. You hear him say something to you before he does, but the words don’t register in your brain. When he’s gone, you collapse to your knees in disbelief. You hunch over, fisted hands finding purchase on the roof below you as tears fall onto the shingles.

Without thinking, you pull a hand back and punch the roof. You don’t feel any pain, so you punch over and over until your knuckles are bloody. You feel so numb, but you can’t tell if it’s from the cold outside or the ache in your chest.

You don’t know how much time has passed before your brother is frantically clambering onto the roof and pulling your cold body into his arms. He’s saying something to you. Asking you questions, but you can’t hear him. You’re so broken. Doesn’t he know that his best friend just broke your heart? For the second time?

He’s placing you on your bed and looking at your bloody hand. “I’m going to go get mom,” he says, but the words sound muffled to you.

You grab his sleeve in your hand. “Don’t,” you whisper. You don’t want your mom involved. She’ll just make things worse.

He sighs, but nods at you before he is leaving to go get a first aid kit. You don’t know when he comes back or when he finishes bandaging you, or even when he lays you down in your bed and covers you up.

This feels worse than the first time, you decide. You suddenly felt like you had no feelings left to give. You shouldn’t have asked him to kiss you. That is what made things worse… right? Maybe you would have been better off not knowing what he tasted like at 8:00 PM on a Wednesday night in the dead of winter.

#sugawara koushi #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara koushi smut #haikyuu x reader

[voidjunimo]

🌟STARDEW FILTH SNIPPETS🌟

(pt 2 of…?)

ships: Sandy(D)/Emily(s), Sandy(D)/Clint(s), (indirect contact only) Clint(s)/Emily(s)

cw: k!nky pr0n, consensual public SW, group relationships, puppypl4y, humiliation, public degradation, physical and emotional sadism, chastity, (implied, consensual) brainwashing k!nk, 0r4l, an4l, crying, v0yeur, begging, kn0tting, str4p0n, first time, (m) v1rgin, 0verstim, forced 0rg4sms, other filth I might be forgetting idk

other tags: virgin!Clint, extreme m4soch1st Emily, sudden feelings

—

“What did you think, pretty?” Sandy asks her friend, bent and shackled over the padded table in the middle of the play room.

Emily flushes bright red and looks away. “I think you’re more sadistic than I gave you credit for.”

Sandy cackles, swatting Emily’s ass fondly. “Of course I am, sweetie. But don’t avoid the question.” She pinches the girl’s thigh, warningly hard. “What did you think of my new puppy? I think he did pretty well, considering.”

“Can he hear me?”

Sandy grins. “Oh, yes, absolutely. So let’s hear it, sweetie—did you enjoy watching me humiliate him?”

“No,” Emily says, sounding pained. “I don’t like embarrassing people who don’t want it. And he doesn’t want it, he just wants *me*, and—“ her voice cuts off on a shriek as Sandy slaps her face, hard.

“Don’t get yourself all worked up, now,” Sandy warns her, shaking her head. “You’re seeing a problem where I’m seeing an opportunity to help improve someone’s character and quality of life through training, the exact same way you’ve asked me to do with you. I’ve been as entirely transparent with him as I have with you. This is not *about* you. You are just a doorway, sweetie.” She leans down, nuzzling Emily behind the ear, in the spot that never fails to make the girl shiver. “You’re just…a hole.” Sandy snakes a hand down between Emily’s shackled legs, pinching her clit roughly.

Emily moans, her thighs inching apart a little further. “Yes, Miss Sandy,” she says, already a little breathless as their call-and-response programming has its intended effect. “Just a hole for you to use.”

Sandy nods, beaming down at her beautiful little toy. “Which hole, sweetie?” she asks, continuing the script, pulling Emily deeper into sub space with each dyad back and forth.

Emily’s voice sounds half-drunk with desire when she gives her answer: “Any hole, Miss Sandy. I’m yours to use however you want.”

“Mmmm,” Sandy purrs, stroking her fingers lightly over Emily’s thighs, the backs of her knees, the lips of her pussy. “My good girl, to use however I want.”

Emily’s labia are slick and pearly, her cunt leaking against Sandy’s fingertips already. Her body knows what this script means. “Please use me, Miss Sandy.”

Sandy tuts, smacking the girl’s pussy, hard enough that Emily bucks. “Not until you tell me what you think of my new puppy,” she says, shaking her head even though Emily’s face is angled away and can’t see it. Clint can, on the other side of the two-way mirror. “I want to know if you liked watching him.”

Emily squirms. “I already told you.”

“No,” Sandy says, slapping Emily’s pussy again, harder, and ignoring the moan that follows. “You told me you didn’t like watching me humiliate him. Did you like *watching* him?”

Emily is curiously silent, and Sandy grins at the mirror.

“Did you like watching me touch him, sweetie?” Sandy coos, petting Emily’s thigh in an imitation of her touches to Clint. “Did you like watching him cum for me?” Emily’s suddenly soaked cunt is answer enough for Sandy, but she wants Clint to hear it. “Tell me, sweetie. Did you like watching me milk my puppy til he barked?” To his credit, Clint hadn’t started sobbing til after Sandy had sucked a third, almost completely dry, orgasm from his sore cock. He’d barely protested the caging, either; Sandy suspected he didn’t especially mind the idea of having his orgasms controlled.

Emily whimpers, hips squirming, trying to get more pressure from Sandy’s fingers. “Please, I don’t—“

Sandy takes her hand away completely, tutting again. “Tell the truth, sweetie, or I’ll put a gape toy in you and leave you here alone for the rest of the night while I go play with the puppy again,” Sandy warns.

“*Yes*,” Emily whines miserably. “*Yes*, I liked watching you play with him.”

“Good girl.” Sandy beams down at her captive, stroking teasingly at the girl’s pussy again. “I know that was hard for you to admit, but I’m very proud of you. And I’m glad you liked it, because I think I’m going to keep him. I’ve always wanted a dog.”

—

“Oh, please, please, Miss Sandy, I can’t, I—“ Emily groans and sobs, whole body shaking as another orgasm rips through her. Only a few of the welts on her back and thighs are purpling; the rest are just pretty red stripes. Most of the wax has cooled and flaked off her skin now. Her voice is hoarse from being choked on and off for the last—Sandy checks the clock—two and a half hours. “Please, please, it’s too much, I can’t—“

“Shhh, sweetie,” Sandy soothes, turning the vibrator up another notch and wedging it a little more firmly under Emily’s clit, “just let go and squirt for me.”

Emily screams and cums again, but of course doesn’t squirt; there’s nothing inside any of her holes. “P-please, Miss Sandy, please, I c-can’t unless—“

Sandy sighs and shakes her head. “Well, you know I’m not going to stop until you squirt for me, sweetie.” She strokes a hand over Emily’s sweaty forehead, faux-soothing. “Just be a good girl and squirt for me, and then I can stop.”

“Please, please,” Emily begs, trembling uncontrollably now, “please, I need more, I need—“

“More?” Sandy plays dumb and turns the vibrator up another notch. “More like this?”

Emily sobs desperately, cumming again, pussy clenching down around nothing again and again. “*Pleeeaaaaase*, Miss Sandy,” she wails, hips bucking, trying desperately to get something inside her without having to actually *ask* for it.

“Tell me,” Sandy orders, rubbing the vibe in little circles around the girl’s swollen clit. “Use your words, sweetie. How can I know what you need if you don’t ask for it?”

Emily whines, resisting even now. “Please, I want more, I want—“ she flinches away from the explicit. “Please, Miss Sandy, I want something in me.”

Sandy punishes her for the obscurity by getting a fairly hefty anal plug, lubing it up with the slick on Emily’s labia and pushing it into the girl’s ass. “In you like this?” she asks sweetly, twisting the plug’s base to seat it firmly.

“Oh, no, Miss Sandy, I didn’t—aaaaahh, that’s, oh—“ Emily whines and shifts uncomfortably at the sudden intrusion. “It’s so big, it’s so big, it feels all funny, it’s not nice, it’s—“ she breaks off into a sob as Sandy wiggles and gently thumps the plug, making it push a little deeper into the girl’s flinching hole.

“Oh, sweetie,” Sandy tuts, tracing her finger around Emily’s spasming rim, “you’re still not squirting for me. Is something wrong?” She tugs the plug halfway out and pushes it back in, delighting in Emily’s miserable wail. “You said you needed something inside you, sweetie, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.”

Sandy shushes and soothes Emily verbally while absolutely refusing to let up on her resisting asshole with the plug or her swollen clit with the vibe, feeling her own panties starting to soak through as the girl begins to weep in earnest even as another orgasm ripples through her.

Six or seven sobbing orgasms later, Emily finally chokes out, “Please, Miss Sandy, put something in my kitty.”

“Kitty?” Sandy teases. “I’m not sure I know where that is.”

“Pussy!” Emily screams out, whole body jerking as Sandy pulls the plug nearly out of her ass yet again, leaving the rim gaping for a moment. “Please, Miss Sandy, I need you to fuck my cunt!”

Sandy giggles, pushing the plug all the way back in and leaving it seated there this time. “See, sweetie, was that so hard? Wait right here, I have just the thing.”

Sandy leaves Emily sobbing on the padded table, asshole puffy around the base of the plug, pussy dripping freely now, while she goes to get a cock from the shelf. She holds it up to the light, pretending to examine it before she fastens it to the harness, but really, she’s just making sure Clint gets a good look. It’s a dead ringer for the knot cage she locked his cock into, but about twice the size. The head is tapered, but the knot on it is the size of Sandy’s fist, and she wants him to *see*, wants him to *know*, exactly what Emily needs. Emily always needs it to be way, way too much. If it’s not, she can’t let go.

Emily moans and cums the second Sandy lines her new cock up and starts rubbing the tip at the girl’s mouth.

“Get it wet, sweetie,” Sandy instructs, smoothing Emily’s sweat-soaked hair back from the girl’s face. “Open your pretty little facecunt and get my cock all wet.”

To Emily’s credit, she *just* gets the whole head into her mouth, lips stretching and sinking down the length to the base of the knot before her jaw can’t open any wider, can’t stretch any more. She gags and drools, bobbing her head, *trying*, but the knot won’t pop past her lips.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Sandy reassures her, fucking into the girl’s throat a little, delighting in the frantic gag and Emily’s almost immediate orgasm, “it doesn’t all have to fit in your mouth. I’ll make it fit where it matters.”

Emily moans around the toy, and Sandy decides she’s ready. “Deep breaths now, sweetie. Your cunt hasn’t had anything in it since last time, right?” She pulls her cock free of Emily’s mouth so she can answer.

“No, Miss Sandy,” Emily pants, face slick with drool. “Not even my fingers. It’s only for you. All my holes are only for you.”

“Oh, *good* girl,” Sandy praises, circling the table, lining herself up. Emily’s cunt is slick and swollen, inviting, and Sandy can’t help but bend down to taste it first. Emily’s cute little gasp is absolutely worth it, as is her helpless moan when she cums again, terribly oversensitive from all the stimulation already. “You ready, sweetie?”

“Please, please,” Emily begs, hips straining back, up, towards Sandy’s harnessed cock. “Please, Miss Sandy, I need it, I need—“ she cuts off with a shriek as Sandy buries half the toy inside her with a single thrust, seating it almost to the knot. Her walls clench down around the toy, resisting the rough intrusion no matter how desired it is, gripping hard enough that Sandy can barely pull out enough to thrust again.

She does, though, again and again, thrusting the first several inches of her thick cock into Emily’s slick pussy until the slide is easy, until the girl is moaning and shuddering and begging again. Sandy works the vibe over Emily’s clit, rubs at the base of her anal plug, reaches up to pull her hair. Doesn’t quite build up the rhythm to make the girl squirt, though—keeps her cumming, exhausting her, but never quite hitting the angle, never quite going fast or hard enough.

Sandy wonders, idly, if Clint is crying yet, on the other side of the glass. He hasn’t hit the panic button, so she assumes he’s enjoying his own torment.

“Why aren’t you squirting, sweetie? You look like you’re getting tired, don’t you want to stop?” Sandy fakes concern, voice saccharine.

Emily nods hazily, starting to drift. She’s almost ready. “So tired, Miss Sandy,” she slurs, her body rippling as she cums again, barely fazed by it by now.

“Just squirt for me and you can stop, sweetie,” Sandy reminds her dreamy captive. “If you need something else to make it happen, you need to ask for it. Otherwise, I’m gonna keep fucking you just like this until you pass out on my cock, and when you wake up, I’ll just start again. You have one job, sweetie. All you need to do is squirt.”

Emily sobs, cunt spasming, and wails, “Please, Miss Sandy, I need you to pound my pussy really hard! Fuck my cunt hard and deep and fast, over and over and over, and—“ she’s babbling now, getting filthier in her desperation. “Miss Sandy, oh, please, I need it to be too much, too much, or I can’t—“

“Good girl,” Sandy purrs, readjusting her stance, getting a better grip on Emily’s hips. “I promise, sweetie, if you ask me for what you need, I’ll always give it to you.” And she does: angling her hips and thrusting so her cock strikes just the right spot inside her captive’s cunt, impaling her over and over again, hard and fast, burying the shaft to just below the knot each time.

Sandy feels the tension build in Emily’s body, a deeper coiling than the clitoral orgasms that wrack her already. She’s close, so close.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweetie,” Sandy praises, panting a little as she thrusts. She’s in good shape, though; Emily is a regular workout. “You’re doing so good, my puppy must be crying in his cage from how bad he wishes this was *his* puppycock stretching out your pretty little cunt.”

Emily cries out, the reminder of their audience eliciting some mixture of shock, disgust, and arousal that Sandy doesn’t worry about unraveling, just revels in.

“Oh, don’t act so uptight, sweetie. Don’t you know I’m only making you squirt so he has a proper mess to clean up when I’m done with you tonight?”

That does it. Emily wails desperately as she goes over the edge, hard, her body clenching helplessly tight and then going slack in turns as the liquid gushes out from between her legs, streaming over Sandy’s thrusting cock and puddling on the floor.

“Good girl,” Sandy coos, petting Emily’s trembling haunch, still thrusting, still milking spasms out of her captive’s cunt. “Is that all you’ve got for me, sweetie?”

Emily can’t form the words to answer, but she doesn’t have to; her pussy is still gushing intermittently, making a mess of squirt and cream drip down Sandy’s knot. She’s not quite done and she knows it.

“Give me a real puddle, sweetie,” Sandy tells her captive, loud enough for Clint to hear. “I’m going to push my puppy facedown in it and let him lap it up while I get him used to having something in his ass.”

Emily’s hips twitch frantically as she obliges, likely involuntarily at this point, soaking Sandy’s thighs and the floor. She’s nearly ready, Sandy can feel it with every thrust. All of Emily’s muscles are exhausted, going loose and slack beneath Sandy’s attentions; soon, she won’t even be able to cum anymore.

Sandy’s next thrust is much harder, making Emily jerk, and the one after that does the trick—Sandy slams her hips forward, shoving hard, and Emily screams, long and loud, as the knot is forced all the way inside.

“Shhh, sweetie, it’s okay if it hurts,” Sandy soothes, rubbing a hand over Emily’s spasming low back as the girl dissolves into tears. “It’s supposed to.”

Emily hiccups around a sob, cunt clenching over and over, trying to force out the massive intrusion to absolutely no avail. Sandy keeps her hips pressed flush to Emily’s, the tip of the toy nestled against the girl’s cervix, knot buried deep. She rocks her hips a little, tiny little waves of motion, bouncing the tip of her cock against Emily’s deepest insides while the knot keeps the girl trapped, pinned on the toy, cunt splayed wide.

“Tell me,” Sandy orders fondly, thrusting shallowly without dislodging the knot. “Tell me, sweetie.”

“Th-thank you, Miss Sandy,” Emily gasps out, shuddering, muscles fluttering around Sandy’s cock.

Sandy rewards her—she finds the vibe, nudges it more firmly against Emily’s clit, and wrings several more agonized orgasms out of her before she says, “If you can squirt just a tiny bit more for me, I’ll take the knot out, and let you rest a while while I play with my puppy. Do you think you’ve got a little more for me, sweetie?”

Emily groans wordlessly, pussy pulsing a little as her muscles clench again, but she seems to be at the end of her rope. “I’m sorry, Miss Sandy,” she pants, body quivering. “I want to, I just—“

Sandy tuts. “Well, you know what that means, don’t you, sweetie?” She presses a kiss to Emily’s sweaty back, waiting a beat before she explains to her fuzzy-brained captive, “I’ll have to leave the knot in a while longer, then.”

Sandy swiftly undoes the fastener on her cock, detaching it from the harness, but leaving the toy buried hilt-deep in Emily’s swollen cunt. She keeps it pressed deep with two fingers, holding it firmly in place. “I’m going to put your chastity belt on over this to keep it right where it belongs. Maybe I’ll come take it out when I’m done playing with my puppy.”

Ignoring Emily’s wails of protest, Sandy unfastens the girl’s wrists from the table, lifting her in a princess carry and bringing her to the little side room—a closet, really—where Sandy has a cot waiting. She fasten’s Emily’s wrist cuffs loosely to the cot, leaving her legs free. Emily fights her a little when she puts the chastity belt on, whining that she’s tired and her pussy is sore, but she’s *too* tired to resist much, and Sandy locks it in place, sealing it with a kiss.

“I’ll be back in a little while to take that out, sweetie,” Sandy promises, petting Emily’s sweaty, tear-streaked face. “While you wait, I want you to rest, and remember what I’m doing in the next room.” She presses a kiss to Emily’s forehead. “Shout if you need me.” She lays a cool cloth over the girl’s brow, tucks a weighted blanket over her body, and turns out the light.

—

“Well, puppy?” Sandy asks, arching an eyebrow at Clint as she lets him into the play room. “Was it what you expected?”

Clint doesn’t say a word, but his refusal to meet Sandy’s eyes says plenty. The way his cock is half-hard in its cage says the rest.

“I meant every word. Get in here and clean this up, puppy.” She points to the puddle below the padded table, Emily’s cream and squirt mingling on the smooth tile. “Mask off first, hurry up.”

Clint stumbles over himself in his haste to obey, nearly going sprawling. The dog mask lands on the floor by Sandy’s feet, and Clint quickly follows it, kneeling at the edge of the puddle and lowering his face to it with the shamelessness of desperation. He groans at the first taste, then dives in even more earnestly, lapping at the cooling puddle of Emily’s juices.

“Good boy, puppy,” Sandy coos, stroking a hand over Clint’s back. He flinches at the touch, but doesn’t pull away; Sandy wonders how long it’s been since he’s *been* touched. If he’s ever been touched with real tenderness. Probably not; he doesn’t exactly invite tenderness.

That’s okay. Sandy will take her time and tenderize him. Just give her a few months.

“Good boy, sweetie, spread your legs,” Sandy says, petting the backs of his thighs.

He doesn’t even pause in his cleaning of the floor, just lets her guide his legs apart, his caged cock hanging heavy and flushed between them.

Sandy didn’t plan on it, had just meant to finger him a bit and teach him to take a plug, but something overcomes her, and she can’t suppress the urge to lean in and lick over her puppy’s asshole.

Clint groans, whole body tensing at the touch. A moment later, a wet thunk as he drops his face to the floor, completely forgetting about his task, unable to do anything but pant harshly, holding himself tremblingly still, as Sandy licks over his hole again.

The third lick drags a broken moan from Clint’s throat. “Please. Fuck, please, I—“

Sandy smooths her hands over Clints ass, spreading it wider, and says, “Good puppy. Let me hear you,” before she bends down and sets to rimming him in earnest.

Clint breaks down to helpless, desperate mewling noises so quickly it would be funny if Sandy weren’t so fucking turned on. His hole flutters against her tongue, unused to the attention, and she can tell he’ll cum even with the cock cage on if she buries her tongue inside and fucks him with it.

He does, sobbing frantically into what’s left of Emily’s mess, his cock trapped and twitching, cage keeping him no more than half hard even as his balls tighten and pulse, cum leaking from his cock. Sandy licks down over them, sucking each into her mouth, and then licks at the head of his cock through the openings in the cage. She had intended to leave him in that for the night, too, but she’s been on the edge all night, and he’s so fucking *responsive*—

Clint freezes when the cock cage comes off, holding himself still as he can, like he’s scared it’s a trick. “I already came,” he admits miserably, like Sandy hadn’t *noticed*. “After that and on stage earlier, I don’t think I can get hard agai—oh, Yoba, holy fucking—“ his words drift off into incoherent babbling noises as Sandy’s mouth wraps around his spent cock, suckling gently. One of her fingers gently circles his spit-slick asshole, rubbing at the sensitive rim.

Sandy swallows her puppy’s cock to the root, suckling at it and massaging his virgin puppycunt, feeling her own cunt dripping through her panties as she slowly works him up to hardness again. It doesn’t take as long as it should, with how much she’s worn him out already. He’s so fucking *eager*.

Sandy pulls off her puppy’s swollen cock with a soft, wet *pop*, kissing the tip. “You’ve never done this before,” she realizes out loud. Feeling *ridiculous*. It’s not just his ass that’s virgin. He’s *too* responsive. “Like, at all. Not once. Have you?”

Clint’s sudden stillness, the sudden softness in his cock, tells Sandy all she needs to know. *Fuck*.

“Turn over.” Sandy’s voice is tight, thick with emotion. “Puppy, lay on your back for me.”

Slowly, warily, without ever looking up at her, Clint obeys. When he’s finally in place, his eyes are screwed shut, and his cheeks are flaming red.

“Puppy, why didn’t you tell me? When we were discussing terms, you didn’t say—“

“Because it’s *embarrassing*,” Clint snaps, eyes flashing to Sandy’s for an instant, furiously humiliated, and away again. “One kiss in high school. That’s fucking it. To never have—do you *know* how *old* I am? I don’t—I don’t—“ he sounds on the verge of hysteria now.

Sandy knows there are two routes now, and the technically correct one would be to call things to a halt and renegotiate everything now that she knows, and start over another day.

But that also won’t fix the weird feeling in her gut. She *wants* to do the other thing. And it’s not correct, but it’s *right*, and everything in her wants it.

“Puppy?” Sandy’s voice is soft, gentle. “Puppy, look at me.” She cups the side of Clint’s face, turns him to face her, waits what seems like an eternity for him to drag his gaze to hers. The look in his eyes defies naming, and makes her chest feel tight. “Puppy, we didn’t agree to this before, and it’s absolutely okay to say no, but. Puppy, can I kiss you?”

Clint’s swallows hard, and his too-bright eyes flutter shut. “Yes, ma’am. Please.”

He melts into Sandy’s touch the second her lips touch his. She can taste Emily on his tongue, can feel every inch of him trembling. He’d been so much less vulnerable in bondage in front of a crowd than in this moment, and Sandy *aches* with wanting.

Clint’s hands stay firmly on the floor until Sandy says, “Puppy, you can touch if you want.” Then they’re *everywhere*, and Sandy has to gently guide them to move in the ways that actually feel good. His first, fumbling touch between her legs, even over her costume, has her skin spangling. She hasn’t cum properly all night. She’d planned to just ride his face a little and send him to his kennel with a plug in his ass. And yet.

Sandy guides Clint’s hands to undo her corsetry, to help slide her panties down her hips. He stares at her naked flesh with a kind of worship that makes her belly shiver.

“Can—can I—“ Clint fumbles for words, staring at the vee of Sandy’s legs. He swallows, lifting his eyes to Sandy’s, and oh, *fuck*, the hunger in them makes her dizzy. “I want—just a taste, can I—“

Sandy nods, stroking a hand over Clint’s chest. “Good puppy,” she purrs, kissing him again before leaning back against the table, spreading her legs wide. “Taste all you want, sweetie.”

Clint’s first touch is so tentative, Sandy can barely feel it, and then, before she can even take another breath, he’s burying his tongue in her folds in earnest. His beard tickles at her thighs, making them twitch, and moments later, his strong, calloused hands are there, holding her spread and steady as his tongue explores.

Sandy’s orgasm startles her so much she cries out, hips bucking against Clint’s face. He makes a pleased noise and licks harder, grip tightening, and Sandy cums again, soaking his beard.

“G-good puppy,” Sandy pants, stroking Clint’s hair with a trembling hand. “So good. Don’t stop.”

Clint growls hungrily, tongue darting deeper into Sandy’s cunt, and she can’t quite hold onto her poise through how fucking earnest he is, just has to throw her head back and groan and let her orgasms take her.

“On your back, now,” Sandy gasps, legs trembling like jelly. “Now, puppy.”

Clint scrambles to obey, and Sandy barely spares a moment to admire his hard cock straining against his belly before she straddles him.

“Good boy,” Sandy purrs, lifting up and getting Clint lined up with her opening. “Good puppy. G—oh, fuuuuck, gooooood puppy,” she groans, sinking down onto his length. Short and nearly thick as a beer can, her puppy’s cock is a perfect fit. “Just relax and let Miss Sandy ride you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clint whispers, soft and shy, voice hoarse from moaning, and that’s fucking *it*, Sandy is *gone*. She’s never going to be able to just walk away from this like it’s a fucking normal client thing, this is. *Tender*.

Clint groans into Sandy’s mouth when she kisses him, her cunt clenching down around his cock as she murmurs against his lips, “Let me ride your pretty puppycock, sweetie. Let Miss Sandy take care of you.” She can feel his cock twitch inside her, and she knows, even with how much he’s already cum today, he won’t last long once she starts moving in earnest.

“Oh, *fuck*,” Clint swears as Sandy starts to bounce, his head dropping back to hit the floor with a *thunk*. “Oh, *please*, oh fuck, I’m not—I’m gonna—oh fuck, oh *fuck*, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna—“ his voice chokes off on a deep groan, and Sandy feels a hot, wet gush inside her as he cums. She doesn’t stop grinding on his cock, just milks every drop out of him and keeps clenching down around him until he’s mewling into her mouth, panting and squirming as her cunt grips his cock.

“Good puppy,” Sandy praises, hips still circling, grinding his softening cock into her. “Good puppy. Now, clean me up so I can go look after Emily.”

#k!nk #stardew posting #stardew fic #stardew fanfic #stardew fandom #k!nk blog #k!nk concept #k!nky thoughts #k!nks #puppyboy #puppypl4y #sandy x emily #sdv pwp #stardew sandy #sdv fic #stardew valley #stardew after dark #stardew emily #stardew clint #femdxm #filthy thoughts #filthy farm girl #voyuerism

[kingshimura4872]

Elan

A/N: Howdy hoe, here we go.

Its a blast from the past: It's from 2022!

This'll be fun to see where it goes. I never finished it, but maybe I can touch it up.

____________

Pairings: None (I don't believe)

Warnings: Overall, kinda heavy, very traumatized reader, etc

Word Count: 2K

_________________________--

     "Second years, settle down. I'm sure you've heard since last week, but for morality's sake, let's gloss over it. Any moment now, we will be receiving a new student. She came from a school closer to Japan's outskirts. I'll let her introduce herself, but be kind. I've been told she doesn't like being crowded so please, respect that." Aizawa, a tall man with black shoulder length hair slowly explained. As his voice traveled across the room, his students all shut their voices off to take in the information.

   "She will sit next to Bakugou in the empty seat. Jirou, I appreciate you being generous and taking the seat in the back so that she can be closer to the front." He continued.

   "Of course. Gotta be welcoming, y'know?" Jirou, a short purple haired woman replied with a smile. 

     A knock was heard on the door, catching everyone's attention. 

   "Come in." Aizawa called.

     The door slid open and two figures stood in the doorway - Pro Hero: All Might, and you. You held your hands together in front of you, head and gaze to the floor, feet neatly together and facing forward.

   "Ah. All Might. Come in, come in."

     All Might did so, stopping a few steps in when you didn't move an inch.

   "O-Oh. You too, come on in." The blonde hero smiled, holding his hand out. You did as told, silently stepping in and standing by the door. You assumed the prior stance you had, keeping your gaze down.

   "Alright class, this is our new transfer. Why don't you give her a warm welcome?" Aizawa asked, not noticing your fearful jump as everyone began saying their hello's rather loudly to you. All you did in response was a simple bow.

     All Might slowly leaned down by you, speaking softly. "Do you want to introduce yourself? Or if you don't want to, I can help out."

     You slowly took a small glance at him, realizing he was sincere and quietly pointed to him. He took the message and nodded, standing back straight and looking towards the class.

   "Class, this is Young (L/N) (Y/N). She will be your new classmate from now on." He beamed. A large but kind-hearted hand placed itself on your shoulder as he explained how you would be with them until you graduated and got your hero license. All the while you kept your sights to the tile flooring and how your uniform shoes reflected the light from the ceiling. 

   "(Y/N), why don't you take your seat next to Bakugou. Bakugou, would you raise your hand for her?" Aizawa suddenly began, startling you as you had begun to space off. You straightened your back, taking a small glance to look for the person he talked about. You saw a spiky ash blonde haired boy lazily raise his hand for a moment then plop it back down on his desk, rolling his eyes in the process. You swallowed and looked back to All Might for guidance.

   "Go on. It's alright." He encouraged. You nodded lightly and padded across the room, placing the bag you'd been wearing on your shoulder off and under the desk. You pulled all your hair over your shoulder and sat down in the seat, hands cupped in your lap and head down like before. The class took turns swapping gazes between your small, frail demeanor and the two adults who were now whispering to one another while turned away from the class. After a minute or two of quiet conversation, they exchanged nods and All Might turned to walk away. You watched from behind your hair as he waved to you and left the classroom, leaving you by yourself. You were now surrounded by a crowd of strangers, unaware of what they would be able to do. 

   "Now, as long as she's okay with it, and she can answer to her own will, you all may take turns asking a few questions if you so wish. But just know we'll begin class soon." Aizawa finally ordered, watching you from the podium. You looked to him and he nodded, realizing why he added that second part to the sentence. You slightly squirmed in your seat, turning around slowly to see a few students with raised hands. You slowly pointed to a happy looking girl with short brown hair and pinkish circles on her cheeks. 

   "Uhm, hi. My name is Uraraka!" She smiled. "So, what brings you to U.A?" 

     You looked down at your hands, mumbling just loud enough for them to hear. "I…I wanna help people. I don't want people to constantly live in fear…"

     Satisfied with your answer, she nodded and sat back, allowing you to pick your next student. You did your best to calm your already shaky nerves and pointed to another student - A cheerful red head with spiky hair and shark-like teeth. He looks like he could shred you to bits if he felt like it.

   "Why change schools so suddenly? Did you not like your old one? S-Sorry if that's a little personal." He questioned, laughing nervously at the last bit. Your skin went a little pale as memories of your school flushed through your mind. You began trembling a little and shook your head to pull yourself from the void you were about to fall into.

   "U-Uhm… It… It got s-shut down…" You finally answered, not realizing you'd been sitting in silence for about a minute and a half.

   "I got a question for ya." A louder voice hissed, causing you to turn around a little fast. It was the blonde - Bakugou.

   "What's so special about you that they let you in so late?" He huffed, leaning back in his chair. You frowned at the question and shrunk back. "I…I-I don't know… All Might said it'd be a nice school 'n stuff… I trust him, so-" 

   "So you got in just 'cause All Might said you could?" He cut in. He let out a sharp hiss as the scarf hanging from Aizawa's neck whipped toward him and whacked him on the head.

   "Don't be rude." The teacher scolded. 

     Your lip quivered as you hid your features behind your hair again. Aizawa sighed, annoyed at Bakugou. "I think that's all for questions today. Let's get on with today's lesson and we'll move on from there." 

     You turned forward in your seat, reaching into the pocket of your blazer and pulling out a small stress toy, fiddling with it frantically to calm down. The voice of the teacher was drowned out by a loud droning in your ear. You desperately began biting at the loose skin on your bottom lip and sratching quietly at the toy as the noise got louder. Your toes curled inside of your shoes and your knees pressed harshly against one another. You took shallow, shaky breaths, each feeling shorter as time went on. 

_________________________

     You walked behind Aizawa, almost like a lost puppy as he made his way down the hallway. He took a couple turns, glancing back every now and then to make sure you were still there. 

   "Ah. Here we are. This is going to be your dorm. We made sure to change the door so that you can lock it from the inside and outside. Here." He explained, pulling a pair of three keys on a small ring out of his pocket and placing it in your hand. You nodded, holding them securely.

   "And don't worry about anyone coming in unannounced. Everyone in my class, no matter how rowdy, knows to knock first." He continued.

   "All Might works here and Hawks will occasionally visit you to check up on you, so if you need me to find either of them for you, don't hesitate to ask. This is a safe place for you." He leaned down to be face level with you, pulling something else from inside his large scarf. A life sized black cat plushie. He held it out for you, watching as your eyes lit up just a bit and you took it in your arms. "To help you get a little more comfortable. Its yours now, so do whatever you want with it.

   "It…D-Doesn't have cameras in it, does it?" You asked quietly. He shook his head, which calmed you a bit. You hugged it close and bowed to him. "Thank you…" 

   "Of course. If you need something, I'll be in my office and you already know where that is. If you don't want to leave here, the students will be more than willing to help out. I'll leave you to get used to the room." He concluded, giving the top of your head a light pat and walking back the way you both had come before. You slowly reached out to the door and turned the brass knob, pushing the door open and stepping inside. You shut the door and took in your surroundings. There was a bed in the right corner already made neatly, a desk parallel to it against the left wall, a trash bin on the floor beside the desk, an open closet on the other side of the desk, a dresser by the other corner of the right wall, a large gray circular rug sat in the middle of the floor and a sliding glass door leading to a balcony directly in front of you. You set the cat on your new bed and tested each of the three keys on your door, locking it, jostling it a bit, then unlocking it to test the next one. You took two off of the key ring, placing the untouched one in your school bag, one in a drawer in your desk, and one in the corner of one of your dresser drawers. You placed the bag at the foot of the bed and glanced at the curtains. They were a soft purple-ish color, not completely opaque, but not seethrough in the slightest. It could allow enough of the sunlight in without exposing you to nosy onlookers. You opened one of the curtains and looked at the lock on the door handle. It pushed close and had a small nub on it that you twisted to lock and unlock. You tested it out a few times, locking it and pulling the door a few times to make sure it was secure. After confirming that it was safe enough, you unlocked it and opened the door, stepping onto the balcony and into the light of the now setting sun. It was around five-thirty by now and evening time. You noticed that there were a row of balconies beside you and across. You didn't exactly like how close the adjacent balconies were, but you knew the doors were safe. You eventually became entranced in the sun. The glossy red-orange color and lighter oranges surrounding it made the sky light up in pink-ish tones, some clouds even turning purple. You loved the sky. It felt like freedom to you - true freedom. You tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear subconsciously, glancing over when you sensed movement from across from you. You took a step back, realizing someone had spotted you and was making their way to their balcony to get to you. You swallowed, attempting to hold your ground.

   "Oh! It is you! That's so cool, nice to see you again!" The somewhat familiar voice cheered. It was the redhead boy from earlier. You sheepishly waved.

   "O-Oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?" He asked, taking a precautionary step back.

     You slowly shook your head, pointing to the setting sun. "S-Sunset…" You uttered. He looked at where you pointed and smiled. "Oh. Yeah, we get the best sunsets here. It really puts life on hold, y'know?" 

   "Yeah… It tells you you're truly free…" You hummed, gently leaning against the railing as you once again got lost in the beauty of the sunset. He looked over at you for a moment and smiled more as the two of you just sat there in the warm embrace of the sun.

#anime #anime x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #my hero academia

[ichoosechoasandbeingqueer]

Stupid Bloody Wood

This is Day 2 of Fili whumptober!

Prompt: Nowhere to run

Warnings: fire, dragons, arrows, death

Word count: 986

Smaug corners Fili in Laketown, or so he thinks.

Please refer to the warnings of this story.  If you go past this point you are consenting to reading this content. 

With his heart beating in his ears Fili ran. He could hear the screaming of the people around him and the sound of the flames licking at his skin but still he didn’t stop. His footsteps pounded on the wooden boards beneath him as he raced through the burning city on water. If the blond prince had the time to ponder, he would scoff at the humans that built the houses and paths of Laketown with wood while they cowered away from a fire breathing drake. Emphasis of the fire breathing part. A dragon. That breathed fire. And they thought wood would be the answer. Humans truly were strange creatures.

A loose board under his feet sent him stumbling and he cursed under his breath. He was very tempted to blow his portion of the treasure on rebuilding the town simply to show them how it was done. And he certainly wouldn’t be using wood. What was wrong with the stone of the mountains that surrounded them? Apart from the one with a dragon in it of course, but they could have at least built the wooden town well, because if he tripped over another loose and rotten beam or caught himself on another loose nail because a human couldn’t build a basic city correctly, not even Smaug’s rage would compare to what he would do to the town.

Seriously. A wooden town. Against a fire breathing dragon. It was ridiculous.

Ok, maybe he was being a bit harsh, getting caught up in the moment or what not, but he would apologize when he wasn’t being chased by said fire breathing dragon in a town made entirely with wood.

The fire roared louder as he took a sharp turn to the left, trying with all his might not to be hit by the burning wood that crumpled down around his head like rain. Fili ran like a mad dwarf, and while the searing orange that plagued his sight was a problem, his true terror came from the shadow that nipped at his ankles. If he could see the shadow of the beast, then the beast itself was far too close for his comfort.  

His throat was choked with smoke and his lungs were burning in his chest. The adrenalin that flowed through his veins never stopped, even as he turned another corner and was forced to come to a skidding stop. He let out a strangled cry as the tips of his boots hit the edge of the wooden dock, and he wobbled to keep balance. The water under him glittered like black ink against the night sky, spots or orange and red dancing and twisting through its darkness, reflections of the chaos that transpired behind him.

He silently debated diving in when a thundering crash settled behind him and a deep chuckle echoed through the night.

“Nowhere to run now little dwarf,”

Fili felt his blood run cold as he turned to face the great serpent. Doused with red scales and smears of molten gold dripping to the boards below them, the beast took a stalking step forwards, his claws crunching and crushing the smoldering remains of a home as he did so. Joy danced in his golden eyes as he stood down the dwarven prince surrounded by his own destruction and fire.

“Nope,” Fili smiled awkwardly, praying to every god he knew of, “we dwarves aren’t the best at running anyway. Good sprinters but for the long hall? Better find yourself an elf for that. Heard they can run for miles,”

The dragon looked almost taken aback from his casual demeanor, and Fili prayed that he had not heard the way his voice quivered as he spoke.

“Amusing. Your friend was like that too. The little one. The hobbit,”

Fili scrunched his brows, “Bilbo?”

“Yes, your precious little barrel rider. Do you want to know what he said when I cornered him like this?” Smaug tormented, leaning forwards to reach him. He was only inches away when he chuckled again, “No so much in the way of words of course. But his screams were delicious,”

“You lie,”

“Do I? Tell me little dwarf, why do you not scream?” He questioned, reeling back and spreading his wings out wide, “Tell me, why you do not run from the great serpent Smaug?”

For a moment he was frozen in place, petrified by the dragon whose chest glowed with an oncoming blast of flames and shocked that he would so willingly leave his chest open to show off his might.

Pulling his gaze from the firedrake, the prince nodded to himself, “Well, something like this will do. NOW BARD!”

The noise around them seemed to stop as the plucking of a bow echoed around them, and Fili watched as the dragon’s eyes went wide at the sound. A flash of black metal sped past his view and he watched in satisfaction and awe as the black arrow hit its mark of the beasts open chest.

An ear piecing screech shook the very ground he stood on as Smaug gasped and heaved, staggering back onto his hind legs to get away from the pain of his assault, only to find himself falling through the rotting wooden planks of the city. Another screech rattled his bones as the dragon sunk into the pitch-black water, the fire in his chest dulling and his eyes losing their glow.

Bard skidded to a stop beside him, and with a breathless bark of laughter slapped him on the shoulder, “I did not think that was going to work,”

Fili just nodded back, to stunned to speak and oddly enough, ready for a nap now that the dragon was gone. His cerulean blue eyes scanned the hole the creature left as it sunk to the lakes shadowy bottom, the bubbles slowly coming to a stop, and grinned.

Maybe wood wasn’t so bad after all

✨✨✨✨

See full 31 day whumptober 2022 Master List here

#whumptober2022 #no.2 #Nowhere to run #killing smaug #the hobbit #fili #fili durin #writing #fire #dragon #arrow #death #my writing #bard #smaug #laketown #whump #fili absolutely hating human architecture

[coffee-in-veins]

Day 30: Horrors of the Deep

an entry for darkest prompts promptober 2022  

previous days: 1, 2, 3,  4, 5, 6,  7,  8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29

now available on ao3 too

Horror NOUN - an intense feeling of fear, shock, or disgust; a thing causing a feeling of horror.

* * *

I sleep like the dead, nonetheless, I am lucid If dreams have a meaning, perhaps I should tune in To the signal that beckons, familiar it seems Be silent, you might see yourself in its beams

-- Nightmares never End by JT Music

When the scariest thing he had ever met that pretended to be an aristocratic woman offered him payment for going into some sarded bowels of fuck-knows-what infested Estate, Dismas was pretty sure he read the contract carefully and it didn't say anything about herding some cats. Sure, being in a group required some adjustment to both team’s tactics and personal performances. Required communication skills most of them – solitary by either life, rank or choice – sorely lacked. But it was doable for the most part. Those who couldn’t find someone who would’ve tolerated them at the very least, quickly found themselves to be conveniently sacrificed to keep others alive.

And yet, when he looked at his current predicament, this was the only thing that came to mind. Being set up as a fucking cat herder. And he hated the bastards! Cats. Not his teammates.

Well. Usually.

Because currently he was stuck in a cave with three people who were dead-fucking-set on drowning in brine as he drowned himself in the remainder of whiskey which was mercifully spared from the sad fate of being used for cleaning wounds by being quaffed first.

“Pathetic,” he heard a hiss behind him, followed by a smack. “You lack the will of the Light. How dare you even call yourself the sister of battle?”

“Pain is a gift from the holy Flame,” came an immediate answer, fifth if the highwayman was counting properly which he most likely wasn’t. “I cherish it! Again! I beg you, the messenger of the blessed Light, I… I sinned so grievously!”

Dismas rubbed his face tiredly and took another swing, shaking a few straggler drops of whiskey from the empty flask on his eager tongue. He had an odd respect for teachers and parents now. They only slapped their kids with their hands or maybe rods. Currently, he wished he could strangle this whole moron circus, but even more than that he wanted to come back to his pillow alive. He would sleep it off and drown himself in enough whiskey to forget this all like a nightmare, and he cared not if he had to steal some of Rey’s cut to be able to afford so much booze. Or if he could survive such intoxication. Or how the insufferable knight would have to put in the actual elbow grease to pull him back from the blackout this time. Anything that was capable of bleaching this all from his head and eyes was fair game by this point. And frankly, this was Reynauld’s fault, so it was only fair that he would have to clean up the mess.

Another smack, followed by the feverish:

“Pain is the gateway to divinity! It hurts, yes… B-but also… oh, sweet Light, go through me through your messenger!”

Sure, the brigand was in no way, shape or form a religious man but even he knew that was not a tone for a holy prayer.

“Eyes down while addressing a holy man, you cowering sheep!”

Another slap.

Despite his better judgement, Dismas’ already hard dick made an appreciative twitch, which only added to his mounting irritation. And that same holy prick had the audacity to chastise him for “degeneracy” when the ex-brigand asked for a mere slap on the face! Or the balls to have a freak out when he caught the rogue with a knife and fresh cuts on the back of his arm – oh, that one was a disaster that ended up in a shouting match and Dismas being dragged first to Cloister and then to Paracelsus to make sure that he wasn’t insane and dangerous to himself. Which he obviously was – duh, why else would he end up in Hamlet otherwise? – but not by the measurement which sufficed his hospitalization, much to Rey’s surprise.

And now that same bloody knight was doing things that Dismas wanted him to do to him for so long and while he was sitting right fucking there, Reynauld, for sard’s sake, to his face, literally, with someone else--

Now, he shouldn’t finish that thought if he knew what was good for them both, tempting as it was. And as if he was even more cursed than he usually was, there was not even a drop of whiskey left to shut up his mind. He wasn’t hurt! Why would he be hurt if Reynauld was slapping around someone else, stressed out of his goddamn zealous mind – enough to make all the church glisten fall off and reveal an ugly, cracked core?

Dismas wasn’t hurt.

And that was the point of him being pissed off so much.

He wanted some de-stressing too, for sard’s sake.

The ex-brigand took a calming breath, trying to switch his irritation to something else. Like the smell of a rotting urca carcass. Or that the map was washed away by the tide. Or that he was out of gunpowder. Or that the supposed monster of a man, chained and insisting that he was dangerous for everyone involved, fell into sobbing melancholy when Rey snapped at him one too many times and was now covering near one of the stalactites. Or that this is what their supposed soothing camping quickly dissolved into.

Oh, sod it.

“I fear I am trapped inside of it,” he heard a weak voice beside him. Bigby was rocking back and forth, rattling his locks and chains. “An eternal nightmare…”

Dismas shook his trusty flask, hoping to hear some drops splashing inside, but alas, so he hid it and patted the dangly man’s shoulder.

“Relatable, man.”

“Better that someone strong face these monsters,” the man repeated, hiding his face in his knees. “I don’t want to see those nightmares, I don’t want to…”

The ex-brigand winced at the sound of another smack, feeling that his pants will need a wash not only from all the blood and mucus, and forced himself to look away from the scene which was more suited for a brothel than for two supposedly holy people:

“Ya n’ me both, pal, ya n’ me both.”

“Soon my fate will be upon me,” Bigby finally spared him a glance. “And you.”

“Well, ain’t ya the ray of sunshine in this shithole, feh.”

Unfortunately, the cursed one refused to acknowledge his prodding and the highwayman remained alone with accompaniment he would rather not acknowledge. Oh well. It wasn’t like the knowledge that his life was bent over a crooked fence was anything new to Dismas. He just never imagined it was that bent over.

With yet another irritated sigh, Dis tried to relax his tense muscles and have some respite during this mixed bag of insanities, but there was an irritating tapping of dripping water on his shoulder. He moved to the side, but the tapping remained. So he moved once more, cussing the piss-sprinkling brine and the humid caves, but the water grabbed his shoulder and—

Wait, what?

“Dismas, by Light’s grace, how can you behave in a manner so undignifying? Being tossed out of that den of sin and into the mud does not befit a warrior!”

Ow, his head. Ow, why was the crusader so fucking loud? No, he was usually loud but… ugh…

“Where’s… Junia?” Dis slurred as the knight tugged him up and onto his shoulders.

“In the transept where she should be.”

“n’… Bigby?”

“I care not where that atrocity dwells,” Rey grunted as he lifted him and stomped angrily towards the barracks. “Light, grant me your strength. Dis, you reek.”

“Of brine?”

“Of booze!” the crusader snapped and complained. “I just washed that shirt for you! Do you know how hard it is…”

But all Dismas could think about was the existential crisis of having a stiffy to a nightmare about a religious sadist slapping a religious masochist while having a nightmare of not having any booze and yearning for a pillow.

What the fuck was even his life.

#cw masochism #cw mention of self-harm #cw unhealthy coping mechanisms #i know i'm horribly late #i'm sorry #if you squint hard enough you can pretend i'm on time #dd promptober 2022 #darkest dungeon #dismas #reynauld #junia #dd bigby #dd highwayman #dd crusader #dd vestal #dd abomination #fanfic #the tapestries of words || my ao3 #the bloodied journal page || my writing

[sarahscribbles]

Paper Trail

Summary: Loki organises a romantic treasure hunt for you

Genre: Fluff, very minor smut

Word count: 5.8k (my finger slipped)

Loki x f!reader

Loki Masterlist

The soft rays of early spring sun gently trickling through the bedroom blinds stirred you awake. You furrowed your brow against the faint beams of light, mildly irritated and not yet ready to emerge from the deep depths of sleep. Letting a drowsy groan vibrate in your chest you turned your back to the window, expecting to easily curl into Loki’s warm chest and have the sound of his heartbeat lull you over to sleep for a little longer.

Except you didn’t.

Instead of the safe, solid form of Loki, your arm fell into an expanse of empty bed sheets. Instantly, your eyes shot open, blearily seeking him out in the room still half in shadow. Seeing no trace of him, you propped yourself up on your elbows, ears straining for the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

“Loki?” you called out to the empty room, voice still rough with sleep.

There was no answer

Sluggishly, you turned to his side of the bed as though his empty pillow might shine some light on where he had disappeared to. More than anything, Loki loved to spend his mornings lounging in bed with you for as long as you would let him. Sometimes you would simply lay your head on his chest while you both just talked, enjoying the sensation of his fingers lazily drifting up and down your arm. Other mornings you would be…distracted…by other pursuits, having to bury your face in Loki’s neck to muffle your cries of his name. It was rare to wake up and find his side of the bed lying cold and empty.

Then you noticed the small slip of paper lying on his pillow.

Picking it up, you smiled at the sight of his familiar looping script: Start your morning as usual, my love. Your coffee is waiting.

Your lips parted, confusion beginning to seep into your brain as you came more fully awake. Did Loki really think you’d be so devastated at finding his empty pillow that you wouldn’t be able to function as usual? Placing the little scrap of paper on his bedside cabinet, you climbed out of bed, going through the usual motions of getting ready for the day and softly padding through the halls to the kitchen.

The rest of the compound stood in silence, the other’s being who knows where. You weren’t even sure who was currently in the compound other than you and Loki. The living area was empty as you crossed through, the only small sign of life being Loki’s current read lying atop the coffee table. You gave the room a cursory once over, half expecting him to leap out from some hidden corner or make himself visible to your eye, but it stayed silent and still, the only other thing out of place being your cafetiere on the kitchen countertop and your favourite packet of coffee beans sitting in front.

Propped up beside it was another note.

This one was a little longer than the one you had found on your pillow, but its small message written inside dispelled your earlier confusion; Loki was taking you on a treasure hunt, and these slips of paper were both clues and notes of love if his second note was anything to go by.

You saw the light in me when others only saw darkness. You made me feel like I was enough. Your heart is the most beautiful thing about you, my darling girl. Take your coffee to where we first spoke.

The coffee lay forgotten on the kitchen counter. You were too caught up in Loki’s treasure hunt to even entertain going through the process of making it, not wanting to waste a second and excited to see what was waiting for you at the end. Storing the little slip of paper safely in your pocket, you made for the French doors on the other side of the living area that opened up onto the terrace; the place where you had first properly spoken to Loki all those years ago.

“I just think you’re all a bit hard on him, that’s all,” you said defensively. Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you reclined back against the kitchen counter, waiting for the blowback to come.

Across the kitchen, Natasha stopped what she was doing to glare at you, while Wanda fixed you with that sad little smile of hers that suggested she pitied you and your opinion.

“You think we’re too hard on Loki?” Natasha asked disbelievingly. “That man would commit war crimes for the fun of it, but you think we might have hurt his feelings?”

“Honey, you have a big heart and we all love you for it, but Loki doesn’t deserve your kindness. Not after everything he’s done,” Wanda added.

Your gaze flicked back and forth between the pair of them, waiting for them to realise the irony in what they had said. There was no such moment. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, but weren’t both of you also enemies of SHIELD at one point? What if Fury had decided that neither of you deserved kindness either?” You pointed out, sounding a little harsher than you intended to. Wanda, at least, had the grace to look a little guilty.

Natasha, on the other hand, refused to give. “Neither of us led an alien invasion and tried to subjugate the entire planet, and we’ve both worked our asses off to redeem ourselves. Loki hasn’t,” she replied icily.

“Maybe because none of you will let him redeem himself!” You raised your voice, pushing yourself up from the counter and beginning to feel fired up. “You can all forgive anyone anything, but not Loki? Have you forgotten everything he’s done for Thor since then?”

Natasha only rolled her eyes. “Some things you can’t come back from, world domination is one. As far as I’m concerned, Loki will always be the bad guy,” she said, and Wanda gave an agreeing little shrug.

Disgust crept over your face, your upper lip beginning to curl. “You’re both unbelievable, do you know that? Out of everyone, I thought you two would understand and maybe even empathise with him. Obviously, I’m wasting my breath,” you said quietly, obvious anger lacing your words.

You strode from the kitchen, ignoring Wanda’s pained plea for you to stay. Granted, you hadn’t been Loki’s biggest fan when he had first arrived at the compound with Thor, but, over time, you had warmed to him. There didn’t appear to be any evil intent about him and Thor had talked with obvious pride about Loki’s efforts at Ragnarok and the role he had played in saving Asgard’s people. He had arrived with Thor at the compound, both of them bloodied, bruised, and battle-weary, but while Thor had been given a hero's welcome and congratulated for his bravery against Hela and Surtur, Loki had been, at best, tolerated. No matter how much Thor had tried to have Loki’s contributions recognised by the others, no matter how valiantly he tried to show that Loki had changed, he was still pushed to the side, forever relegated to the status of Bad Guy.

It wasn’t hard to notice the flashes of hurt that crept into his eyes.

He never lashed out, though. Whatever pain he felt at still being viewed as the villain, he carried it alone. Over time, you found you grew angry any time the others poked fun at Loki or were unnecessarily cruel to him. Apart from a few scathing comments at Tony, which you felt were somewhat deserved, Loki had been next to invisible in the compound. It irked you to no end to hear them laughing at his expense, or get into lengthy discussions about how he couldn’t be trusted, especially when Bucky had been welcomed to the team with open arms, his past actions easily forgiven.

You hadn’t seen Loki for a week following Bucky’s arrival.

You desperately wanted to reach out to Loki, to let him know that someone other than his brother was on his side, a feeling that had only now multiplied after talking with Wanda and Nat. For so long you had chickened out of approaching him, scared that talking to someone like you was the last thing Loki would want, but when you saw him sitting alone out on the terrace when you reached the living area, you didn’t let yourself falter. Loneliness the likes of which Loki was no doubt experiencing was something no one deserved.

Grabbing a blanket that lay discarded over the arms of one of the sofas, you gently creaked open one of the French doors and stepped out to join him. The late evening air hit you instantly, causing a small shiver to run through you. To your right, Loki threw you a glance but otherwise stayed silent. You hesitated, not overly confident about what you wanted to do. Should you sit next to him? Go and stand against the terrace wall and pretend to look at the compound grounds? You hadn’t thought beyond stepping out through the doors.

Then you remembered the blanket in your hands.

“Hey,” you said softly, surprised at how confident you sounded. “You looked a little cold out here. I brought you this.” You held out the blanket to him.

He looked up, staring at your hand as though you were offering him a dead animal and making no move to take the blanket from your grasp. “I don’t feel the cold,” he said bitingly.

Immediately, you felt heat rise to your cheeks. Of course he didn’t.

You lowered your arm, feeling foolish. “Oh,” was all you could manage, cheeks now burning. “Sorry, I didn’t…I’ll just leave it here,” you stammered out stupidly, setting the blanket on the ground beside his chair.

Your earlier confidence and determination were slowly beginning to leave you, the little voice in your head screaming to go back inside, that Loki clearly found you irritating, but your classic stubbornness won out. Instead of pathetically running away with your tail between your legs, you sat down next to him. He threw you another glance, one you were sure was heavy with aggravation but said nothing.

For a minute you said nothing, anticipating that Loki would quickly leave when you sat down. You waited, expecting to hear the rustle of his clothing as he stood, but a few minutes passed and he remained beside you. Quiet, but there.

“This is where I used to come and sit too when I first joined the team,” you said eventually. “They weren’t overly fond of me either, so I’d come out here to stay out of their way.” From the corner of your eye, you saw him turn ever so slightly in your direction. “It’s…I know…I know how lonely it can be feeling like you’re on the outside looking in. To want so badly to belong somewhere. It was months before they properly trusted me,” you told him.

Beside you, he arched an eyebrow. “And what city did you attempt to conquer, may I ask?” he asked, his voice still cold.

“Galway,” you threw back instantly. “Not as ambitious as New York I’ll give you that, but we all have to start somewhere.” You bit back a smile, and a small glance at Loki saw the corners of his mouth twitch a fraction. “Look, Loki, I just wanted you to know that I don’t think you’re a bad person,” you said after another beat of silence. You watched his brow twitch. “You’ve made mistakes, but everyone in this compound has a past they aren’t proud of. I wish I knew why that understanding doesn’t stretch to you, why they are so hellbent on seeing you as a monster.”

“I don’t need any pity from you,” he said finally, his voice cold once more.

“And you’re not getting any,” you replied sharply. “This isn’t pity, Loki. They didn’t like me when I first arrived. I’m pretty sure Natasha tried to poison me before I’d even been here a week. I know how isolating it feels and…I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. This is me doing what I wish someone had done for me: telling you that you have a friend here if you want one…and someone who can see that you’re trying to be a better person,” you added softly.

He said nothing. There was no disgusted scoff, no mocking laughter at the insinuation that he would want a friend in someone like you, only silence. His eyes had left you and settled on some point in the near distance, his face unreadable.

Once again you waited, waited to see if would offer any acknowledgment, but his silence only continued. With a quiet sigh, you unfolded yourself from the chair to go back inside. This was Loki you were dealing with, there was no way to make him speak to you.

“It’s just something to keep in mind.” You said as you stood up. “You aren’t as alone as you think you are, Loki,” you said finally and turned to leave him on the terrace. You never saw how his eyes followed you the whole way back in.

That first conversation all those years ago hadn’t been groundbreaking, but it had set you on a course that had ultimately led to discovering that Loki was the love of your life. It hadn’t been something that had happened overnight, but, almost begrudgingly, Loki had accepted your offer of friendship. He would appear in the living area when you were curled up with a book, the look in his eyes almost daring you to say something when he sat on one of the easy chairs near you.

Of course, you never did, and gradually he became more comfortable, switching the chair for sitting next to you on the sofa.

“Is it good?” His voice roused you.

“Hmm?” You muttered, eyes drifting up from the book in your lap to see Loki standing in front of you.

He gestured at your lap. “Your book. Is it good?”

You answered with a non-committal sort of noise. “It’s alright. Not the best thing I’ve ever read but now that I’ve started it I feel like I have to finish it.”

“Mmm,” Loki murmured in agreement. “You’ve been making slower progress than usual with it, so I guessed it might not be to your liking. I thought this, perhaps, might please you better.” He said, offering you the thick volume in his hands.

The pages were dog-eared and the spine severely cracked. You had seen him with it countless times around the compound and knew it was one of his favourites from Asgard.

And he was offering it to you.

“Loki, I can’t. That’s one of your favourites,” you said softly, embarrassed that you even remembered.

He gave you a small smile. “It is,” he agreed, “but I want you to have it. Isn’t that what friends do? Share their favourite things with each other?” He asked, a twinkle in his eyes. It was the first time he had openly said you were friends.

You couldn’t help but return his smile. “They do. Thanks, Loki.” You reached out to take the book from his hands, a small thrill running through you when his fingers brushed against yours for a beat longer than necessary.

The memories of how you and Loki had become you and Loki warmed your heart, and you loved him all the more for making you comb back through all the little moments that had developed into the love you shared now. Stepping out onto the terrace, it took you a second to spot his third clue and you felt your heart swell when you saw it was sitting on top of the blanket you had offered Loki that very first night. The blanket you hadn’t seen again since.

Loki had kept it.

Feeling your heart soar with love for this man, you picked up his third clue, almost giddy with excitement.

Your bright soul and tender heart preceded you that evening, my love. When you stepped through those doors that night, I knew you had not come to mock. I never dared to dream that someone with such a gentle spirit could see good in someone like me, but I’ve thanked the stars every day since that you did. You offered me kindness when no one else did and when I needed it most. There are no words to describe how grateful I am, but, if you let me, I promise to spend forever showing you.

Find your next clue in the place we first kissed.

It took you all of two seconds to call to mind the little nook that you had pestered Tony to create in what passed for a garden at the compound. It wasn’t much, a simple alcove carved into the wall in which you had installed a cushioned swing. It had become your own private retreat when you wanted to forget about being an Avenger for a few hours, an oasis amongst the chaos where you could bring a book and curl up to forget about everything going on in the world. Everyone in the compound had a space that was specifically “theirs;” Natasha had the training room, Bruce and Tony had their lab, Wanda had the kitchen, you had your reading nook.

It became all the more special to you when Loki began to join you there, when he decided it was the place he would first kiss you.

The late June sun beat down on you, its rays encasing you snugly in comforting warmth. On your lap, the book you had been reading sat discarded, your attention on the pages having waned with the intensity of the afternoon heat. One second you had been caught up in the events of your novel, the next your head was reclining against the back of the swing, eyes falling closed to soak up the beginning of summer in New York.

The silence of the compound grounds was a welcome relief after spending the past two weeks in Manhattan, and you were all too glad to trade the sound of blaring car horns and the never-ending chatter of the city for the cheerful chirping of the birds as they flew overhead.

The peaceful calm was almost enough to lull you over fully to sleep, your eyelids already beginning to feel a little heavier, but the sudden onset of shade over your face had you snapping them back open, looking daggers at whoever had dared to interrupt your peace.

Your heart skipped, gaze softening immediately when you saw it was Loki.

“Hey, trouble,” you said easily, already smiling at him.

You had formed a slow friendship with Loki since that evening on the terrace, but in the time that had passed you had done something incredibly stupid; you had fallen in love with him. Suddenly, no amount of time spent with him was enough, and you looked forward to each new day simply because it meant more opportunities to be around him. You knew, of course, that the whole thing was ridiculous and was only going to end in heartache. Loki saw you as a friend, nothing more, which was exactly why he had sought you out in your little alcove.

“I thought you might like some company,” he replied, crossing the remaining space and sitting down next to you. The little swing was so small that his thigh brushed against yours, something you tried desperately to ignore.

“I’ve only been sitting out here for an hour and you’re missing me already?” you teased him, the soft caress of his thigh against yours causing your heart to race.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him smile. “Heaven’s no. The others were simply irritating me too much. You’re much more…tolerable than they are.”

“I hope I’m the only girl you say that to,” you threw back, heart leaping when you saw his smile grow wider.

He gave no reply and a comfortable silence fell over you both. You never felt as though you had to fill the silences with Loki with aimless chatter, always content to simply have him choose to spend time with you whether you actively spoke or not.

“You were gone,” he said after a beat.

At the sound of his voice, your heart gave another pathetic little flutter. The hold he had over your heart was immense. “Yeah, Tony wanted some help with redecorating the Tower to surprise Pepper. It was easier to stay out there rather than come back and forth,” you explained, still feeling somewhat giddy that he had even noticed you had been gone.

Beside you, Loki nodded slowly. “They are…romantically involved?” He asked, sounding so innocent it made you laugh.

“Tony and Pepper? Yeah, I guess that’s one way to describe them,” you agreed. “Tony and Pepper, Wanda and Vision, Clint and Laura. All of them are “romantically involved.” Maybe we should start an Avengers Dating Initiative on the side?” You said lightly, desperate to hear him laugh.

“And you?” He asked, turning his head to rest his gaze on you. “Is there a lucky beau waiting on you somewhere? Maybe back in New York?”

You felt your cheeks grow a little hot at his question, at what he was really trying to ask of you. “There isn’t,” you answered quietly. Next to you, his knee gave a tiny jerk against your thigh.

“Good,” he replied, his eyes boring into you.

“Good?” You repeated, heady with anticipation as to what he was attempting to hint at.

“WIth no potential suitor after your hand, I’m free to do this,” he said softly. With unimaginable gentleness he reached out a hand to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb delicately stroking your skin. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, eyes locked on his and revelling in the feeling of his touch. Slowly, he leaned in until his lips were almost grazing yours and you wondered if he could hear the frantic beating of your heart. “Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he whispered.

A tiny whimper escaped your throat and you tangled your hand into his hair, pulling him in and pressing your lips to his. He responded in kind, gently kissing you back. His hands found your waist and pulled you onto his lap with ease, your book tumbling to the ground in the process. You didn’t care. You kissed him hungrily, trying to convey in it the months of longing you had felt for him. Loki held you tightly to him, one hand firmly on the small of your back, the other cradling your head at the base of your neck. He was kissing you like he couldn’t get enough. You were close to dizzy with the thought. He couldn’t get enough of you. You placed a hand on his chest. His heart was beating as frantically as yours was.

His kisses became slower and finally his lips left yours. You tried not to whine at the loss of sensation. You remained perched in his lap, feeling his hands run smoothly up your sides and over your shoulders until your face was cupped in his hands, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones.

“I know,” he began, his voice raspy, “this may not be how you imagined being kissed, but I couldn’t wait any longer. My heart has been crying out for you.”

Instantly, you felt giddy, your head felt light. A smile spread easily across your face and you let your forehead drop against Loki’s. “The only thing I imagined about being kissed was you being the one kissing me,” you said softly.

From behind half-closed eyelids, you saw him smile and pulled you back into him.

The memory of your first kiss was one that wasn’t easily forgotten. Loki’s gentleness that afternoon, the way he had cradled your head in his hands like you were a precious piece of glass was forever etched into your mind. That first kiss had opened the floodgates for Loki to treat you like you were his dearest treasure. In turn, you poured all the love you had into him, all the love you knew he craved. Not a single day passed where he wasn’t made to feel adored and, above all else, wanted.

Loki very quickly became your whole world.

It was with the memory of his lips on yours that you crossed the compound grounds to your reading nook, the air heavy with the smell of roses. Your little swing swayed gently in the light breeze, a book sitting on its cushions with a heavy paperweight on top. A knowing smile crossed your face when you got close enough to see it was the book you had been reading that same afternoon. You hadn’t thought Loki had even noticed it resting in your lap that day.

Eagerly, you picked up the slip of paper with Loki’s fourth clue:

That day on this bench is when I knew without question that I loved you. You offered me friendship, but how lucky am I that it grew into something more. In my thousands of years, I have kissed many women, men, and other beings (forgive me), but not one of them compared to kissing you for the first time. You own my heart, my beloved. Please keep it safe.

Go to the place where we first said “I love you”

You had said “I love you” so many times to Loki over the years, it took a beat for you to remember where you had actually said it to him first, and it had been you that said it first.

On the roof of the compound on a balmy September night.

The meteorologists had promised an Indian summer, and they hadn’t been fooling around. The night was still balmy long after the sun had gone down, and you had taken refuge on the roof, the sauna of your room making sleep impossible.

The roof was your favourite place to escape to. You could spend hours watching the twinkling lights of Manhattan in the distance, making up stories about all of those who called the city home. Tonight, though, you were simply grateful for the air on your bare shoulders, your body temperature slowly returning to normal as you leaned on the roof ledge.

Sometimes, your life felt surreal. You were one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, you got to call the compound your home, got to be friends with the likes of Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark.

You got to call Loki the love of your life.

He didn’t know, though, that you loved him. The words had been on the tip of your tongue for the past few months, but you had yet to find the courage to speak them, scared that, if you did, the spell would be broken and Loki would vanish from your life as quickly as he had entered it.

But oh how you wanted to tell him. How you wanted to scream it at him until your lungs gave out that he was loved, that he was loved beyond measure, that you often felt you could power cities with the amount of love you had for him.

More than anything on Earth, Loki deserved to know that he was loved.

Almost as if your thoughts had summoned him, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your middle, causing you to let out a squeak of silent surprise. You thought you had been up here alone.

“I don’t enjoy waking to an empty bed, my love.” Loki spoke quietly, peppering small kisses along the exposed skin of your shoulder.

Goosebumps prickled your skin at the tickle of his warm breath. “It was too warm to sleep. I needed to cool down.” You replied, a contented sigh floating from your lips as he continued kissing and nipping at your skin.

“Mmm,” he purred against your neck. “An easy fix would have simply been to take off a layer.” He said, his hands beginning to slide under the fabric of your tank top.

You let your head fall back against his chest as his hands cupped your bare breasts, thumbs and forefingers pinching a nipple each and making you gasp, the action causing him to attach his lips to your neck, sucking gently to mark you as his.

“Given how much you enjoy doing that for me, I think it would have been rather rude of me,” you breathed out.

Loki bit down gently on the skin of your neck, causing desire to pool at your core. “Little minx,” he murmured in your ear.

His hands continued to palm your breasts and you could feel his hardness pressing against you. Slowly, one of his hands drifted down your stomach, slipping easily below the waistband of your shorts and into your underwear. You moaned wantonly as his fingers quickly found your clit.

“Always so eager for me.” He said, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

If only he knew. You tipped your head back at the feel of his expert fingers, three words bubbling quickly to the surface as he scrambled your thoughts. Your mind screamed at you to say them, to say them now as you were wrapped safely in his arms.

“Loki, I…,” you began, but your voice failed you.

“Yes, my pet?” He replied teasingly, his fingers beginning to pick up speed.

“I…” you tried again, almost lost in the pleasure he was giving you. “I love you,” you finally succeeded in getting the words out, heart contracting as you did. There was no coming back from it.

Loki’s fingers came to an immediate stop. Your heart sank to your stomach.

You stiffened in his arms, panic flooding through you. Hastily, you turned to face him. “You don’t have to say it back, it’s ok, I…just wanted you to know,” you said quietly, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

You ducked your head, unable to look at him knowing he was more than likely desperately trying to find a way to tell you he didn’t feel the same, that he never did. Likely, you were nothing more than something to pass the time. After all, how could someone like Loki fall for someone like you?

Instead, though, you felt his fingers under your chin, gently tilting your head up so he could look at you. “Say it again. Please,” he said, his voice nothing but a whisper.

You searched his eyes, unsure as to what exactly you were looking for, but were met with nothing but a silent plea. Inwardly, your heart shattered at how starved of love he had been

“I love you,” you repeated, putting as much truth and conviction into those three words as you could.

A new light came into his eyes, a sparkle you had never before seen. His fingers slid up effortlessly to stroke your cheek, and he leaned in to kiss you so sweetly, so gently that tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Would you ever tire of this man?

All too quickly, he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, his arms encircling your waist. “I love you,” he said slowly, but with so much conviction.

“You do?” You replied dumbly.

Loki laughed softly, pressing another quick kiss to your lips and pulling back to look into your eyes. “Silly woman. Of course I do. You have stolen my heart like no one else.”

Your lip quivered and you were hit with the sudden realisation of how desperately you had wanted, needed, to hear him say it. In front of you, Loki gave you the smile that was reserved solely for you. He kissed you again, long and slow, his hands on your hips pulling you tight against him. His lips moved to your cheek, along your jaw, and down your neck, each small kiss accompanied by a breathy “I love you,” each one making you laugh.

His kisses finally reached the hollow of your chest, and he sucked another bruise onto your skin, making you gasp and arch your back into him.

“Now, my love, I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to?”

The smooth whoosh of the elevator doors pulled you back from that night, and for a moment the breath completely left your lungs. Every conceivable surface, practically every inch of the roof is covered with pink roses: your favourite flowers.

For a second you can only stand and look, eyes taking in every bud, every petal. Loki has done this. He’s done it for you. You walked out slowly, breathing in the intoxicatingly sweet smell of so many roses, fingers reaching out to delicately touch a petal. No one had ever performed such a grand gesture for you before or made it so obvious that they adored you.

No one until Loki.

“Hello, my darling,” his smooth voice greeted you from behind.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the flowers, still trying to process that someone had done this for you. You were still trying to take it all in when he wrapped his arms lovingly around you, squeezing you and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Loki…what’s…what’s going on?” You asked, voice high with emotion.

He pulled you back tighter against his chest. “I thought I was quite obvious. It’s the end of your treasure hunt, darling,” he said, and you could hear the teasing note in his voice.

“Yeah, I gathered that much,” you replied. “I meant, what was with it in the first place? What’s all this?” you asked, gesturing vaguely to the expanse of roses around you both.

Loki didn’t reply instantly, instead he rested his chin against the top of your head. “You’re a hopeless romantic, my love, despite your arguments to the contrary. I wanted this moment to be like the ones that make you so happy when you read them in your Midgardian novels. I wanted it to be one you would never forget.” He spoke quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And of course, I had to make you work for it a little,” he added teasingly.

You couldn’t stop the small burst of laughter. “Work for what, Loki? A roof of roses that are going to be a pain in the ass to look after?”

His arms unfolded from around you, moving to your shoulders to turn you around. His eyes were sparkling, swirling with mischief and love. He leaned in and gave you a slow, lingering kiss, and then he was falling to one knee in front of you.

You watched, quietly stunned and momentarily speechless, as a small box materialised in his hands, in it an emerald engagement ring. “Loki…,” you tried to speak, voice shaking as much as your hands.

Below you, Loki gave you an impish smile. “Marry me, my darling.”

Through the tears that had quickly fallen from your eyes at seeing this god on his knees for you, you laughed easily. “Of course I will.”

#loki marvel #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki of asgard #mcu #marvel #loki (marvel) #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x reader #loki fan fiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #loki series #loki imagine #loki fluff

[finelinevogue]

hii im so sorry to bother, i’m trying to find a fic where harry and reader are best friends and its about how he wrote fine line for her and they listen to it together for the first time?? sorry again it’s ok if u don’t want to answer!!

hi i’m really bad at finding fics for people but maybe ask like a fic rec account idk?? i decided to write my own for you, though, in case you never find the others again!! i’m not sure whether it’ll be as good as the others but i enjoyed writing it;

Harry was really fucking nervous.

You were currently setting yourself up on the couch, along with Mitch, Jeff, Tyler and Kid, about to listen to Harry’s album for the first time. You were tucked on an arm chair by yourself and had a blanket draped over your body to keep you warm. The rest of the guys were on the L-shaped sofa, passing out beers between them. This was such a big day for Harry, because he would get to see you listen to his heart and soul through Fine Line.

This past year had been really hard for him, what with losing a relationship with Camille Rowe. Despite what had gone down between the two of them you thought that she hadn’t been a good person for Harry to be around, but that might be your jealous-ego speaking a bit too loudly. Jealous, because he had given his heart to someone that wasn’t you when your heart was waiting for him. Jealous, because you loved him so much and yet you were his best friend. You knew exactly who and what this album was going to be about, and it pained you that you’d have to lie about whether you were okay listening to it.

You weren’t, but you were his best friend so you had to be.

“Corona or San Miguel H?” Mitch asked Harry, from where he was setting up the audio features in his house so he could bluetooth his phone to the ceiling speakers. He was going to put those bloomin’ speakers to use since he paid a legs worth to install them.

“Don’t mind, Mitchy.” He shouted back and you smiled at the simpleness of this whole situation.

You loved getting to see Harry in his real life. He was so soft and comfortable with the people around him and you were honoured that you got to be one of the people to see him like this. You were his best friend after-all, so he’d want no one else by his side but you. You calmed him and grounded him when he needed it most and he owed a lot of his success to you, that’s why he was letting you listen to the first run-through of the final product. That, and he wanted his inspiration to hear how’d you’d impacted him.

“Y/N?” Mitch held up both bottles of beer and was silently asking you to choose.

“I’ll just stick to my cuppa tea, thanks Itch.” Don’t ask why you called him ‘Itch’, but you just did and it had stuck. He liked that he’d been given a nickname though - one different from anyone else.

Harry came into the room, beaming with happiness. He was wearing cream coloured pants with a blue and white striped shirt, an added bandana around his neck for good measure. He wore bright pink socks on his feet and had his sunglasses tucked into his hair as always. He looked just like your Harry from 18 years ago, but just with a beard, a tan and tattoos. He was still yours, even if he didn’t quite see that.

He walked past Mitch to claim his beer and thanked him along the way. You thought he was going to sit with his buddies, but he came over to sit with his best buddy instead.

“Up.” He demanded of you, making a grabby hand as if that was miraculously going to make you get up. You didn’t question him and just did as you were told, gripping the blanket still around you. Harry tucked himself onto the chair that you’d just been sat on and then pulled at your waist for you to sit back down, on his lap this time.

This, right here in this moment, is the reason why people often mistook you for being a couple. Not that you complained or corrected when they did.

“I’m not squishing you am I?” You asked, tilting your head to the side to catch his pretty face.

“No, not at all love.” He smiled at you, before turning back to the rest of the room - no matter how hard that might’ve been for him. He’d pick looking at you all day, every day, over anything, but he was so oblivious to you feeling exactly the same way that he didn’t want to seem like a creep - you, likewise.

“Ready for this H?” Tyler asked, his long jesus-hair reminding you of what Mitch’s used to be - what Harry’s used to be.

“Wonder what the trumpets on Watermelon Sugar are gonna sound like?” Kid asked, knowing how badly Harry had wanted to add trumpets to the song but had never stayed around long enough to actually hear them be added. He was in for a treat.

“You named a song Watermelon Sugar?” You chuckled at him and Harry frowned at how you were so quick to tease him, before even listening to the song.

He poked your side with his free hand - you knew this was a bad idea sitting in his lap.

“Oi no more spoilers, otherwise this one is never gonna want to make me play it out loud.” He spoke to the wider group, still tickling his fingers into your side like the wanker that he was.

You huffed and grabbed his sunglasses off his head and placing them on your face, covering your eyes over. They had an orange tint to them and it was trippy to see the world a little more burnt. Harry was quick to whip them back off your face, nearly poking out your eye in the process, and putting them bad on his messy head of hair.

“Woah! I looked good in them too, dickhead.” You scoffed at him, bringing your mug of tea up to drink.

“Yeah, but I wanna see your face when you listen to m’songs.” He replied, the tea steaming up your face a bit - or was it him?

“God, that’s a lot of pressure.”

“Only 12 songs.”

“I don’t have enough facial expressions to get me through 12 songs.” You tried to joke, putting him at ease because you could tell that he was becoming very nervous over the fact that he was showing you his most treasured baby.

“Just promise me you’ll tell me if y’hate something.” Harry made it clear that your opinion was his most important from the start of this project, and he needed it now more than ever. You’d only been let in the studio to head clips of some of the melodies and Harry would sometimes ask you for words that rhymed with other words, but you hadn’t fully heard any songs and you certainly hadn’t heard the album in full. It was both exciting and terrifying.

“Could never hate anything you produce, sunshine.” You turned to smile at him, tuning out the conversations that the other lads were having in the room.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Harry spoke sincerely, looking deep into your eyes to convey that he really meant it.

“For what?”

“For just being here. For supporting me. I feel like I don’t thank you enough for everything you do for me and have done for me, so thank you.” You choked up a bit over his words, finding your heart tighten and expand at how precious he was. He always managed to find ways to make your heart take more of him.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” You shook your head at him like he was being silly.

“I do, so will you just humour me and take the gesture?”

“Okay.”

You had to turn away from him, otherwise he would see your tears in your eyes and you didn’t want him to see them. At least not yet. You didn’t want him to think you were so overly emotional just because of some little words he said to you, however much they weren’t just little words to you.

“Ready?” Jeff asked, before he could press play on the phone that held the album on. A phone that had been purchased specifically for the album and had no trace to Harrys phone or anything, for the protection against it being hacked.

There were a few nods of heads and a couple of yes’, but you just focused on Harry’s words; “This is for you.”

You couldn’t get any words in before the introduction to the first started playing. It started off as some sort of piano and cymbal playing that made you almost want to get out of chair an start tapping your foot. You jolted back as the prime of the song started, making Harry chuckle at your reaction. The song made your feel so happy and all you’d heard was melodies.

“Oh I loved making this one!” Mitch exclaimed, shooting back a sip of his drink. Everyone looked really happy over this song and so you couldn’t help but smile too.

“Let me guess, Golden?” You asked.

“Mhm.” Harry nodded, proud of you for guessing right.

The lyrics were so well written and they fit the melody so well. It was such a happy and upbeat song, but you could hear the sadness behind the lyrics. His pitch was perfect and the way he complimented his own voice was beautiful. The bridge sounded like a little fairy dance and it made you dance a bit - it was just so catchy.

“Damn that guitar though Mitch!” Tyler shouted above the noise, praising Mitch’s skill on the guitar. He was a beast.

“Oh man this song is just so good!” Kid exclaimed, tapping his hands away on his leg to the song.

When you felt the song come to an end, the lyrics fading out and the tinkering of the cymbal continuing you felt so elated. That was such a go-happy song and if that was only the start of the album, you couldn’t wait to hear what else was to come. You felt Harry’s gaze on you and you just had to look at him. He was looking at you with nervous anticipation.

“Put me outta my misery already.” He said and bit his lip, waiting to hear what you had to say.

“I think that you’re so golden.” You smiled and he knew, no matter how cornily, that you had loved the song.

“Hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

No, he didn’t.

You looked at him again, knowing what he was thinking and feeling so engaged by his love in that moment. You wanted to learn the meaning behind the song and all the rest you’d get to hear. You were desperate to understand the way he felt whilst writing the songs and listen to the story that went along with the lyrics. He was a very private man, but for you he was so open. It made you think about the lyric in Golden; ‘I know that you’re scared because i’m so open’ and how it fitted perfectly to your relationship with him, which got you thinking more about the lyrics and what the song meant to him.

“Fuck, Harry, that was such a buzz!” Jeff shouted, breaking the moment between you and Harry. You looked away from him, after scrutinising every minute detail on his face, and coughed under your breath ready to listen to the next song.

“Yeah, thanks man.” Harry chuckled, only thinking about the last minute he’d spent looking into your eyes and your beauty and how much you truly meant to him. It was like he needed listening to his new music, which some was written about you, with you to make him understand the importance and significance of you in his life - to him.

He needed you more than a best friend. Want wasn’t a part of it anymore.

“Watermelon Sugar?” Jeff teased.

“Let’s have it!” Tyler replied.

“So excited to hear this trumpets, bro.” Kid spoke quieter now as the song began to play. It was so magical getting to see people so infatuated with music, like it was a passion within their soul. It made you want to learn and understand it all more. You wanted to under Harry’s world that bit more.

Another happy-feels kind of song.

“This is cute.” You told him.

“Cute, yet highly erotic.” He corrected you, making you shoot your head to watch him drink a sip of his beer.

“What?” You laughed.

“Just listen, y’pest.”

And you did. Fuck, he was right. This song was more than the strawberry picnic it sounded like it should be about. It wasn’t talking about the strawberries on the summer evening, it was about what pussy tasted like on a summer evening and how it tasted like strawberries. Watermelons too. It was about the euphoric pleasures of giving head and receiving it too. Harry’s lyrics sounded like he was starved for this kind of pleasure. He’d never wanted to taste something so badly.

It reminded you of the picnic you’d had with him. It had been around the end of june, beginning of July, and you were back in Holmes Chapel to see friends and family. He’d taken a picnic for you both and you’d gone to sit by a stream to eat it. It had been such a beautiful day. Full of laughter, watermelon and strawberries— My god. He was painting a picture of this exact evening through music. You wiggled in your posture, trying to ignore the feeling of your pussy heating up at the thought of Harry having such erotic thoughts over you. Had he really thought about what you tasted like? And wrote it in a fucking song to tell the whole world?

“Is this…” You couldn’t even finish the question. Hell, you didn’t even know what the question really was.

“You’re pretty darn good for inspiration Y/N.” He whispered in your ear, trying to make sure you didn’t run your arse over the stiffie he was now sporting in his trousers.

“Guess I can’t tease the song anymore.” You whispered back, earning a private low chuckle from the boy you were dying to make yours behind you. You were only two songs into listening to his album, yet you felt like the dynamic between the two of you was shifting - had shifted. You felt like he was becoming yours as he opened himself up through the art of his music.

“Keep teasing me though, sunflower. Get my inspiration from you, remember?” And there it was again - the butterflies in your stomach from your best friend. Should you really be thinking these things about your best friend? Then again, he was clearly thinking these things about you.

“Those trumpets, man!” Kid wolf-whistled and stomped his feet on the ground in love of the song.

“Oh shut up about y’bloody trumpets!” Harry laughed, making everyone else laugh.

“Sounded good H.” Mitch added, smiling at his best friend in pride.

“All you Mitchy.” Harry said, knowing Mitch had done a great deal of the melody writing on that particular track.

“Can’t take all the credit.” Mitch winked over in your direction and you thought he’d been winking at Harry, but when Harrys hand came and rested on your thigh - squeezing it slightly - you second guessed that maybe he had been winking at you. You cleared your throat and waited for the next song.

The next two songs were perfect; Adore You and Lights Up. Both were as good as each, which were equally as good as the two before that. Harry hadn’t written a bad song - not that you were expecting him to. It was clear that his musical talent had gotten better and he was a lot more open with this album than his previous. He was a lot more accepting in himself with this album and you didn’t miss the opportunity to tell him how you felt about all of this.

“Proud of you.” You told him, as the album had been paused so Mitch could go grab another crate of beers from his car. They’d been through enough beers for a family reunion of 108 between the 5 of them, leaving you to quietly sip on your tea. The other guys had gotten up to stretch and go for a wee, but Harry had said he was perfect with sitting rest with you.

“Means so much t’hear you say that, sunflower.” He smiled at you, you twisting yourself so you sat perpendicular to him - laying across the width of the chair and his lap. He placed his hands over your legs, cupping your kneecaps for extra warmth.

“Means so much that you trust me to listen to the album.” You cupped your hand over his and he twisted his fingers so your fingers intertwined with his. He loved the feeling of your soft and warm hands coat his, and he never wanted you to let go. Ever.

“You’re one of few people I trust, Y/N, so thanks for being one of them.” He was using every and any opportunity to say thanks to you and he was completely open about it. You appreciated his thanks, but he didn’t have to give it to you.

You squeezed his hand, suppressing a smile when he squeezed back. You didn’t want to look like a love-sick puppy today.

“Enjoying it so far Y/N?” Tyler asked you, the boys falling back into the room and back to the sofas. Mitch had a crate of beers and passed Harry another one, earning a thanks from him in response.

“So much, yeah. You’re all so talented.” You shared the praise, not being oblivious to the fact it didn’t take just Harry to create this album.

“Even me?” Jeff asked, making the guys chuckle.

“Yeah, even you Jeff. You’re the one who has to kick this ones backside half the time!” You laughed, Harry whining in response because he thought he was delightful - well he would!

“Pretty sure that’s your job, sunflower.” Harry added, earning a quick slap to his arm from you.

“Knobhead.” You argued.

“Oi big mouth, shut it.” Harry flicked your arm in return and earning an ouch from you to signal that that’d actually hurt.

“Ow, y’prick.”

“M’sorry.” He rubbed over your arm where he had caused you pain, hating to think that a bit of playful banter had actually ended up in him hurting you - that was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Know you are, y’knob.”

“Should write a song about all the lovely and colourful things y’call me.” Harry joked, wanting nothing more than to put a smile on your golden face again.

“Oh yeah? And call it what?” You asked, playing along.

“Probably something really crap like ‘Tainted Tongue’, or… oh I don’t know.” Harry rolled his eyes, but you had to gulp down the words that were on the tip of your tainted tongue. You wanted to tease him, but you just couldn’t because you could tell that he was genuinely considering his words.

Considering your tainted tongue, even.

“Sounds Grammy award-winning.” You told him, squeezing his hand again before returning your attention to the rest of the room. Everyones conversations were coming to a unified end and Jeff asked whether everyone was ready again. It was yes’ all around.

“Okay, here’s Cherry.” Jeff announced, making Harrys grip on your knee tighten for some reason.

The intro started with a woman’s voice cooing and then straight into some ethereal guitar playing. It was so pretty and you closed your eyes to picture yourself on a bike ride through some flower fields. Harry’s words were so mellow and soft, it ran chills through your body. You listened to the lyrics carefully and tried to match it up with his real life, piecing together his story.

As the song progresses you could start to understand what, or more who, it was about. It was the lyrics such as “I just miss your accent.” and “don’t you call him baby.” that gave it away. That and the expressive voicemail that perched on the end of the song so beautifully. It was about Camille, or more for Camille. It was amazing and you were so proud of Harry for being so open. Camille’s and Harry’s relationship had become very toxic, so for Harry to be open about how she still held a place in his heart was something you were very proud of him for. He was being true to himself and was being vulnerable.

“Take risks, Harry. Be vulnerable, that’s what people want.” You had told him before he started writing the album and he’d done just that.

You slowly opened your eyes as the song ended, tears in your eyes for some unbeknownst reason. Harry chuckled at you. “Oh you big softie!” He brought the blanket up to wipe the corners of your eyes. “Y’crying ‘cause you hate it or because it was just that awesome?” He asked.

“I’m crying, y’tool, because you actually listened to me.” Knowing he would know what you meant.

“‘Course I did. Take y’advice above anyone else’s.” He was clear about that, you thought.

“Camille will love it.” You spoke softly, knowing it was important to him that the person he wrote the song about was okay with a song being written about them.

“Thank you.” He replied, bringing your hand up he could leave a simple kiss to the back of it.

“What did you think of the guitar playing H?” Tyler asked, opening another beer with a poof.

“Loved it man. Sounds better toned down a bit.” He answered.

“Happy with the voicemail too?” Tyler asked again, wanting Harry to understand it was no big deal if he wanted it out.

“No. I want to be take risks and be vulnerable.” Harry admitted proudly, and you shuffled your body around to curl into him and rest your head upon his shoulder. You could smell the Tom Ford perfume he loved so much in its’ strength against his neck and you loved it just ad much. It smelt familiar and warm. It smelt like home.

The group of you continued to play the songs, running through Falling, To Be So Lonely and She fairly quickly. Falling had, obviously, brought you to more tears and it had nearly brought Harry to tears too. You knew it was about Camille again and were so proud of him for being so open about his wrong-doings. He’d cheated and painted himself as the bad guy, but people didn’t know that she had too. He was too good to write that part in though. His ‘wandering hands’ portrayed such a powerful image and you got choked up on the power of it all. To Be So Lonely had made you tell him off for calling his mum a bitch, to which he groaned for missing the genuine meaning behind the phrase.

She. Well what a fucking song she was.

You wanted to turn the lights red and slide down a pole and into Harry’s lap. You had to adjust yourself in Harry’s lap, feeling uncomfortable with the way you were becoming a bit too wet down there. The sonf brought out you inner-stripper-ego and you wanted to just put on a tight leather dress and work your way across a guys lap, until you had him writhing underneath you - specifically Harry’s lap.

“Well that was fucking hot.” You chuckled to the group, knowing that Harry would sense the tension between you two and know your words meant more than just the song. It meant how hot it would be to get fucked to that song. How slow and passionate getting fucked so deep would feel so euphoric whilst ‘She’ played in the background. How empowering for a woman it would be to listen to that fire of a song.

“Told you the album was for you.” Harry whispered against your ear and you had to bring your mind to think of old people dying alone, before you jumped Harry right here and right now whilst forcing She to play all over again.

“That was the only song that Harry wouldn’t tell us the meaning behind.” Mitch told you, making you inwardly smug at the thought that you already knew what it was about.

You felt like that song was yours and Harrys dirty little secret and you were about to get high off the thought of that.

“Next we have Sunflower. Vol, 6.” Jeff announced before pressing play.

That made you sit up.

“Did he say Sunflower?” You asked, smiling so brightly at Harry whom was smiling just as brightly back. He loved you at your happiest. He loved that it was him who had put that happiness there.

“I don’t know? Did he?” Harry teased you and you playfully punched his arm, but you looked off to find a nearby wall really interesting as you took in the first bit of the song.

Now this was a vibe.

You felt like you were in some alternate 70s universe, where everything was happy and yellow. The lyrics were so happy and reminded you of yourself. Every time he said the word sunflower, you couldn’t help but let your heart flutter at the thought of him talking about you. You were his sunflower. ‘My sunflower’ he repeated and you wanted to kiss him for it. You couldn’t sit here and listen to this without dancing, so you didn’t.

You stood up quickly, pushing the blanket off of you, and holding out your hands for Harry. “C’mon then.” You spoke urgently, not knowing how much was left of the song and wanting to feel the rhythm of this song with him before it ended.

“Things I bloody do for you, aye?” He laughed, but took your hands anyway to pull himself up. His old knees cracked as he did so and the others laughed at him - calling him ‘cripplez’, and yes with a ‘z’.

You took one of your hands in his, planting the other behind his neck whilst his order went on your waist. Your body was set alight by his touch. You began to dance like you were the only people in the room, getting lost in other’s presence and happiness. You swayed to the beat and Harry twisted you around a few times when it felt right to. He brought you close back to his chest, holding you close as you swayed together, for the end of the song. When the little boops played you were so confused.

“What the fuck is going on?” You laughed as everyone else laughed too. Mitch and Kid followed along with the boops and sang them too, whilst Harry’s head was tilted back in laughter over seeing your reaction to them. “Seriously?”

“He was high on shrooms Y/N, so fuck knows.” Tyler laughed and you shook your head at the silly man in front of you.

“What the fuck Harry?” You laughed, letting him sit back on the chair first before he assisted you in sitting back on top of him.

“So…” He waited for your response, feeling somewhat nervous about this one.

You kissed his cheek, letting your lips linger there for longer than one Mississippi. “My sunshine, I loved it.”

At the tip of Harry’s tongue he wanted to say ‘I love you’ back, but he didn’t want to ruin the happy high you were on. Little did he know that you thought that the moment would be complete if he spoke the three words that held you back from becoming completely his. You loved that song so much and would be playing every day of your life to remind you how lucky you were to have someone so special in your life.

“Think that one was a hit, H.” Jeff laughed, others following with their own chuckles.

“Too right.” You answered for Harry and breathed out a sigh of joy as you relaxed into Harry’s warmth again.

“Ready for the next one?” Harry asked you, not wanting to cut you shirt from the high you were feeling. You hadn’t even focused on the lyrics you were so caught up in dancing with your favourite person.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” And so you did.

First, came Canyon Moon. What a beauty she was. It reminded you of sunsets and ice cream and cacti and long-drives. It was a summer song and it was a forever-love song too. It sounded like a reminder that whatever happened, Harry would always be coming home to where he belonged. God, you only hoped that was you - but you’d be narcissistic to ask that aloud. Secondly, and penultimately to the whole album, came Treat People With Kindness. You thought it was a genius of a song and something the fans would really love. You pitched the idea of maybe even creating a dance routine to it, but Jeff joked how a piece of wood had more hip movement than Harry. Both songs were fabulous and really made the album into something fun and refreshing.

Tyler cleared his throat, making you stop laughing at something Harry had just said and focus your attention on him. When you did you noticed how Mitch and Kid were stood up, looking like they were ready to leave. Jeff was handing Harry the phone and Tyler then stood up to.

“Where… Wait, I thought you said there were 12 songs? We’ve only listened to 11.” You sat up more, wondering why the guys were leaving now.

“There are 12.” Harry stated, making your eyebrows furrow in even more confusion.

“We’ve just listened to this last one more times than we have fingers and toes so…” Kid explained, but not really. Why are they passing the opportunity to listen to this song again? For the final first time too?

“You can stay though, for one more time.” You offered, but kept still in Harry’s lap.

“We’re going to get some food and bring it back instead.” Mitch smiled, smirking when his eyes caught Harry like they were having some telepathic conversation. Were you missing something? You felt like there was a big red flag somewhere within all of this and yet you were too stupid blind to see it.

“Want anything in particular?” Jeff asked, rustling around in his pockets to find his keys.

“I’m fine with whatever.” Harry answered vaguely, bur you were more definitive.

“Um i’ll have a Subway please. Just build it however I don’t really care. I’ll eat anything.”

“H, Subway?” Mitch checked with Harry, incase he was fancying something else.

“Yeah, sounds good to me. I’ll have the same as Y/N.”

You didn’t miss the way Mitch mumbled ‘course y’will’ under his breathe, but they were all out of the door before you could say anything.

“Ready for this last one then, m’sunflower?” Harry asked, returning and devoting his entire attention to you.

“Why do I get the feeling that you sent them away so we could listen to this one alone together?” You knew Harry, for Gods sake. He couldn’t be this smooth with someone who was his best fucking friend. This song obviously meant a lot to him and would maybe mean a lot to you too, so that’s why, you think, he wanted you to be alone for it. You liked that, though. You liked that he’d written something so personal that he wanted to listen to it with solely you. It made you feel purposeful and special - like you were his.

“Just shut up.” He rolled his eyes and smiled, clearly catching him in the act of his plan.

“I’m going to cry, aren’t I?” You rhetorically asked already knowing the answer.

“Maybe, I don’t know. No pressure.”

“Ohh, so you’re going to cry, that’s it isn’t?”

“Y’such a wanker, you know that?” He teased you before bringing the phone to hold in his hand and switching it on.

“You and your Tainted Tongue.” You teased him back and he looked up at you, but did nothing. Just looked at you and held your gaze. You felt powerless under his gaze because for once, you didn’t know what he was thinking. You both loved and hated the feeling.

“The honours are all yours.” Harry passed the phone to you, the giant ‘play’ button waiting to be pressed. You looked at Harry again to see he was looking at you still - oh so this is how it’s going to be, huh? A good old staring match to see who’s emotions would crack through first. Game on, Harry.

“Okay. Let’s play.” Harry didn’t miss the double meaning behind your words.

If there was ever a turning point in your life it was the next 6:18 minutes of you life.

The song started off really quiet and you thought that it might turn into some bashful tune to exit the album with a bang. You did not expect the mellow guitar to start playing. Looking up from the phone you met Harry’s gaze and caught him looking back at you, smiling softly because he knew that you knew this song was going to change things. Change you. Change your heart. Change the relationship between you two, forever. If you’d let it - him.

The lyrics were so delicate and his voice was high pitched. Your eyes started watering when you listened to the lyrics, instantly being able to pinpoint the memory Harry attached to each line. It hurt to think that this was your, plural, song. The meanings behind the lyrics were memories where you and Harry had gotten into rows and fallen out so hard that you thought you might lose each other. Your tears were flowing down your face, Harry’s eyes matching yours with his own tears.

Harry reached his hand up to your cheek, pausing for a second but not stopping until he’d touched skin with skin. You flinched a little but your tears also became heavier.

“Love, don’t.” Harry spoke softly, leaving his hand on your cheek and pulling you forward so you’d come closer towards him.

“I’m so-sorry.” You chuckled, but Harry just shook his head.

“Stop. Nothing to be sorry for.” Harry’s tears ran silently whilst yours were a lot more laboured, your chest hiccuping under the touch of how close he was to you.

“No I do. I hear you Harry. I do.” Referring to all the shit that Harry was referencing in his beautiful ballad.

“Yeah and do you hear that i’m telling you we’ll be alright, hey?” He chuckled, making you sob.

“I… I..” You struggled to get out your words, keeping your face close to his and looking deep into the emotions behind his eyes. There was love and sadness, but there was hope. Hope for you. For you together.

“It’s okay. You’re alright, love. Can tell me anything, I swear.” He made clear, caressing your cheek like it was the easiest job in the universe - yet his trembling thumb made it clear it was hard for him.

You wanted him to know how you feel for him. You wanted him to know that your heart was completely and forever his. He could have it all. You loved him more than anyone else in this fucking universe and he would always be your person. You saw in his eyes that he was waiting for you to tell him all of this. For the longest time all you wanted to yell your strongest feelings for him, but now you were frozen. Paralysed by fear that was becoming so real. He could be yours, but it was so devastating to think that it could all be broken years down the line.

“Stop thinking and just talk to me sunflower.” He softly spoke and you dropped your head to his chest, resting your forehead on his heart.

“I love you!” You shouted and then repeated more quietly, “I love you, Harry. I love you.”

“I know, I know.” Harry kissed the back of your head. “I love you too.”

Your head moved up and you looked at him deep in his eyes. You were both crying and the song was coming to an end now. It felt like such a powerful moment and you never wanted it to end. You felt strong. You felt loved, safe and happy.

“You know i’m going to have to kiss you now?” Harry chuckled, moving his face closer to yours so you could taste his minty breathe on yours.

“At least wait until the song’s over.” You smiled at his eagerness, but not meaning a word of what you just spoke. Harry knew that too.

“Oh fuck the chuffing song, c’mere.”

His lips sealed upon yours and fit together as perfect as Cinderellas foot and her glass slipper. Your stomach felt like it had been set alight by a match and your heart beat faster than you thought possible. You cared for nothing but his lips and the man behind them. Your heart felt so full and your lungs so empty. Harry had stole the air right from you and given life to himself, and you were so okay with it. Harry, less so.

“Y/N baby, y’gotta breathe sunflower.” He mumbled against your lips, but you only whined and pressed yourself more against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and one of his hands came to steady you at your waist. God, he couldn’t get enough of you. “Hey, no, no.” You pouted when he pulled away. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You took in a deep breathe, not realising how little air you had in your lungs. You were silently thanking him in your head, but would never actually say it to him out loud. He gave you a look though that told you he knew you knew he was right. Fucker.

“Dickhead.”

“Enough with the pleasantries, you already have me under your spell woman.” He teased you as if your crude language was getting him off.

“Wanker.”

“Yes, keep them coming.”

“Asshole.”

“Baby, oh ye—”

“We brought subs… Okay yeah we’re going to come back later.” Mitch started and walked through the door at the same time you and Harry were doing whatever the fuck you were doing. You buried your head against Harrys chest to hide both your embarrassment and your tears from earlier. You did really want your sub, but Harry you wanted so much more.

“Thank you, bro!” Harry called back.

“Yeah, just keep whatever is happening between you and your girlfriend down. Some of want to eat their salad in peace.” And with the sound of the door shutting you knew you were alone again.

You looked up at Harry to see that he wanted to burst out laughing and as if by rehearsal you both started laughing at the same time. You were in hysterics, not understanding what was even so funny in the first place. All that was understandable was how much you loved this man and craved the thought of officially being his forever.

“Sounded pretty good didn’t it?” Harry asked, coming to a natural pause in his laughing fest causing you to stop too.

“The album? Yeah I told you it—”

“No not the album,” You looked at him in confusion, straightening the sunglasses on the top of his head, “Mitch calling you my girlfriend.” You pursed your lips and kept your eyes down, fiddling with the bandana around his neck now to keep you busy.

“Yeah.” You said shyly.

“Yeah? Did you like it?” Harry asked, pulling up your chin to meet your beautiful eyes - his favourite feature of yours.

“I did yeah.”

“Wanna be my girlfriend?”

“Are you asking nicely or?” You messed with him, but also feeling like you deserved a bit more of a proper ask - you’d not waited all this time for a little half-arsed question, but neither did you want the full shebang.

“Y/N L/N? My sunflower? The absolute biggest pain in my arse and most hugest tit on this planet?” You couldn’t help but belly laugh as he incorporated your longest running joke with each other, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Hmm…” You pretended to think on it and Harry’s eyes turned to worry for a second.

“Please?” He softly asked. “Say something.”

“I say yes to you and that Tainted Tongue.” You kissed him again and you felt his smile against your lips. He was happy. You were happy. You both knew this was the kind of happiness that would last forever.

You gasped against his lips as he picked you up and held you against his waist, carrying you like a koala bear clutching a tree. You felt his hands grasp your ass and they felt so good situated there.

“Let me show you exactly how tainted this tongue is baby.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue #finelinevogue harry styles #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #anon response #anon #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #finelinevogue blurbs #finelinevogue masterlist #fine line #fine line album #fine line album blurb #golden #watermelon sugar #harry styles fluff #harry styles friends to lovers #harry styles kiss #finelinevogue harry masterlist #she harry styles #harry styles sunflower #harry styles cherry #harry styles camille rowe #harry styles angst

[cqsuanla]

fury shakes the rafters

pairing: dark!nat/f!reader

summary:

Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. And that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean. 

(inspired by jennifer’s body)

additional notes: mommy kink, dom/sub, bloodplay(?), dacryphilia, uhh pussy spanking, choking, unhealthy relationship, terrible aftercare

title from a song suggested by an anon: nobody by the crane wives

(ao3)

The light in the stairwell flickers, but it doesn’t make a difference, dim and dirty as it is. It buzzes distantly in your ears. You’re too focused on taking the steps two at a time to notice. You hold your groceries to your chest and fish your keys out of your pocket. If you were strong like Nat, you might just have knocked the door clean of its hinges with the force of your body. Instead, it crashes loudly into your wall, and you nearly fall on your face from the momentum. 

In a bid to gain purchase on your wall, you sweep your coat rack over, and you stumble over it. The clatter makes you wince — you hope she’s in a good mood. It’s hard for her to process stimuli when she’s weak. You scramble onto your hands and knees, shoving scattered boxes and cans into the grocery bag. 

Then, the rhythmic thud-thud of footsteps. You pause, exhaling as your eyes close. 

“Drink?” in a monotone. 

Yikes. You open your eyes, biting your lip. Steel-toed boots. You’ve told Nat a million times that this is a shoes-off apartment. She never listens, and you never argue more. Nat stays; she’s the only one who’ll stay. You can’t drive her away. 

Her right boot rises, scraping against the floor, and you flinch. It just kicks a cereal box away so it can nudge at the shopping bag. The way she says your name, evenly, firmly, has you blinking rapidly, has your hands automatically shooting to the bag, following her prompt. Thank god the bottles are fine. You don’t know what you’d do if they had shattered. 

You wiggle a beer out of the pack, and only then do you dare to make eye contact. 

“Hi,” you murmur. 

She gives you a brief glance, impassive, before snatching the bottle from your hand and returning to her spot on the armchair. “That fucking coat rack.” She flicks the cap off your side table, grungy and scratched up for this very reason. The cap bounces off the wall and disappears under the couch. “Just move it further in. You never listen.” 

You did, weeks ago. You don’t say so. 

The coat rack came with the place, and it was nice, so you refused to get rid of it. Nat hated it, hated that it was so close to the door in your already bite-sized entryway, but never enough to throw it out herself. But you did move it because her complaints were valid, and you wanted her to like being here with you, living here with you. Anyway, she stopped complaining afterwards. Not that you think she noticed — you supposed it was a minor inconvenience to her, the way a fly was, annoying when it was in your face but non-existent once it stopped bothering you. 

Quietly, you move your groceries to the kitchen island, putting everything but your new medical supplies away. There are dirty plates in the sink, which you’ll wash after you make yourself dinner. You wonder what she’s eaten – you’d just bought two new steaks, but Nat likes a bowl of strawberry ice cream now and then.

The TV channel switches in the background. Nat snorts, and you peek around the wall to catch a report on the gruesome series of murders that have been happening lately. People in the neighbourhood hardly went out anymore, too afraid of the dark now. It would scare you too if you weren’t well aware you’d never fall victim. Nat was with you, after all, and you were with her. 

You would be with her for as long as she’d let you. So, what if she was the monster in the dark? So what? It was Nat. Your Nat. She came back to you, talked to you, fucked you. It’s not like she was disembowelling you in some grimy alleyway. She kept most of the violence away from you because she cared. Anyway, like everyone else, she had to eat. You couldn’t fault her for that. 

You’re pulling the gauze out of its packaging when Nat scoffs loudly at the news. They must’ve insulted her because she clicks the TV shut, practically inhales half her bottle and flings the remote onto the couch. 

Then, she sets her sights on you, meek behind the counter, and raises an eyebrow. “Honey, the hall’s a mess. Clean it up.” 

You frown. “You’re still hurt.” 

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll eat tomorrow, and it’ll be fine.” 

You don’t think so. The longer Nat doesn’t eat, the worse it gets. It’s how she’s in this mess in the first place. Nat’s ethereal after a feeding, next to omnipotent. But the guy she picked to eat last week turned out to be some sort of track star because he had booked it at the first sign of trouble, and she’d been forced to retreat when the sirens started blaring. The day after that, she picked a local thug as her next meal, and she’d been caught off guard by the switchblade. So, here she is: slumped on your couch and stitched up sloppily. 

Her hair is limp, skin wane and dry, and in a bad enough mood that you can basically feel it every time you’re within a two-meter radius of her. 

Her physical weakness emboldens you a little, makes you think you can get away with a bit of stubbornness. You pick up the gauze and tape and round the corner. A car speeds by, high beam making Nat’s eyes glint a deep green in the dark. The green follows you the whole way until she has to crane her head around to watch you slip her tank top off a shoulder. 

Those eyes weren’t like that before when you first started dating. You don’t mind the changes, though. Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. 

“You don’t want to listen?” she asks, almost conversationally. 

You know better. You clench and unclench your fist. Shakily, you lift it and tuck a hair behind Nat’s ear, hoping foolishly that it will placate her. 

“Baby,” says she, like a gentle mother to a misbehaving child, “you should really listen.” 

You trace the bumps of her stitches, staring hard at her shoulder so you won’t have to see that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean. 

“At least answer me.” 

“No, Nat,” you mutter, undoing the bandages on her bicep. “I don’t want to listen.”

To her credit, she lets you fix her up. Methodically, silently, you clean her wounds and rewrap them in new bandages. She doesn’t get in the way unless it’s to take a swig of her drink. 

When you’re done with her arms and back, you move to her front. She’s got an ugly gash on her calf, bruised midway from where the man had kicked her bleeding leg. You imagine this is causing her the most pain, not just physically. Nat’s not great with sitting still. She’s independent to a fault, enjoying control to the point that it’s probably some sort of diagnosable complex, and this restriction on her mobility has her restless and irritated. 

Looking down at her, at the space between her knees, you wonder if she’ll cooperate with you. The last time you tried to clean her leg, she’d torn your duvet in half and has since refused to let you look at it. But Nat tilts her head, coy, and gestures toward the space in front of her with her bottle. 

“Scared?” she whispers.

You glance at her face just in time to catch her tongue tracing the jagged end of a canine. Mutely, you shake your head. She smiles wide.

“Liar.”

Of course. You’re always scared of her. For her, too. But you don’t think it matters; it doesn’t change anything. You just want to help her, be good for her. Anyway, she’s trying to get a reaction out of you. You refuse to take the bait, raising your eyebrows and wiggling the bandages in your hand.

“Fine.” With a roll of her eyes, she parts her legs. 

As if dealing with a feral animal, you move slowly, cautiously, afraid to make sudden movements lest she starts getting violent. You squat down and reach for the cuff of her sweatpants. 

“Ah, ah.” She slides the leg back, staring down her nose at you. You pause. “Kneel, baby.” 

Her eyes — did the ring of green get thinner? Your lips part, anticipation beginning to seep into your body, and you comply. Once you’re settled, looking up at her, she makes that same careless gesture with her bottle. A go-ahead. 

As you work, she shifts to put her beer on the table and then combs a hand into your hair. You tense, eyeing her nervously, but she only watches you, imperious, intense, and remains silent. Nevertheless, you pick up the pace, tossing the antiseptic aside and winding the gauze around her pale calf. 

She’s startlingly warm under your hands. Ever since… whatever happened to her — she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the details — she’s run hotter than ever. You can’t sleep under a blanket with her anymore unless you’re shirtless; the heat would be unbearable. Not that Nat has any complaints about that. 

“All done,” you murmur. 

The lack of reaction from Nat gives you the courage to lean forward and press a sweet kiss to the top of her knee. The hand in your hair rewards you with a gentle scratch, and you can’t help melting into a smile. She’s still got that air of arrogance about her when you look up at her, but she’s not glaring. Which is why it comes entirely as a surprise when she clenches a fistful of hair in her hand, yanking your head back, and slaps you clean across the face with her other hand. 

You take the full brunt of her palm with a cry, almost toppling over were it not for the grip on your hair. Your cheek burns, and so does your eyes. Mostly from pain, partly from the shock of it, maybe a little from shame when you realize you’re getting wet from the rough treatment. 

Nat tuts. “Crying already?” 

You imagine you look pretty pathetic on your knees for her, eyes glassy.

“Don’t give me those eyes, baby; you know I can’t help myself.” 

“I just wanted to help.” 

“I know,” Nat says gently, tipping your head back again so you can see the false sincerity on her face. “You can fix this, you know?” 

Your eyebrows furrow, thoughts racing a mile a minute to puzzle out what she means. 

“Don’t think so hard. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll show you how, dumb baby,” she coos as she nudges your chin with the knuckle of her finger, and you can’t help flushing deeply at that. Then, she offers a hand, and you take it, and she tugs you up into a straddle on her lap. “Come here.” 

You instinctively wind your arms around her neck, clinging on. Beneath you, she tenses and lets out a low rumbling sound that resonates deep in her chest. You inhale sharply. 

Teeth. Sharpened to deadly points. Poised over your neck. Nat’s breath comes short and hot against your skin, and her tongue, when it peeks out, drags wetly across your skin. 

This has happened once before; the first night she’d come back changed. Like before, she noses at your flushed skin, teasing you with the possibility of damage, and trails her teeth down to your traps. Back then, she hadn’t bitten you. She won’t now, you think, you hope. 

She sighs again, hovering over the meat of your shoulder and prodding her teeth against you. Doesn’t break the skin. 

“Don’t make it worse for yourself. Are you scared?” 

This time, you nod. Nat’s lips curve into a smile, and her hold on your thighs tighten enough to bruise. 

“You should listen, sweetheart,” she says against you. The front of her teeth scrapes over you when she speaks, leaving red marks behind. “I hurt you less when you’re good. Don’t you know?”

“How can you be in the mood?” you wonder, burying your face into the crook of her neck. “You’re half dead.”

“Barely.”

It would take a lot more to kill Nat like this. Anyway, how could you be in the mood when your girlfriend’s cut up like this? 

Nat stands abruptly, ignorant to your yelps and complaints, and dumps you back onto the couch in quick succession. Before you can even register what’s happened, she’s yanked your bottoms down to your ankles and has climbed between your legs. 

Even after that, you don’t get the chance to speak. She wraps her hand around your throat and pins you to the cushions. You grab onto her wrist.

Her body bears down, and you break into a sweat, in small part due to nerves, some part because she’s shoving her hand up your shirt to grab roughly at your bra, but mostly because she’s near scalding. You’re convinced her blood runs at a constant boil now. You’ve grown to love the heat, though. With her, pleasure comes white-hot, and you’d want it no other way. 

“Nat-”

“No,” she growls, and you get an eyeful of her monstrous teeth. She flexes both hands, cutting off your airway and squeezing your breast painfully. You whimper, wound tight as a coil. “Listen to me, baby.”

You look at her through hazy eyes. 

“Those eyes again. God, I love you like this.” Foolishly, your heart clenches at those words. She rucks your shirt up and claws her nails down your front. Beads of blood bloom from the thin scratches she leaves behind. “You’re beautiful when I hurt you.”

Her hand nearly crushes your throat closed, but then she releases you, and you suck air in desperately. Your hands, shaken off her arm, reach for the sides of her head. “Nat,” you croak, tasting the salt from your tears on your lips. “Nat.”

She shakes her head, descending on your chest. It hurts – badly. “Be good for mommy.”

“Mommy,” you gasp out, arching into her mouth. She ignores your pert nipples, electing instead to lick and suck at the burn between your breasts. “Please, please.”

“Shut up,” she hisses. Oh, her teeth are still out. “Hands above your head.”

You obey, another sad sound crawling out of your abused throat. 

The dark pits of her eyes drink in the sight of you, face crumpled in pain and need. A thumb wipes up the last of your blood, and she delights in smearing it across your cheek. 

“Messy baby, clean up after yourself. It’s basic,” she chides, thumb still rubbing at your face as if she were fixing up some runny mascara. “Be good now.”

You don’t dare to speak, just nod and look pleadingly up at her. Your core aches from neglect. 

She makes quick work of that, reaching down to feel the slick between your thighs. Humming, she smirks and very deliberately rubs her middle finger over your clit. You jerk up into her, mouth falling open even as you strangle your moan. 

“I could do anything to you, and you’d still want me.” 

Again, you nod. 

“Where did my little liar go?” she baits. You shake your head. “Say ‘thank you, mommy, for letting me breathe.’”

It takes you a moment to gather the brain cells and say: “Thank you, mommy.”

Her smile widens, teeth back to normal. “Again, for the lesson.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

She brings her hand down on your cunt, full strength. You scream, jolting away from her. Well, you would have if she hadn’t pressed you down by the chest, entirely uncaring about the wound she’d left there. Tears leak out the sides of your eyes, trickling into your hairline. 

“Thank me for that too,” she demands.

“Thank you,” you cry around a hiccup. 

One more spank, and another, and another. Your legs kick uselessly against the cushions, body twisting after every awful smack.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Your hole clenches around nothing, slick leaking onto the couch. Then, two fingers dip into you, and Nat thrusts them up hard and fast. She’d shoved them in on a contraction, and it hurts for a second before she’s curling her fingers into the velvet of your walls. 

She makes a pleased sound. “Tight as always. Makes me want to tear you in half, baby.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “Th-” She starts up a fast pace, digging her fingertips into your front wall. “Thank you!”

Her cheek rests on your chest, listening to the thunder of your heart. “We should try that big one.” Impossibly, your heart rate quickens at the thought, and you manage to shake your head. She laughs, the sound sharp and cruel, and music to your ears. “Maybe another time then.”

She sits up then, still working her fingers into your cunt, and moves her other hand to your mons. She pets gently over your labia, a sharp contrast to the vicious pace she’s keeping up. Your head spins. 

“My baby,” she breathes, “good enough to fucking eat.”

But she parts your folds to press her fingers into your clit, circling them once, twice, thrice, and you’re so close. So desperately close. 

She leans down, near delicate in her movements, and licks into your mouth. You taste copper and beer and the faintest sweetness. Urgently, you try to kiss back. 

If she’s mean, she’d pull back and deny you the chance to come with her mouth on yours. 

She must think that you’ve suffered enough, though, because she rubs her thumb at your clit and drives her fingers deeper into you, and you push up as far as you can into her body with a scream. You’re swallowed in molten heat, pleasure stripping away at you until you’re just bones on the couch. 

When you come to, Nat’s pulling out some bandages for your chest. You’re too tired to do or say anything, forced into silence by her dominance. 

She smiles at you, still not kind, but it doesn’t look bestial like before. Maybe just self-satisfied. She strokes your sweaty hair as she fixes you up, shushing you if you moan quietly from aftershocks or pain. You are in a lot of pain, bruised and scratched up as you are.

“Good girl,” she says when she’s done. 

Finally, you muster the energy to grab her hand and say, “Thank you.”

She lets you hold on for a few seconds before pulling away. “Sure.”

You wish she’d hold you for a bit, but you don’t vocalize it. She’s been through too much in the last few days; you shouldn’t burden her—

“Don’t be fucking needy,” she says, suddenly and harshly. Your face must have given you away. 

“I don’t mean to be,” you mutter, bringing your arm up to cover your eyes. Feeling stupid, feeling mad that you feel stupid, you say: “It would just be nice if you’d stay for a bit.”

A hand grabs your arm, yanking it away from your head, and you’re treated to a view of her scowl. “Where would I go?”

You didn’t mean it that way, but you don’t know how to get out of this hole you’ve dug yourself. “I-I don’t know.”

Out of nowhere, her hand slaps your cunt again, overstimulated, sore, puffy. You groan, curling in on yourself and hugging your knees to your chest. 

“Fuck, Nat.”

She takes the opportunity to sit down on the end of the couch, where your legs once were. The TV turns back on, and you hear her take a sip from her can of beer. “Clean up the hall later.”

At least she stayed.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #dark!natasha x reader #dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark #nat #mw #aaaaaaaaaaanyway

[wonlouvre]

more for forever | k. mg.

pairing: editor-in-chief mingyu x female reader genre: fluff, a little bit of angst, cliché (in the sense that mingyu is rich and likes to spoil his girlfriend) warnings: mentions of insecurity, food word count: 2.8k

💌: this is just pure indulgence and i really hope you all like this! please wait for wonwoo because i have something in store for him too ;) again, this is cliché please forgive me. please tell me what you think about it hehe i love reading your comments, feedbacks and tags! also a big thank you to @minkwans​ for sharing their ideas and giving this oneshot life! <3

The name Kim Mingyu didn’t ring a bell before. Not until his executive assistant reached out to you because apparently, the photographer slash writer read one of your blog posts and wanted you to take part for their sixth year anniversary issue. You know the famous magazine and publishing company, which is why you thought it was a scam or a ploy to steal your money. It’s a stupid assumption but you can’t blame your mind imagining the worse because you are not a fashion blogger at all. Why would a fashion magazine want you to write an article for them?

Sure, you regularly write and post blog entries on your website. But you write about your dog, your recently bought tea coaster and sometimes your skincare routine. Okay, maybe your occasional outfit of the day as well but nothing in detail. Again, why do they want you to write for them?

Kim Mingyu answered your questions and uncertainties when he personally emailed his contact details to you. You didn’t have to bite, but it didn’t hurt to confirm at the same time. You dialed the number and he indeed proved you wrong. He invited you for a meeting at his office and you accepted. 

Your visits to high-rise buildings, much more to the luxurious office of an executive, is rare to never. You were jaw slacked when your eyes took in the crisp architecture. The design, the furniture, the color, the everything was beyond what you could have imagined a publishing company’s headquarters could be. 

The meeting was nothing but short of an interview. He asked about your blog (which does not even have its own domain by the way), he asked what else you write about, he asked about your desk job (which doesn’t pay much but enough for you to get by), he asked if you have any background about fashion and one last question about your dog, Max, before talking about his proposal. 

To be honest, Mingyu’s offer was tempting. For one article, the commission would be enough for you to move out of your current apartment and move to a brand new and fully-furnished one. But you remained true to yourself and without thinking twice, you declined. 

You can tell that the editor-in-chief and his assistant, who stood beside him all throughout, was surprised by the looks on their faces. But Mingyu respected your decision and didn’t pursue any further. You took your stand from the chair and sincerely thanked him for the time and opportunity. You thought that would be it but when he followed suit with your actions and reached his hand out, it was your turn to be surprised. 

You didn’t hesitate to mirror him and shake his hand, firmly. After that, you’d figure that it’s the end and that you’ll probably get to see a glimpse of him only through your television or phone. But Mingyu proved you wrong once again when he sent an unexpected email three days later asking why.

What might be the reason why you didn’t accept his offer? 

You believed he deserved an explanation of your personal reasons so you disclosed them. And just like that the conversation on that email thread naturally progressed and eventually deepened. The professional emails became casual text messages, the text messages became phone calls, and the phone calls became actual face to face dates at late hours of the evening because he usually clocks out at 9 o’clock. 

The rest, as they say, was in the hands of history. 

Your first date with Mingyu was particularly odd. It was at a traditional Korean restaurant owned by one of his friends who introduced himself as Angel even though his real name is Jeonghan. You didn’t question him or anyone else why because that’s none of your business. But back to the date. It was odd because you have never been to a restaurant that’s completely empty and dead silent before (aside of course, from the typical music played in the background). You asked Mingyu if such an occurrence is normal and he just plainly answered that he rented the whole place all to yourselves. You have always known he’s rich. However, you didn’t believe that booking the whole restaurant was necessary.  

Nonetheless, that first date, in some way, was special for you because there were no distractions. You enjoyed his company and you can tell he enjoyed yours too because he’s quick to mention a second date and it didn’t take a heartbeat for you to say yes. 

But, by far, Mingyu inviting you to the behind the scenes of the making of the sixth anniversary issue that you turned down writing for is one of the most memorable dates the two of you had. It was out of the blue and you two were having difficulty in syncing your schedules. He was beginning to get busier and busier as the anniversary neared and the only way he could think of still making time for you is inviting you to his office. He called you and asked if you’re free to have lunch together. And you, being attracted to the handsome and tall man, didn’t hesitate to say yes. 

He was in the middle of ending his morning meeting when you arrived and you were almost caught off-guard when all eyes were suddenly on you, making you feel small. But Mingyu didn't care as his smile beamed, immediately standing up from his chair to walk towards you. The rest of his staff were still in the midst of walking out of his office when he grasped your hand to pull you inside and you have never felt so shy your whole life.

Since then, he made you tag along to the creative process and you witnessed how hands on he was with every article, every photo, every brand, every trend and every detail that goes to the magazine that he has built and loved with his blood, sweat and tears. He’s beyond dedicated in finding and doing what’s best for the magazine and most importantly, its loyal readers. 

You can tell that he really is deserving of everything that he has and is still receiving.

Mingyu being perfect also applies to your relationship. He’s always present despite being booked with fittings, meetings, photoshoots and business travels twenty-nine days of the month. He never fails to call, never fails to answer your calls. He never fails to offer the warmest hugs and the softest kisses. Well, he fails to be on time during your dates sometimes but he never once stood you up and his cuddles when he sleeps over are enough to apologize for the lost time.

The only flaw he has is that he doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. Most especially at times where he wants to shower his love in ways that cost more than your paycheck in a year.

Here are some examples:

You know that Mingyu pays attention to every word you say. Even if you just mentioned a passing topic, he will do his best to keep those in mind. With that being said, you mentioned once that you want to renovate the extra bedroom of your apartment and turn it into a study where you could work someday. Your boyfriend, being the rich man he is, offered to hire and pay a team that could help you bring the design you envisioned into life. 

That was during the first few months of your relationship and you were flabbergasted by how easy it was for him to do or much less say. Needless to say, you immediately turned him down and he respected that (but of course, he pouted about it like a child all throughout the day). 

But wait, there’s more. 

Do you remember how you mentioned that Mingyu travels frequently? Yes? Well, Mingyu always books an extra ticket for you just in case you want to join him. Sometimes it’s not even about the flight ticket anymore. It’s about him stopping by your apartment to pick you up unexpectedly as if France is only a drive away. 

It’s unbelievable, really. That’s why you always close the door on his face. But of course, you don’t forget to give him a long kiss and “stay safe” or “I’ll miss you” farewell. Mingyu, ever the good boy he is, lets you win and just return your kisses a little longer for the days he won’t be able to do so. 

Mingyu’s intentions are pure and you’re well aware that the man that you love is only doing this because it’s simple, he loves you. He wants what’s best for you, he wants to give you what you deserve. You can never blame him for being out of touch from reality at times, but you can learn and grow with him. Although of course, he still needs a scolding and a wake up call every now and then. 

Anything else? Yes.

You didn’t take into consideration that he’d remember, but one night while the two of you were about to fall asleep, you sleepily mumbled about your dreams of attending graduate school. It was a mere whisper in the late night against his chest and you even thought that he wouldn’t hear you at all because his eyes were already closed. You honestly didn’t expect that he’d send you brochures of different universities who offer various programs the following day. You had to calm him down as he excitedly talked you through it. You even had to shut him up with your lips and explain that you don’t have the time to study at the moment with your current job. He tried to encourage you with praises and admiration of your dedication, skills and knowledge. But no, you didn’t buy it and that’s the end of discussion. 

The gifts, however, are something that Mingyu is not giving up on. The first few instances he gave you gifts whether it be a high-end handbag, shoes, clothing, and even jewelry, you allowed him. Because there were only a few. But along the way, the gifts got bigger and more frequent. You had to sit him down to set limitations. It was a long conversation of him trying to get the upper hand. But you didn’t let him outsmart you with his hugs and kisses. It was either he was going to tone it down with the gifts or no gifts at all. 

Sometimes, as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, you can’t avoid getting insecure and afraid that the euphoric time you share with Mingyu is not meant to last. At some point, the fact that he's one of the youngest successful editor-in-chiefs of a multi-million earning magazine got overwhelming. You can’t help but feel that you’re no match for him. And again, you hate that your mind gets clouded with ideas that you’re just a charity case he enjoys spending his money on. Of course, you believe that he doesn’t look at you in that way.

It’s you who thinks so. 

“Hey.”

You release the bite on your bottom lip at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Your lost eyes shoot to the stove where he’s cooking and you notice that he’s about done so you should set the table. 

You didn’t even answer Mingyu’s call which concerns him. He wipes the sauce off his hands on the apron he’s wearing and holds your waist before you could even round the corner to the cabinets. 

His warmth snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyes blink up to him and he just raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Is there something wrong?” He asks and lowers the heat of the conduction. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you lie, shaking your head, “Let me get the plates. I’m quite hungry.”

You try escaping his strong arms and gaze, but he doesn’t let you go. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist tighter. Your palms automatically land on his chest and the lean muscles make you gulp. 

“I’m going to ask again and this time, I want you to tell me the truth,” he says in a serious yet gentle tone. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh and lean your forehead against his chest. Mingyu also sighs and kisses the top of your head. It’s better to tell him now because you’re not going to get anywhere if you’re just going to keep it to yourself. It will be unfair for him too and that’s not what you want. 

“I just don’t feel so good about myself over the past few days,” you finally voice out. You sound weak, but Mingyu can hear you loud and clear. “I feel like I don’t deserve you.”

Mingyu had to pull away and hold your shoulders to search your eyes, his frown showing disbelief and sadness both at the same time. “Did I do or say something to make you feel this way?”

“No, no,” you quickly say and hold his cheeks. “You did absolutely nothing. It’s just all in my head.”

Mingyu becomes silent and you wish you could just drop it because the regret and embarrassment is slowly dawning upon you. You wish you didn’t bring it up anymore because why would you burden him with your problems? 

But Mingyu proves you wrong once again by holding your hand and carefully tugging you to sit on the dining table, saying softly, “Come on. Let’s talk about it.”

And talk you did. You let out your concerns, worries, fears and insecurities. You bore it all without hiding or masking anything. A tear or two slipped once or twice and some words were interrupted by your hiccups, but Mingyu was patient. He listened and held your hand, promising you that it’s okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to be worried. It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of him. It’s okay to trust him because he loves you. 

Mingyu loves you and his words and actions assure you that it’s okay to love him too. 

When there were no more words left to say, the two of you shared a comfortable silence. The weight on your shoulders and the sick feeling in your stomach immediately vanished and you have never felt so relieved. You have never felt so free and loved. You can’t believe that Kim Mingyu is real. 

“I know that this is unwarranted,” Mingyu breaks the silence after a while, “but I want you to know that I don’t think of you in any of those ways. To me, you’re the person I love and I am happy with regardless of our different upbringings, different jobs. Those don’t matter to the time and love we share together.”

“I know,” you affirm and kiss his cheek. 

Mingyu nods and smiles against the palm of your hand when a memory suddenly pops in his mind. “I’m not sure if I have told you this already. But the blog entry of yours that caught my attention is about your first ever blog post.”

Your eyes widen at his confession. You have never heard of this before. “You mean the one where I talked about why I love writing so much?”

Your boyfriend smiles and nods. “That one.”

“Gosh. That’s so embarrassing,” you groan and palm your face. 

“What do you mean embarrassing?” He argues, taking your hand to hold again. “That post was one of the most genuine posts that I have ever read. You explained, word by word, your passion, love and dedication to writing in the most honest way possible. Who wouldn’t be moved?”

You pout and unbeknownst to you, that makes his heart squeeze in adoration. 

“It’s not that special,” you mumble, eyes on your intertwined hands. 

“It is to me though.”

Mingyu’s eyes are dreamy and glossy as you meet them again and you could never be more in love. He holds your arms, coaxing you to stand up to straddle his lap. You giggle when he protectively wraps his arms around your waist. His nose scrunches when it grazes yours, but upon meeting his lips you feel it exhale a breath of relief.

You kissed and kissed and kissed. But when Max barks at the two of you, reminding you of the dinner you’re supposed to eat and share with him, the two of you burst into laughter before reluctantly detaching from each other. 

“You doting over me with material things is a perk,” you humor him and he gives you his signature giggle. “But, I wouldn’t trade sharing the same bed, cooking meals or taking care of Max together over any of those.” 

Mingyu nods gives you one last yet long kiss, a promise that there’s more for later. 

More for forever. 

---

a/n 2: this was supposed to be the header/poster of this story but it was too big lol

#seventeen #mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen scenarios #mingyu scenarios #mingyu scenario #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagines #mingyu imagine #seventeen imagine #mingyu imagines #seventeen oneshot #mingyu oneshot #seventeen fanfic #mingyu fanfic #seventeen fluff #mingyu fluff #seventeen mingyu #mingu seventeen #svt #fic: mff

[archived-kin]

kaeya isn't as smooth as anyone thinks (and that's okay)

note from kin: basically i saw the ‘kaeya is flirty and constantly flusters reader who has a giant crush on him’ trope and went ‘but what if KAEYA was the one with the giant crush’

quick background: reader is the ‘strong, silent, stoic’ type, has a cryo vision, and works alongside barbara in the church of favonius as a medic

i couldn’t think of a gender neutral way for you to be addressed that sounded natural so i just had you be called your name throughout the piece, but just know that barbara would be addressing you with older sibling honourifics and kaeya would use some sort of respectful title (but in like. a flirty way)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, kaeya, barbara, bennett

pairing(s): kaeya/reader,

warning(s): non-descriptive blood/mild injury

genre: fluff

“Master Kaeya!” Barbara exclaims as a familiar cavalry captain strides into the cathedral, dripping blood all over the freshly-polished tiles. “What happened this time?!”

“Just a run-in with some hilichurls,” He says with a nonchalant shrug, swiping away a bead of blood from the corner of his mouth. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?!” She hurriedly ushers him into the hospital wing, hands already beginning to sparkle with Hydro healing magic. “You— you’re bleeding extremely heavily! I need to get these wounds closed up as soon as possible—”

“Relax,” Kaeya placates, giving one of her pigtails a playful tug as she frantically flits about him like an agitated butterfly. “I don’t feel a thing. It’s all superficial, really…”

“Still…!” She hurries over to one of the cupboards and fumbles around for a roll of bandages. “Please sit down! This won’t take a moment...!”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” He says, holding up his hands. “Is [Name] in today?”

“Yes, they agreed to watch over Bennett while I took care of our patients…” She answers, still rummaging about feverishly, then suddenly pauses, and Kaeya grins slightly. She’s seen right through him. “Ah, wait… Master Kaeya, is this what I think it is?”

Kaeya laughs as she looks up at him with large, reproachful blue eyes, hands set firmly on her hips. Maybe he’d be intimidated if Barbara didn’t have the face of a baby lamb. It’s just kind of adorable. “Perhaps.”

She blows out a breath, cheeks puffing up, then shakes her head with a resigned sort of smile. “I don’t think [Name] will appreciate you disturbing them…”

“I won’t be disturbing anyone,” Kaeya says with a cheeky sort of grin, raising his hand as if showing off the gash in his forearm. “I’m a patient, after all. So, where will [Name] and Bennett be?”

“In the west wing,” Barbara answers, dropping her hands, though the soft blue glow remains.

“To the west wing we go, then,” He replies, and strides off with a flick of his cape. Barbara follows hurriedly, clutching the roll of bandages to her chest.

You’re sat by the window when Kaeya pokes his head in through the door, flicking through a book. The sunlight streaming in behind you seems to illuminate the pale colour of your robes to an ethereal glow, and Kaeya can’t help but silently compare the sight to the illustrations of divine celestial beings he’s seen in books. He takes a deep breath, briefly pressing his hand to his chest, then moves to greet you.

You seem to notice his presence before he can, however, raising your head from your book and practically pinning him to the spot with those clear eyes. “...Master Kaeya.”

He smiles, unable to help the slightly goofy quality of his expression. Archon knows that Lisa would never let him live it down if she saw him now. “[Name].”

“Hi, Mr Kaeya!” Bennett exclaims, attempting to raise a bandage-wrapped hand in greeting, but having to drop it as its sling goes taut. Kaeya offers a brief wave in response, but he’s far too absorbed in looking at you to say anything more.

You stare at him in silence, eyes moving down to the patches of red staining his sleeve, then back up at the scratch on his left cheek. Your expression is unmoving, cold, even, but he still has to try hard not to overheat under the sheer intensity of your gaze. Any flirty quips that he might have thought of trying on you just dry up in his mouth as soon as they come.

“What happened?” You ask finally.

“Master Kaeya says he encountered some hilichurls,” Barbara answers for him, slipping into the room and standing beside him. Bennett grins enthusiastically as soon as he sees her, and she responds with a sweet smile of her own.

You raise an eyebrow at him, and Kaeya can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. “Hilichurls?”

“They were rather... aggressive,” He answers, folding his arms and shifting his weight to his left leg. “And there were quite a lot of them as well.”

You blink slowly. “I would have thought that the Cavalry Captain would be sufficiently capable to ward them off.”

“Well, when you’re surrounded on all sides, there’s not much you can do,” Kaeya shrugs as nonchalantly as possible. He’s not going to admit that he’d stood there and allowed them to get in a few good hits just so he’d have a good reason to come by.

You sigh and close your book, setting it on the windowsill beside you. “I suppose you’ll need some healing.”

“Please,” He responds with a chuckle, inclining his head. You nod and get to your feet.

“Keep an eye on Bennett,” You instruct Barbara, who quickly moves over to take your place beside the unlucky adventurer’s bed. “I trust that he’ll be well under your care.”

“Of course!” She nods, beaming as you gently pat her on the shoulder. “You can count on me!”

You nod, the faintest of smiles crossing your face. Kaeya almost feels as if he shouldn’t be witnessing such a sight, but he can’t help but stare in subtly open-mouthed awe until the smile disappears, and you begin leading him back into the east wing.

“How deep are the wounds?” You ask monotonously as you guide him to one of the chairs. He sits down without needing to be told, obediently holding out his right arm and allowing you to unfasten the cuffs and pull back his sleeves.

“Not deep enough to be too painful,” He answers, shivering slightly as he feels your cold fingers press into the skin around the wound, carefully prodding about to see the extent of the damage. “I’m sure that you’ll make quick work of it.”

His compliment doesn’t seem to affect you in the slightest - quite frankly, it’s a little disheartening how little you seem to care. “Then why didn’t you have Barbara heal your wounds for you? Do you think she is incapable?”

“No, not at all!” Kaeya hurries to answer, unnerved by the sudden narrowing of your normally calm eyes. “I just… rather like seeing you. That’s all.”

Your hands pause for the briefest of moments before returning to their work. Is Kaeya imagining the surprise that flashes across your face? “...is that so?”

“Of course...” He tries to offer a suave sort of smile, only to grimace when he feels you pinch the raw edges of his wound together in preparation to seal it.

You’re silent for a while, though Kaeya can’t quite tell if it’s because you’re absorbed in your work or if you’re thinking about something else. He tries not to stare, he really does, but you draw his eye with such deep compulsion that he can't seem to tear his eyes away.

Finally, your stern expression softening ever so slightly, you say, “...then you are welcome to come by whenever you please, injuries or not.”

He jolts so hard that he almost rips the wound open again as soon as you’ve sealed it, feeling a hot flush rise to his face. His mouth falls open, and he aggressively snaps it shut again as you look back up at him. “I…”

“Bennett has been rather vocal about his suspicions as to the frequency of your visits,” You say steadily and factually, a ghost of a smile tugging on your mouth. “I wasn’t sure whether to believe him before, but…”

“O-oh?” Kaeya pinches subtly at his own leg in an effort to snap himself back to his senses. Where on earth has all his charm and poise gone? He feels like a young boy again, stumbling over his words as his heart hammers like a drum in his heart. “What exactly has Bennett been saying?”

“He seems to be under the impression that you’re getting yourself injured deliberately,” You answer, and Kaeya mentally slaps himself. Of course he’d been too obvious. But, really, how else is he supposed to find an excuse to see you so often when you’re otherwise always so busy with patients?

“...I suppose I’ve been caught.” He raises his free hand to rub almost bashfully at the back of his neck. “Is it such a crime to want a reason to visit?”

You look him directly in the eyes, and he has to fight the urge not to throw his arms around you right then and there. How can one’s gaze be so blank and yet so warm at the same time? “Perhaps it would be better if you weren’t injured.”

“It’s the only way to make sure you’ll see me,” He chuckles. “You hardly ever seem to leave the hospital wing.”

You pause and frown slightly, as if confused, and the sight is so endearing that Kaeya doesn’t think his heart has ever felt so full. “...I don’t think I spend all my time here…”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever even seen you out on the streets,” He continues, fighting back a grin as you bring a hand to your chin, still looking rather puzzled. He pauses, taking in a breath, then asks, “Why don’t you stop by Angel’s Share in the evening some day?”

Your frown smooths out slightly, and you cock your head to the side. “...will you be there?”

His cheeks heat up again. “Of course - if you’d like me to be.”

You nod thoughtfully, pulling back from his arm. The wound is little more than a thin scar now. “I would.”

You shake your hand out briefly, coating it once again in your special brand of healing Cryo energy, and raise your frost-covered palm to the scratch in Kaeya’s cheek, only to see that he’s already staring intently at you. It’s almost unnerving how intense the glacial blue colour of his eyes is - so deep that you could almost be frozen in them completely, like a fly trapped in amber.

He moves the hand of his uninjured arm up to your own cheek, slowly, almost as if he’s in a trance. You can’t quite read the expression on his face - the gentle slope of his brows, the soft corners of his eyes, his ever-so-slightly ajar mouth - but it’s compelling in such a way that you can’t pull your gaze from his.

Almost abruptly, he smiles bright, eyes closing, and he leans forward. You freeze in place as he throws his uninjured arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, turning to press the softest of kisses to the side of your head.

“Kaeya?” You whisper, and his grip tightens slightly. He doesn’t respond, only laughs quietly, almost giddily, a deep sound that seems to reverberate through both your body and his.

You slowly raise your own arms and wrap them around him in turn, leaning into his touch. Kaeya laughs again, and this time you can’t help but smile, pressing yourself further into his embrace.

Footsteps and voices are approaching from somewhere far in the distance, and perhaps you hear a knock on the door, but in this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. For now, the patients and healing can wait.

#unedited #bet you thought they were gonna kiss huh #well they DIDN'T #i'm just a sucker for this kind of soft physical affection :'))) #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin kaeya #genshin barbara #genshin bennett #kaeya x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #fluff

[mypoisonedvine]

Sugar | Bruce Banner x reader

summary: he’s smart, he’s sensitive, he’s sexy, and he pays your tuition.  sounds like the perfect guy, right?  he would be, if it weren’t for that pesky thing of him being married.  for most girls, it’s a dealbreaker, but you have a little secret: it kinda turns you on.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: smut, semi-public sex (in a car lol), infidelity (it’s in the summary y’all), choking, wedding ring kink, daddy kink, implied age gap, sugar daddy relationship

The last few minutes of class passed excruciatingly slowly, to the point that when you took breaks from tapping your pencil on your paper to glance up at the clock only to see it hadn’t changed at all, you wondered if time had somehow managed to stand still while your professor continued to ramble about, ironically, the way time dilates inside black holes.

“Before I let you go, I want to review the grades on last week’s quiz…”

You suppressed a groan as you waited for her to get on with it; you already aced it, what other discussion needed to be had? 

Finally, finally, she let you all leave and you were already halfway out the door, beaming as you clutched your books to your chest and jogged out of the building to the parking lot.  His car was waiting for you there, parked at the furthest and darkest end of the lot for some reason, and you knew what waited for you inside even if the windows were tinted too dark to see through.  You were too happy to even notice the cold night air blowing right through your cardigan, jogging to the car and swinging open the passenger door.

“Hi!” you smiled as you hopped in.

“Hey baby,” Bruce purred, leaning in for a kiss.  You expected a quick peck but instantly it was obvious that he was up to something, with the way he pulled you closer and slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Bruce,” you giggled as you pulled away slightly, although it was kind of a moan, too.  “What’s the occasion?”

“I missed you,” he shrugged.  “Is it so strange that I missed my girl?”

Your thighs clenched together at the pet name, but your hands pushed him back gently when he leaned towards you again.  “At least let me set my books down first!” you protested.

He chuckled but let you go, and you maneuvered to set your books down in his backseat, feeling his gaze on your ass as you bent over and not exactly minding it.  There was a dark shimmer in his eyes when you came back, scanning over you slowly.  

“Where are we going?” you asked, already expecting a certain answer since he had made no move yet to put the key in the ignition.

“We’re not going anywhere, angel,” he explained.  “I didn’t get to see you all week and it’s been killing me.”

Of course, it was technically possible that he meant he just wanted to sit in the car and catch up with you, but the way his voice got deep and husky made it clear that wasn’t his intention.  You bit down on your lip as you glanced down to the misshapen crotch of his trousers, letting your hand slip forward to rub his thigh and just barely ghost against his cock.  “I missed you too, daddy,” you whispered.

You felt his length throb against the back of your hand, at the same time you heard him groan softly.  “How much did you miss me?” he asked darkly.  

“So much,” you nodded quickly.

“Show me how much,” he instructed, sitting up a bit to unbuckle his belt for you.  You did the rest, unzipping his fly and pulling his cock out of his boxers.  It felt so hot and hard in your palm, so thick you struggled to keep a hold on it sometimes, but you licked your lips as you leaned down and took the head into your mouth.  He instantly pushed your head down further with a hand on the back of your neck, moaning as you swallowed more of him.  “Fuck, baby…”

You smiled a little, though you suppressed it since it would interfere with the task at hand, continuing to stroke the part of him you couldn’t fit in your mouth yet.  With practice you’d learned to take all of him, but it required warming up a bit first.  That said, this didn’t feel like a ‘take it slow and fool around’ sort of night.  He was already bucking up into your mouth and you could feel that he was on edge from the way his fingers tightened in your hair.

“Fuck, so good for me,” he praised with a sigh.  “You like sucking me off in the parking lot like this, honey?  Right after school?  You think someone could walk by and see you with your mouth full of my cock?”

The windows were tinted, sure, but it was possible… and the idea made heat spread between your thighs.

“Just like that, baby, choke on it,” he groaned, all but fucking your mouth at this point— and you loved it.  You knew you were getting embarrassingly wet and you didn’t even care that you were in his car in your school’s parking lot anymore: you wanted him to fuck you, so much so that you were starting to gyrate your hips to get some friction against the seat.  He must have noticed when he reached over your back to spank you, making you jump.  “Look at you, needy little girl— rubbing yourself on my car like a desperate slut.  You’d better not make a mess, that’s Italian leather.”

He didn’t usually talk so degradingly to you, but it was definitely working for you, which became sort of a vicious cycle because as he mocked you for your desperation, your arousal grew which fed the very desperation he was mocking in the first place.  You moaned around the cock in your mouth, the vibrations clearly getting to him as you tasted more of his salty pre-cum hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, I don’t wanna come in your mouth— get in the back,” he demanded quickly as his voice became more strained.  Not needing to be told twice, you popped off of him and climbed into the back; he wasn’t as agile as you, but he followed semi-awkwardly and slotted himself between your legs.  With his cock already out and you wearing a skirt, he could rub himself on you through your panties— which was unexpectedly intense, due to how sensitive you’d become.

Your head fell back against the seat as you moaned lowly.  “God, Bruce, please…”

“You must not want it that bad if you’re calling me Bruce,” he chuckled, leaning in to suck a mark on your neck.  There was something so hot to you about how unfair it was that he could mark and claim you any way he wanted, but you got in trouble if you got lipstick on his collar or left something of yours in his car.  The reminders of this affair and its forbidden nature just turned you on more.

“Daddy,” you corrected with a whimper, “I need you to put it in me— fuck me, please.”

“You’re sure you’ve earned it?” he asked, his smile brushing against your ear.  You nodded feverishly, clutching at his shoulders tightly.  He reached down and delicately pulled your panties to the side, groaning a bit when he saw how wet you were and beginning to rub the swollen head of his cock through your folds.

“Please,” you sobbed gently, repeating the words over and over until he finally pushed into you in one long, slow stroke.  You choked on your moan— when you went so long without seeing him, he was always just a bit too big, stretched you just a bit too wide, went just a bit too deep inside you.  You hissed through your teeth as you processed the pain, but it burned in exactly the way you needed.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “so fucking tight, goddamn…”

His hands gripped your thighs to hold your legs open, and you realized you could feel the hard metal of his wedding band digging into your skin.  Why did that, of all things, make your walls flutter and clench around him?

“Baby,” he grinned, “you really did miss me… your sweet little pussy is fuckin’ gripping me, doesn’t wanna let me go, huh?”

Your face burned but you loved the way his voice sounded when he got like this.

“You’re not gonna let me pull out, are you?” he realized with a little smirk.  “You need me to fill you up, is that it?”

You nodded, gasping a bit as he started to move faster.  “Yes, Daddy.”

"You're already getting too loud, pretty girl," he hoarsely mocked you.  "Somebody could hear you, remember?"

You whimpered and bit down on your lip.  The head of his cock was dragging right over your g-spot, making your toes curl as pleasure twisted in your gut.  "Can't help it," you explained between moans, "you feel so good… I love your cock so much, Daddy, please just don't stop."

"I might have to, if you can't keep quiet," he groaned.

"Make me quiet," you begged gently— and before you could even worry if he wouldn't know what you meant, he wrapped a hand around your throat.  

The loss of air just made everything more intense; you felt fuzzy at the edges, like your sensation was blurred, and it made shivering tingles erupt wherever he touched you.  You could feel his ring against your neck; fuck, it was everything.

He laughed a little as he started to fuck you faster and harder, hips slamming into yours until the sound echoed around the car.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?  I can feel it,” he informed you through his teeth.  “I can feel it around my fucking cock.”

You nodded against the hand around your neck, gasping when he gave you a reprieve from the pressure.  “Yes, Daddy,” you cried as you clutched at his shoulders tightly, “I’m so close, please don’t stop.”

“I’m never gonna get over how sensitive you are,” he purred, leaning in until you felt so small underneath the weight of his body.  “You love your Daddy’s cock so much, hm?”

“I’m gonna come,” you whimpered as you hugged onto him tighter, shocks of pleasure shooting up your back as he tightened his hand around your neck again.  You weren’t sure if it was the orgasm or the inability to breathe that made your vision go spotty and dark, but either way it was overwhelmingly intense as it washed over you.  Shivers erupted over your skin and made your thighs twitch where they were pressed against his hips, his belt digging into the sensitive skin there (although you didn’t really notice, too busy falling back into a silent scream).

The noise you made when he let go of your throat was somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, despite those being opposite actions.  The most intense waves of it had subsided, and yet you felt like you were being pushed to your limits as he plunged into your sensitive channel with renewed vigor.  Thankfully for your poor vagina, it seemed like he was close to the edge, spurred on by the pulsing of your walls.  

“Please come, Daddy,” you begged weakly, “want your come in me, please—”

“Fuck,” he grunted, “I will, baby, you feel so good, fuck!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the feeling of his cock swelling and flexing inside you, his movements starting to falter as his head fell back— and, with a deep, throaty moan, he pumped his come into you.  You hummed contentedly as he collapsed against you, catching his breath.

There was something sort of romantic about a quickie in the back of his car, despite all odds.  Maybe romantic wasn’t the word, but definitely sweet for the way you twirled a wavy strand of his hair around your finger as he laughed breathlessly.

“I… didn’t mean to come so fast,” he admitted as he pulled his softening cock from you and slipped it back into his pants, sitting next to you and resting his head back on the seat with a sigh.

“I couldn’t have handled much more,” you giggled, “so it’s all for the best.”

“You can handle a lot more than you think,” he remembered, conjuring in your mind images of those times he’d brought you to the edge over and over until you were sure you would pass out and/or lose your mind.  The memory made your cheeks warm as you cuddled into him, laying your head on his shoulder.

It was a comfortable silence as you relaxed against him, watching his chest rise and fall with his breaths as they started to stabilize and slow down a bit.

“Oh, how’d you do on your quiz?” he asked you, and the sudden change of topic made you laugh quickly before you answered.

“I got a perfect score,” you beamed.  

"Hey, that's great," he smiled back, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.  "I think you deserve a treat for that."

"Does getting my brains fucked out in the backseat of your car right after class not count as a treat?" you laughed.

"I guess it does, but I mean something a little more… expensive."

"Bruce, baby, you're gonna spoil me," you giggled, nuzzling your head into his neck as he wrapped an arm around you.

"That's the idea," he explained.  "Once I get enough energy back to move again, I'll drive you to a jeweler and get you something sparkly."

"When do you need to be back for her not to get suspicious?" you asked, chewing your lip nervously as you remembered that you had to be careful of those sorts of things.

"Ugh, I don't fucking care," he groaned.  

You looked up at him, resting your hand on his chest in a show of sympathy.  "Did something happen?  Is she picking fights with you again?"

"Let's not talk about her," he suggested, pulling you closer.  "Let's talk about you."

"What about me?" you asked with a scoff.

"Let's talk about you, coming with me to Tokyo in February."

"...what?"

"I have to do this medical conference thing there, and I thought it'd be the perfect trip to bring you along.  I only have to be there for a few days but we could stay longer if you want to do more touristy stuff, spend more time together…"

"Bruce, I have school," you reminded him.

"And you're at the top of all your classes," he dismissed.  "You can afford to miss a few days.  I want you all to myself, even if it's just for a little while."

"I could say the same thing."

"And you should," he countered, "because this is your chance.  Think about it: just you and me, in a huge suite in a fancy hotel in Tokyo, laying in bed all day, making love for hours—"

"'Making love'?  Is that what you think we do?"

He chuckled a little.  "It could be.  Or I could tie you to the bed and make you come until you scream so loud the other rooms complain to the front desk."

You shuddered, knowing full well that he was capable of that.  A few months ago, you'd walked into class with a lost voice and a new Coach handbag.  You thought about that night every time you saw the purse and you wondered if that was the real reason he bought you new stuff on nights like that.

"Will you come with me?" he asked again.

"Sure," you decided with a little smile.  "But you're too good to me, I swear."

"Not true at all, you deserve so much more than this," he refuted as he kissed your neck.  "Next time I take you somewhere, it won't be because I had a work thing there— and it'll be wherever you want."

You were too distracted by his lips on your skin to really notice what he was saying.  At the moment, despite knowing how incredible a trip with him would be, you couldn’t imagine anything better than this; the back of his car, in your school’s parking lot, with his arms around you and his come leaking out of you onto the leather.  Still, you weren’t going to stop him from buying you something sparkly if he wanted to.

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x you #idk if anyone will read his but i dont CARE look at his fucking ARMS in that gif asgkjashgsjg #yes i made the gif and it made me so thirsty