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sexc-snail · 4 months

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"The One" - Shanks x reader

A/N: fuck you I write x reader fanfic now, don't get used to it. Shanks is kinda obsessed with you and maybe even a little out of character but it's cute. (Loosely) Inspired by "Billie Jean" by The Civil Wars, a huge thank you to the lovely @fanaticsnail for introducing me to the song to prompt this fic.

This was meant to be posted on Christmas Day but Tumblr didn't want to register paragraph breaks between the separate dot points and thought I had pasted a single long paragraph, which breaks the text character block limit and blocked me from posting or even saving as a draft.

Summary: You meet Shanks at the tavern where you work who promptly flirts with you, insisting that he is "The One". Naturally sceptical of such a charismatic pirate's charms being true, you keep your distance by insisting that you'll only be the one he dances with, nothing more. Except he keeps coming back, and it's getting harder and harder to remember to keep your guard up as he continues to dance with you for nights on end. Then one day a boy comes and everything threatens to fall apart.

Word count: 3,426

You’d met Shanks at the tavern where you worked.

You were wiping down the bar, boredom and the stifling heat suffocating you until you were polishing the same spot repeatedly until you would have sanded it into a small dent had you not been interrupted

The door suddenly slammed open with raucous laughter, a crowd barging into the room headed by one man

Red hair tickled his neck, framing peach fuzz that decorated a bright smile, warm brown eyes (one with a set of three scars across it) that made you think of honeyed tea, an unbuttoned shirt putting tanned skin on display.

The man shouted to the room, “first round’s on me lads!” generating loud applause

He paused in the middle of the crowd, turning his head with furrowed brows until his eyes landed on you, and he grinned.

He navigated the crowd with the natural skill of a fish through water. Like it was his habitat.

Leaning over the bar with his charming grin he asked your name and gave his own. Shanks. But you wouldn’t need to know it, seeing as all you had to know was that he was “The One”.

That made you raise your brow.

Naturally sceptical of such a flirt (and particularly one with such electric magnetism that commanded the room) you denied it. But when he jutted his – perfectly soft and plump – lip out in a pout the thought of denying such an opportunity outright tugged at your chest.

In a compromise you had offered to be ‘the one’ he could dance with at the end of the night, assuming that by the time you’d managed to have a break from serving the rowdy crew he’d be too drunk to care.

Except that wasn’t the case. He’d nursed a beer the whole night, and when you’d offered to refill it he’d refused. Stating he didn’t want to give you more work and prolong your dance. You’d scurried away before the flush in your cheeks could get any worse.

By the end of the night, most of the crew had escaped into the night or lay slumped in chairs, and Shanks had offered his hand.

You’d expected different – expected him to press against you, swaying to a fast beat, holding you tight. To be honest the idea gave you a little thrill. If you could get it out of your system maybe then you could sweep away the flutter in your chest with the justification that you were right and the cheap satisfaction of one sinful night.

Except, as before, he surprised you once again. One hand held yours in a soft grip while the other rest against your waist. Never drifting lower, in a touch so light it was almost hovering yet present enough that you could feel its warmth through your clothing. Only leaving you wanting more

Maybe that was his plan then. Teasing you until you succumbed to his whims. But then there would be no need for him to actually move you around with purpose, even lifting your clasped hands to twirl you once. And you swore you could hear him humming along to the music anytime you happened to brush closer.

By the end of the night you managed to pull yourself away with what you hoped was a calm demeanour, feeling his calloused palm brush against your own as he pressed a quick kiss to the back of your hand before you managed to escape entirely

When they left you thought that was the end of it. One fleeting night. One ‘almost’. One slip in your defences

Except he came back after a couple weeks.

You were out back when he’d returned, only for one of your coworkers to approach you with a sly look saying a gentleman had asked for you by name.

Initially you were suspicious. Wary, even. And you should have remained so once you saw who it was. Yet the flutters in your chest won the battle and a smile and a blush crossed your face before you had a chance to school your expression.

Shanks was waiting at the bar. Drink untouched before him as the condensation gathered on the wood. You didn’t even think he knew it was there, his attention flitted about the room without sparing it a glance before his eyes landed on you.

His face lit up, and you had a hard time reeling in your heart as you reminded yourself of his natural charm

Once again, he asked to be “The One”, and once again you specified that he could be the one you danced with, but nothing more.

Once again, he took you to the dance floor, and once again you felt your heart glide alongside you as this time he took to leading you about the room, treating it with the dimensions of a ballroom but still taking care to keep you with him as he effortlessly wove through his drunken crewmates.

This continued for a while. He would ask to be your “One”, you would compromise on a dance, and he would lead you with such care and passion that you almost forgot why you were so opposed to the idea of him being “The One” anyway

Each time he left he promised to continue coming back until he had finally convinced you. And each time he returned you believed it a little more.

His dances ranged from light-hearted jigs, to exaggerated twirls and sways, to the simple aimless meandering

You usually waited until the end of the night, when less prying eyes would see you vulnerable – somehow you never fret about Shanks seeing you vulnerable. With him it didn’t feel like a sacrifice, it felt like a comfort.

There was of course the odd time where he’d allow more passion to sneak into the dances, holding you closer and moving with more fluidity than before. Good Gods above that man could move his body like water. These dances were more fuelled by playful fun and passion of movement, and though the fast beat made your hearts race and skin flush as your breaths came out in quick pants you never felt pressed to do more, despite the underlying tension filling the air.

Once, when you had somehow had a lull in your shift, he had even managed to convince you to join in a circle dance with the whole tavern, crew and villagers alike mixing together as they traded partners. Each time you felt him pass you – having grown so attuned to feeling his body near you that you could sense him even when he was behind you – as you joined another dancer you resisted the urge to turn to him. To reach out.

Funnily enough, by the end of the night you hadn’t even danced with him and he’d asked for a solo once you finished work. That was the first time he stayed past closing, even helping you shift the chairs and finish up. Leaving the bar with just you two in it

He held you close, swaying on the spot as he hummed a tune to compensate for the lack of music once everyone had left

He didn’t try to convince you to dance with others after that night.

One night you were upset. As much as you loved your island it felt stagnant. Like hibernation. And you mourned for something that was never yours – adventure.

Of course this would be the night that Shanks returned, and even his presence couldn’t sway your foul mood.

He began to ask his question when you interrupted him to deny him, but he quickly continued. Asking if he could be the one who gets to talk to you. No dancing necessary.

Something about his soft voice, and his consideration for your feelings broke the dam and you spilled everything to him before you even knew what you were saying. Confessing how lonely and unfulfilled you felt. How you longed for more. How you felt trapped.

He listened without judgement, offering a reassuring word here and there to make sure you knew you weren’t bothering him, weren’t being ungrateful, were allowed to feel this way

By the end of your rant you felt a lot better than you’d expected to. You offered him a dance in thanks, but he shook his head.

“This is enough.”

That night, he walks you home. That night, your relationship shifts.

You still restricted yourself to dances, but now there was a current of some kind in the air between you. Even when you didn’t dance you felt it.

It was becoming harder to remember why you held such reserve in the first place

And then you were reminded

A young boy with dark raven hair and a scar below his left eye – in the same place as Shanks’, smiles up at you. Only coming up to your knee, he introduces himself as Luffy

He tells you he came here on the Red-Haired Pirates ship and your heart sinks

Of course. You knew this was coming and yet you were still stupid enough to let your guard slip. To be fooled by a man – a pirate! – and his flirtations when it was only ever a game to him. Either he had a family – a son and a partner – that he returned to when he wasn’t using you for his own entertainment. Or he shirked the responsibility of his son and partner, and didn’t care about them as he flirted his way through bars.

Honestly, you don’t know why you expected more.

No… that was a lie. You did know why you expected more. It was because it was Shanks. The man who snuck his way into your heart just to break it before you’d even known he was there.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, the door to the tavern swings open.

You see his mouth open and before he has a chance to speak, to poison the air with his silly little question you allowed yourself to be fooled by, you cut him off. Scolding him for allowing a child out of his sight to wander a strange new island alone and end up in a bar

Confusion crossed his face, and you tried to ignore the cute scrunch of his freckled nose, before his eyes landed on Luffy who was happily slurping down a bowl of ramen at the bar, his feet swinging beneath him on the high stool.

A myriad of emotions flashed across Shanks’ face. Confusion, shock, anger, before he looked back to you. Seeing your hardened glare, his head swivelled back to Luffy, then back to you, realisation crossing his face before it settled into an expression of fear.

“I didn’t—that’s not—he’s not—” your eyes narrowed further and a sneer curled your lip before you quickly shook your head, shaking off the emotions, and turn to leave.

You had turned the sign to ‘closed’ once Luffy had shown up. Your coworker had called in sick earlier that day so it was just you on the drinks. You could live one night without manning the bar.

You can’t go back to your house. He knew where that was. So you ended up wandering the streets until you found a sufficiently out of view back alley to wallow in

Shaking hands fisted at your hair as you buried your head between your knees. Eyes screwed shut tightly so you wouldn’t have to see the tears you could feel falling.

Stupid. You were so stupid.

“Do you have any more of that ramen?”

Jolting back with a start you crouched in an almost defensive position. Scared of the captain that would follow the boy.

He was alone. At least that was some luck in your string of unfortunate events.

“No. I make it for myself for when I have a long shift and need the lunch.” Sniffing ugly globs of snot back into your nose you scrubbed at your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see the damage.

No need to be mean to the boy, it wasn’t his fault.

“Are you hungry? There’s a takoyaki stall around here.”

You ended up buying Luffy seven sticks of takoyaki before you told him the vender had run out, and maybe it was your reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks but she went along with your lie, sparing your wallet

Luffy asked a lot of questions – often with his mouth full – about Shanks’ adventures, about how pirates were supposed to eat takoyaki, about you. He even seemed to recognise you after a moment

“OH, you’re the dancer! Shanks told me all about you!”

That gave you pause.

“He did?”

Luffy nodded furiously, “Yeah, he said not all treasure is gold or maps or gems and junk. Treasure is what you search for and want most of all. Then he said something about his dancer having his ‘one’ but he wasn’t yours so he was going to bring you a ‘one’, or maybe kill you a ‘one’… something like that, I think. He didn’t say one of what though.”

Luffy picked at his nose absentmindedly, before noticing he was walking alone

“Hey, why’d you stop?”

“Luffy… why did your dad bring you here?”

Luffy scrunched up his face, looking at you like you’d started yodelling in the street.

“My who?”

Oh my God.

“How did you get here, exactly?”

“I snuck onto Shanks’ ship while he was docked at our island.”

Oh my God. You have to go back right now.

Quickly scooping Luffy in your arms you ran back to the tavern. Entering through the staff’s entrance you plopped Luffy down in the kitchen, telling him he could eat the (cooked) food to his heart’s content so long as he didn’t run off again and stayed quiet.

Shanks was slumped at the bar. Head pressed against the wooden countertop as his left arm – no, left shoulder – attempted to shield him from the world and his right arm twisted a hand in his hair in a grip that had to hurt.

When had that happened?

He didn’t seem to hear your approach.

Gently, as if you were handling the most precious and delicate treasure in the world, you reached for the hand clenching his hair.

Your fingers just barely grazed his when Shanks jerked upright with a start. The force sent him wobbling off his stool and you worriedly reached to steady him, only for him to near throw himself at you. His right hand grabbed your left, though he quickly loosened his grip before you could even register how tight he grasped you, only leaving a pleasant tingle where he had squeezed. Always ever so careful about your comfort. His right shoulder reached for you as well, taking a few second to register that there was nothing connected before dropping back to his side. He stared at you, letting silence pass for a beat as his eyes refused to leave you, seeming to not blink or breath.

You heart reached for him, and this time you followed it. Your fingers threaded with his and he gasped as if he was suddenly doused in ice cold water.

“You’re here! I thought— I thought you were jus’ in m’ head – you were in my head – but you’re here—”

He seemed to remember why you had left in the first place.

“He’s not my son – I mean, he’s a great kid and he’s definitely gonna at least take over the world or destroy it someday—”

“Shanks.”

“But he’s not mine— I would never do that to you—”

“Shanks.”

“I would never do that to anyone, but least of all you,”

He was rambling. The Red-Haired Yonko Shanks, the same man who’d sept you off your feet and swung you around sticky wooden boards with enough suave to make it seem like he was gliding across a stage was rambling. And stuttering.

“-and I should have said something sooner—”

“Shanks!”

He sucked in a quick gasp, watching you with bated breath.

Okay. He’d been brave enough for the both of you. Now it was your turn.

Your right hand reached and rested on his shoulder, far enough to avoid aggravating the potentially tender area but close enough to convey the message of touch. You brushed your thumb against his intertwined hand gently.

“May I be the one to have this dance?”

His face sagged in relief and his eyes swam with wet adoration. Half chuckles shook his body as he brought himself closer to you until you felt his laughter on your face. Lifting your hand from his shoulder, and rushing once you saw the kicked puppy look flit across his face, your caressed his cheek with your hand.

Feeling his beard tickle your palm you moved your hand backwards to thread through his hair – treating it with care as you smoothed out where he’d been wringing his hand through previously.

Satisfied, you curled your hand around the back of his head and pulled him to you until his forehead pressed against yours.

“Will you let me be the one to dance with you?” You prompted again

“Sweetheart,” he sighed out, “If I ever say no to that, feel free to take my other arm.”

“I was meaning to ask about that—”

“Later.” He rushed out, bumping his head against yours to brush your noses together.

Later, then. For now? You danced.

“Come with me.”

It was a whisper. The only reason you caught it was your close proximity, the sentence fanning across your face as he dragged his nose to leave a peck to your temple and nuzzle into your hair. He didn’t whisper out of shyness or insecurity. Rather a reluctance to shatter the moment you shared with unnecessary noise.

As if sensing your confusion he continued, this time his lips brushing against the shell of your ear with every word.

“On my ship. Sail away with me.”

You began to pull your head back to look at him, moving the hand around his neck so you’d have room to part, but he chased after you, causing you two to stumble slightly and – instinctively – your hand reached out to steady the both of you. Wrapping your right arm behind his waist, all the way around to rest your hand on his other side to hold you two closer together to his wishes.

“I’ve been thinking of it ever since that night.”

That night. So it wasn’t just you.

“I’d keep you safe. Take you anywhere you wanted to go. I’d never let you feel lonely, or trapped, or stuck. And if you did I wouldn’t let you feel it alone. I’ll do my best to keep you happy, I promise. I’ll never let you doubt the way I feel about you ever again. You’re the one for me. You’re it.”

“Shanks,” You breathed. He paused, right hand tightening its grip around your left

“Ask me.”

His breath hitched with excitement

“Will you please let me be the one for you, sugar?”

You smiled, turning your head to chase his question, and when you gave your answer this time, you breathed it against his lips.

“Yes.”

Bonus:

“Also, I lost the kid.”

You snorted, “that should definitely have been higher up on your list of priorities,”

“I had other things on my mind!” His voice rose an octave in defence. “Besides, the kid can take care of himself.”

You pinched his side lightly, where your arm wrapped around his waist, and he let out an exaggerated hiss of pain

“That’s not how kids work, but luckily he doesn’t have to.”

Shanks furrowed his brows in confusion.

You lead him to the kitchen, only to find small raven-haired boy passed out among bowls and bones of meat. His belly (quite a lot larger now) rising and falling in tandem with a bubble of snot on his nose.

#One piece #one piece live action #opla #one piece x reader #one piece live action x reader #opla x reader #one piece shanks #shanks x reader #red haired shanks x reader #opla shanks #opla shanks x reader

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another-lost-mc · 8 months

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is it bad that i'm thinking about pent-up karasu? karasu who's been *trying* to have some alone time with you but keeps getting interrupted by one of the demons brothers or the angels or that damn sorcerer? karasu who keeps lovingly trying to pull you away for just a *moment* of alone time to savor your taste and keeps getting cock-blocked for some reason or another? karasu when he *finally* gets time alone with you and absolutely fucks you senseless??

a/n: it reeeeally doesn't take much to get him riled up.

➤ pent-up!karasu | headcanons

2.1k words | nsfw | gn!reader

cw: sexting, dick pics, masturbation, audio porn, oral sex, overstimulation, demon form!sex

— Pent-up!Karasu, who misses you terribly. He hasn't seen you in a few days because he had to focus on an important project for work. He texted you as often as he could and he called you every night before you went to sleep, but it wasn’t the same.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who finally has a chance to see you at RAD. He has a meeting scheduled with Diavolo and agrees to meet with him at the school. He’s nearly giddy with excitement when he pulls out his old RAD uniform and gets ready. He hopes you’re as happy to see him as he is to see you.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who looks for you in the busy hallways of RAD and his heart flutters when he finally spots you. He can't resist the urge to hug you tightly even though the demon brothers are waiting for you nearby. He desperately wants to kiss you, but he knows neither of you have the time or privacy to do that right now.

— Pent-up!Karasu, whose greedy eyes glance down at your RAD uniform and he wonders how he never noticed that you look so lovely in dark grey. His cheeks burn when he suddenly imagines peeling the layers off you one by one. He notices that your expression looks hungry too, and he ducks his head bashfully when you tell him how handsome he is. You hug him one last time before you head to class, and he misses you already.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who finishes his meeting but doesn’t have time to see you again before he leaves. He flies to work in a daze and is completely distracted by thoughts of you. Once he's alone in his office, he slumps heavily in his chair and glares at the erection tenting his pants. He palms his cock through the thin material of his uniform for relief but it doesn’t help. He feels needy and impulsive and reckless. After a moment of hesitation, he reaches for his D.D.D.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who sends you a text message even though he knows you’re still in class. He suggests that you excuse yourself from the room and go somewhere with more privacy.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who apologizes for disturbing you. He complains that he can’t get any work done; he sends you a photo of his lap so you can see exactly how much you affect him. He took off his blazer and the sleeves of his green button-up shirt are rolled up. His left hand rests on his thigh, drawing your attention to the bulge straining against the zipper of his pants.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who hopes that you’re starting to feel as horny as he does. His messages are a stream of disjointed, lustful thoughts. He sounds more bold and depraved than you’ve ever heard him before.

Seeing you earlier was enough to make me hard. I don’t think you realize how much I’ve missed you.

I want to touch you so badly. You could do anything you wanted as long as I can have you.

It’s tempting to come back to RAD and find you. Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to fuck in an empty classroom, bent over one of the desks where anyone could find us? Would you like that? Too bad I didn’t think of that earlier.

I wish you were here. Being inside you would feel so much better than this does.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who sends you proof of his desire. First he sends you a photo: his pants are undone and bunched low on his hips. His slender fingers are wrapped around his cock that’s rock-hard and leaking precum from the tip.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who sends you an audio message next. He bites his lip so he’s not too loud in your ear, but he can't help how good it feels and he wants you to know it. When he glides his hand up and down his cock, it makes a soft, wet sound that echoes in his quiet office. His chair creaks under his weight every time he thrusts up and drives his cock into the tight grip of his fist.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who babbles his desperate fantasies when he’s about to cum. "I wanna feel you around my cock, I can't wait—f-fuck, I can't stop, it feels so good—" He gasps your name and whimpers high and needy in his throat as he strokes himself through his orgasm. He keeps going until he's so sensitive that it nearly hurts, and he stops recording when he's finally limp with exhaustion and temporarily sated. The entire recording is less than two minutes long.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who sends you one last photo when he’s finished. His cock is tucked away now, but his pants and the bottom of his shirt are both stained with the pearly-white ropes of his release. He sends another message too, one that contains a request and a promise:

According to Lucifer’s schedule, he and his brothers will be attending a student council meeting this afternoon. It should give us enough time, so I’ll meet you at the House of Lamentation when you're finished class today. Try not to touch yourself before then, dear one. I’d like to take care of you myself.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who keeps his word and is already waiting for you when you arrive home from RAD. He pulls you into his arms as soon as you shut the bedroom door. “I’ve wanted to do this all day,” he breathes before he finally kisses you with all the love and desperation he feels for you.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who licks across the seam of your lips and whines into your mouth when your tongue curls with his. He rubs his half-hard cock against your belly and palms the swell of your ass, encouraging you to grind against him. You’re so warm and soft and pliant in his arms, and he wants nothing more than to rut into you like a mindless beast. He feels possessed.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who walks you backwards until your legs bump against the edge of the bed. He drops hastily to his knees when you sit down and he shuffles forward until he’s tucked comfortably between your legs. He fumbles with the belt and zipper of your pants, and he pulls your pants and underwear down your legs so you’re completely bare to him. His heightened senses can smell your arousal. He strokes you gently with a couple of his fingers, and he exhales harshly through his nose when he feels how wet you really are. He teases you and peppers your bare thighs with kisses until your hands slide into his hair and pull him closer.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who finally buries his face between your legs like he’s starving for you. His lips worship you with kisses and gentle sucks so you can feel the heat of his mouth. His fingers tease your entrance, circling the tight hole slowly before moving his hand away again. He digs his fingers into your soft, squishy thighs when they shake on his shoulders and tighten against the sides of his head. The bedframe shakes slightly as you chase your pleasure.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who moans loudly when you finally cum in his mouth. He pulls back and murmurs about how delicious you taste while he smacks his lips. His mouth and chin glisten from the mess you made of him. His erection aches in his pants but he leans forward again, flicking his tongue against you for a second time even though you gasp his name and shiver pathetically in his grip. He knows you're sensitive but he can’t resist just one more taste. Pinpricks of pleasure and pain shoot through his body when you tug on his hair and push his head away when you can't take anymore.

— Pent-up!Karasu, whose self-control cracks when he drinks in the sight of your bright, glossy eyes and pouty lips. He rises slowly to his feet and starts unbuttoning his shirt because he needs you now. He preens under your appreciative gaze when you stare at his bare chest. His dark eyes are smoldering and predatory, glowing with the power of his sin that's determined to have all of you.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who is in his demon form by the time you're both undressed and fully bare to each other. He pushes you back gently so his talons don’t scratch your delicate skin. Once you’re resting comfortably on your back, he kneels between your legs. He guides your legs up and rests them against the curve of his hips.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who would never risk hurting you no matter how much he wants you. He presses a bottle of slick into your hand and stares hungrily while you stretch yourself open for him. Your fingers disappear into your body and his cock twitches eagerly. He’s so desperate to be inside you, but he can be patient a little longer. You stop fingering yourself before you cum again; you feel so painfully empty without his cock and you both know your fingers aren't enough.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who braces himself on his arms and lowers himself on top of you. He whines against your neck as he pushes inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one long thrust. His pace is slow and shallow at first so you can both adjust. It's not long before you grasp his shoulders and urge him to move faster. The room fills with the animalistic rattling that reverberates deep in his chest when he moves harder and deeper inside you. He curses and moans in time with each desperate thrust. His hips smack noisily against yours when he starts to lose control and fucks you into the mattress with abandon.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who reaches between your bodies and strokes you with his palm because he doesn't want to cum before you do. You arch your back against his chest and a cry rips from your throat when you finally cum. Your body tightens around his cock like a vice and he moves even faster, drawing out your pleasure until you’re completely satisfied.

— Pent-up!Karasu, whose sharp talons dig into your sheets and his wings flutter restlessly when he cums. He groans and continues thrusting desperately while he rides out the lingering waves of pleasure crashing over him. You're full of his cum and your bodies squelch obscenely each time he pumps his cock inside you. Your ankles hooked against his back trap him in place. He keeps moving until he’s milked dry and his hips come to a stuttering halt.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who catches himself on his hands before he collapses heavily on top of you. He's hot and sticky with sweat and his hair sticks to his forehead and neck. There's so many things that he still wants to do and say, but right now he kisses you sweetly like nothing else matters.

— Pent-up!Karasu, whose soft kisses grow hungry when lust stirs deep in his belly when he realizes he still wants more. His hardening cock twitches inside you and he starts to slowly rock his hips. He drags lips along your jaw and down your neck as he picks up the pace. He savors your breathy moans in his ear and you're as eager as he is when you start to move together.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who makes a frustrated hissing noise in his throat when the front door slams nearby and the demon brothers return. He doesn’t want to stop, but he slows his thrusts and frowns when he hears stomping footsteps approaching from down the hall.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who groans and rests his head against your shoulder when someone bangs on your bedroom door. "Yo, Lucifer's ordering Hell's Kitchen for dinner tonight! You two wanna join us?" He's annoyed by the interruption and grumbles inaudibly under his breath. He looks up when your body starts shaking with barely-stifled laughter, and he can't help but chuckle too.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who rolls off you carefully and gets a damp cloth from your bathroom so he can clean you up. You both get dressed and he steals glances at you from the corner of his eye; lust still courses through his veins. His talons have disappeared but his wings still twitch irritably against his back. He suggests having dinner somewhere more private instead, and he's relieved when you agree. He waits for you outside while you explain to the others that neither of you will be staying for dinner after all.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who takes you back to his nest where no one else will bother you. He murmurs a promise in your ear that he’ll feed you later, after he’s fucked you properly.

#my oc: karasu #obey me x reader #obey me smut #obey me oc #obey me oc x reader #x reader #gn!reader

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cinna-wanroll · 3 months

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The Cold Around Us, the Fire Within

Hi everyone! I recently wrote this for the Cody Day fic exchange, if you would like to check it out. I’ll also put the full fic under the cut if you would prefer to read it here. @codyday2224

Here are the tags included:

Commander Cody does not flinch in the face of death. As blaster bolts glide by, as missiles fly, as the ground sparks flame, and fire begins to spread. When ribbons of red run down his forearm, his battle uniform torn, he is as steady as a wroshyr tree.

Under Cody's guiding hands, the 212th Battalion carves a path through an icy battlefield. The air is dry and biting, the grass brittle beneath his battle boots. Despite the weather, Cody is sweating from the heat radiating all around. Fires from explosives are pushing their ranks back, forcing them to flee the choking black smoke. The field of vision in his bucket narrows to the point where he takes it off and hooks it to his utility belt, in a place usually reserved for his general's lightsaber.

Someone calls from nearby, "Commander!"

Cody narrows his eyes, unable to trace the sound's direction. As he turns to seek out the voice, a detonator splits through the shadows, rolling to a stop a few feet away.

Cody runs, but not fast enough to avoid the blast radius. Weightlessness slows time down, showing him one last look of chaos.

Blaster bolts are the only interruption to the engulfing darkness, the shouts and cries of soldiers muffled. He fully expects to get up after he hits the ground. Fleetingly, he thinks that he should demand a different assault formation. But Cody isn't wearing his helmet, so when he lands on an icy block, there are no formations of which to think.

------

Consciousness is slow to return, starting in his fractured skull and spreading to his fingertips. Reality seems happy to supply him with all kinds of inconvenient awareness. For example, how much smoke he has inhaled from being out for, well, at least longer than ten minutes.

He pushes the sensation away and sits slowly, preparing to comm his general. Then he hears it– nothing. There is no roaring madness, only the dim rumble of fire.

Shit, fire.

Cody forces himself to his feet, which slip out from under him on the frozen ground. He falls on his ass hard, probably earning him a bruised tailbone along with– everything else.

The second time he gets up, he gains enough traction to stumble away from immediate danger.

After a few minutes of walking, he tries his comms, which fritzed during the explosion, it would seem.

He moves towards a mountain formation in the distance as twilight falls, adrenaline finally beginning to fade into tremors and chattering teeth. Then again, that may be the cold.

Even with his high metabolism, an unshakeable chill settles into his bones. He shudders bodily at a cave's entrance, slumping down on the stone floor. Sleep beckons him– mocks him.

Just a bit longer, it encourages, and he believes it. If you rest for just a bit longer, you can build a fire.

Before he can register what's happening, visions of the day's horrors plague him.

He is running to a brother, already dead in the shallow grass. He is lifting a droid above his head, prepared to throw it directly into the line of programmed fire. He is steadfast, and he is righteous. He is in pain. Pain that runs deeper than flesh, pain that finds him even as he sleeps.

"C-Cody," it requests of him.

He tries pushing it away, the sting it brings.

"Cody," it demands his attention now, dragging him away from blood spatter and flame. It shakes him awake suddenly.

"What," he asks, but his voice is so weak he barely recognizes it.

"Cody," it repeats in a Coruscanti accent.

His eyes fly open, and he sits up immediately, "General?"

Obi-Wan gazes down at him intently. His hands haven't moved from Cody's shoulders, and he's just– hovering above Cody, brows creased in worry. It is significantly darker now than he remembers, deep shadows creasing Kenobi's face.

"Commander, you know fleeing battle is a punishable offense."

Cody sighs, "Does it count if there was no battle to flee?"

Obi-Wan only quirks a brow at him in return, a challenge. The tease is Obi-Wan's roundabout way of asking what happened and if Cody is alright. Were he feeling generous or less– shit, he might explain. But he's not, so instead, he says, "Only you could be a greater headache than a cracked skull, sir."

Obi-Wan smiles down at him, but it falls away as he shivers violently.

After a beat, he asks, "Where did you go?"

Cody counters, "How did you find me?"

"Well, there certainly wasn't a smoke trail to follow," Kenobi grouses, indignant.

"Go on, then."

Obi-Wan says nothing in response and finally leans out of Cody's space. The freezing absence he leaves has Cody closing his eyes and curling up on the ground once more. The only sounds for a while are those of his general wandering around to gather sticks and foliage blown in from some rainstorm or another. By the time he has a fire lit, Cody has adjusted mostly to his various aches and pains.

He opens his eyes, and the small fire in front of him is nearly enough to convince him he never left the battlefield. If it weren't for the weariness in Obi-Wan's gaze, he could've been fooled. Obi-Wan's eyes are always ablaze during a fight, fire or not.

Cody wants to ask where the rest of the 212th is, what happened, and why Obi-Wan would come so far out on his own, but he has no energy. Suddenly, his throat feels impossibly dry, his body impossibly hot.

Roaring heat, licking up from the ground, charred flesh, ignited armor–

As he blinks, Cody finds Obi-Wan above him once more, a hand pressed to Cody's forehead.

Cody flinches.

"You–," Obi-Wan says, and then falters.

When Cody says nothing more, Obi-Wan continues, "You're burning up."

Burning, everything is burning–

Obi-Wan clicks his tongue before asking, "May I touch you?"

"What?"

"Your neck," he elaborates, looking down expectantly.

"I–," is all Cody can get out before coughing.

After a moment, he provides a weak nod.

Obi-Wan's fingertips are cold, and Cody's pulse jumps beneath his careful touch. As he applies faint pressure to Cody's neck, the visions of violence begin to fade, replaced only by the pleasant weight of Obi-Wan above him.

After a while, he asks, "Force?"

Obi-Wan hums, "No. I'm stimulating your vagus nerve."

Cody chuckles.

"What? Oh, stop that."

When Obi-Wan's hands creep towards the base of his skull, sharp pain shoots down Cody's spine.

"Sorry," Obi-Wan says, drawing away.

Finally, he asks, "What happened?"

Cody musters his strength, recounting the detonator blast and the ice his skull made fast friends with.

"I see," Obi-Wan muses after, staring absently at their small fire.

"I ordered a retreat at some point when I couldn't find you. I tried comming you, but it was all static. Had we stayed much longer, many more would've died from lack of oxygen."

Kenobi begins to tap the ground thoughtfully, his eyes wandering everywhere but Cody, "I remained behind to search for... you."

For your corpse, he doesn't say.

"Instead," he continues, "I found a trail of blood leading away from your helmet."

Cody wonders if he's imagining the tension in Kenobi's voice. He can picture all of the explanations Obi-Wan's mind supplied him for what happened. Cody knows the reserved worry on his face all too well.

"I'll be alright," he says, "did you let everyone know where you were going?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan says, "of course. But most soldiers were sent straight to medical, and we can't spare reinforcements right now because they're all aiding the 501st, about 10 klicks west. Anakin and his company will pick us up when daylight returns."

"A whole night without post-battle flimsiwork," Cody says, "what fortune."

A shiver wracks him, though he feels overheated. Next to him, Obi-Wan's teeth chatter faintly. Despite the fire, the atmosphere remains frigid.

"I can't let this one go," Cody whispers.

"I know what you mean."

Cody has gotten little sleep as of late. Each battle seems to roll into the next, like relentless waves in an endless ocean. He is the battered lifeboat against the winds, perilously pushed in a direction no one could know. There are other things at play, he is certain of it. Phantom currents tweaking his fate this way and that, toying with him.

Obi-Wan would tell him to trust in the Force, but Cody finds Obi-Wan far more reliable.

"Tired?"

Cody hears the question as if from a dream. He wonders how he can possibly answer without telling Obi-Wan of all the nights he lay awake, adrenaline-fueled, nightmare-stirred, or otherwise.

He settles on, "Just peachy," because of course he's tired.

He knows Obi-Wan is, too. He is, frankly, sick of being a better tactician than any droid and still having to bury his brothers. He is sick, he is tired, and he is in pain. They all are.

"I see them too, you know," Obi-Wan says, "the fallen. In all manner of horrible ways."

"How do you get them to stop?"

"You're not going to like my answer," Obi-Wan warns him.

Cody shrugs and immediately regrets it, pain lancing across that area. There are a lot of things he doesn't like, but he needs rest.

"How does one get anything to stop? Time."

"Brute force," Cody supplies, glancing up to meet Obi-Wan's eyes.

They crinkle around the edges in a handsome way that Cody lingers on too often.

"Matters of the mind prove more delicate, I've found," Obi-Wan says, sliding down to lay on his side next to where Cody is.

"What about matters of the heart," Cody asks, sly.

"Ah, deflecting I see."

"What," Cody razzes him, "you would recognize that, wouldn't you? It's one of your finest tactical abilities."

Obi-Wan scoffs, "My tactical abilities are what keeps us out of even more trouble."

"General," Cody says, suddenly serious, "are you alright? Did you sustain a head injury in combat? Perhaps you have acquired a concussion."

His general laughs good-naturedly before looking at him in a way that gives him hope. It is hope he shouldn't have.

"Where matters of the heart are concerned," Obi-Wan begins, "you need a great deal of bravery."

"What else?"

Obi-Wan shrugs, "Tact certainly doesn't hurt."

"You're so full of shit," Cody says, but he doesn't mean it. What he wants to say, he never will, at least not until things change.

"For example, telling someone they are full of shit while they’re flirting with you would not be considered romantic," Obi-Wan points out.

"Well, I wouldn't know."

After a moment, Obi-Wan considers him thoughtfully, "I am grateful you pass the time so easy, Commander."

Cody narrows his eyes, "Are you thanking me for being a distraction?"

"Albeit a pleasant one, but yes. That and more."

Cody asks, "What else am I to you, then?"

He knows Obi-Wan wanted him to ask the moment that spark goes in his cloudy blue eyes, and he presses close to Cody.

"You make a wonderful space heater, my dear."

#codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody

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agirlandherquill · 6 days

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# Interrupted

The first thing I notice upon entering is the shadows under his eyes, then the bruises colouring his arms, and finally, his knuckles, clenching the edge of the table, they were red, crusted over with blood, and darkening on the edges - those were no longer gentle hands. They were the hands of a violent man. “Was it worth it?” I have no idea what came over me, to ask such a question. It is none of my business, not really, but I ask. I ask and he slips his hands under the desk, out of my sight. Like every meeting, I set my journal on the table, I sit, and I look him in the eye. Only this time, we are not alone. A guard stands to my right. Even from here I can smell the thirst for violence on his breath. The quiet crackling of his knuckles unnerves me, but not more so than the occasional thud of the handcuffs hanging from his belt hitting the wall behind him every time he shifts his weight. The sound annoys me. How am I meant to learn Ezryn’s story when this brute is here with us? I shift in my seat and look at the guard. “Is this necessary?” “He sent five men to the infirmary. One of us has a concussion, the other can barely see.” “And the three others?” “Broken fingers, mangled jaws, and torn ligaments, I should think. Nothing less than what they deserved.” Ezyrn chimes in. His tone seems to rile up the guard. He knows what he’s doing, I just can’t understand why. His demeanour has shifted, this was not the same man I met mere days ago. The guard steps forward and I rise from my seat, stepping in his path. I dread to think of how this looks on the cameras - a young woman standing up to a man of his stature, it must be comical - but I fold my arms and prop my hip on the table, blocking his access to Ezryn. “If you harm my patient, nothing can be done. You want justice, don’t you?” “Five men. The Infirmary.” The guard ground out, his fingers rested on the baton on his hip. “Then you’d rather six, is that it? Because this man is under my care, under the care of this government, your jurisdiction. You are aware of that, aren’t you?” I’m being ridiculous. The state wouldn’t bat an eyelid if Ezryn was beaten beyond misery. All they require is a confession. They can obtain answers from a barely functioning body, just not a dead one. The guard stares me down, his nostrils flare. “You calling me an idiot?” I have to glance behind me at Ezryn and will him with my eyes to keep his mouth shut. Laughter would only provoke the situation. Or, diverting my attention from a very pissed off guard. I barely have time to catch my breath as my body hits the wall, shoved roughly aside by a vengeful man, baton already in hand. My bones rattle, pain bristles down my back as I try to recover quickly, I try to breathe. I need control over myself before I can seize control of the situation. I realise too suddenly that Ezryn has slipped his shackles. This will not be good. {Camera: The brown haired man springs from the table, ducking beneath the swing of the baton. He catches the guard by his arm and flings him against the table, it rattles. (The angle switches, only for a moment, catching a glimpse of the winded doctor leaning against the wall) He pins the guard down, looks at the doctor’s direction, then at the cameras. His eyes narrow and he snatches the baton, bringing it down on the guard’s head. The man slumps against it. He steps up to the doctor and helps her stand, using the baton, remaining a suitable distance apart at all times - following standard guidelines. Once she straightens out her coat he casts the baton aside, raises his palms toward the ceiling and steps away, pressing his back against the opposite wall. The door buzzes. It opens. More guards rush in. The room explodes into chaos.}

~ Between The Lies

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #fiction #novel #writer #spilled ink #spilled words #spilled writing #spilled thoughts

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3terna15unshin3 · 8 months

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HERES A SNIPPET OF SOMETHING IM WORKING ON☝️(even tho nobody asked) it’s gonna be a childhood best friends to lovers / right person wrong time / normal people (ish) & invisible string inspired matty fic. reader is a photographer and it takes place before and through self titled era!

plsssss let me know what u think of the idea, give me all the good and bad i want to know!!!! i’m so iffy about everything i’ve written so far after how many people liked my first fic LMFAO which sounds stupid but i’m Fr scared of sophomore slump💔

and as always my ask box is always open for suggestions or ideas or requests 🥰🥰🥰 anyway here u go!

—

“This area’s too dry. Grass looks like hay. It’ll look rubbish to set all the mic stands on it,” You argue.

Matty sighs in defeat. “You never like my ideas,” he whines sarcastically, rolling his eyes in the process.

Your elbow juts into his side, making him groan and then laugh. It’s your turn for an eye roll.

“Do you want my help or not?” You challenge, “I don’t have much experience with music videos, to be fair, so if you’d rather empty your pockets and hire someone professional—“

“Okay, okay, okay. Shut up. Let’s keep moving.” He interrupts.

You both continue on your path, scoping out locations for a video that the boys want to film later in the week. There are plenty of spots Matty suggests, stopping repeatedly to ask you to capture a certain frame. Although, as he had complained, none of them have been up to your standards.

By now, you’re used to his constantly fleeting and sometimes messy creativity. You find comfort in it, actually, and feel the most empowered in your own strength as an artist when Matty’s there. Your camera seems the strongest in your hands when it’s pointed at him.

He nudges you to point out one last possible shot. The trees hang hauntingly low and its branches are frail, almost skimming the tops of your heads. Your feet tread over the now slightly greener grass as you come closer and look around in awe. Matty’s right, for one of the few times today.

“Now we’re talking,” you whisper in satisfaction, raising your Nikon to your eye out of instinct.

You back away slightly to get him in frame. From behind, the last hour of daylight shines through the kinks of Matty’s hair, backlighting him. It accentuates the slope of his nose as he turns to the side and looks up at the tree above him. His side profile is one of your favourite things about photographing Matty. It’s strong, but gentle.

He glances back at you after hearing a few clicks of the camera’s shutter. The sun that lights his silhouette, contrastingly shines directly onto your face—since you face him—painting an orange glow across your skin.

There’s something that makes you feel like he’s staring. And you’re right, because he is, but it’s a stare that felt good. Not exposing, or perceptive in a way that usually made your heart drop. You almost want to look behind you to see if maybe he was looking at something else.

It’s sort of how he always looks at you, though. Maybe that’s how he looks at everyone, you think, but part of you hopes it wasn’t. That you were an exception. Something outstanding.

You gasp when Matty suddenly lunges to steal your camera from your grip.

“Gimme this for a sec,” he mumbles. He’s lucky it isn’t hung round your neck as it usually was.

Embarrassment immediately creeps up your neck as he points it at you. You habitually block his view of your face with your hands, and insist, “Stop it!”

“The lighting’s nice!” Matty protests, pushing your hands away.

You replace them quickly to prevent any photo opportunities. “I don’t have the space on my memory card for you to fool around, Healy.”

He rolls his eyes, turning the lens back onto himself to take a horrendously close-up picture of his own face. You giggle at the way his wrinkled skin was on display from the weird expression he pulled and the odd angle he held your camera.

“This is literally our last location. Relax.” Matty points out.

He’s aware of your fear of being in photographs instead of taking them, so it’s not your first time in this situation and he lets down after pulling your leg a bit. It’s the way you’ve been since he can remember; always groaning and uncomfortable to be in a group photo at school or denying his requests to pose for his camera every once in a while. He grows frustrated with you sometimes, since it’s hard for him to grasp what you could possibly be insecure about. The idea that most of your memories held in the thousands of pictures that span over the years you’d grown up together—showed everyone else’s faces and not yours—made him even angrier. But that’s how you wanted them, after all.

This attribute of yours is one of the things most different between you and Matty. He loves having eyes on him—craved it, even. Wants to be seen and understood.

But you’re an observer, on the other hand. The world is fascinating to you, lighting your urge to preserve and savour its meticulosity. It explains your addiction to capturing it all on your Nikon.

The difference makes you two a great team. Though you regret your commitments in moments like these.

“I’m actually glad it is. Getting sick of you by the minute,” You snicker, stealing your camera back and giving Matty a shove. He stumbles over with a chuckle and the two of you bee-line for where his car was parked.

#and by snippet i mean this is literally the opening scene of the first chapter💀#matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #fanfiction

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manorpunk · 9 months

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(Rough Draft)

The fist of Marcus Aurelius Bezos collided with the extravagantly large wall-mounted display screen before him. The screen cracked and crumpled, denting inwards from the blow. The room dimmed as the live coverage of the 206X election was suddenly replaced with darkness.

“Disgusting.”

He slowly pulled his hand back, still clenched into a white-knuckled fist, trembling with tension.

“Absolutely disgusting. America is in the thrall of jumped-up manor-lords and checked-out VRheads, and who do they choose to pull them up from this muck? Who, at this turning point of history, do the people elect as their president?”

He looked down at his fist. Shards of glass were embedded in his knuckles, and rivulets of blood were trickling down his arm.

“A vtuber. A goddamned anime girl vtuber.”

He reached for his tabule with his other hand, trying to keep the blood from dripping on anything expensive, which, in a muskling’s house, was most things.

“Steward,” he spoke into his tabule, “Send a MediBot to the viewing room.”

“Dispatching: MediBot, to: viewing room,” the tabule replied in a crisp, soothing voice.

Marcus sat down and slumped back in his chair. He closed his eyes and the tension began to ease from his body, slowly and begrudgingly.

“Fine,” he said to himself through unclenching teeth, “I have lost the battle, but not the war. That girl is in over her head. It’s only a matter of time until she’s forced out in disgrace. And when that happens, I will be there, and I will be ready.”

He barely stirred as he heard the whine of the MediBot’s electric motors. The MediBot - a device which looked sort of like a tool cart with robot arms - gingerly took his injured hand, spritzed it with antibiotics, and bandaged it.

Marcus lifted his head and raised his hand to inspect the MediBot’s work - perfect, as usual. His eyes wandered back to the massive broken screen on the wall in front of him.

“Mark my words, Sunny Roosevelt. You will fall, and you—“

“Incoming call from: Sunny Roosevelt,” his tabule interrupted him.

He sighed, picked it up, and pressed ‘reject call.’

“Call rejected. Incoming call from: Sunny Roosevelt.”

He pressed ‘block caller.’

“Caller blocked. Incoming - gzhhkk… manual override. Connecting to: Sunny Roosevelt.”

There she was, in all her digital glory, smile beaming, eyes wide, being seen whether one wanted to see her or not.

“Hey Marcus! Whew, that was quite the race. No hard feelings, ĉu ne?” Her voice was light and unrepentantly charming.

“This isn’t over, Sunny.”

“It is, sorry. The official votes from Piedmont and Texaplex were just announced. You’re watching the coverage too, right?”

Marcus glanced at the broken screen again.

“Yes, this race is over. But the battle for America’s soul shall rage for decades to come.”

“Neat. Well, I’m graciously waiting for you to give your concession speech before I start celebrating, so, y’know. Hurry it up.”

Marcus spluttered for a moment before responding. “What makes you think you can order me around?”

“I’m not. I just know you’re big on ceremony and propriety and all that, and it’s traditional to let you give your concession speech first.”

Marcus breathed heavily through his nose as if trying to shoot fire from his nostrils. “You called me just to rub your victory in my face, didn’t you?”

She giggled. “Maybe just a little.”

+++++

📓 Faction: Musklings

The billionaire class of Imperial America is long gone, but the final testament to their hubris lives on: their mass-reproduced children, ignominiously dubbed ‘musklings.’ Born en masse on surrogate farms, used as test subjects for poorly-understood genetic modifications, and sometimes even subjected to bizarre and unethical ‘training regiments’ in the hopes of breeding the next generation of rulers.

That was all long ago, before the Polycrisis. After the Qingdao Accords, musklings were given ample stipends in perpetuity in exchange for losing control of their various shares and dividends - the buying-off of claimants to the throne, essentially. Today (i.e. 206X), the typical muskling is a quixotic nuisance, chasing pipe dreams, buying friendships, and doing anything other than getting therapy for their obvious neuroses and parental trauma.

But not all musklings are typical.

#manorpunk #unreality #sunny roosevelt #marcus aurelius bezos

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hrefna-the-raven · 1 year

Text

Lawmen

Words: 1149

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6 - Train and gain

You remembered fondly the physical trainings at the academy, you always liked pushing your body to its limits and being able to defend yourself or master every obstacle that they put in your way, it always gave you a weird feeling of security and strength. The very beginning was hard though, as the typical lazy nerd, you've never done too much to remain fit before joining the academy, so it was no surprise that the first session threw you for a loop. But your bouncebackability was a fundamental constant throughout your life, so despite the pain and frazzle, you trained day and night until you became the class topper.

Opening your eyes, breathing deeply a few times, you started hitting the punch bag at full tilt. You tried to use a few of the tricks shown to you at the academy, hitting harder with every punch until it felt like the bag would give up before you could. It was a shame you were not able to use your combat skills during your daily work, as an agent, you sometimes needed to stand your ground against some specifically violent suspects, but those occurred on a rather rare base, most of the time it would suffice to use your brain to solve a case and deal with the boring reports afterwards. Your movements stopped abruptly as soon you heard someone chuckling. You turned around to spot who was watching you, pondering if this person observed you the whole time.

“This is the cadet I told you about, training to her breaking point until she was finally able to officially kick mine and another cadet's ass”, the person pointed a finger at you, citing your name, “although she is no cadet anymore, but it seems she’s still got it.”

He winked at you before looking at the man standing next to him who simpered. It took you a moment to make a connection to the face of the man talking but, except for when you were dead drunk your brain never let you down, it came back to your memory within a few seconds.

“Well if this isn’t Vaz, my old trainer”, you laughed at him, “although it seems, by now, you’re just old.”

“Ouch!”, he theatrically clutched his hands on his chest, “Never change a winning team, I see, still as loud and mouthy as ever.”

The two men walked towards you and Vaz shook your hand. He tapped on the shoulder of the other man next to him. He was slightly taller than him and seemed a tad older, but not much. He was a quite intimidating figure, standing there with his ripped arms crossed over his chest, short dark brown styled back with a little gel and his green eyes piercing right through you. Most people would probably have felt uncomfortable gazed down like this but you weren’t most people, you suddenly felt slightly excited, curious to know more about this stranger.

“This is-“

“David”, the other man interrupted Vaz, “we work in the same unit.”

“You’re on the SWAT team if I remember correctly?”, you asked.

Vaz smirked and nodded.

“Haven’t kicked me out yet, so I can still kick into places”, he gave you a wink, “and what are you up to? Still agent? You’re far away from the Bureau’s office.”

“Day off and yes, still agent, that’s why I need to use my free time to train a bit. Most of my suspect would have earned the right to be battered into the interrogation room but I’m hardly allowed to actually do it.”

You turned back to the punch bag to kick it when you felt Vaz’ hand blocking your foot. You shot him a quick grin before you let your body slump to the ground, liberating from his grip as you pulled his leg causing him to topple. The man named David moved a few steps to the side, amusingly observing the friendly fight that was about to go down. This woman kindled his curiosity, his colleague wouldn’t stop recounting about the weekend training sessions, it was hard to truly make one's presence felt with Vaz, he served in the army, fought the war in the desert, before joining his SWAT unit, so she must have been quite a commanding presence. Beautiful, tough and clever, David was intrigued, studying your every movement and reaction. The little fight went on for a few minutes, Vaz scroed a few lucky ones, but he was not dominating. Panting heavily, he took a final swing at her, aiming at her head which she effortlessly avoided by swiftly ducking and counter-attacked with a hard punch in his stomach.

“I surrender”, Vaz threw his hands in the air, faintly smiling and covered in a thin layer of sweat.

David laughed lustily, “don’t kill the old man, we still need him.”

You respectfully bowed to Vaz, “we should do this more often, I need to practice more, this was far from being an easy win.”

“Don’t be humble, it doesn’t suit you”, his hoarse voice rang out as he softly padded your shoulder.

You towelled your face down and cast a quick glance on your phone. Reed finally answered your previous messages with a quick “meet me outside”, he has never been well-spoken if the conversation was not meant to be a slanging match.

“I need to go but I will call you to see when we can test our skills again”, you mockingly paused a second, “coach.”

“I never gave you my contact details”, Vaz responded quizzically.

“Best agent in the Bureau”, you tapped your pointer on your temple, “I’ll find you if I want to.”

You left the room, smiling at the fact that, even without constant practice, you managed, although with great effort, to whoop SWAT member’s ass, which was definitely elating you.

Gavin sat on the stairs in front of the precinct, eyes closed while enjoying the sun and puffing away on his cigarette. He blinked as he felt a shadow covering his face.

“Her bitchiness has finally decided to grace me with her presence”, he mocked while swiftly positioning his hands in front of him, expecting being hit as a response.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “come on, Lord Douche, I’m starving.”

Walking beside Gavin suffused you with a weird kind of happiness, which, and you were absolutely positive about this, you’d never ever tell him, not even after the kiss and confession session. He can feel blessed that he’s not being hit or shouted at, your mind declared, the love this idiot gets is not to be taken for granted. A broad smile spread across your lips. He definitely is an idiot but he might become my idiot.

“What?”, Gavin queried.

You shook your head and grabbed his hand.

Chapter 7

#detroit become human #gavin reed #gavin reed x reader #detective reed #gavin reed x female reader #gavin reed dbh #gavin reed x you #dbh #perkins dbh #richard perkins detroit become human #richard perkins #richard john perkins #richard perkins x reader #captain allen detroit become human #captain allen x reader #captain allen dbh #captain allen x you

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bondew · 3 months

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I got bored- I love my freckled, fluffy red head! (Oh Cade, u and ur neatly brushed hair are loved too)

Two Bathroom Stalls.

Cadence Lane.

The piercing sound of my alarm rings in my ear the next morning. It’s around 6am and I’ve only slept for 4 hours. I stumble to the mirror and I flip it back to face me. As the sun peeks from under the curtains I brush my hair so it doesn’t reflect my mind. My room is completely clean, well excluding my desk drawers. I shove on a tight black turtle neck and white dress pants. I don’t change my black stud earrings, I don’t really have any other pairs anyway. I swing my bag onto one shoulder and slide on my loafers as I step out.

Tossing a mint into my mouth a sudden hoard of people pile into the hallway. They sound like squawking vultures as they push past me. I run my hand through my hair and make my way downstairs. My first class is at 8, I was meant to finish my project last night but because of the situation I have to do it this morning. I skip breakfast and end up in the library. Without saying a word I sit down and open up my laptop. Skimming through the essay I quickly edit it, I’m confident that I won’t miss any mistakes. There is hardly ever any, I am the top of the class for a reason.

I put my earbuds in and open up my notebook. My peace doesn’t last long, the stampede of boys stride into library. I notice one of them sneak away from the group as they wander around and talk to girls. He heads to the non-fiction section and grabs a thick, hard covered book about bugs. My computer is still open so when he decides to ignore all the other free tables and sit in front of me he is partly blocked out. I can see his freckled forehead and fluffy orange hair over the top of my screen but this decreases as he slumps down and starts to read. Shaking my head back to reality I tap on my page with a pen and start to write. My playlist is open on my screen and every time a song changes I glance up.

I’ve basically fallen asleep but when a book slams closed I suddenly jolt up.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you! U-uh I have to get to class!” The orange-haired boy says as he runs out of the room. Glancing at my watch I gather my stuff and sprint out just behind him. I arrive in the lecture room just before the clock hits 8, I’m panting and all eyes are on me. Fixing my hair I stand up straight and rush to a seat before anyone says anything.

Dazz Shawn.

It was probably a mistake choosing to study literature and theatre. I basically have no free time. I’m only a couple minutes late and luckily the director doesn’t seem to care. Dropping a heavy book about bugs and my tote bag on the floor I head backstage where I’m warmly welcomed.

We do a lot of theory in theatre obviously, I mean it is still a university class but today we have prac, the best part. For some weird reason the teacher randomly decided this year was the year we were going to do a performance! I mean I’m not unhappy, I love plays! But it was kinda out of the blue. I landed the male lead somehow so.. um yeah. I can’t really afford to be late to class anymore. The stage has been prepped with half-painted sets and random boxes since somebody lost the proper ones.

I washed my hair this morning so it’s all kinda fluffy and sticking out weirdly, nobody has really noticed. Not like I expect them to anyway! Like it’s just washing my hair.. haha. Um.. thankfully all my friends are studying things like, physics, sports science and mathematics so I don’t have to embarrass myself in-front of them when I’m horribly acting.

“Oh, by the way Dazz! You obviously know that we are doing Romeo and Juliet but just confirming you’re all good for the kiss?” My teacher interrupts my train of thought while I’m sitting on the edge of the stage. My legs instantly stop swinging and I go bright red.

“Yeahhh.. wait who’s Juliet again..” I struggle out.

“Right!” He flips his clipboard, “Hmm.. oh right of course! It’s Olivia Irwin!” He looks at me and smiles innocently.

“Yep! Ok all good!” I say quickly. Like obviously I knew I was going to have to kiss someone like it’s Romeo and Juliet for gods sake! But Olivia?! She’s like the prettiest, most talented person ever! Well atleast in this school!

Now don’t get the wrong idea I definitely don’t have a crush on her! Like I don’t really have a type but I just can’t date or crush on someone who has seen me trip into like three paint buckets!

#lgbtq #mental health #lgbtq community #young writer #writing #begging u to read my writing

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darth-does-stuff · 1 year

Text

Better Things Yet To Come

(but darling, misfortune always has to arrive first)

Four superheroes in the city of Cyrin, a gilded and fantastical city full of exalted and wondrous powers, according to any outsider you asked. To the locals, it’s a city with destruction around every corner, villains rearing their heads in an attempt at building a reputation, and fighting daily. And if you asked the heroes…they’d say that it’s a city that has been their home for years on end and, deep inside them, they feel a need to protect it. But if you were to take a closer look at them, you’d see the heavy burden on their shoulders, for, ultimately, Cyrin is not a city without its prices.

[First] [Previous] [Next] [AO3]

Chapter Two: Tick

⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼

Logan leaned onto the counter in the bookstore, idly reading a book and flipping the pages when needed, the silence of the empty store almost comforting, only broken up by the clock’s steady tick, tick, tick—

The bell rang as the door swung open, revealing a man who stood a little awkwardly in the doorway, looking around the store. He noticed Logan at the counter and his posture slumped slightly, walking over there.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt you. I’m Trent and I was just looking for some fantasy books to read or maybe any kind of comics? I’m not really sure, some friends just said I would like that kind of stuff,” he let out an awkward laugh, his golden eyes crinkling at the corners.

“It’s not a problem at all, over on the far left, you should be able to find the fantasy genre organized by author’s last name, and by the stand near the front of the store houses the comics and manga,” Logan replied simply, his book resting on an open page as his blue eyes dart back to it for only a second.

“Great, great, thank you,” Trent ran a hand through his sandy brown hair before giving one last small smile to Logan, walking over to where the fantasy books were.

A few minutes later, he handed Trent his bag of newly acquired books and comics, going back to reading his book soon after. However, upon not hearing the jingling of the bell over the door, he looked up with a raised eyebrow, finding Trent looking at him strangely.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked, confused.

“Oh! Sorry, yes, yes, I’m alright. Just—lost in thought. Bye.”

Trent walked out, rounding the corner of the block sharply.

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed together, but he went back to reading his book, the minutes passing by quickly as nobody else entered on one of the slower nights of the bookstore.

After another hour or so, Logan looked up at the clock.

8:30 pm

He let out a sigh, shutting his book and tucking it into his bag before slinging the bag over his shoulder. He walked out of the bookstore after turning out all the lights and locked up the front door of The Writer’s Block.

Logan’s hand routinely tightened and loosened around his bag’s strap as he walked back to his apartment on autopilot, planning out his route for patrol already. He let out a quiet sigh, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

The metal stairs clanged softly with each step Logan took, his apartment near the top of the building. The many flights of stairs blurred into one as Logan lost track of time, before he was suddenly standing in front of his door and he blinked rapidly, the grey of the building filling his vision. He fumbled with his keys, cursing under his breath, before he picked out the right one and unlocked it. He blindly reached out to flip on the lights and kicked off his shoes.

Logan almost flopped onto the couch, before he abruptly remembered the last time he did so with a heavy bag on his back and slung it off, sitting down with a heavy sigh.

The apartment was almost completely silent besides the tapping of his foot on the floor, causing it to creak slightly. He let himself rest for only a few minutes, sitting up rapidly as he almost dozed off.

“Alright, let’s get to work,” Logan said quietly, running a hand through his brown hair.

Logan stood atop a building, adjusting his full face mask as wind blew around him, hair not exposed to the elements. Gloved hands tapped against his sides as he took a deep breath before one hand motion had water gathering at his fingertips.

He flung his arm out and the flow of water created a path to the next building and, clenching his fist, solidified it into ice and he jumped onto it, sliding to the next rooftop.

He idly listened to his police scanner playing as he patrolled around the city, the water left behind him eventually sliding back into droplets in the air, their natural form unless meddled with.

— 10-71, Newcliff Insurance building, Plentill Street.

Logan slid to a stop on top of a building after hearing the police scanner. That meant—

Fire.

“Oh, shit,” Logan cursed quietly under his breath, quickly turning the other way to go to downtown Cyrin.

He cut through alleys, fire escapes, and leaped small spaces as he ran to get there, using ice as a path to speed things up. His arms pumped at his sides as he sprinted, but he wasn’t even breathing that hard at the pace, more than used to it.

As Logan got there, sirens wailed in the distance and he could hear the shrill cry of the fire alarms even on top of another building, as if the alarm was crying out for those inside who couldn’t. He dived off the side of the building, creating a makeshift ice slide as he rapidly approached the ground and arrived at the front of the flaming building.

Without a second thought or any hesitation, (for what reason would there be to hesitate when you already have nothing to lose?) Logan sprinted into the building, ignoring the surprised yells of firefighters just arriving.

He scooped up any person he saw, carefully dousing any flames on their body but being careful not to overextend himself as there was barely any water in the air for him to draw upon.

His mask helped to prevent a lot of smoke inhalation, but upon seeing a person completely passed out on the third floor, he took one last deep breath before yanking off his mask and leaving only a domino mask underneath. Logan pulled the mask over their head and slung them over his shoulder, covering his own mouth with one arm.

He ran out the building, his hair and any exposed skin practically turned grey with soot, dust, and ash. He handed them off to a firefighter, gently pulling the mask off their head before slipping it back on, sprinting back into the building without another word.

Finally, after sweeping the building and spotting no other bodies, he exited the building wearily, the adrenaline having faded at last. He walked over to the firefighters putting out the last of the fires and helped things along.

His body yelled at him to collapse, but he kept his head held high and his posture strong, belaying no tiredness in his stance. He wiped some dust off his suit, futile really as the entire thing was covered in it, and looked at the firefighter next to him.

“Thank you,” Logan said simply before he turned and walked away. He gathered a wall of water around him and let it wash over his suit, clearing it of any particles left, and then dried it by flinging all of the water droplets back into the air.

He was resting against the side of a building in an alleyway, catching his breath, when he heard the police scanner go off again.

10-31, Crown Bank, Glendal Street.

He let out a groan, running a hand down his face (mask), as he rolled his shoulders and stood up straight.

“One more, while the night is young, I suppose,” Logan said, pointedly ignoring the fact that it had been hours since he first got off his shift.

He cracked his neck and allowed himself the luxury of groaning one more time before he took off running again with weariness clawing at his bones and a deep ache settling in him, letting the wind blow upon him to wash it all away.

He burst into Crown Bank and ran over to the vault, seeing the door already busted open, but hearing sounds of fighting inside.

Logan looked in and saw a purple and black-clad figure dodging the punch of one robber and breaking the nose of another.

“Ah, Tempest,” he said flatly, his voice modulator making it even more monotonous.

“Riptide, great to see you,” they snarked right back, twisting a robber’s arm and letting a burst of lightning shock them. “I got this covered, y’know.”

“Yes, yes, of course, I’m sure, but at the same time…I doubt that,” Logan replied, kicking the legs out of a robber trying to sneak up on Tempest and causing a tendril of water to grab and toss their gun to the side.

“Oh, haha, very funny. No need to interfere, I can handle a small robbery.”

“You would know quite a lot about interfering, yes?”

Tempest punched a robber square in their jaw, sending them flying back into a wall.

“That’s what I thought,” Logan remarked quietly, letting two arms of water grab a robber in a chokehold.

Silence emanated throughout the vault, the robbers having all been subdued.

“Guess you’re the one doing the interfering now,” Tempest finally said, reaching an arm out. Wispy shadow curled around a gun and snapped it in half with a loud noise.

“Except I know when to stop.”

“Then stop talking to me, and leave,” Tempest snapped. “Besides, you look…tired. Go, fucking, I don’t know, rest or something. Bad idea to fight people on low sleep, dumbass.”

“I am just fine, thank you. I do not need someone else to tell me what to do.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, can you just get out of here, robbers are all taken care of, police will be here soon, I’d like to leave, so we’re goddamn done here.”

Logan looked at Tempest, whose shoulders were tense and his hands kept clenching and unclenching. Logan set his jaw and nodded once, before turning around sharply. He left through the back door, walking far enough away from the fellow exalted that he could let his shoulders slump. He felt slightly bad for the acidic words exchanged back there, but he shook his head and cleared his mind, taking a deep breath.

Regret is for those with no vision.

Logan stumbled as he walked, eyes wide behind the mask. No, forget that, that is something to not think about.

Ever.

Snapping back to awareness, he suddenly realized how tense his shoulders had become and the water that had started to swirl around his feet. He took another deep breath, letting the tension drain out of him and the water to seep back into the air.

Perhaps he should rest.

That’s what Logan told himself as he punched a mugger, handing a purse back to a young woman.

Perhaps he should rest.

That’s what Logan let himself believe he would do as he shoved a knife away from his face by someone who thought it wise to jump him.

Perhaps he should rest.

That’s exactly what Logan did not do as he patrolled the city for yet another night in the city of Cyrin.

a/n: i posted this chapter like two weeks ago on ao3 and forgot to post it on tumblr im SORRY

taglist (ask to be added!): @star-crossed-shipper, @flowercrownsandtrauma, @lesbian-pattonsanders

#ts #superhero au #logan sanders #ts logan #sanders sides #ts virgil #virgil sanders #logan. you dumbass #analogical #just a little bit. a tiny crumb

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kissingchoso · 3 years

Text

𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍’ | 𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐘𝐎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: MSBY!Hinata x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 18+ content (obviously), licking over panties, pussy drunk Sho, cunnulings, exhibitionist Sho

𝐀/𝐍: What the name entails, lmao. Also, please bully me into fixing my master list, this is getting out of HAND

“S-Sho? What’re you doing?” What a silly question to ask. What else could your boyfriend be hinting at when he pulls you into the abandoned locker room? Did you think he just wanted to come here for an innocent chat?

He didn’t offer any solace to his thought process. Instead, he gently nudged you on one of the benches sans anyone else’s duffel bags or other personal belongings. It looked as though there was not a single thought crossing his mind other than to use you as his personal enjoyment.

Sinking to his knees, he uses his hands to move your thighs open for him. You should have known better than to wear a skirt today, really. As much as your boyfriend admires your form and aesthetic in them, sometimes he views it as easy and unlimited access to one of his favorite things: pleasuring you.

“Couldn’t we wait until we get to the car? Someone could walk i-“ you’re interrupted by a sharp gasp. Your boyfriend thought it was the best time to plant a kiss over your clit. The layer of fabric was enough to block out the full effect of his kiss, but it still had your legs suddenly jerking next to his broad shoulders.

Pleased with your reaction, he does it again, carelessly flicking his tongue against the surface of your panties. He maneuvers your thighs to come to rest on his strong shoulders, angling your hips more towards him.

Deft fingers push your underwear off to the side, opting to get a taste of the real thing. You’re warm, he thinks. Faced caged in by the shape of your thighs, buried into your sensitive cunt, he believes this is where he belongs. To die happy flicking his tongue against your clit in a back and forth motion until neither of you could breathe.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was doing such a good job. You covered your mouth to the best of your abilities, trying to muffle out your hushed moans.

“F-Fuck, I can’t, Sho. I can’t, I can’t!” you tried to warn him. Tried to let him know that you were near your orgasm much too quick for your liking. Maybe it was the location, tucked into the corner of the MSBY locker room while his friends could walk in at any moment. Or it could be the fact your boyfriend approached you with too much pent up energy.

He heard you, of course. You uncovered your mouth in favor of locking your fingers against his curls as if he would leave you in this state. He wouldn’t of course, too enamored by the taste of your juices coating his tongue.

His tongue presses flat against your clit, using his hands to manually rock your hips back and forth. With a renewed purpose, you ground your hips further into his face, moaning a bit louder than intended. Hinata holds himself still for you, allowing you full control of your own orgasm.

It hits you like a fucking truck, actions becoming instinctual. He grounds you as much as possible but it’s hard to fight against you wrapping your legs against his head, the backs of your feet pulling him closer to you. It leaves you gasping, pulling him unbelievably closer until your body gives out on you.

You slump forward, hands resting on either side of his head to try to get him to stop. “That was really good, baby,” you pant slowly, nudging his head up away from your cunt.

“I really needed that, thank you princess,” he hums dreamily. Once bright eyes dilated into heart shaped pupils, a lazy smile adorning his face. As if there is not a single thought in that little head of his. Mind stuck on replaying that sweet moment forever. His body reacts before either of you can register it. Tongue lazily licking along your slick once more.

“Wait, Sho hold on-!!”

You’re interrupted when you hear the the sounds of the double doors flying open. Familiar voices fill the silence, Bokuto and Atsumu clamoring about something random while you can make out Meian’s voice having a private conversation with Kiyoomi. Hinata remains unbothered. Rather than ripping himself off of you as anyone normal in this situation should, he takes his time.

Picking up a few more drops of your essence on his tongue, he sits back on his haunches just in time for Atsumu to round the corner. You lock eyes with him, unfortunately. What you fail to realize is how his eyes go from shock to impressed, as if he had expected something like this to happen. Hinata stands to block you from his friend’s sight.

“Who the fuck woulda thought?” Atsumu chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. Even though you’re limited to the back of Hinata’s jersy number, you imagine the smug look on his face when he lifts his hand to his face, presumably wiping your juices off of his face. “No show?”

“Maybe another time, should she agree to it,” Hinata moves out of the way for the time being. In his time in front of you, you had managed to fix yourself up as much as possible, straightening out your underwear and skirt. The least you can do is look good in your walk of shame out of here.

Both men’s eyes land on you but you’re too focused on your boyfriend’s hand coming to rest in your shoulder. A shiver runs through your spine, acutely aware of the hushed conversations on the other side. It felt as though everyone was listening in on this.

“What do you say, princess? Want to give the boys a bit of a show?”

#cw// pussy eating #🖤. hinata #🖤. smut #🖤. hinata smut #hinata x reader #hinata shoyo imagine #hinata shouyou x reader #msby hinata #hinata smut #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyu hinata #i won’t this so bad

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h0neypjm · 3 years

Text

Just for practice | kth

↳ Summary: “I think we should normalise giving head to your friends as practice.”

↳ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader, slight Hoseok x reader

↳ Genre: Smut, pwp, some plot i guess, best friend! Taehyung

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Word count: 5.3k

↳ Warnings: swearing, lip biting, hickies, oral (both female and male receiving), rough blowjobs, spanking, fingering, squirting, big dick! Tae, possessiveness/jealousy, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap pls), dom/sub themes, Taehyung calls reader lots of pet names (sweetheart, darling, good girl), degradation, biting, slight cockwarming

↳ a/n: I’ve been having major writer’s block while writing confident :( however, i saw this tweet which prompted this lil oneshot hope you enjoy

Jung Hoseok [ 2:15 PM ]

Am I gonna see you at Seokjin’s tomorrow?

You [ 2:16 PM ]

I’ll be there :)

Jung Hoseok [ 2:18 PM ]

You’re not gonna run away from me this time, right?

You [ 2:20 PM ]

No of course not haha

Jung Hoseok [ 2:21 PM ]

Is that a promise princess?

A sigh flies out of your mouth like wind through a window and you’re shucking off your glasses in an instant. Hoseok’s texts bringing back a flurry of memories that you wish to forget.

“Do you need help with your essay again?”

Your eyes are strained when they try to focus on Taehyung, your shoulders shrug in defeat. “No, I’m fine. It’s just-”

Taehyung knows immediately, he is your best friend after all. “Let me guess, It’s Hoseok isn’t it?”

You slump in your seat while a pout is cutely drawn onto your face, you nod with dismay. “I really like him Tae, and every time we see each other, It’s like the universe has it out for me and tries to make sure I embarrass myself in front of him.”

Taehyung shuts his laptop because he knows there's no use in trying to write an essay while you speak about your utterly tragic love life. He thinks about your situation for a minute before he speaks.

“Yes, you might’ve spilled your beer on him and accidentally punched him in the eye, more than once. But, if he’s still texting you he’s obviously still into you. It’s a good sign sweetheart.” Taehyung pats your hand across the coffee table, a comforting smile adorning his handsome face.

Taehyung doesn’t know the full extent of your problem and the more you think about it the more embarrassing it becomes. So you smile back at him uttering a small thank you before turning back to your laptop.

Taehyung raises a brow, “wait, wait, hang on, something is still bothering you.”

You frown, “it’s embarrassing.”

Taehyung shuffles around the corner of the coffee table as if you’re about to tell him a secret, though it’s just the two of you in his small apartment. “Just tell me, it can’t be that bad.”

“Taehyung it is that bad.” You tilt your head at him, pulling up the sleeves of your sweater around your tiny fists. “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

Taehyung feigns shock at your words, his hands placed on his heart for dramatic effect. “I would never laugh, and frankly I’m offended you think that low of me.”

You roll your eyes, turning your body more towards him, deciding it wouldn't hurt letting Taehyung know the thoughts plaguing your mind. “Well, you know how Hoseok and I have been kind of flirty lately, right?” He nods in understanding.

“I can tell he wants more than that, you know? His touches are small but I know exactly what he’s suggesting, and don’t get me wrong, the feeling is completely mutual because trust me I want that too. Really bad.”

Taehyung hums, interrupting your soon-to-be graphic rambling. “I totally get it Y/N. Now let’s stop beating around the bush so I can help you.”

If Taehyung were a girl, this would be so much easier. You curse your eight-year-old self who just had to become friends with a boy because God, how do you even start?

Taehyung is a patient man, always giving you space before helping you but, in this situation, you feel it’s best to just rip the band-aid off. Taehyung if you can read my mind, please don’t laugh at me.

“I’venevergivensomeoneablowjob.”

You speak so suddenly, Taehyung’s not so sure he heard you correctly. “Huh?”

“Goddammit Tae”, you rub and your temples and avoid his stare. “I’ve never given someone a blowjob!”

His eyes are wide. “Oh”

You hide your face into the table while your body internally cringes. At least he didn’t laugh. “See! You do think it’s bad.”

“I’m just surprised to be honest”, he reassures, leaning back onto his palms, strong brows pulled together in thought. “Shit Y/N, have you really never sucked a dick before?”

Sure, you’ve had sex many times (most of which have been extremely disappointing) but, it seems that most of your hookups want to get straight into fucking. No foreplay, no nothing. Just unseasoned, pleasureless fucking.

A groan rumbles out of your throat, “It just never happened! They were all about that hump and dump lifestyle I guess.”

Taehyung is utterly baffled at your statement. In Taehyung’s books, It is compulsory to treat every women like a queen. Preparing and edging them the perfect amount of times to see them crumble so sensually by his very doing. To Taehyung, seeing a woman cry out his name from experiencing the most explosive, leg-shaking orgasm was always his favourite part.

This is why Taehyung is absolutely shattered for you. “So, you’re also telling me no one has ever eaten you out?” You miserably nod, “that’s actually fucking evil!”

His words do not ease you one bit as you throw your head onto the seat behind you. “The way you say it makes me feel even worse. This is the sole reason why I run away from Hoseok and make a fool out of myself.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, the air floating around carrying an awkward silence. You don’t really care and you don’t expect Taehyung to think of a solution. Plus, you’re already embarrassed enough.

You might as well leave and ask one of your girlfriends for help, maybe finish your essay while you’re at it. You sigh, shutting your laptop and stacking your books together.

However, the next sentence that flies out of Taehyung’s mouth makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“I think I’ve figured out how I can help you.”

Wiggling back into a comfortable seating position, you lean into Taehyung with interest. “And how might you help me, dear Taehyung?”

He eyes you nervously, his fingers fiddling with his chunky rings, “You trust me, right?”

You smile, “yeah, of course, you’re my best friend Tae.”

An exhale puffs out of his mouth. “Why not practice on me?”

You almost choke on your spit. You definitely did not expect him to say that. “Could you repeat that please?”

A new glint of mischief sparkles in his eye. “Why not let me teach you how to give Hoseok the blowjob of his life and in return, I’ll eat you out”

Your brain is having a meltdown.

“You’re fucking crazy”, you wail. “You actually want me to suck your dick?”

He brings his hands up in defence, “I think we should normalize giving head to your friends as practice, I don’t think it’s such a bad idea. Think about it, you get to learn and cum at the same time.”

You won’t lie to yourself, the proposal is tempting and in all honesty, Taehyung is hot as fuck. You will forever thank the Gods above for blessing you with the delicious sight that is your best friend. However, the proposition puts you in an odd spot.

Apprehensive about your thoughts, you state your unease, “I-I don’t know Taehyung, don’t you think this might ruin our friendship?” An exhale, “have you seriously thought of me that way?”

Taehyung chuckles, it’s deep and totally unexpected to your question. “Sweetheart, there are many things that go on inside my head involving you. And to answer your question, they’re not completely innocent.”

A startled gasp is ripped from your throat and your stomach flutters with a dangerous mix of nervousness, thrill and dare you say arousal.

Never in your life would you have imagined Kim Taehyung, your best friend since grade school, seeing you in such an inviting way. To make matters worse, It was intimidating to think about his fair share of experience and the long line of women backing up the fact that Taehyung was indeed some sort of sex demon.

Of course, you felt the same way. How could you not! The man was practically an incarnation of a Greek God. Broad sturdy shoulders that sat atop thick muscular thighs, and how could you forget his gorgeous fingers.

You’d die before you admit it, but there have been many nights where you have found yourself thinking about what his pretty long fingers could do to you. Those nights always ended with a mess of your sheets and a wetness between your thighs. It was your dirty little secret, however, it seems Taehyung also had some of his own.

His sharp eyes storm with darkness when he speaks, “don’t lie Y/N, I know you’ve had some dirty thoughts about me up in that pretty little head of yours.”

Pink blossoms over your cheeks like wildfire because he’s so terrifyingly right. “I don’t even need to touch you sometimes, one look and you’re a goner.” You gulp. “Look at you right now.” His gaze drops down to your thighs. “All my talking making you so needy, you need to clench your thighs to keep it together.”

He smiles, though it’s not his usual boxy, boyish smile. It’s dangerous and seductive almost smirking and shit when did he get so close to you? Your breathing is erratic and you have no idea how you could be so anxious yet so amorous at the same time.

Your heart beats rapidly in your ears. “This is just for practice, right?”

Taehyung curses under his breath, “just for practice sweetheart.”

You don’t get to respond.

His lips are hesitant at first when they meet yours, yet his hands say the opposite. They start at your waist and tickle their way down to your stiff hands. Ever so gently, he pries them open, intertwining his long fingers with yours, and God, did his hands feel so right.

Your nerves dissipate slowly but surely as you allow him to explore your mouth with his skilful tongue.

Much to Taehyung’s dismay, he finds you releasing your fingers from his own. Your hands flying to the nape of his neck, ultimately bringing him closer to you, deepening the kiss. Taehyung moans in delight when you tug at his long curls, you bite his lip in reply while lust paints your vision and dampens your panties.

Taehyung never knew he would miss the feeling of your lips against his when he painfully pushes himself away to situate himself comfortably on the couch. It was time for the lesson to begin.

You pout at the distance, trying to wiggle close until he motions for you to get into a particular position. Your insides swell with eagerness.

His voice is sweet and his hands are delicate when he tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear. “Get down on your knees for me sweetheart.” You obey immediately. He smirks at your sinking form. “Good girl.”

You swear right then and there your pussy had gained a working heartbeat at his words. The unfamiliar pulse thumping as if it were trying to break loose from the constraints of your sweatpants.

Your eyes are big and expectant, slowly drinking up the sight of Taehyung’s delicious figure seated above you. He sits on the couch like it’s his throne, legs spread to accompany your kneeling figure, and dominating stare pinning you down. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Wh-what do I do now?” You utter, making it known to Taehyung that he is in charge. He is in control.

Taehyung cocks his head to the side, using a decorated pointer finger to hither your hands towards him. Hesitantly, you raise both hands, lightly placing them down on his thighs.

A click of his tongue makes its way to your ears and you know you’ve already made your first mistake. Taehyung’s brows furrow, it’s obvious you need to make the next move but your brain is fuzzy and flustered.

He sighs at your confused silence, bringing your small hands onto his belt. Oh, you know what you’re supposed to do now.

“I thought you were smarter than this, how else are you meant to get my dick out, hmm?” The blush across your cheeks has definitely spread profusely from his teasing. Its once peachy pink tone deepening into an embarrassing cherry red.

The buckle of his belt jingles under your fingertips as you nervously undo them. You’re apparently too slow for his liking, Taehyung finishing the job by pulling his belt off his pants, leaving you to stare down at the large bulge covered by the fabric of his tight jeans. You thought you had your nerves under control but the way your hands start to shake is an indication that this is real. You’re really about to suck your best friend off.

Ever the observant friend, Taehyung is quick to notice the slight shake in your fingers. “Wait, stop.”

You do as he says, quickly settling your palms back on the thickness of his covered thighs. “Are you sure you want to do this? your hands are shaking sweetheart.” His voice is laced with concern, a total switch to his previous words.

Clearing your throat you reply, “oh, no, no I’m fine.” You lock eyes. “I just want to make sure I’m doing good so I can be good for him.”

Possessiveness flares within Taehyung’s chest and he has no idea why. Although he doesn’t let it show, he can’t help the swell of his ego at the knowledge that he’s the first to get you like this. Not Hoseok. Him.

So, he grins his wide boxy grin, dragging a finger down your warm cheek. “Don’t worry darling, you’re in great hands”

The commanding smirk etched onto his lips sparks a surge of confidence through your veins, begging you to finally touch him.

With a tug of your small hands, Taehyung’s constricting jeans are pried off the taut muscle of his thighs and are left to pool around his ankles. The excitement of finally being able to suck dick coursing through your body like lighting, and just like his jeans, Taehyung’s boxers are off in a second.

His cock springs, tall, hard and proud. Your jaw drops, Taehyung chuckles at your reaction. You feel an ooze of wetness pooling in your panties.

His size is nothing you’ve seen before, thick and girthy with an impressive length to match. You wince at the thought of fitting him down your throat.

The cold metal of his rings against your hands brings your attention to Taehyung’s handsome face. Without breaking any eye contact, he wordlessly wraps your hands around the thickness of his cock.

It’s warm and swells in your palm, your two dainty hands stacked on top of each other. Fingers trying so hard to wrap themselves around the sheer girth of his cock.

You’re not dumb, you know what comes next. With a sharp inhale you begin to stroke up his length, paying close attention to his facial expression to get an idea of how well you’re doing

Taehyung’s head tilts to get a better view at your hands, “grip it tighter for me… yeah fuck that’s it.”

His praise boasts you on, holding tighter onto his cock and gathering the slick of his pre-cum with a twist of your wrist. Your eyes remain focused on the way the skin moves with your hands and the way his tip glistens with arousal. You want to lick it.

“When you’re ready you can put your mouth- Ahh shit Y/N!”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence when you’re already so eager to have him in your mouth. You do what you think would feel best, sucking on the head of his cock like a sweet ice lolly on a hot summer's day. Your tongue tracing the thick circumference before dipping into his slit.

A light groan falls from his mouth as he watches you lap at the remaining pre-cum that glistens in the afternoon light. Taehyung almost forgets why he’s here, lost in your plump lips wet with saliva.

Right, he’s here to teach you how to give a blowjob. “Try and take my whole length in darling.”

You nod, taking a deep breath, your mouth opening wider to take him in as far as you can. You try to keep your throat relaxed taking him inch by inch.

“That's a good girl”, he praises, “you’re doing so well for me.”

Your knees squeeze together, acting to relieve some pressure on your aching heat. It had truly been a while since you got some serious action.

Surprisingly you’re able to make your way to the hilt of his cock, a choked gag sputtering from your lips.

A few strands of hair fall in your face, blocking your eyes in the process. Swiftly, Taehyung brushes the hair from your eyes while simultaneously lifting your head off of his cock.

You release him with a satisfying pop, your eyes wide and makeup a little smudged. Taehyung coaches you through the next steps. “I want you to try and do that again, but when you come back up, lick the length of my cock and look at me while you do it.”

Humming in acknowledgment you grip the base of his cock before pausing. “Isn’t this what you like though? What if Hoseok likes to be touched in a different way?”

An unintentional growl bubbles out of his mouth. Oh how he wished he could take your mind off Hoseok and have you screaming his name, thinking about him instead.

He pushes down his discontentment with the other man on your mind, “men are simple creatures Y/N, just making out sometimes can get them going. And judging by the way you’re sucking my cock right now, I’m sure Hoseok will be crazy for you.”

As Taehyung explains the ins and outs of a man’s brain, you don’t make an effort to stop the teasing of his cock. His words sound slurred, they go in one ear and out the other, and besides the delicious length in front of you is much more fascinating.

For the time being you stare up at him, your eyes wide feigning interest in his words, all while you grip his cock in one hand and continuously lap at his tip with a kitten-like flick of your tongue.

Taehyung finally realises that you’ve stopped listening when he feels the small yet downright sensual pleasure shooting through his cock. He grunts, pushing your hair back once again, “fuck, that’s hot. You’re so fucking good.”

His preoccupied hand squeezes the pillows beside him, the veins of his hands popping out. You do what he taught you, seductive eyes laser focused on him while your wicked tongue leaves a hot trail up the prominent vein on his dick.

“Shit Y/N you’re doing so well-”

You release him from your mouth disrupting his sentence, “can you fuck my throat?”

Taehyung swears his whole body just convulsed at your request. He looks away just so he can contain himself because holy shit.

Obviously Taehyung has thought about you being in this position, saying those words. Yet, no matter how many times he fantasizes this scenario, nothing would ever prepare him for those words to actually come out of your mouth with the most bewitching grin plastered on your pretty face.

He stutters, “I- no, I don’t know if you can take it darling.”

You grip his thighs, pout forming on those dangerous lips of yours, “please Tae, I want it. Want you to use me.”

Taehyung pushes the curls of his bangs away, a hiss steaming from his lips. “Alright, but if you feel any discomfort pinch my thigh, okay sweetheart?”

You’re impatient, “yeah, yeah, I can take your monster dick.” You place a small kiss on his thigh, “do your worst.”

His movements are all too fast, all too sudden. His fingers securing a death-grip on the mess of your hair before holding his cock up to your mouth. “You asked for it darling.”

Your mouth automatically widens, welcoming the rough intrusion of his cock as it slides all the way down your throat. A lewd gag fills the room.

A dark cloud of lust of dominance fogs Taehyung’s vision, his biceps flexing when he brings your head up and down his thick velvety length.

The room resounds with the filthy wet noises of your saliva covered lips pumping repeatedly. Taehyung breathes heavily through his nose, tilting his head against the cushions behind him. He keeps his hips still, yanking your hair at an obscene pace. A slew of curses and moans fly out into the air as he revels at the complete state of ecstasy you’ve put him under.

The heat of his member burns the back of your throat but you fucking love it. You open your teary eyes, gazing at his chiseled jaw and the way he shivers and groans above you. It only spurs you on when he glances back down, meeting your mascara ruined eyes.

It’s like a knee-jerk reaction. Taehyung harshly pushes your head all the way to the base of his cock. Your face is met with his abdomen, the hairs of his happy trail tickling your nose.

He leaves you there, and the burn in your throat rises, leaving you gagging, your throat tightening around him.

Taehyung believes after this he could never get the image of your messy docile eyes and tarnished lips out of his brain. He feels your throat constrict, “sh-shit, fuck Y/N, breathe through your nose.” You inhale. “That’s my good girl.”

He releases you from his member only to push your lips back onto him, going back to his beastly pace. “You look so fucking pathetic, you think Hoseok wants a messy girl like you?”

You gurgle around him, tears freely falling down your cheeks as you try to shake your head no. He only mumbles out a groan, his cock abruptly pulsing under your tongue like a steady heartbeat.

It's all too sudden when he releases your head off his length, a glob of drool dripping down your chin and onto your shirt.

“Fuck sorry I was about to cum.”

Although your heart swells with pride you wonder, “why didn’t you?”

He runs a hand through his messy locks, “the purpose of this was to teach you, don’t you still want to practice?”

You’re smug with your answer, “I think I’ve got the hang of it now.”

He swipes a finger under your tear stained eyes, “getting cocky now are we.”

You were cocky indeed, “well I did get you shaking under my touch didn’t I?”

He rolls his eyes, “get up you brat, I’m gonna show you what you’ve been missing out on.”

Fucking finally.

You won’t lie, you were probably most excited to finally know what it feels like to receive head. Your mind is still fuzzy from Taehyung’s rough ministrations as you slowly get up. You wobble slightly and Taehyung is quick to stabilize you with two strong arms holding the curve of your hips in place.

With his arms already around you he pushes you towards the couch, kicking his jeans off in the process.

Back flat against his plush couch you’re already stripping off your sweatpants and panties together in one. “My, my aren’t you eager”, he teases, a glint of shamelessness twinkling in his brown orbs when he drinks up the plushness of your thighs leading to your dripping cunt.

Holding your knees in the palm on his hands, he spreads them open to reveal the glossy folds on your heat. He kisses his teeth, satisfaction and hunger clear on his face. “Fuck, isn’t this a pretty sight.”

His words bring back a blush on your cheeks, you pull him forward, your lips inches away from his own. “Shut up please.”

And he shuts you up real good. Smashing your lips to his, he envelopes you into a feverish kiss, your tongues dancing the devil's tango.

His hands are adventurous, feeling the mounds of your breasts over your shirt. “Why the fuck isn’t your shirt off yet huh?” He tuts, pulling on the cotton fabric.

“I want yours off too.” You cutely mumble tugging at the hem of his shirt, to which he complies, tugging it off in one fluid motion.

You peel your baggy shirt off just in time to see Taehyung's arm flex as he takes his very own shirt off. “Have you been working out? My God Tae, you're as big as Joon.”

He inwardly smirks because yeah he’s been working out and it's clearly paying off. He doesn’t want to show his glee however, “can we not talk about other men when I’m about to eat you out.”

You chuckle, eyes trailing down his buff arms to his v-line that leads to his dick like an arrow directing you to his treasure. You bite your lip, unclipping your lace bralette, “sure, sure, let’s get the show on the road.”

It’s Taehyung turn to drink up the sight of your body. “Fuck, always imagined what these tits looked like under all those tight clothes you wear.”

He’s really feeding into your praise kink. “Well, were they what you expected?”

He sucks on one immediately and you arch your back at the unexpected pleasure. “Even better”, he squeezes them in his palms, “they’re fucking gorgeous.”

He sucks a deep hickey under your left breast, leaving you whimpering with a hand tangled in his hair. “Always imagined what you sounded like moaning for me.”

You can’t reply, his touches burning through your skin. He kisses down your sternum to your stomach until he’s hovering above your aching clit, a tantalising grin on his face before he’s diving in.

“Fuck!” You wail at the unfamiliar yet mesmerising feelings. His tongue is stiff and pointed, flicking quickly up and down your bundle of nerves.

The grip you have on his hair is deathly but it's the only thing in your reach that can ground you. He licks a long stripe down your sopping slit, keeping his sharp eyes on you the whole time.

“F-feels so fucking good Tae!” You almost scream. He cups his lips around your swollen nub sucking on it with a shit-eating grin on his face.

You’re too dazed to comment on it, reeling in the new pleasures you’re experiencing. You stare down at him, your eyes half opened and so close to rolling to the back of your head.

However, they almost completely open wide at the sight presented before you. With two long fingers, Taehyung is shoving them in his mouth, soaking them with his spit before rubbing them onto your sensitive folds.

You beg. “Put them inside.. Please.” Taehyung doesn’t make a sound only kissing your clit as he plunges his ring decorated fingers into you.

You’re so wet his fingers slide into you with ease. He groans at the sensation, his view focused on the way your cunt greedily sucks him in.

“Look at you, getting my rings all dirty you filthy girl”, he scolds watching the way your essence drips into the crevices of his intricate jewellery.

Taehyung increases the pace of his long fingers, finger fucking you into euphoria. He doesn’t stop there, his lips returning to your desperate clit in a wet mess of your juices and his saliva.

You can feel your orgasm bubbling in your stomach. It's hot and feels so unlike any other upcoming orgasm you’ve experienced. His fingers curl inside of you, his palm slapping your folds with his rapid pace and his lips don’t give any sign of stopping.

“Taehyung- Tae, I’m cumming!” You really scream this time, your orgasm taking control over your body like a demon.

You swear your eyes black out, your body shaking, a warmth gushing out of your cunt as it spazzes out.

Your chest heaves and you blink, feeling a damp pool around you. Oh God, Did you piss yourself?

“Holy fuck Y/N, I can’t believe you just did that.”

You sit up, embarrassed, an apology falling from your lips.

“You just squirted on me.”

You’re flushed, “I- what?”

Taehyung almost looks akin to a wolf hunting down his prey. “That was the hottest fucking experience of my life, holy shit I’m so hard.”

Well at least you didn’t pee on his couch. There’s a surge of overwhelming need for his cock to be inside of you. You’ve never felt this way before, it’s scary but so is this whole experience. It’s definitely one for the books.

Getting up on your knees you hold onto his shoulders, Taehyung raises a brow. “Fuck, I need to ride you, can I ride you?”

You think you just saw his dick twitch at your words. He grins, “just for practice?”

Your smile is sickly sweet, “of course, just for practice.”

His arms are strong when he shuffles into a seated position all while holding your hips above his awaiting cock.

He pauses, a flash of his normal self resurfacing. “You’re on the pill yeah?”

You peck his lips, “yes, now stuff me full.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s sinking you down onto his length.

You both let out moans of pleasure at the feeling of being complete. The stretch hurts so bad but hurts so good. He fills you up so well it has you speechless, the air trapped inside your lungs refusing to be released until your walls are comfortable around his impressive girth.

Mumbling a soft curse, you swivel your hips in slow circles, getting used to his large size. Taehyung watches you, hunger written on his face as he licks his lips and examines the way you fit so perfectly on his lap.

You test the waters, holding onto his shoulders for support. You lift your hips and settle back onto his lap. He groans at the wet squelch it makes and slaps your ass, grabbing it in his hand to squeeze it.

You pick up the speed, pumping up and down, whimpering at how well he fills you up. You keep your gaze trained on the image of his dick disappearing in your heat and pulling out with a wet sheen.

Taehyung tucks a finger under your chin, bringing you close to his face to push his soft lips onto yours once again.

It’s weird to say, but you don’t think you can get tired of kissing your best friend. He knows exactly what you want and knows exactly how to make your head spin.

With his large hands of yours, you pick up the pace, slamming your ass onto his hips. You leave his lips, kissing the side of jaw and suckling a few lovebites behind his ear.

His voice is deep and sultry, “fuck yeah, that’s it.” You wail in his hold, pushing yourself to meet his thrusts below. Your thighs burn but the pleasure burns so much hotter.

You feel your second orgasm of the night rising within you and can tell Taehyung is close too. Taehyung assists you, using his thighs to push up into you. Your juices drip down onto his pelvis and both of your breaths get heavier.

His thrusts are fast and rough, creating loud slapping noises that echo around his empty apartment. He grunts, folding his head into the crook of your neck. He’s about to cum and so are you.

With one final gasp your release hits you like a truck. Your thigh shakes in his lap and Taehyung bites at the delicate skin of your neck. His warm seed shoots inside of you, eliciting a small sigh from your lips.

Taehyung releases his hold to lean back onto the couch. He keeps his softening cock inside of you, lazily staring at your fucked out expression.

You play with his rings, “well, how did I do?”

The shit-eating grin is back. “Hmmm, I think you may need more practice.”

#ficswithluv #bangtaninn #bangtanuniversity #bangtansorciere #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #jimin #jungkook #seokjin #hoseok #namjoon #yoongi #h0neypjm #mine

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Unprofessional

as promised, the MSBY manager AU 💕

MSBY Black Jackals x female reader

TW non-con, smut, gang-bang, nsfw(ish)

You second guess yourself, now that the Captain’s right here in front of you, fidgeting in your seat like a little kid sent to the principal’s office.

In all fairness, you were the one to ask him to come in early, figuring that it’d be easier to say what you needed to before everyone else arrived, rather than having it eat away at you while you waited for practice to end.

Yet under the scrutiny of his dark eyes, you wonder whether you should have just let it slide. At least for a few more weeks. Taking a formal complaint to the higher ups was a step too far, and you hadn’t wanted to bother the coaches this close to the start of the season for something so… trivial. Meian seemed like the better choice. He’d listen to you and be able to help; you trust the Captain and you know the team does, too. If he told them to back off, they would, you’re almost positive. But now that he’s here, there’s this nagging feeling of-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you flinch at the sudden contact, jerking back to the present.

“Hey,” he says, a slight frown marring his features. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me - don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been a little out of it lately.”

There’s nothing but concern in his eyes - no judgement, or irritation, and something inside of you eases just a fraction. This is Meian, right from the moment you signed onto the team - granted, only a few months ago - he’s done his utmost to make sure you’ve felt welcomed and part of the team.

You take a breath, offering him a small, tight smile. “I-it’s um, some of the guys- well a few, I guess…” your fingers twist in your lap, and Meian squeezes your shoulder lightly in response.

“Miya hitting on you, right? Getting a little outta hand?” he surmises.

And for a split second, you’re surprised. But really maybe you shouldn’t be. Miya’s the one who’s overt about it, drawling stupid, cheesy pickup lines whenever you walk in, slinging an arm around your side and dragging you close, all the winks and the innuendos about as subtle as a tank.

Of course Meian noticed, but that’s just how Atsumu is. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it because nobody but you seems to mind. And maybe, if that’s all that it was, you’d be able to grin and bear it, but it’s not.

“Yes and… no.”

His brows draw together. “No?”

Taking another deep breath, you begin to tell him everything. Miya’s incessant flirting, all the hugs and touches that fell just the wrong side of what you considered professional. They’re a tactile team, with one notable exception, and you understand that, but the way Bokuto, Hinata and Miya feel comfortable just grabbing you and dragging you around, interrupting you in the middle of whatever task you’re doing to make you pay attention to them is a little alarming.

And then there was the incident last week, when Inunaki had caught you smiling at your phone during their cooldown and called you on it, which drew the attention of the rest of the team - only to have Bokuto snatch it out of your hands and start reading through your messages. Of course, Meian was there for that, putting a stop to it only when the wing-spiker had started reading them aloud, much to your mortification.

But he hadn’t been there two afternoons later, when an old friend of yours had swung by to pick you up and you’d had to deal with half the team glaring daggers at him over your shoulder like a pack of overprotective mother hens.

Even Sakusa, who usually kept his nose out of the others’ nonsense, stood off to the side with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, glowering at your friend until you both disappeared from sight.

The texts that blew up your phone in the hours that followed crossed so many lines, it honestly scared you a little.

Meian doesn’t say a word as you talk, the words flowing easier the more you tell him. It’s not that anything they’re doing is wrong per se. They’re not hurting you, and you think that aside from Miya, the team’s attitude is coming from a good place - some protective, irritating big brother kind of thing.

There’s nothing wrong with it, except the fact that you don’t want any part of it. You’re a professional and this is a job - a new one, an important one. If you ever want anybody to take your dreams of coaching a pro team seriously you cannot have so much as a whisper of anything less than absolute professionalism. God forbid, if rumours start spreading that you were sleeping with somebody on the team you can pretty much kiss your dreams goodbye.

At the end of it, Meian’s chin is resting on his fist, faint dissatisfaction pinching at his face, and for a moment, you’re worried that he’s about to chew you out for wasting his time - you know he’s stressed with the start of the season only days away - but he only sighs, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.

“Thank you for telling me, I’ll talk to them.”

And it’s like this huge weight just falls off your shoulders and suddenly you can breathe easy. “Thanks, really,” you tell him, and the smile on your face is genuine this time.

“Anytime.”

—

You don’t know when he finds the time to pull them all aside, but the next morning when you walk into the gym and Bokuto catches sight of you, golden eyes widening in delight, he starts to bound towards you-

“Bokuto.”

-and stops mid-stride, face falling like a kicked puppy. His shoulders slump, glancing over his shoulder at the Captain, watching the both of you through narrowed eyes.

He doesn’t say another word to the wing-spiker, turning back around to continue his conversation with Adriah - something about tightening up their blocks before the game against the Adlers - and despite the fact you can see half the team’s attention drawn towards you both, none of them say a word either.

It’s strange, compared to the last few weeks, it’s suddenly like you’re a ghost. They thank you when you pass them their towels and bottles, and for once Hinata sits still when you help him tape up his ankle, though his eyes still follow your every movement with unnerving focus.

They’re polite and respectful, but unless you’re directly addressing them or they need something, it’s like you don’t exist.

Even Atsumu manages to keep his comments to himself when it comes time for the team to stretch out, though judging from the scowl on his face whenever he glances towards the Captain, he’s not particularly thrilled about it.

There’s one more day before game day, and they’ve got bigger things to worry about, but for you it’s like you can suddenly breathe easy. You don’t have to tiptoe around your own discomfort, you can just do your job and help them. It’s not that you hate them, not even Atsumu - though he does grate on your nerves at times - you just can’t afford to let them fuck this up for you.

They’re your team, and you’ll help them and you’ll stand on the sidelines and cheer and support them until you’re red in the face. You’ll celebrate with them and commiserate if they lose, but there has to be a line.

And maybe finally they’re realising that.

Meian sends you home while the others head off to the showers with a clap on your shoulder. “Go home. Today’s been long enough, and you need your rest. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

You don’t fight him on it, already feeling the exhaustion creeping through your body.

But after months in this job, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to find that by the time you’ve had a quick catch-up with the coaches about tomorrow’s training, changed and gathered up your things, you find yourself falling into step with Sakusa, freshly showered and also on his way out.

Dark eyes find yours, but he doesn’t say a word - at least until the two of you reach the big double doors at the gym’s entrance. “Do you need a lift home?”

It’s rare of him to offer, but you suppose that it’s later than you’d normally leave, the sun already disappearing beneath the horizon. Nevertheless, you shake your head, “No, it’s only a ten minute walk, I’ll be okay,” you say. And almost as an afterthought you smile and add, “Thank you, though.”

He regards you silently for a moment, but simply shrugs his shoulders, “Fine.”

Sakusa turns to leave, heading off to the carpark when a sudden thought strikes you, and before you can think better of it, you call out to him, “Your lineshots were incredible today, by the way. You played well. And please don’t forget we’ve got an early start tomorrow!”

It’s a pointless statement, on both counts. Sakusa doesn’t crave praise the way some of his teammates do, and you can imagine how little it means coming from you of all people. He’s also the most punctual, usually the first in, preferring to get stretched and warmed up before the rest of the team arrived. But the change in plans was kind of last minute and a reminder never hurts.

Sakusa pauses mid-stride, glancing back at you once more over his shoulder. “I know,” he says, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear there’s something different in his eyes as he stares back at you. Not angry per se, but… you can’t quite put a finger on it. It’s odd, you think, out of character for the usually aloof spiker. “Captain told us.”

—

It’s still dark when you arrive at the gym, and the lights are all off, not a soul in sight. That in itself doesn’t strike you as odd though, checking your phone you see that there’s still twenty or so minutes until you were all supposed to meet, but you would have thought that the coaches at least would’ve been here, or Sakusa maybe, if not Meian.

“Mornin’ princess,” a familiar voice drawls, and you jump a little at the sudden weight of his arm draping over your shoulders.

Atsumu’s smile is far too wide and upbeat considering it’s only a little after six in the morning. You’re used to a dead-stare, don’t-talk-to-me-until-I’ve-had-caffeine Atsumu, and it’s almost startling enough to make you forget the arm he has around you.

Either that, or you’re just bewildered that he’s actually arrived early for once in his life.

“You’re awfully chipper,” you mutter, trying to shove his arm off of you as you walk in tandem towards the gym. It’s a pointless endeavour - he replaces it a moment later, tugging you closer. “And early. Do you normally do this the day before the season starts, or can we expect to see you bright and early every morning for training?”

The corner of his lip quirks into a lazy smirk, and Atsumu laughs, “Nah, I’m actually late. All the others are already here.”

You’re halfway through fishing for the keys when he just pushes the door open, and you falter. “Wait- they’re here already?” you glance inside, and the lights are all still off and there’s not a soul in sight, but- “I thought Meian said we were meeting at 6:30.”

There’s something in the way that his smirk widens that’s almost unsettling, but he’s already pushing you forward, flicking on the lights as you pass.

“Oh, he did.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but it’s too early and you’re too tired to try and decipher Atsumu’s cryptic bullshit. He already has you on edge with how close he’s got you - you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne invading your nose. “Fine, whatever. Just- just put your stuff away, grab the others if they’re here and I’ll see you on the court in a few minutes.”

You try to shrug off his arm, but his grip only tightens, “Nope,” he says, firmly steering the both of you in the direction of the locker room.

“Miya,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut. You can already feel the beginnings of a headache taking root in your skull, but Atsumu just chuckles lightly, patting your shoulder.

“Relax, wouldja? Jeeze, yer so tense!”

With no other sound but the eerie echoing of your footsteps across the linoleum floors, his laugh is too loud, too grating. It sets you on edge, and you have to bite back a scowl of your own and remind yourself that you only have to put up with him a little longer - just until Meian gets here. Unperturbed by your silent irritation, Atsumu continues, “We know how hard you’ve been working lately. We came in early to say thank you, y’know, for everythin’ ya do for us.”

And for one split second, regret fills you, snuffing out the spark of irritation simmering through your veins. Here you are, seconds away from slapping the setter when he is - for the first time in his life - actually trying to do something nice for you. You sigh quietly, smoothing your expression over as he slows down and pulls you to a stop.

He lets you slide out from under his arm, your back to the locker room door, moving so that he’s standing directly in front of you. You open your mouth to speak, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but once again, Atsumu beats you to it. “Yer the best manager we’ve ever had.” He takes your hand in his, twining long fingers with yours and steps closer.

Too close.

“Atsu-”

“We really do care about you - love ya, even - which is why it kinda felt like a kick in the balls when the Cap came and told us ya wanted some space. Said we were bein’ too ‘overbearing’ and ‘inappropriate’, just cause we want ya nice and close.” Dark eyes harden, “It hurt us, baby. You gotta realise that.”

The grip he has on your hand is painfully tight, but you don’t have a moment to focus on that. Not as Atsumu sweeps forward to close the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours. Hungry. Demanding. A tongue snaking between your lips, melding with your own.

His arm snakes behind you to open the door, and for a moment you’re stumbling backwards into the dark-

Only it’s not dark, not as the blinding fluorescent lights flicker on around you, and you’re not stumbling, not as you collide with a warm, muscular chest and strong arms find your middle to steady you.

“You took too long,” Bokuto whines, and you’re yanked from Atsumu’s hold and spun, barely having a second to register the gleaming golden eyes before he’s dragging you into a needy kiss of his own.

Dizzy, lightheaded, your heart thumping erratically, you can’t think straight as his hot, wet mouth moves against yours. Greedy fingers grope and squeeze at your body - utterly frozen in shock, pliant under his touch.

“Aw, quit yer whining, Bokkun,” the blonde growls as Bokuto finally pulls back enough to grant you a few precious gulps of air, gazing at you with a kind of love sick adoration that makes your stomach clench.

A scoff sounds behind Bokuto, “A bit rich, coming from you, Miya. The two of you just are as bad as each other.”

It’s then that you realise the three of you aren’t alone. Wide eyed, on the edge of hyperventilating, you glance over your shoulder to find two pairs of eyes watching; russet eyes blown wide, enraptured, and swirling black depths, narrowed and glaring over at the blonde.

Hinata and Sakusa.

It doesn’t feel real. Even with everything they’ve done so far, their possessive behaviour, their smothering affection - even the kisses, it feels like a fever dream.

Even as Atsumu’s fingers are tugging your jacket off and Bokuto drags you forward, you can’t bring yourself to accept it, to properly fight back against it.

(Not that it would make a difference. They’re professional athletes, and there’s four of them against one of you.)

When your eyes fill with tears, Hinata’s there to brush them away, smiling down at you as he shrugs his own shirt off. “Don’t cry, angel. We’re gonna make you feel amazing, just wait!”

His words don’t fill you with ease. They can’t, not when he has that manic excitement bleeding through his expression - the same one you know he gets when he’s lost in the game, flying across the court like the laws of physics don’t apply to him.

Hands are on you everywhere, teasing and exploring, too many to keep track of. Your clothes are pulled off, tossed aside and discarded without a second thought, and theirs follow suit. Fingers are tweaking your nipples and palming at your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your ass and trailing between your legs to play with your clit.

“So fuckin’ pretty, ain’tcha? Our pretty girl, gonna be such a good little cockwhore for us.”

There’s lips against yours, at your neck, trailing down the column of your throat with a pleased hum. And between the kisses, you think that you’re crying, pleading for them to stop and let you go, but nobody listens as you’re manhandled onto one of the benches.

Your legs refuse to obey you, trembling as you try to kick out and wriggle away, only for rough hands to find your hips and drag you back. “C’mon, baby. Be good for us, you’ve already made us wait so long.”

Somebody smacks your ass and you jolt, crying out, only for a hand to soothe over the welt, another squeezing at your hip in a mockery of reassurance. “Don’t make us have to hurt ya, sweetheart.”

It’s easier, you think, to just close your eyes tight and pray that any second now, you’ll wake up in your bed to the blaring of your alarm. But the moment they flutter shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip as fingers dig into your thighs, warm breath ghosting across your sex, a low voice whispers in your ear, “Look at me.”

And you have no choice but to obey, forcing your eyes open to find Sakusa standing to your side, stroking his cock. It’s pretty, you distantly think, and you suppose that it suits him. Well groomed, long but not terribly thick with a slight curve, flushed pink at the tip and glistening with the pre-cum beading at his slit. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, cupping it with a gentleness that feels out of place, considering the hunger burning in the black depths of his irises.

He doesn’t say another word as he coaxes your mouth open and guides your head forward to take his cock into your mouth, but the low moan that escapes him as your lips wrap around his length makes you shiver.

Sakusa isn’t gentle as he fucks your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek as fresh tears well, but it’s hard to focus on that alone when Hinata’s face disappears between your legs, his tongue laving at your cunt, eager for a taste of you.

It doesn’t take long for the other two to join, and you’re manoeuvred between them, forced to sit on Bokuto’s lap, his thick cock stretching you out while Hinata sits between your legs, diligently slurping at your folds, sucking at your clit, one fist wrapped around his own length, lazily pumping it. Sakusa continues to use your mouth to get himself off, uttering backhanded praise between instructions, hissing in pleasure when he hits the back of your throat and you choke around him, while Atsumu has one hand playing with your tits, the other gripping yours, forcing you to jerk him off.

It’s too much for your brain to take.

Your sobs and whimpers, already muffled thanks to the cock in your mouth, are lost to the symphony of grunts and moans, lewd squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin. There’s too many hands touching you, too much pain fused with unwanted pleasure, overwhelming you as heat and panic and terror build up inside of you, and it feels like there’s an inferno burning beneath your skin, and you can’t breathe and you just want it all to stop, you want to wake up, and-

Suddenly, the door to the locker room snaps open, and all five of you freeze in place as the Captain stops dead in his tracks and eyes the scene before him.

There’s no possible way for Meian to misconstrue it, not with everything you told him. Not with your face flushed and teary, your eyes glazed over and all but broken from the sick, twisted debasement his teammates have subjected you to. You’re naked, your body littered in love-bites and bruises, spread out before him like a feast.

And still, your eyes meet his, silently pleading for him to say something and stop this.

Meian takes a single step forward and a muffled whine leaves your lips as the cock inside of you twitches insistently. Sakusa draws his hips back, pulling himself free from your mouth, and despite the burn in the back of your throat, you swallow and try to speak.

“Please.” It’s little more than a squeak, hoarse and choked, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference.

The Captain barely acknowledges that you’ve spoken at all, his attention fixated instead on your body; the way your pussy’s clenching around the base of Bokuto’s length, the tremor of your thighs under Hinata’s rough hands, the way your tits rise and fall with every quickened breath, your lips, swollen and beautifully fucked, glistening with spit before finally, those dark eyes meet yours once more.

And slowly, a grin breaks across his face. “You’d better hurry it up, the others aren’t too far off.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere atsumu miya #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere hinata shouyo #yandere sakusa kiyoomi #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere hinata x reader #yandere sakusa x reader #tw non con #i honestly don't know how i feel about this one #but it's done #i hope y'all like it anyway #i'm posting it before i can overthink it

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supernaturalgirl20 · 3 years

Text

La Secretaria

Pairings: Javier Pena x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, angst, fluff, men being sexist, mutual pining.

Summary: being Javier’s secretary isn’t easy. He’s hot headed, stubborn and aggressive, but so are you. What happens when he finally meets his match.

A/N: I wanted to writ pure smut for Javier, been in my feels today so I needed this.

{Comments and reblogs really appreciated}

You’d heard the rumours, of course you had. There wasn’t one person in the DEA that didn’t know about thee Javier Pena. Hot headed, stubborn, flirt with anything in a skirt and his number one MO, visiting the local brothel. Stechner hired you to keep a close eye on Javier, or as he put it ‘tame the beast’. He’d gone through at least six secretaries since he arrived in Bogotá, which didn’t give you great odds but you were nothing if not a trier.

You arrived at the office early wanting to have everything set up before he came. At nine on the dot Javier arrived and when he opened the door to his office he was shocked to see you standing there, coffee in hand. He narrows his eyes at you before you feel his gaze roam over you. He runs a hand over his face before placing his hands on his hips.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N, your new secretary Mr. Pena. I brought you you’re coffee and the file on the Rodriguez brothers. If you need anything else, I’ll be at my desk.”

He stares at you, if he was impressed, it didn’t show on his face. You walk towards the door, the one he’s standing in front of. You stop before him and look him in the eyes.

“Do you mind moving!”

His eyes lock with yours before glancing at your lips and then back to your eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just walks past you to his desk. Leaving the office you sit at your own desk and begin typing up some of his reports. The day passes quickly and as you get ready to go home, Javier pops his head out. “Where are you going? I haven’t finished for the day yet.”

“I can see that, Mr. Pena, but my schedule is 9-5, so seen as it’s 5:10 I’M finished for the day.”

You can tell he’s angry, see the thick in his jaw. “I have reports for you to type up, your schedule is whatever mine is, and I’m not done. So sit tight and type these up.”

“I will, in the morning. Goodnight Mr. Pena.”

“If you leave, your fired.” He has a sly smirk on his face, he’s waiting for you to put your things down and start working. He doesn’t know it yet, but your just as stubborn as him, so you call his bluff and leave. He quirks his eyebrow, he hadn’t expected you to disobey him.

***

The following morning Javier arrives to find you in his office again, files in one hand, coffee in the other.

“I fired you.”

“And yet here I am.” You hand him the file and coffee and walk out of his office. He’s speechless, and just stares after you. Continuing your work from the day before, your interrupted when an agent walks toward Javier’s door. Standing, blocking his way you put your hand out to stop him.

“He’s busy.”

“Who are you?”

“Mr. Pena’s secretary, and you are?”

“Agent Feistl, has he fucked you yet?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s a no then. Early days I suppose, or,” he looks you up and down, “hmm not really his type are you. He likes them skinny and pretty..”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You think I haven’t heard all this shit before, you don’t intimidate me what was it Fritsle?”

“It’s Feis..”

“I don’t care, your not getting in. You want to see him, make an appointment.”

Feistl grumbles under his breath.

“What was that?”

Before he can say it again, Javier opens his office door and stands beside you. He places a hand on your lower back, “ why don’t you head out for lunch?”

“That’s it princess, run along.”

You stare daggers at him grabbing your bag and leaving. Feistl turns to Javier who has a stern look on his face.

“What did you want, I’m busy.”

“I want to go to Cali boss.”

“No.”

“What, why not?”

“We’re not placing any agents there, not yet at least.”

“Right well if they do I’d like to go sir.”

“Mmm”

“Gotta say boss, that’s one fine piece of ass you got out there.You mind if I have a go?”

Javier can feel his blood boil, how dare he talk about you like that. Sure he has a reputation but he treated women with respect. He didn’t really know you that well but you could stand your own which he respected. Your different from the others, your intelligent, stubborn and your absolutely beautiful.

“Don’t talk about Y/N like that, if you harass her again I’ll have you on the next flight home.”

“Ok, you got it boss.”

***

It’s been two months since you became his secretary and he has fired you at least fifty times. You know it’s a challenge, that he is testing you, but you don’t give up easy. He’s started being kinder with you, offering to buy lunch on occasion. Your currently sat with him in the meeting room taking notes as the ambassador rambles on. He’s berating Javier for sending Feistl and VanNess to Cali and you can tell from his shoulders that he’s angry. When the meetings over he stands abruptly and leaves. You follow behind him, staying silent, knowing he likes it like this when he’s mad. He gets into the elevator and holds it open for you before pressing the correct button for your floor.

“He’s a dick.”

Javier wasn’t expecting you to say anything, certainly not that. You think you see a hint of a smile on his face.

“I think you did the right thing sending them, fucking bullshit deal, it’s a cop out..”

You don’t get to finish what you we’re saying as Javier pushes you back against the metal wall. He’s on you like a rash. He’s kissing you passionately and you can feel the heat coming off of him. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against him. You can feel his growing erection straining against his trousers. You run your fingers through his hair pulling a low moan from him, one that shoots right to your core. You can feel the elevator come to a stop, Javier does too as he slowly pulls away from you. He whispers in your ear, “come find me later when everyone else is gone.” Then your alone.

***

Finishing up some paperwork, making sure no one is left in the office, you slowly approach Javier’s door. You raise your hand to knock when the door suddenly opens and he’s standing there looking at you with hooded eyes. He pulls you into him and once he closes the door, your back is pressed against it. His kiss is rough, hungry, like a man dying of thirst and your his only source of water.

“Wanted this for so long.”

“Really? How long?”

“Since that first day.”

He makes quick work of taking off both your clothes before moving you to the couch. He sits and pats his thighs, “come here baby, want you to ride me.” You walk towards him with sway of your hips. He grabs you by the hips, helping you straddle him. You sink down onto him slowly, savouring the feel of him stretching you. He groans at the feel of you hot and tight around him.

“So….damn tight baby.”

You start moving your hips slowly against him as he grips your hips tighter. He sucks on your hardened bud earning a moan from you.

“Javi….oh god….I’m going to…come.”

“That’s it baby come all over my cock. Wanna feel you grip me tight.”

Your body tingles all over as it erupts in ecstasy. You come hard with his name rolling off your tongue. He begins you thrust up meeting your movements as he grows impatient. Suddenly he flips you over, your back hitting the leather on the couch. He grabs one of your legs and holds it against his hip as he thrusts into you without abandon. You can feel the beginning of another orgasm,

“I’m close baby, want to feel you come on my cock one more time before I come.” He can feel you clamp down on him as your orgasm washes over you.

“So beautiful baby, who do you belong to?”

“Yours , all yours Javi.”

That’s all he needed as he releases into you. He slumps on top of you, careful as to not crush you. You run your fingers through his hair and he sighs at the feeling. He pulls out of you slowly and grabs a cigarette. You sit up and fiddle with your fingers unsure of what to do now. Do you stay or get dressed and leave? You know his reputation with women, he doesn’t do relationships. Deciding it’s best to leave you get up and start dressing. He sits there watching you as he smokes his cigarette.

“If you wait we can go get something to eat?”

“I…I actually just want to go home, I’m exhausted.” You gather your things, not noticing the hurt flash in Javier’s eyes.

“Yeah, I might hit the bar.”

You say nothing else as you leave for the night.

***

Your relationship with Javi is complicated, you work together and most nights you end up fucking in one apartment or the other. You love him, you know you do, you have for a while. You also know that Javi doesn’t do commitment, honestly your afraid to even tell him how you feel. In work things remain professional, he’s your boss and no one suspects a thing. Feistl might have a hunch but that’s it. The only time he claims you in work is after a bad meeting with the ambassador or Stechner. Which brings you to your current situation, bent over his desk, him pounding into you from behind. He’s rough today, not that you mind, he pulls you towards him by the hair until your back hits his chest. He grabs your breast and gives it a tight squeeze. It’s slightly painful but it still elicits a moan from you.

“Shh baby, gotta be quiet. Don’t want the whole office to know how well you take my cock.”

“It’s….just so….good.”

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come and you can feel another one hitting you. Javi is close too, you can tell from his sloppy thrusts.

“Can I…come inside you baby?”

“Yes….yes claim me, I’m yours.”

He’s quick to pull out of you and tuck himself back into his trousers. You pull down your skirt and put on your underwear. You both didn’t notice that Feistl had entered the room, catching you both fix yourselves up.

“I fucking knew it. You too have been fucking each other. VanNess you owe me 50 bucks.”

“Jesus will you keep it down.”

“How long has this been a thing?”

You don’t know what to say. It’s not really a thing you both just fuck each other nothing else, much as you would like. Javi comes up beside you placing his hand on your lower back. He pulls you into his side wrapping an arm around your waist. You look up at him stunned by his actions, only to find him already looking at you with adoration in his eyes.

“Not that’s it’s any of your business, but it’s been almost a year now, right baby?”

“Eh…”

“Screwing the boss is the only way you’ll get anywhere darlin.”

You feel Javier’s grip on you tighten and you know he is going to blow.

“I wouldn’t get to comfortable either, he’ll kick you to curb as soon as he gets bored.”

“You need to shut the fuck up, or you’ll be out of here by the end of the day. While we’re at it, don’t ever speak about Y/N like that, she’s better than half of you idiots. Now get out of my sight.”

When’s he’s gone Javier turns you in his arms so your facing him.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, did that just happen?”

“Don’t worry about him. I’m not good with this stuff, but I… I eh…look Y/N I want to be with you. Not just for a night or her in the office, like actually be with you.” He’s fidgety and you can tell he’s not used to talking about how he feels.

“Is thee Javier Pena asking me to be his girlfriend?” Your teasing him but there’s a part of you that hopes that’s what he wants.

“Well I wouldn’t say…”

How could you have been so stupid, of course he wouldn’t want that. You pull away from him and make your way to the door. He grabs your wrist and pulls you to him.

“Where are you going?”

“Look Javi, it’s fine, we’re fine, I know what we have isn’t anything special.”

“Hey hold on, did you not hear me when I said I wanted to be with you?”

“Yeah I did, but I am with you, we fuck..”

“You didn’t let me finish. What I was trying to say is that we don’t have to use those titles, I mean we’re not teenagers.”

“What. I….we….”

He’s getting annoyed now and runs his hand over his face, “ ok if it’s not what you want that’s fine.”

“No hey I want you Javi, I want to be your girlfriend. I just didn’t think you’d want that, I mean you don’t exactly scream commitment.”

He kisses you and it’s one of those kisses that leaves you breathless. Pulling away he rests his head against yours.

“I love you. This is all new to me, I’ve never felt this way about anyone, not even Lorraine. I’m all in, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I love you too Javi.”

Tagging:

@lunaserenade @anaaaispunk @librariantothejedi @day-off-inkyoto @asta-lily @maievdenoir @elinedjarin @dindjarinneedsahug @pascal-rascal424 @pintsizemama @seasonschange-butpeopledont @janelongxox @stevie75 @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dihra-vesa @loserrlauraa @kirsteng42 @ikinmahlen @almaeunice @jediknight122 @colorlesswhispersunknown @rosie-posie08 @alberta-sunrise @javierpinme @pascalisthepunkest

#pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena x female reader #pedro pascal x female reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal smut

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sunfish-studies · 3 years

Text

Flight Down

✄・・・ Crisp Leaves [Aoba Johsai Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Aoba Johsai x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: attempt murder (???). Jealous, borderline crazy fangirls. Hospital. Injury. Blood. Slurs

➜ Notes: Manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall, around 170.5 cm.

↷ SUMMARY ↶

More than a time, things went out of control–not only because of us, but others could be held responsible for it too.

You couldn’t always keep everything under your command–that is life and you understand that aspect very well. The perfect scenario planned in your head will always be interrupted by something–nothing is called ‘run smoothly’ all the time in this world.

That’s why you always tried to prepare–still with that, sometimes things went out of your control league. No, it’s not because of you–factors from the third party successfully caught you off-guard, however you tried to settle everything down as best as you could.

Except this.

“Quit being the manager. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“And how many times do I need to let you know that it won’t happen.”

Intimidation of Oikawa’s fangirls–they never did it in the light of the day because they had it done via underground and dirty ways. One of them was cornering you.

“You disgust me.” She gritted her teeth. “Really that thirsty for attention, huh, whore?”

You held your head high. “I should be the one saying that.”

“Why you-!”

“Wait, Mako-!”

The next thing you knew, your feet didn’t touch the ground anymore–everything flashed, but at the same time fell into slow motion in your head. Your head went blank before it was immediately dragged back to reality by excoriating pain hammered onto your body.

Opening your eyes–you didn’t even know when you closed them–the world was blurry, the first thing in your line of sight were stairs. All you heard was intense ringing in your eardrums, failing to comprehend anything went through your hearings.

“What did you do!? This isn’t the part of the plan!”

“You’re a murderer! I can’t believe this!”

“I-It was an accident!”

“I don’t want to be involve!”

“S-someone call an ambulance!!“

Everything hurts.

✎ . . . .

Oikawa goofed around most of the time, however there are times he discarded that personality and turned into someone who could be mistaken as someone else or another person possessing him.

You weren’t back from filling the water bottles for quite some time and the team started to get dehydrated. So, as a captain, he went to fetch you–already arranging a set of teasing complete with its plan B if somehow all of them failed.

He was ready to teased the heck out of you, he was ready to annoyed you with the most recent useless gossip he managed to hear during class, he was ready to be smacked on the back because you’re so done with his antics.

But, he was never ready to see you lying on the ground at the bottom of the stairs motionless–small splatters of red visible beside your head.

He swore he lost several beats of his heart from the view. And everything went blur for him–running in extremely fast pace his brain failed to comprehend fully to every detail.

He remembered screaming so loud the team could hear him from the gym.

He remembered rushing towards you, harshly fell onto his knees–trying his best to pick you up into his arms from the floor gently even though his hands trembling greatly.

He remembered the sticky and wet sensation on his palm once he placed a hand on your head–when he pulled back, thick crimson color decorated.

Iwaizumi was the one who answered to his desperate screaming for help–borderline of panic and hysteric. Once he arrived, he could hear blood roaring in his ears and his mind blanking for a few seconds. The precious few seconds he could use to call an ambulance or screaming for the coach instead of being frozen on the spot–eyes widening in horror.

Hanamaki joined the screaming parade almost automatically–panic drenched him instantly when his eyes found your battered form in Oikawa’s arms. The captain had tears running down his cheeks and he swore he felt the same. But he welcomed the panic, because it grounded him to reality and went to his captain–asking questions. Is it for his sanity or Oikawa’s he didn’t know.

Matsukawa had to lean onto the wall–somehow, his legs lost their strength to keep him standing. He even had to punch the wall as hard as he could–no, it wasn’t because he’s angry, it’s because he needed the pain to assure himself that this was indeed reality. Even if he knew it was real, his mind was still trying to deny the truth.

If Matsukawa leaned onto the wall, then Yahaba slumped to the ground once he witnessed the horrifying scene. He couldn’t move an inch–as if his body was chained to the ground. He couldn’t even tell if he was breathing or not–his mind went white without anything present. Trembling heavily on the ground, he could hear his ears ringing–blocking Hanamaki and Oikawa’s screams.

Watari instantly put a hand upon his mouth–if he didn’t, his lunch would be out of his stomach from the intense paranoia and panic crashing onto him. With shaking hands, he snatched his phone from his pocket–pressing the emergency call button in order to seek for medical help.

Kyotani was no better than Iwaizumi or Matsukawa. The boy was rooted to the ground, eyes widening. He knew he need to do something, anything to get this sort immediately. The sooner you got help, the better it will be. However, no matter how he screamed to his own mind, his body wouldn’t move an inch.

Kindaichi was instantly by your side. His body and mind didn’t synchronize–he couldn’t hear what he said, all he felt was his lips moving however all he heard was the beating of his heart trying to wrench its way out of his chest. His mind supplied him with endless questions–how on earth did this happen? Who did it? Why?

Kunimi almost retched on the spot–seeing thick red line running from your head to your chin was enough to nearly forced itself to be emptied. His breath went out of control–his mind was consumed in panic, his brain was numbed by shock, his body felt as if there were mountains holding it down.

Coach Irihata barked at the medical team to immediately take you to the hospital–not minding anything about practice at the moment. Coach Mizoguchi tried his best to ground the other boys, giving his shoulder to lean on.

Thankfully, after hospital and several detailed vital check-ups, you didn’t appear to receive heavy concussion. Still, you had to suffer a mild one because the height wasn’t something you would laugh about. The doctor listed everything–bruises, light sprain on your left leg, gratefully none of broken bones, absence from school for at least a week.

The team never failed to give you a visit almost every day after practice–the coaches even went with them for the sake of seeing you. They brought along sweets and small gifts to wish you well (and you never thought Kyotani would give you a bouquet of fresh irises, he’s really thoughtful).

While they put up a façade as if nothing happened, truthfully they flipped the school upside down. The Coach Irihata reported the incident to the principal, demanding a throughout search for the culprit. At first they deemed it was some sort of accident, however if you were to fall from the stairs from tripping you would at least protected your head and conscious–thus calling someone for help via phone or else.

Fortunately, someone heard some girls talking about the incident the other day–something in line about ‘what should they do?’, ‘what if Otohaku reported them?’. The team didn’t want to question you, seeing how you trembled slightly after Coach Mizoguchi asked gently of what’s truly happening.

They immediately reported it to the volleyball team, although promising to keep their name anonymous because they didn’t want to be involve.

If the three girls went unscratched from the volleyball team’s confrontation physically, it would leave a huge scar mentally. Well, would it be a prank if tall boys suddenly barged into your classroom to slap a hand upon your desk? Their looks were nothing less than menacing.

At the end, the culprits blubbered out an apology–even as far as kneeling on the ground from Oikawa’s glowering stare. He felt a sickening satisfaction from the view–though he hoped he could make her pay more for hurting you out of ugly jealousy.

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