#and yet... I kinda dig it. the face at least.

[hazelfoureyes]

for your consideration:

a reader who’s genuinely more powerful than Alastor is. maybe they’re royalty or another overlord or maybe they simply just have a more commanding presence than him, but in any way, he hates it. he goes out of his way to try to one-up them (much like how he did with Lucifer), but the reader never falters, ever-calm and ever-in control. it infuriates Alastor to no end— not only because of the simple fact that he isn’t the strongest person in the room anymore, but also because the reader never treats him like he’s lesser than them. they treat him like an equal, and it makes him even angrier.

when they fuck for the first time, it’s a last-ditch attempt for Alastor to regain control— and it fails, because even though Alastor is on top with his nails digging into the reader’s skin, doing his very best to cause the pain he knows he can cause, the reader still just stares up at him, taking it like they always do. no tears fall from their eyes, no pleads fall from their lips. Alastor is dissatisfied— very much so. so they do it again. and again. and again, until it’s something of a game between them. until one day, the reader’s composure finally shatters.

they’ve had enough of Alastor’s attitude and disrespect, and they tell him as much. they pin him down, snarling about his god complex and his twisted sadism and how long they’ve been waiting to put him in his place. and Alastor finds that no matter how much he struggles, he can’t get that control that had been so rudely snatched from him back. but the thing is— a part of him likes it. really, really likes it— that loss of power that should be his and his alone, being held just out of his petulant reach. it brings him a sick feeling that he’s never felt before and can’t get enough of.

that part grows and grows until he’s the one crying and begging and squirming weakly underneath the reader, both his smile and his mind threatening to break as the reader fucks him relentlessly. no matter how many times either of them cums, the reader doesn’t stop, not until Alastor is screaming his apologies, over and over and over again. he hates it. he loves it.

when it’s all over, and when the reader has settled, Alastor makes them promise that they will never speak of this again. without a hint of smugness, the reader agrees— but maybe the next time Alastor is acting up, the reader will only have to give him a look. and he will know.

I know this wasn’t a prompt necessarily but don’t think you can come into MY HOUSE and lay a feast in front of me and not expect I’d dig in 👏 face 👏 first 👏 so here’s me just kinda riffing off your DELICIOUSLY WRITTEN MESSAGE. NO TIME TO EDIT A CUTE REPLY IMAGE

Wrapped around Your Finger (Ace Alastor bottoms for a GN!Seraphim Reader short smut)

Warnings/Promises: 🗣️ ALASTOR GETS FINGERED, Gender Neutral Reader x Alastor smut, hate fucking, bondage, initial dubcon, Ace Alastor, scratching, kinda degradation kink, Angel Reader, Reader is a good friend, Protect Angel Dust at all costs

minors dni

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ When Lucifer introduced a defected Seraphim to the hotel, Alastor’s smile dropped. You had feet yet to him you seemed to glide through the hotel halls effortlessly. You were impeccably dressed, ever polite, well mannered, clean. It was driving him mad. Yes, Alastor knew the importance of being well groomed. He exalted manners and gentility. He disliked grime and thought a lack of personal hygiene was an actual sin. But the sight of you, every fucking day with that ever present soft smile on your lips? Your gaze, always gentle as you listened to sinners explain their dreams of redemption. Nails on a chalkboard. Every room you were in, all eyes turned to you. It was if the air itself was pulled into your charms.

Every one in the hotel either feared Alastor or, at least, failed to hide their annoyance when He’d sneak up on them or touch them without warning. Of course, not you. Alastor shocked himself with his antics in attempt to make you react to him at all. Charlie would pull him aside weekly, asking what the actual fuck? “Why did you say that? They know they aren’t from here, we all know that, but telling them they are most unnatural creature to ever exist in Hell? And I don’t think it was an accident you knocked their drink over. Al, you are being a bully.” Yes, and he was sorry. Sorry he was so ineffective. Not even a fucking knitted brow so much as flashed at him when he spilled your drink down your chest. You smiled, you had the audacity to smile at him and say, “Whoops. Your monocle isn’t prescription, huh?” He only had one option left to push you beneath him—-rip you to pieces. Any thing to get you to look at him differently than all the other weak souls mulling about in hell.

Alastor had seen you fight, when an overlord came to the hotel to taste seraphim blood, all of the Pride Ring saw your power. Arms out stretched, a glow came from your palms, yellow and bright. With the speed of someone enjoying a breakfast on the patio on a Sunday in hell, you knelt down and pressed your palms into the ground. A flash of light and power rung out from you and blinded everyone watching, but Alastor could see you as he melted into the deepest shadows your light created. White and gold glowing shards erupted from the dirt, fracturing the grounds of the hotel lawn as they formed a jagged but intelligent line straight for the demon. The overlord barely recovered from the blinding effect of your power before a glass-like piece shot from the ground and straight through his chest. It was over in seconds, and you had never dropped your soft grin.

He was prideful, but not stupid. A test, a little experiment first. When you watched sweetly from the sidelines and Charlie directed yet another meaningless activity, Alastor stood opposite you. Your eyes flitted from person to person, your smile small but genuine. Were you glowing? He had had enough. He reached his shadow appendages out and wrapped one around your ankle, as it gripped and prepared to drag you to the floor in what he hoped would be an embarrassing display, nothing happened. As the tentacle touched you, it dissipated. Your light entirely erasing the shadow.

He felt his mind breaking. Every night he paced, feeling your overwhelming presence in the hotel even at such a distance. He decided to try the one thing he’d never tried. Atleast, not since coming to hell. You were always so accommodating, maybe to a fault? He found you in kitchen, alone, making yourself some sickeningly sweet drink. Your body froze when Alastor pressed against you from behind. But, you didn’t make a sound. “Apologies, I don’t think I can suffer any longer.” He ground his hips into your ass, “I never do this, a gentleman through and through. But you see, as a deer demon, sometimes there are periods of—- unbearable discomfort. I can’t focus on redemption like this.”

Alastor was shocked when you swiveled around, eyes closed from your smile, and said, “I came here to help. What can I do?”

He couldn’t understand it. Bent over the counter in the common area, his nails cutting lines down your sides that healed with a frustrating speed, you just sighed into him. Little moans, soft exhales. He slammed your hips against him, the sound ringing through the kitchen. But still, your eyes were closed but not clenched. Your sounds small and even. The only thing keeping him hard was your hand, reached back and digging nails into his thighs. The tiniest hint of your true feelings. He’d bury his mind where your hand tore his skin and find release. Happy to see you at least a little less perfectly assembled after.

Alastor would find you at the most inconvenient times, in the most public settings, and find some excuse to need to fuck you. At one point a sinner even walked in on you two, and to Alastor’s palpable dismay, you apologized to the sinner for blocking the ice machine.

Your resolve finally snapped, however, when Alastor stepped past a line he didn’t know you had. Alastor had you, uncharacteristically, in your bed. He always spoke during sex but now, now it was genuinely grating you. “You’re such a whore, coming to Hell just to eat demon cock. If you drowned in cum you’d probably respawn as an even bigger slut than Angel Dust.” You sat up, one hand on his chest and the other under his armpit, and flipped him onto his back. Alastor’s arm moved to push back, but he found both wrists held down to the bed with a signature glow.

“If you knew Angel half as well as you pretended, you’d know how fucking stupid you sound.” Your hands gathered his cum from earlier that evening, slowly dripping out of you with the sudden change in position. “He’s the whore? Who stalks this hotel, hungry for any ounce of attention? A petulant child willing to embarrass others just so teacher notices them?” Your hand began to pump his cock. Alastor thrashed, he hated people handling his dick, but that was overshadowed by his disgust of having his semen spread over his skin. The sensation made his skin crawl and he would have gone soft but when he met your gaze he only grew harder in your fist. Your eyes were alight, figuratively and literally. The rage on your face made his smile drop entirely. You looked like you hated him. “If he is a whore, then you are Mary Magdalene. I’ll wash your feet for you, sinner.” You used your knees to spread open his untethered legs.

“I know you, Alastor,” the fingers of your other hand slicked through the lathered cum dripping down his ass and began to massage at his hole. “Your greatest sin wasn’t murder. It was pride. Never could let anyone see the famous Radio star with even a hair out of place. You’d drop your morals for even a taste of an improved social image. Even in death, you abuse and hound others who dare to make you feel less than how you demand you look from the outside.” He wanted to say anything, argue, roar, but his jaw was locked in place. Your eyes never left his, and soon his vision was darkening around your luminescent stare. A finger slipped into him, slowly but with resistance.

“Tell me to stop.” Your hand slowed to let his muscles relax around your digit before picking up speed again, curving your palm over his head with every pull upward, “Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll go right back to who I always am, and always will be. I’ll smile at you every morning and move out of your way with a nod in the halls. Say ‘stop’.” Your words were threats, not idle or hollow and it made Alastor’s thighs twitch. Go back? Return to looking at him like you truly wanted the best for him despite how dirty his hands were? Soft eyes threatening to make him melt into a lesser, weaker man?

You were in him to the knuckle, finger prodding and twirling.

His eyes were wide but focused on you. Alastor thought his soul would evaporate, your face a sneer he’d never been so lucky to even imagine before now. He could feel you around him, in him.

A tiny, halted, “S-,” was forced through his teeth.

Stop?

Slower?

He shook his head, eyes fluttering closed.

“God, you’re pathetic. What about a sorry? Can you manage a single apology for your comments tonight? I’ll let you roll me back into the mattress, for a sincere ‘sorry’.” Alastor's knees hitched, his head fell back, and he came over your knuckles with a pained groan. But you didn’t stop. You’d get your reply, eventually.

Alastor gave a threat of his own when you finally got your apology, half screamed through his third orgasm, and let him flee your bed. You nodded and agreed, yes yes, this never happened blah blah yet another example of your enormous pride.

After that night, any time Alastor wanted to yank on Husk’s chains, or double speak someone into a deal, he’d pause and look around. Expecting your two golden lit eyes to be staring, ready to flip him onto his back and drag several more apologies from him.

༻Masterlist༺

#alastor x gn!reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #alastor #ace alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #fanfiction #x you smut #smut writer #smut writing #smut fanfiction #x you #x reader #reader fic #reader insert #reader

[esouliie]

BUT DADDY, I LOVE HIM

– pairing | wanda maximoff x fem! reader

– synopsis | you and wanda come back from a very successful first mission together and decide to celebrate in the shower.

– warnings | soo if you’re a mutual dnr (jk), this is literal filth, dom/sub dynamic, spanking mention, fingering (both! receiving), face slapping, mommy kink of courseee, pet play, dub con kinda(?) bc she forces you to pee… so piss kink🤠, dacryphilia, oral (w! receiving), some aftercare and cute lil fluff moment at the end as wanda wraps you in her towels bc she’s so mommy! :3 (18+)

– notes | i honestly have nothing to say about this other than i wanted to try something new and out of my comfort zone. it was supposed to be a blurb but ended being over 2.6k so enjoy lmao >.<

It was your first mission as a couple. Unsurprisingly, it went well. To your core, you knew you’d both be fine. Wanda's leadership and responsibility were unwavering, and you knew deep down that you'd both succeed. Yet, your anxiety had waged its own battle, inundating you with "what ifs" and worst-case scenarios throughout the week.

The adrenaline still courses through your veins, mingling with the fatigue that weighs down your muscles. Dust and grime cling to your clothes, evidence of the challenges you faced together. But amidst the exhaustion, there's a sense of accomplishment, knowing you've made your girlfriend proud.

On the flight home, you shared a tired chuckle, the tension of the mission slowly fading away in the comfort of each other's presence. And all those earlier nerves fading to nothing but relief, knowing you’re both going home. Safe and sound.

…

“I need this suit off me,” Wanda exclaims, her voice weary but tinged with a hint of amusement. She kicks off her boots, already having peeled off her corset, dropping it in a heap by the door.

You giggle in agreement, the sight of your usually intimidating girlfriend as she struggles to take off her tactical gear highly amusing. “Yeah, I think I need a shower to feel human again.”

The sweat-slicked fabric of your own corset sticks uncomfortably to your skin. You would’ve thought Tony would at least have the decency to make your suit more breathable if he was going to stick you in a tight corset…. guess not.

Wanda shoots you a pointed look as you fiddle with your top. Your breasts push deliciously against the black fabric and she licks her lips at the sight of you - totally unaware of her growing desire.

“Well, we could save some water and shower together.”

The suggestion doesn’t catch you off guard as you’re used to the witch coming up with lame excuses to see you naked, and the idea of standing under the hot spray with an equally naked Wanda sounds infinitely more appealing than facing the solitude of your own shower.

“You know, if you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just said so.”

With a smirk and after a quick press of her lips against yours, Wanda heads towards the back of the apartment, tossing a teasing glance over her shoulder as she beckons for you to follow. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Hold on, babe,” You quickly follow in her steps, your trousers and socks long gone, as you enter the shared bedroom, heading for the en-suite. “I need to use the bathroom first-”

Soft lips cut you off as hands slip around your back, swift in removing your blasted corset. She doesn’t wait to grope your chest - deciding she’s been teased enough seeing you in that tight material - and thumbs swipe over pebbled nipples, as she bites her way down your neck.

With an attitude that Wanda usually wouldn’t let slide, "This couldn't have waited five minutes?" 

She replies with a quick “nope” and a harsh nip as she mouths at your skin, now adorned with pretty little red marks.

“But I need to go-” Her teeth digging softly into your nipple interrupts your train of thought as your hands shoot up to weave into dark curls, scraping at her scalp.

You say her name in a breathy moan and she replies with her own; kissing, licking, and sucking as much of you as she can. Your eyes flutter close but an ever harsher pinch to your nipple jolts you forward, eyes wide in search of the culprit.

“Eyes on me.” And with that, she steps away, starting the shower as she adjusts the temperature until steam billows from the stall in a comforting cloud.

As she moves under the spray, you can't help but admire the way the water glistens on her skin, tracing the curves of her body in rivulets that disappear beneath the cascading stream. Emboldened by the steam and the intimacy of the moment, you strip off your panties and join her in the shower, letting the water wash away the tension that has settled in your muscles.

For a while, there is only the sound of water pounding against tile, as you both take time to clean yourselves on irrespective sides. The shower was big enough for more than two, designed with two large showerheads on either side and one in the middle that you never turn on. But then, Wanda breaks the silence with a soft laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she looks at you.

“Cute butt.”

You turn your head towards her, refusing to turn fully away from the warm stream cascading down your front.

“What? This butt?” You tease, hands gliding down your hips to grab a handful of your cheeks, before rubbing slow circles, making a show of the usually marked flesh.

Wanda may have liked having you as her good girl, but there was only so much you could take before reverting to your bratty self.

Turning away from your girlfriend, not letting her win at her game of teasing, you resume cleaning yourself. But, light fingertips brushing along your left nipple tell you she’s no longer on her side. The water makes everything even more slick, a delicious friction that almost wasn't. 

She guides the heel of her other hand down your side, cresting over your ribs until it reaches your ass. Rubbing circles over where your hands were, her eyes glazed over remembering the last time she had you bent over her lap, hues of purple and red stretched over the skin as she spanked you for mouthing off in front of the team.

She husks, “Uh huh. But I like it better with my marks all over.”

Not wasting any more time, she wraps an arm around, fingers sliding down your lower stomach and graciously over your slit, just nearly missing your bundle of nerves. As if she was the one being played with, she groans freely into your ear, her front grinding flush against your back.

“Spread your legs.” And you find yourself obeying, weight shifting to rest on your palms against the tiles. She chuckles softly, teasing you along the lines of being an “eager baby,” before two fingers glide across your peaked clit, and then curl them into your hot passes.

Your head begins to throb, a sign of the tension building within you. "Don't tease," you plead, knowing that the steam only exacerbates your headache. You reach for the faucet, desperately craving relief from the suffocating heat, but a hand stops you.

You find yourself being spun around to face the taller woman, your back arching away from the cold bite of the tiles. She stares down at you with an all familiar head tilt that dares you to challenge her, to defy her from taking what is hers.

But you remain still and she takes that as an initiative to slide inside deeper, a small smile on her face at your obedience. Starting at a hard yet slow pace, she fucks into you with little remorse. A reminder of that she owns you and can have you however she wants.

Just how you like it.

“Such a pretty little slut. Taking my fingers like that, huh? So fucking greedy.” She laughs as you cling onto her towering figure, the pleasure all too consuming as you whine and whimper so openly.

Chasing that high, you fail to notice how different you feel. Waves of pleasure burdened with a slight ache as you flutter around her. The front of your walls stimulated constantly as you rock into her thrusts. Looking down, you watch as she disappears inside of you and suddenly you remember how you needed to pee earlier. The urge to go had left as soon as Wanda started to suck at your nipples.

Your head snaps back, eyes searching to catch Wanda’s attention. But it was already on you as a smirk spreads across her face. “Don’t you have to go, baby?” She asks in a husky whisper.

Your mouth opens but no sound comes out as you resort to nodding relentlessly.

“Aw, you can hold it for me, can’t you?” She coos, fingers never slowing their pace. “I want to play with you a little longer.”

Knowing you won’t be able to hold out, the need to go growing stronger and stronger now that you remember, you whine out, “No, please, Wands- I won’t- I can’t hold it.”

With a fake sigh that conveyed an air of dissatisfaction and yet subtle empathy, “Then go right here.”

You grimace at the thought of peeing on your girlfriend, how gross it would be… the embarrassment would be too much to recover from.

“I don’t want to.” You admit, embarrassment working its way slowly into your mind, not far enough gone to allow Wanda to think for you.

She doesn’t like that, and so, her fingers work faster inside of you. Her other hand moving between pinching your nipples mercilessly and holding your hips down.

“I don’t care.” She hisses out, “If you need to go, you better do it now. Don’t make Mommy wait.”

Making Wanda wait was something you didn't really want to do, having seen the consequence on many occasions when you couldn’t come when she permitted you, but it was difficult. What she was asking of you was difficult.

With her less busy hand, she slaps a palm against your cheek, the sound echoing against the tiled walls, wet skin against wet skin making the assault sting worse than usual. “I won’t tell you again, slut.”

She doesn’t like how easily you can lose focus, your brain clearly overworking when you should be letting go, focusing solely on her.

You mumble out a soft “okay”, not wanting to be slapped again, before closing your eyes and willing yourself to relax around her fingers. Your body no longer fighting against the urge, fighting to hold it in.

But tight circles around your sensitive clit and fingers deep inside don’t stop as they continue pushing you closer to the edge. Your hand grips tight around her wrist, but to no avail. She was too strong and you couldn’t help but surrender to your throes of pleasure.

Hot liquid runs down the inside of your thighs and your eyes snap shut, shielding yourself from what’s happening, as you also begin to come – unable to stop the stream of piss, the flow faster and out of control as fingers still fuck into you.

“Oh, darling... look at you.” She coos, a hint of bewilderment evident in her voice. Not expecting you to actually look, but teasing you for it all the same. She revels in the way the warm liquid slips through her fingers on to the white flooring.

Despite how mean she was, you hold tight onto her as you lose the ability to stand on your own, legs wobbling beneath. You feel her push you further into the wall, using her body as support, not wanting to take her hand away from your weeping pussy.

“That’s it.” She says softly, fingers coaxing more pleasure from your clit. “Such a messy puppy.”

Tears fall from beneath your eyelids and you open your mouth to speak, only to be silenced with her tongue down your throat.

“That was so hot.” She admits before diving back in, teeth clashing as you open your mouth wide enough for her taking. Her tongue draws yours out as she wraps around it, sucking feverishly. Feeling you release all over her fingers - the heat easily detectable under the stream of water above as you managed to splash against her pale skin - turned her on so much, she couldn’t help but fidget, battling the urge to just fuck against your soaked thigh.

The kiss eventually comes to an end, the need to breathe overpowering the need for having Wanda explore your mouth, a few hungry strands of saliva linking you together.

“Good job, baby. You did so good for me.” She says, coaxing you further into that fuzzy feeling. She nuzzles into your neck, lightly nipping over your fluttering pulse, soothing the heated skin with her tongue. The steam making it harder to see anything clearly. You whine in reply, words no longer existing in your mind, as your heavy arms wrap around her waist.

Wanda, unbeknownst to you, wants you in this headspace—all clingy and dependable. She knows how easily things affect you, so she knew that pushing you hard like she did earlier, forcing you to pee all over her, would only cause your brain to overthink and turn against you. She had to keep you like this, for your sake as well as hers.

“I know you’re feeling all floaty but Mommy needs you to do something for her, sweetheart.” She grabs your hand heading towards the slick between her thighs. She was dripping, her clit so swollen it was hard to miss, and you couldn’t help but trace slow circles around the bud. “Mommy needs you here.”

She encourages you further with a moan so arousing, it had you almost slipping inside of her, desperate to make her come around your fingers already.

She whines, needing you to focus. “I want your mouth, baby.”

You sink to your knees, knocking her legs apart to accommodate. You hoist a leg and place it over your shoulder before leaving a line of wet kisses from her knee to the inside of her thigh. Her fingers caress your face, before getting a good hold of your wet curls and drawing you closer to where she needs you most. You waste no time and lick the length of her centre, greedily taking in the arousal that had gathered there. Wanda lets out a low groan and your eye flutter at her sweet taste. She urges you with the hand that was still tangled in your hair. Obedient to the woman’s demand, you push closer, tongue teasing around her entrance as the tip of your nose pushes into her nerves.

The grip in your curls tightens as she begins to guide your head up and down, your tongue running from just inside her, up along that sweet nerve. She curls forward, one hand against the wall, as she fucks against your face. You lick greedily, jaw slack as you let her take control, smearing her wetness all over.

Every pant melds with a breathy moan as she chases her orgasm. Lost in pleasure, she knocks your head against the tiles. It hurts - your headache now forming for certain - but she doesn’t notice until one sharp thrust has you letting out a sharp cry.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby.” She husks, arousal still clouding her senses, but she’s concerned with your wellbeing as the hand in your hair travels to soothe where you hit your head, making sure there’s no bumps or cuts. Your eyes flutter shut but you don’t revel in the comfort for too long. Her diagnoses done, she guides you back to her pussy.

She doesn’t fuck your face this time, allowing you the space to gingerly tease her entrance, and within a few seconds, your curling your fingers inside while making a hither motion, eliciting long moans from the older woman.

You don’t bother working your way up, knowing how close she was to finishing before she stopped, as you flick at her clit, fingers pressing against her front walls with an expertise only she could teach you.

At this point, Wanda can’t stop moaning. Her hand leaving your hair as she palms her breasts, slipping her nipples between her fingers and pinching the sensitive flesh. Words of encouragement fly from her lips as she lingers on the edge and you work faster, harder, propelling her forward into a blinding orgasm. Her body trembles violently and you smooth your palms over her thighs, feeling the strong muscles rippling beneath.

“Fuck.” She draws out, light flicks of your tongue helping her come down, before she’s ushering you back on to your feet. You slide up and press against her awaiting lips, pushing your body against hers. Sensitive nipples rub against each other and she groans as she tastes herself, hungrily kissing back. She’s always been able to recover much quicker than you.

“Thank you, baby.” She whispers, still a little breathless, before she turns to shut off the water. Her hand grasps yours and you step out the shower, feeling a slight chill as the warmth of the water dissipates. Wanda reaches for a fluffy towel, wrapping it around you first before turning her attention to herself. With practiced ease, she begins to pat your skin dry, her touch sending ripples of warmth through you.

 She always takes such good care of you.

“Looks like I need to wrap your hair.” She says, a tender smile gracing her lips. She had managed to avoid getting her hair wet unlike you with your curls clinging to the sides of your face. Her fingers work deftly to wrangle them into a towel but she’s had enough experience and managed to do it first time.

“All done, little mermaid.” She lets go with a peck to your lips, moving towards the door, and you grab onto her stretched out hand.

“Come on,” She tugs gently, “Let’s watch a movie.”

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #cr: @chilumitos

[kazumist]

COULD IF YOU WOULD .ᐟ

✩ — the two times aventurine referred to you as his "work wife" and the one time he seems to have left out the "work" part.

✩ — includes: aventurine x f!reader. fluff (?), crack. cw: ooc!aventurine probably, very messy and i kinda hate this piece LOL. wc: 820. reblogs are very much appreciated !!

✩ — note: trying to write aventurine as his usual self now and not some delusional hc that i have of him yay! (i went through hell and back writing this just to get the dialogue match his way of speaking.) pretend that the ipc holds company dinners btw 🥹.

you don’t really know how it started. but maybe it’s because your co-workers tease you both too much about how you and aventurine act like an “old married couple” due to your constant banter, or maybe it’s because of aventurine’s (annoying) flirtatious remarks towards you.

however with the constant jokes and all, even aventurine got infected because there’s times when he would refer to you as his “work wife” as well. the first was when you were out at a company dinner. working in the same department with aventurine didn’t really help your… predicament, but for some reason, it wasn’t so bad.

“so how are you two love birds doing?” a co-worker asked, clearly drunk from the way they slurred their words and how red their face was slowly getting. aventurine just laughs at them—casually swinging an arm and resting it on the back of your chair. “my work wife here seems to be doing well, right?” he glances at you, a whiskey glass in hand, as he rotates it with his wrist. he was simply met with a glare in return. people wouldn’t care if you responded anyway because they’re too drunk to even remember this in the morning.

the second time was when you two got stuck in an elevator ride. and the worst part? aventurine purposely pressed at least four floors below your destination on the panel just so he could chat with you. “wouldn’t it be a nice idea to ditch work for today?” he asks, his eyes focused on both of your reflections from the elevator’s doors.

“you’re insane.”

“my dearest work wife, you wound me! i was simply asking you out.”

“no one would ever agree if you asked them in that way.” you refused to make eye contact with him.

“if i asked normally, then where’s the fun in that?”

when the elevator hit the current floor, you made your exit despite the floor not being your destination yet. 

of course, he had called or referred to you as his “work wife” many more times than this. however, as for the third one, it was when you were assigned to work with aventurine to dig up some information in a bar of sorts. a bar is quite a dangerous place in general, but you both had no choice but to split up so work would be faster.

that is, until you started being pestered by some stranger at the bartender’s counter.

no matter how many times you told him to go away (in reality, you really wanted him to go fuck off already), he was just being too persistent. but you couldn’t do anything because it would most definitely cause a scene—and you don’t want that. it was starting to suffocate you, how the stranger kept getting closer.

“dear, who is this?” you knew that voice from anywhere. you looked over to your side and saw aventurine next to you, already wrapping his arm around your waist as he looked at the stranger from head to toe. after telling him that you had no idea, you swore you could’ve seen his jaw clench for a quick second. playing along was mandatory with how the situation is turning now, even if aventurine had to pretend that he was actually your partner (well, technically, he is your partner for this assignment).

“who knew that there was actually someone indecent enough to hit on someone’s wife?” it was weird. you always felt icked by how aventurine kept calling you his “work wife." but this time, it was weird. and you hate it.

because you had a revelation that you liked the fact aventurine called you his wife at this very moment.

aventurine has a way with words. he always does; he knows what to say to rile up someone—to provoke them. it was no surprise that the stranger became another one of aventurine’s victims when it came to his provocative terms. yet, it was all over in a blink of an eye because the guy retreated. (you weren’t able to understand what aventurine specifically said to him, but does it really matter at this point?)

“are you alright?” he asks. 

“yeah. thank you.”

“how about we hit the hay for tonight? i managed to gather some information anyway.”

“agree, i was able to catch some as well.”

“really now? we make a great team, don’t we?”

“don’t let it get to your head, aventurine.”

he chuckles. “i was serious, though.” you look at him, confused. “about…?” aventurine leans to your ear and whispers low: “we could actually get married if you would let me do the honors of asking for your hand.”

thwack!

“ow! hey! i was only kidding! okay maybe i wasn’t but—hey! that actually hurts a lot now!” he yelps as you slap him by the shoulder repeatedly. “you’re insane, i tell you!”

maybe being called aventurine's work wife had its perks after all.

#( writings ) #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine #x reader

[mandalhoerian]

moth to a flame | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Break-ups are never easy. Thankfully, you've been preparing for yours for a long time. Leon doesn't let this revelation go for reasons you cannot fathom when he's the one who wants to leave.

word count: 9K

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, p in v, kinda body worship, switch leon, he subs for like a moment and goes this better not awaken anything in me

notes: i winged this please don't judge me. also, "plot"-wise, this is an extension of my leon love language post. header template can be found here. enjoy the filth

🌀 read on ao3!

📍 continue to the BAD ENDING!

📍 continue to the GOOD ENDING!

In hindsight, you’ve seen this coming. Your face barely moves at your on and off situationship of two years forcing out, “I think we should break this off.” 

So faint and unsure it’s barely above a whisper.  

He looks so uncomfortable hunching over, forearms resting on the countertop, breakfast untouched, as if trying to make himself smaller than you, it’s absurd considering the nerves of steel you envy him for, and sure, he’s adorably awkward sometimes for a man of his looks, but not like this. Never vulnerable like this.

The kitchen is gloomy despite the bright winter sun seeping through the windows, almost suffocating because of his uncharacteristically transparent malaise. Leon isn’t one to openly squirm, and in turn, it’s making you all the more nervous — nothing about this is fair when you were thinking you got all the practice needed from imaginary scenarios and possibilities on all the directions the eventual separation would go.  

He can’t look at you, shaking his head nervously, choked by the silence. “Say something.”

How funny it is that he’s the most fit man you’ve ever known, could lift you with one arm without breaking a sweat— one bicep literally the size of your head, yet looks like he’d cry if someone touched him right now. It’s a hard to swallow, unreal pill that you’re the one doing this to Leon, making him weak like this. 

You’ve never known you had that kind of power over him until now, how he says he wants to break up but would throw up if you actually say yes.  

You shift in your seat, the wood of the chair suddenly digs sharply into your skin with how hyperaware your body is of all the surroundings to deviate your attention from Leon, folding your hands on your lap. 

The answer is at the tip of your tongue, it was stashed away there months ago. Of course you’ll let him go. 

What makes it easier for you is having consented to how absent and private he warned half the things involving him was going to be, or it’s that you knew from the start your time with him would be limited. You just don’t question it; completely skipping the first four stages of grief and jumping readily to acceptance. 

The lamb knew it would be slaughtered by the nurturing, kind humans, and yet it still got attached to them; Homer straight up told the readers how the story would end right at the start of Iliad, yet the fall of Patroclus and the rage of Achilles burned the same, if not worse — you knew Leon would inevitably fall apart and run away one day, yet chose to cherish your limited time with him all the same.

It can’t be called a tragedy if you agreed to how it would end in the first place. 

Leon Kennedy is ephemeral in his nature, daydream-present and lucid-absent in your life all at once. You thought of him as an outdoors cat, never really yours in the first place, randomly shows up whenever he wants to, reluctantly leaves out of nowhere — a flighty, mysterious companion who’s happy and eager to be there but withdrawn when poked and prodded. 

You accept him as such, love him all the same.  

You’re not sure if he loves you just as much. 

Fondness and like is there, enough for him to have stuck around for this long, but you figure it’s because you’re safe and constant. You’re happy to have provided him with at least that because you’re not sure what he saw in you, to be honest. 

What’s happening is painless enough to go through exactly because of this, you hadn’t let yourself get too attached to Leon knowing he isn’t into you as much as you are into him. Maybe you are deluding yourself, maybe you are numb and not as apathetic like you thought you are, but you’re convinced this is how it should go — how it’s meant to go. What’s the point when you’re aware your name won’t be at the top of his list? 

The insecurity surely is a small part of the ‘Leon Kennedy Breakup First-Aid Package’ you’ve been cultivating over time in preparation to cushion your own fall when the time would naturally come, but it doesn’t cover the shape Leon is in that even when he’s the one breaking your heart, he looks like he’s shouldering the pain you’re going through on top of his. 

This is why you can’t ever be mad at him. You wanted to be with him knowing the way he is, after all. 

Leon is a mess despite trying not to show it, his messy straw-blond hair doesn’t shine like it usually does, he hasn’t conditioned it, the golden sheen to it wilted almost. His bloodshot, red rimmed eyes are dim in their blue, laser-focused on the black coffee mug he’s tightly gripping, the skin underneath his lower lashes spread out in faded pink-purple half-rings and it only ever happens when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep in more than a couple days’ time whenever he has to be away for an unprecedented amount of time, or gets buried too long in his paperwork. His thumbs are wiping at the place he puts his lips on and have a sip at the contents of it you’ve seen he fed some liquor to a few minutes prior. He’s awfully domestic in his black sweater and pants, not at all looking like he just asked for a breakup.   

You take pity on him. 

“I see. Alright.”

His head shoots up, eyes immediately finding yours, no longer blank. He doesn’t seem sure if he heard you right, expression disbelieving. “What?”

“How do you want to do this?” Mirroring Leon’s anxious movements, your own fingers trace the rim of your own teacup. “You could start gathering your things today, but if you want to call it a day, I don’t mind—”

“No—wait—what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying okay, Leon.”

He winces at the name, gaze escaping from you again momentarily and he has to blink, the lack of your usual pet name for him must have hurt him, you presume. He has to swallow before talking. “This is it?”

You’re not sure if it’s directed at the end of your relationship or you letting him off easy. “I don’t understand. What else was I supposed to say?” 

“I don’t know, I just—”

This isn’t being hopeful, but you ask anyway. “What did you want me to say?” 

He sighs in return, tearing away his gaze and hiding it with a hand that wipes at his forehead.

Yeah, it isn’t your hopes that were crushed. You adamantly tell yourself it isn’t. He’s being nice as he always is, of course he’d question how agreeable you’re being, it’s not like his resolve is going to change. “I’m just being cooperative so we can—”

“Aren’t you angry with me?”

That was the problem?

“I’m not, Leon.” 

“How can you not be?”

“Well, I…” It’s because you love him, but bringing this up would only make it harder. “I’m not sure. You’ve been that good to me along the way, I guess. I don’t resent you for anything.”

He has that subtle sarcastic look on his face you would take as mocking if you were a total stranger, but you know better. He’s being self-deprecating. You could read it. But you should, he’s thinking. You should resent me. 

You don’t. 

The thing with Leon is he’s too good to be true that his only flaw is being a literal ghost. A well-meaning ghost who’d send presents upon presents and work his ass off to make extra time for what he had to give up on every time your plans falls through with unexpected shit that came up from his mystery job at the White House he never talks about that has him battered and bruised each time he turns up after prolonged leaves.  

Which is an oxymoron considering how attentive and absent he is at the same time. Sometimes you wondered if he’d fix his habit of being a clam about everything concerning himself after you guys were through, but imagining him becoming more open and changing for someone else hurt too much.

“Don’t you want to know why? I mean—god, why are you just taking it?” 

“What do you mean taking it? You’re not doing this to hurt me, look at you, Leon, when have you last slept? It’s hard on you too.” 

“That really doesn’t have to do with anything right now,” he dismisses. “How are you this unaffected? I’ll take it if it’s to get back at me…”

“It’s not.” You stand up, appetite lost. You want to wrap your food up and put it in the fridge to eat later, and this way, you don’t have to look at him while saying the sentences you have rehearsed for so long. “If you want to break up, I can’t force you to stay—or into anything you don’t want to. It’s not fair for either of us. You’ll be stuck with someone who you don’t want, and I’ll have to live with the knowledge I’m with someone who doesn’t want me.” 

You find him staring at you when you’re done, your hand stays wrapped around the handle of the fridge door at how tortured he is. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shakes his head, blond strands framing his face gently swishing in the air. He does the angry eyebrow scrunch whenever he disagrees with you strongly on something you’ve said, but decides not to at the last minute, and you find yourself the tiniest bit disappointed at him not refusing he doesn’t want you. “You always— you always do this... Be angry. You have to be angry at me.”

You find refuge in the kitchen sink, washing your hands. “Stop it. I don’t want to fight, please.”

“So you are angry.”

“I’m not!” You slam the water shut a bit too forceful and you breathe for a second before turning to him. “I’m not. Angry. I’m sad, yeah. An understatement. Who wouldn’t be?” 

He just says, “I’m sorry,” at that, and hates it’s the only thing he can manage to give you, it’s blatant in his face. 

You take a seat at the chair directly next to him, you both need the intimacy of good communication at the moment. “But I had a lot of time to mourn, alright? It’s not that I’m taking it or being passive or whatever—”

“Mourn?”

His eyes search yours for a second, and the realization leaves him breathless, the insides of his brows raise up, making him look younger and more innocent. “You were expecting this.”

“Yeah, I mean.” Your lips press together, and you chew the insides before hopelessly shrugging, a small smile doing its best to put itself together. “Look at us. It was never going to work out in the long term. Not really. I consider two years a miracle, to be honest. I don’t know how we got this far.”

“All this time we were together.” Leon’s voice is thick, on the verge of shaking, you weren’t expecting him to take this so badly. His pupils devour all the blue from his eyes, he has never looked at you this hostile before all the hair on your arms rise up. “You were just thinking about breaking up? Have I only ever made you insecure?”

“Not all the time—it’s just—” You swallow. ““Why are you angry at me now? What did I do? You are the one breaking up with me.”

“And here you are okay with this. You’re telling me you didn’t think we’d ever work out when I—” He huffs. “I didn’t even notice a thing. You weren’t happy at all. Ever? You were uneasy all this time?”

“No, Leon, you’re not listening to me. What I expected was that you would leave one day, eventually. Because that’s how you are. That’s how your life is.” He leans back when he gets what you are alluding at, rubbing his face with a hand, refusing to look at you — but out of anger this time around. “I know you wouldn’t be able to stand being in limbo about not letting yourself go and wanting to at the same time. I know you felt bad about everything. I guess it’s just not the right time?”

You don’t say, right person and wrong time, it’s wishful thinking on your part—Leon probably doesn’t think that, someone else seems to take that crown in his heart, you know that all too well. 

The muscles on his arm closest to you flexes, he must be thinking about taking your hand in his, so you remove them off the table and nestle them between your thighs. Any physical contact from him might lead to you crying in the end. 

“I’m sorry I made you go through all that,” he laments. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Your head tilts sideways. “It wasn’t about me, Leon. Suppose I sat you down and complained you weren’t open with me, you were distant. Especially when you weren’t ready for the conversation. I’ll tell you what would have happened. Two weeks of radio silence.”

“Ah, c’mon…”

“It’s not something you haven’t done before. You said it was work, but… You know. I get it.”

Leon exhales from his nose and lowers his head, broad chest puffing up with rapid breaths, his neck is getting redder by the second. You’ve never taken him for someone with an explosive anger, but it looks like that could change any second. 

“I wish you wouldn’t take this to heart, I’m not saying this to hurt you when I say I knew this was always going to happen.” You’re talking like you’re trying to soothe a tiger, and he especially looks to hate it. “You can’t possibly have expected me to ignore it. And it wasn’t going to come from me either, I’m happy to be with you either way, but—”

“That’s the problem.” He has his head between his hands, like that could possibly hide him away from the conversation. “I treat you like this and you still say that.”

You wish he wouldn’t be this hard on himself.

“I signed up for this.” He tilts his head at that, accusatory, and you get more agitated in return. “I know your circumstances. You can’t help being absent most of the time, I understand. I understand more than you think.” His forearms hit the counter loudly, he looks about to spit fire any second, but you don’t let it happen. “However. It’s no way to continue a relationship, I know that too. My perspective is that it shouldn’t be guilt that comes to your mind whenever you think of me. I wish things could be different. I wish I could be a priority to you—”

Leon’s face sours, and you stop talking when you see it. 

You didn’t mean for the words to hurt him as they did, explanations becoming distraught. “Look, I like you, you know this. Possibly too much. More than I should. You have to understand that’s why I’m being this amicable with you right now. Break-ups don’t always have to end in fights, sometimes things just don’t work out, and that’s what’s happening right now, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t reach Leon. His gaze is faraway, defined jawline locked clenching and unclenching. 

“If it makes you feel better, I was angry for a while.” His hand comes down from rubbing a circle in the middle of his brows, eyes shifting back to yours. “But it is what it is.”

“You’re not even gonna ask?” he says, defeated.

“Would you tell me anything different from what I know?”

He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a sigh, one of his legs shaking, and his head falls forward, curtains of dark blond hair covering your view of his face. For a moment, all you want is to slip your fingers into the silky strands and comb them back, take his heat away, the pads of your fingers on his smooth cheekbones, you know he’d melt into your touch straight away and his expression would lose weight of the strain he carries you can only imagine the root of most of the time, but you abstain. 

He wouldn’t appreciate it on the brink of a break-up, you were about to become nothing but strangers. 

That’s why it’s abrupt when he leans forward and captures your lips in an unfair, unfair kiss, the force of it makes his teeth clack against yours and you grimace, retreating to break it. His hand slips to the side of your neck to pull you back in, the drag of calluses and heat against the skin of your neck sends goosebumps all over your body, his thumb caresses your cheek in a loving way that hurts but his lips are frantic in their gentler search to open your mouth to his, and suddenly you can’t breathe from how much Leon keeps advancing. 

Turning your face away to break the assertive, overwhelming liplock, you take in lungfuls of air as you look as away from him as you can, panicking at the way he presses his forehead to your temple and the way his nose nudges your burning cheek, he doesn’t budge when you attempt to push him off the second you realize you’re enjoying this. He’s built like a fucking tank. “Leon—”

“Say no if you don’t want it,” he breathes, right into your neck, the tickle is mixed with something dangerous that sears your skin along with the low rumble to his voice directly in your ear, and you have to stop yourself from squirming, a coil of incandescence binds its threads together in the depths of your stomach. “Say it and I’ll stop.” One muscular arm hooks around the back of your upper thigh and one around your waist, he quite literally snatches you off your chair and plops you down on his lap, each of your legs hang from the sides of his hips, and you yelp at how effortlessly Leon seems to arrange you to his liking. 

He’s needlessly, uncharacteristically cruel. You would always want him. Leon knows this. 

“You’re so—” Your breath hitches when his fingers bypass your shirt and sneak up the bare skin of your waist and his other arm readjusts you as he buries his forehead in your shoulder and you gaze at the top of his golden hair kissed by morning sunlight and take in the familiar scent of him and his shampoo. His body against yours leaves a festering sweet longing. “So unfair—you were just breaking up with me—”

He bites down at the meat of your clavicle and you draw in a short breath, the dig of his teeth sting, but he immediately soothes it with a lick and his tongue is hot, too hot. “Unfair?” he groans, you contain the shudder at the emotion he keeps at bay and at the path his blunt fingernails make above the clothing from your hips to the sides of your legs, he’s never been like this. “You already left me in your mind before this and I don’t even know exactly when.” The tip of his nose faintly traces the curve of where your neck meets the shoulder, the tickle is unbearable, aching, you wish he would have left marks instead. “You were always thinking of leaving— our time together didn’t matter to you. What do you think that makes me feel like?”

“That’s not—” You grip both of his biceps and feel the protruding veins and the flex of the muscle underneath the skin, intimidated as always by how both of your hands added together were too small to form a full hold around one. I work out a lot, was his excuse while you were first getting to know each other as acquaintances, and you’d thought how this man belonged with someone of his league. “You’re the one—” 

“You dummy, I’m not leaving you because I want to.” Leon’s arms circle your waist and pulls your body flush against his in a crushing hug, his head finding home under your chin and against your chest. It’s innocent and you feel the helplessness, the desire to hold but not be seen, but you don’t know what to do in return, his words don’t quite register. “Why would I ever when I—“ He cuts himself off, breathing shaky as the rest of the sentence dies at his throat. “Jesus, I can’t believe this.”

You tentatively hold his shoulders, surprised at how taut they are. How winded he is like some wire. “I don’t understand.”

“You are just letting me leave like that. Like some business deal done and gone, you just…” 

You can’t help the sound that escapes as he bites your earlobe. Why does he keep biting? 

“Ow!—“ Leon starts sucking, the wet sounds and his breathing directly in your ear sending shivers down your spine, and you’ve had enough of his thought processes ending up being completed by his lips on your body. 

He’s easily able to overpower you, but obeys when he feels you’re genuinely pushing him away, some strands of your hair get stuck on his face and the view of the detained obscenity of his expression  —the half-closed eyes and the missing blue, the flush of his cheekbones, glistening of his pinked lips— sends a hot wave downstairs. “It’s you. You! You’re the one leaving, Leon, I don’t get it—“

Some clarity through the pinkish haze of want dawns back to him, and he gingerly combs the threads of hair away from your face, some of them behind your ear. “I don’t want to. That’s the thing. I thought it was clear as day.” Leon searches your eyes, looking down at the details of your face, your heart races as his stare gets stuck at your lips the longest, he isn’t even aware he’s doing it and you feel feverishly desired from his insatiable look, from the slow movement of his Adam’s apple. “But—“

“You can’t help it. Right?” Your thoughts are blurring together, and he’s a black hole pulling you in. “I understand—“

Leon kisses you again, and your stolen exhale turns into a pleased hum. “Stop saying that,” he whispers with inches between your lips, eyes closed, so close your breath is his.  

“What do you want me to say?“

“Stay.” He takes your hand and brings it up, planting a singular kiss at the inside of your wrist, and then rests his cheek against your palm. You can only stare at the vulnerability he’s offering you on a silver platter, the tormenting softness is blinding. “Stay.” 

Your heart soars. God, you’ve longed for him to give away that he wants to be with you all this time, the insecurity is a blanket you’ve hidden under, this is it, but he’s so torn and you don’t get his struggle, what he must be hiding for such a visceral reaction. He wants to, but he can’t, and you don’t know why, having accepted he wouldn’t tell you from the start anyway. 

But you ask. You ask anyway. Hope is a flightless bird waiting for her wings to grow each day. “Will you?”

Something shifts, a delicate moment broken, and Leon draws back, his eyelashes flutter as if he’s shaking off some daydream — and then he’s upset, a pinch in his brow. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I can’t—“ You’re grabbed from the arms and scooted away from his lap, putting some distance between the two of you. Leon is physically pained, unable to meet your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m being like this.” He holds your hands between the two of you, and you get whiplash from the passion just mere seconds ago and the tenderness of this touch. “I can’t keep doing this to you. I don’t know why I’m this unreasonable, it’s so childish— Shit. I’m sorry, I’ll just—“

“No.” You cup his face in both hands and he looks like an abused puppy tasting kindness for the first time. “Stay for a bit.” Your heartstrings are tugged by the way Leon’s eyes are lit up. “I want to have you. One last time. Is that alright?”

A beat passes.

“Yeah,” he says, blanking out at first, but then repeats stronger, his fingers sink into the plush of your thighs as he licks his lips. “Yeah.” He turns his head and kisses your palm, somber. “You can have me however you want.”

Leon doesn’t look like he’s particularly looking forward to it. “You sure?”

“I’ll always want you, any day, any time,” he says, and you’re flabbergasted at the burden of his meaning. But you force yourself to look past it, look past the unguarded and unarmed honesty, choosing to interpret it in the language of lust. 

“Not here, though.” You get up from his lap and he doesn’t stop you. “It’s kinda cramped.”

“We can make it work if you’re up for it,” he half-teases, one corner of his lips curling up, his eyes are humorless. 

You snort. Easy for him to say. He’s fit, you aren’t, that’s why being on top can’t last half the time without his assistance. “You can. I certainly can’t.”

“You keep saying I can’t to me, knowing I take it as a personal challenge.” Leon’s touch moves up your forearm and in one swift move, he pulls you in between his legs. He leaves a kiss at the lower valley between your clothed breasts. “Maybe you’re doing it on purpose?”

You’re heating up right away. “I’m not—”

Leon pats his right leg, pulling up the sleeve of his shorts all the way up to the hipbone, exposing the well-endowed, firm thigh. “Sit here.”

“Your leg’s gonna get a cramp,” you say, but it’s hardly a complaint, your crotch has begun to contract at the thought of feeling the flawless skin slipping against your slick folds and how he would mold the tendons to fit just right for your pleasure. Expectation was pulling you tight right from the start where he had you hanging from his every word.  

Leon’s almost offended. “It won’t.” But his encouragement is gentle. “Come on, sweet girl.” Hooking one arm between the two layers of the bands of your underwear and pants, he lets them snap back against your skin after he pulls considerably. “And you’re taking off all that.”

You let it go. Immediately. “Fuck, okay.” 

It’s morning. You’re in the middle of the kitchen. And you’ve forgotten all of that, head lost in the beginnings of a dull throb between your legs. Your dignity would have been trampled on if you were too enthusiastic, so you try to take your time, and he asks, “How do you want to go about this?”

“Huh?”

His hands ride up your knee and inch up, his thumbs in the line of your inner thighs, and your first instinct is to press them together to alleviate the ache, but Leon’s forcing them apart. “You can have my tongue or fingers first. To help the friction.” You swallow when the nail of his thumb scratches the material of your panties and feels the slight dampness, and he’s watching your reactions very closely. “Or you could just sit down.”

You don’t have strength left in your knees anymore, head spinning with the way his darkened, narrowed gaze is simultaneously bearing down on and  looking up at you, and Leon helps you settle your weight on his leg after sliding your underwear down your legs, the warmth of his palms on your naked hips alone is vexing enough and it’s embarrassing that he feels the particularly strong pulse of your sex. 

He angles his leg up and you slide forward with the gathered moisture, arms catching onto his neck in surprise from the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Eager, are we?”  

You aren’t normally bold like this, would let him keep softly teasing rather than give the same energy back, but there’s a certain finality to this time, your brain is liquid smooth from the tantalizing delight of his touch, and you don’t hold back to inform just what he does to you breathily. “Always for you.”

The movement of his leg staggers and you look up to see him caught completely off guard. And the next thing you know, Leon has you in a bruising kiss, or you think it has the strength to bruise, he hasn’t been this rough before, and you certainly haven’t been craved to this extent in your entire life before him. 

This time you accept his tongue willingly into the cavern of your mouth, his fervent licks and gasps rise the question of who’s really the more eager one here, but it doesn’t really occupy space in your mind, limbs stilling overall from how he steals away all bodily functions with just kisses that radiate desperation. 

Leon ushers your hips to languidly move when you fail as a multitasker all the while the swirl of your tongues continue to tangle, and it proves difficult as your slide against him becomes smoother and wetter with him finding just how to pull the hood of your mound while you’re pulling back and drag against it in the correct angle, flexing his thigh accordingly. 

He pecks your jaw. “Faster?”

Skin contact goes straight to the tightening spiral in your stomach like this. “I can’t—”

“Don’t say you can’t.” He does something that has you dropping down from heights by circling his leg, and completely out of your control, small noises emerge from the back of your throat and you can’t kiss him back anymore. “Do you want it faster or not?”

You try to hum in agreement, but he catches you in the middle of it and jerks you forward, the sharp zap electrifies all your nerves and grants him a startled moan, you can barely see the satisfaction in his face from the sudden tears. You were somehow in control of the pace previously, but once he knows you want it faster, it’s him that anchors your hips to the edge of the stars, a man on a mission. 

Leon begins to leave open-mouthed, wet kisses on your neck that has you tilting your head to give him more room, and you’re glad his heavy gaze isn’t drinking in your bliss-stricken expression anymore. “You hear that?” His question is thick. “Listen.” 

The noises your wetness make sliding across the muscles of his thigh in a rapid speed makes some of the blood rush up to your cheeks, and the knot is stretched so agonizingly beyond the point of no return that you’re hurling towards absolution, legs beginning to shake and your whines become sweeter. “Leon,” you pant, the fever to keep going as he is conveyed in one singular word reaches him. “Leon—ah, mmh— I’m— Leon!”

“Yeah, I got you.” Adoring kisses are peppered along your jawline and your fingers clutch to his blond hair, pulling him in, your stiffened, perked up nipples are smushed in the press of his chest against yours, and you arch into him like a cat, lost in the ascending ecstasy. “Just let go.” He bites down and your sore walls clench around nothing, the pulsating increasing in intensity. You’re on a thrill ride, shooting up, up, up— “Come for me, sweet girl, come on, give it to me.”  

With a sharp, choked cry, and the throw of your head back, the coil explodes and unravels, white sparkles in your vision, and Leon holds you down when your body tries to fly off with the force of your orgasm, the sinking of his hands into your sensitive flesh only heightens and sends crashing waves as he helps you ride through it, rocking lazily with you back and forth. 

“Oh god,” you shiver, clinging to him, upper body basically draped across his chest as the pleasure rolls into a stinging ache of pain with the overstimulation, bones jiggly from the floaty feeling to get away yourself. “Too much. Leon. Too much.”

His voice is croaky. “Yeah, we’re not done yet.” 

He stands up with his arms supporting your legs around his waist, and you hold on for dear life. It scares every single time he does this. Leon makes it look so easy to carry you around from room to room without breaking a sweat. 

The full meaning of his words only get to you when you’re thrown on the bed, wind knocked out of you. “Leon, wait, aren’t you going to Spain tomorrow, don’t you have to prepare—”

“I’m preparing,” he says, putting one knee on the bed and oh god, the shine on his thigh, the drench, that was all you—- “Need to get my fill of you to last for the whole trip, yeah?”

It’s more like he’s saying, ‘To last for the rest of my life’, the hunger and melancholy makes for a Frankenstein’s monster of ravenous, unquenchable yearning when you’re right in front of him and your flame is rekindled.  

More than one round with him is uncommon most times because he’s simply busy and moves around a lot, you weren’t used to the practice, build wired to exhaustion taking over when he was finally done with you, either hot, heavy and fast or sweet and intense, each time leaving you with honeyed sore bones and the best sleep following right after. 

Arousal pools in the pit of your belly thinking about what comes next. 

Kneeling at your feet, he taps your tight-locked  knees. “Open up for me.”

It’s morning. He could see every detail of imperfection in this light and uncertainty washes over you for a second before you do as he wishes, the sheets crinkling and rustling beneath your shifting, and he gets on his stomach and puts one of your legs to his shoulder when you thought he would be entering you already. 

Flustered, you get up on your elbows. “Leon, you don’t have to.” 

“Didn’t think you wanted to get it over with right away.” Sliding his hand up, he fans his fingers on your tummy, thumb pulling at the skin dipping into your vulva, and looks up at you from his eyelashes. Little sparks of pleasure light up at each stroke. The weight of his arm is wonderful. “Breaking my heart over here.”

“It’s not that, I…”

He scooches up, and the knowingly feather-light kiss he leaves on the inside of your thigh, close — right there but not there, makes your leg twitch. “Oh, you wanted something else?” The teasing view of Leon inches away from where you wanted him was a sight for sore eyes, but his sudden hot breath on your post-orgasmic sopping heat broke your daze, making your hips attempt to jump up, but his arm had you absolutely pinned on the mattress. “Well?” 

It’s not something you’d planned, but his wanton beauty looking up at you shoves an image inside your brain unexpectedly, reminding you how you’d said you wanted to have him, not the other way around. This is going to be the last time Leon would be like this with you, and there were so many things left unexplored. What would it feel like to have this feline-gracious, strapping man underneath you, to run your lips through his unbelievably sturdy body all over and return the kindness on how good he’s been taking care of you? Leon was always perfect to you. Is perfect. Your wish to present him with how exactly on top of the world he has you feeling for your final time, to return the favor. 

Leon has stopped moving and it’s because of your lack of reaction and the long look of contemplation regarding him. You lift his hair away from his eyes. “Can you lay down on your back?”

“You wanna get on top?” he asks, but doesn’t object to it, moving up on the bed and sitting up, getting the hint on taking off his clothes, enamored, you watch his abdomen flex and limbs stretch like a cat’s as he slips his shirt off and throws it away and shimmy off his briefs. Every single movement of his is a wonder. 

“No, I want to touch you,” you say, stare not knowing where to focus on him and his half-hard dick jumps at your words. “Explore you.”

He meets your eyes, pupils blown, and swallows, nodding. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I wanted to have you, remember?” 

There’s a semblance of a laugh and Leon rolls on his back, one knee up and hands on his stomach, blond hair fanning around his head on the sheets. He looks like a sculpture. “And how will you have me?”

“Pleasured without thinking of pleasuring,” you explain, he’d be better at the dirty-talk in your position, perhaps say something like ‘Crying for me’, but you’re way too fascinated by him to think about what would have him helplessly turned on. “Vulnerable.”

You would be lucky if you are able to push him to the point of not even one thought behind those pretty blue eyes, but you just want to make him feel good, and with that in mind, reach a hand and trail the tips of your fingers through the prominent web of veins along his forearm, his fingers jump, and you continue through his upper arm, lingering on the sharp lines of lighter-colored small scars until you reach his shoulder, feeling the cluster of the goosebumps that rise in his skin. 

“Seriously?” he says with an annoyed timbre and you see him having gone completely hard, eyebrows shooting up in shock. “You’re going this slow? Am I some package you’re unboxing?” 

“You seem to be enjoying it,” you murmur in interest, and Leon sulks at how you run all five of your fingernails all the way down the lower of his belly button and how it’s hardly even a graze at all. His abs keep contracting. “I barely touched you.”

“You, haah,” he sighs at you straddling and hovering above him. “Don’t need to point that out.”

Leon tries to hold onto your thighs but you maneuver him away, and unsurprisingly, he isn’t pleased by that, groaning. “Oh we’re doing this?”

“I’m touching you. Stay still like a good boy.”

It’s your usual banter, but for some reason, he turns his face away and closes his eyes for a second, wetting his lips as if his mouth is dry. The line of his neck clenches and unclenches and you feel the brush of his dick lightly hit the inside of your leg. You’re fascinated again. He likes this more than you expected. “God, you really want to kill me.”

Leon could stop it if he wanted to. Switch it around. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before. All the times you’ve attempted to ride him and your knees and calves failed you, he ended up sitting up and hugging you close, fucking up into you and kneading your insides from below and littering your shoulders with angry red marks, taking control of the pace, especially riled up from how endearing and sexy you were trying your best to pleasure him, in his words. He can do it again, but doesn’t. Just lies there, all for you, stuck between a rock and a hard place — which, in this case, is his discomfort and enjoyment. The lack of stimulation gets him going. 

You lean down and nip at the corner of his mouth, and he responds immediately, turning back to you, chasing the kiss. His hands come up to your waist but you take them off, pinning them to his sides, and Leon complains through sharply breathing into your mouth. “I’ll only,” Kiss. “Hold you.” Kiss. “Please, just let me—” You lightly bite his tongue. 

As if he couldn’t do it if he truly wanted to. He is letting you do this to him. Pleading. In that tone of voice, too. You’re in over your head, what is happening? 

“No,” you say, kissing his jaw and caressing the hinge of his opposite jaw with your thumb, sounding stern but feeling silly inside, unsure if he’s amused by you deep down. But Leon huffs again like a spoiled brat not getting what he wants. 

You’re shell-shocked, but continue your pursuit to find out what else he likes, settling on his ear, making a line through the outer rim of soft tissue with your tongue and sucking kisses until he’s shifting around, you can hear how he’s trying to level out his breathing, then you bite, and he hisses as you repeat it over and over again. 

You’ve heard that some men enjoy getting their nipples played with, and you caress and massage, knead and fondle all over his torso with both hands as the switching of your gentle and silky mouth and the needling pleasure of teeth assault his ear, and you listen to his heavy breathing the occasional hitch of it until you circle around one nub, and flick it, rubbing down and pressing the pebbled nipple inwards, just like how he does it to you, and twist the other one. His face hides itself in your neck, and you let him have that, at least. 

His exhale turns into sound and he shuts it down pretty quickly, opting to speak up instead. “Can you—” he begins, and then tuts, sounding nonchalant, but you hear it. You hear the thickness of contained arousal. “Can you move on already?”

“You want the other ear?”

His head jerks in your position at you saying that straight into his ear and breathing into it, you know the thin sheen of saliva coating it makes the sensation sharp and cool and warming at the same time. “No—” he says, but you ignore him, cutting the rejection off by taking his other earlobe between your teeth. “Jesus Christ, this isn’t necessary—”

“If it isn’t, why is this wet?” You ask, watching him closely, tapping the pearl of clear liquid gathered at the tip of his ramrod straight hardness. It’s scalding hot, throbbing at the contact. Leon hisses between his teeth, trying to contain it, and sighs as your index finger circles the tip to spread it around, another bead of precum swelling in the wake of your touch. His eyebrows are scrunched, lips thinning and returning to their usual plushness with him pushing them together, a dust of pink coloring his complexion, a weak glare is on you. “Just enjoy it.”

“I could if you actually did something already.”   

You wrap a tight hand around Leon’s needy cock, heavy and thick, and he shouts, the cry turning into a high-pitched whine you would never dream of coming from him and he clamps a hand on his mouth right in the middle of it, hips bucking into you, head thrown back, blown eyes horrified at what he just did. His breaths are loud and shaky, face turning red in seconds, and you watch, utterly captivated. You’ve seen adorable sides of him before when he lets himself be light and his brow isn’t hanging close to his eyes in that grumpy mood, but what you have right here…   

You’re drunk on this side of his, nibbling at his exposed throat. “You’ll take what I give you.”

“God,” he whispers behind his palm, with a subtle tremble when you squeeze once and let go. His hips stutter up before falling back. Leon’s embarrassed. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t retort back, all of the sass packed and left. You can’t believe this is working. That Leon’s obeying you like this. He’s leaked all over your hand. Oh my god. 

And you’ve really barely even done anything to him. 

You can’t help but wonder if this is you doing this to Leon or he’s just into being bossed around in general. 

How further can you push?

“Look, you’ve wet my hand,” you say, bringing your glistening palm up and separating your fingers after circling the gathered precum around, a thin thread forming between the digits. Like a hawk, he watches you lap it all up and you don’t take your eyes off of his, hearing him grip the sheets. “Still gonna act like this isn’t doing anything for you?”

Leon’s voice is gravelly as he rasps, “Kiss me.” It’s something between a request and a demand that if you don’t do it, he will. 

You oblige, pushing down on his chest to get him to lie down again when it’s apparently too slow and soft for him, and he avidly presses forward to make it rougher, intertwining his tongue with yours harsher to the point of your mixed drool sliding down his chin for more. 

He’s yanking and pulling on his clasp on the dreadfully wrinkled covers in self-restraint as he bites and licks and pulls at your lips, butterflies light up the pit of your stomach and thrash against the liquefied rapture that throbs in your pussy and seeps out, the need for attention growing impatient by the minute.  

You go down and focus on kissing his neck, alternating between openmouthed licks and bites, careful not to leave marks, insides doing a summersault at the small noise of disappointment he makes that transitions into husky gasps. Leon still is concerned with suppressing any kind of unbecoming sounds he’s appalled to come out of him, and you’re bothered by that. Pressing your palm on the head of his cock and twisting sure does the trick to vocalize him a bit, restoring your confidence. 

“Ah… Can’t you just directly touch it,” he sighs gruffly. “This isn’t enough—”

“You aren’t asking nicely enough.” 

His head snaps down, brows raised in disbelief, self-consciousness clouding the teased promise of bliss that edges him on, and you stare back at him pointedly — however, on the inside, you’re worried if he’d ever beg at all. 

You twist your palm with added pressure enough to alleviate the pain, but not enough to carry him to the peak he wants to get to, and his shoulders jump up, “Ah!” Biting down on his momentarily trembling lower lip and shaking his head with closed eyes as if he doesn’t want to see you watch him be like this, he mutters, “I’m gonna get you for this…” 

You grip the base of his cock so hard his hands fly up to your wrists and with a shuddering whimper, stop at the last second before he touches you and he drapes his forearms on his reddened face instead, his back rises from the bed involuntarily, Leon’s flat-on squirming and hating it. 

“That’s not nice,” you tease, pressing your legs together in momentary relief and waves of pleasure that slip on your skin like silk, and narrowly stopping the moan. You breathily add, “What do we say?” 

“Please,” so fast and quiet, humiliated. You understand, but don’t let him off.  

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Fuck, please, come on, please.” His hands ball into fists and his arm veins pop out and his right knee curls upwards. “You can’t keep doing this to me—AHH—mhhmh—!”

His sentence gets cut off into incomprehensible babbling once you start pumping your fist up and down his neglected erection, not even needing lotion for it, he’s drenched enough to make the slide beyond slippery. You add your other hand into the mix and begin teasing the tip, and his chest, having developed a thin layer of sweat and gleaming in the sunlight, is heaving, and he can’t swallow the gasps and noises anymore, fingernails digging into his palms. You can only see his puffed, rufescent lips from the way he’s covering his face.  

“Wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’ll take it,” you say, and it’s genuine. This much alone was too much, way beyond what you thought could happen. Leon is always in control, he has it together so brilliantly that this is actually him falling apart, it’s an enthralling, spellbinding natural disaster so beautiful you can’t look away, want to touch yourself to the sight. 

“I’ll show you what I have in mind,” Leon all but snarls, and he has you on your back and pulls you towards him by your legs harshly even before shivers can go down your spine. “Let’s see if you can take that.” 

You pushed him past his limit it seems, and he darkly stares you down, eyebrows scrunched and beads of sweat rolling down his temples. sweat-dampened hair curtains his face from both sides. His hand slips behind both of your knees and scratches at the smooth skin of the crevice, shooting lightning directly into your core, and he hikes them up to hook over his shoulder and hugs one bulging arm around to hold them together, lining himself up with your slit with a trembling hand, dragging the cherry red, furious tip up and down, slipping it in for a bit, catching your insides in a tantalizing drag, and then taking it out next, making your toes curl in the air and drawing squeals out of you. 

Leon would normally send you to the underground and back from how horribly he’d tease you for being this drenched for him, but he’s strained and silent now, snapping his hips against yours and burying himself to the hilt in the spasming cavern of your pussy in one go, with no resistance from how ready for him you were, ripping a fractured cry from you as your vision blacks and stars dance behind your eyes. He groans gutturally, cock pulsing inside, and you feel the sound in your body. You’re overly sensitive from head to toe, and even the sheets sliding against your burning skin makes your clit throb painfully, deliciously. 

He doesn’t start slow or build to something, it’s quick and rough right off the bat as he’s ramming into you with no mercy, and he’s basically catapulting you into glorious completion, but you need more stimulation, more, something more—

He slaps your hand away when you try to reach down to your clit to slip two fingers between your tightly shut legs and falls on his forearms, “No way I’m letting you do that.” Leon arranges your legs to wrap around his waist, grinding against you. 

His attention then shifts to something else and he pulls on the sleeve of your shirt that’s still on, a scheming shine comes to the blue of his eyes that worry you, and then he’s leaning in and forcing it up. It’s hard for you to move your back and slip it off with the way he’s pinning you down, and it dawns on you late after you make the mistake of raising your arms that it’s what he wants after all. After getting your head out, Leon turns it inside out around the entire length of your arms that act as a makeshift restraint and leaves it like that, you’re incapacitated with your hands over your head like this. 

You whine, this is so about not letting him touch you, and he thrusts up sharply to shut you up, sucking blossoming reds into the crook of your neck, hands pulling and pinching at your nipples. It’s building up. It’s building up, but— “You’re going to come like this.”

The frantic slap of skin against skin is echoing in the room and you struggle against the bunched up shirt around your arms. “Can’t—”

“You’re doing it on purpose at this point.” He laces his fingers into your hair on top of your head, thumb on your forehead in little caresses, contrasting how he fucks you shallow and fast, his voice a couple octaves higher than it usually is as he angles your hips upwards to hit deeper, and your moans are a metronome in beat to his ruthless pace. 

“Yeah, that’s right, take it!” Eyes glazed over, mouth agape, the muscles in his thighs jumping, body pulled taut, wrecked and somehow begging, Leon doesn’t leave a single spot unkissed on your face and throat and he’s hurling towards an uncontrolled craze, he’s so close himself. “More? You want more? Too bad, this is it—mmm—for what you just did to me, and you’re gonna take it!” 

You’re clamping down on him and he hisses in your ear as you repeat it like a mantra, Leon is wrenching a merciless orgasm from you and you have no control over it, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, can’tcan’tcan’tcan’t—!”   

Leon’s delectable weight pins you down as you shoot up with the detonation of the pleasure into a thousand pieces, rippling through your body in building waves, your pussy clenching down on him catches him off guard and he unceremoniously spills into you with a choked, staccato shout shuddering, the succulent warmth coating your insides and adding to the ecstasy, and it just keeps coming, his load is too heavy and too much. Your stiffened legs lock the shivering man in place and tremble around his waist as he languidly rides his bliss out, forehead sticky against your clavicle, the sheer strength with which he holds you against him is euphoric rather than suffocating. 

“God, what the fuck was that,” he mumbles at some point, collapsing on top of you and turning you around with him so he won’t crush you, pulling you to his sweaty chest and putting his chin on top of your head. His scent has you in a fuzzy daze. “What did you do to me?”

You don’t respond, consciousness slipping from your fingers and pulling you deep into the sweet comfort of the dark. 

You feel his hand on your cheek, lightly nudging. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Mhm,” you manage to make out. “Wanna sleep…”

“Okay, sweet girl, I got you,” he says, soft and endeared, from far, far away. 

And with that, you’re out like a light. 

When you wake up, you find yourself thoroughly cleaned up, in comfortable, cotton pajamas, with no Leon in sight and a small note left on your nightstand with the keys to your apartment on top of it. 

It reads: Had to go. I’m sorry about not staying until you woke up. Talk to you when I get back.

You plop back on your fluffy pillows and sigh, chest hurting. It was always going to end this way. In hindsight, you’ve seen it coming. 

Your heart doesn’t agree, tears freely falling from your eyes. It’s really over. Leon really left like that. Just as he came into your life. 

You don’t have the right to complain. You’d agreed to it in the first place. 

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #leon s. kennedy headcanons #resident evil 4 #re4 remake

[aluciahaz]

One bed trope with Adam except we wake up in the middle of night feeling him unconsciously grinding his hard-on against us and we take it into our hands (literally) to help him🫣

( he wakes up before we actually do anything so it’s all consensual ofc.. )

🦅🦅LETS FUCKIBG GOO🦅🦅 i love (babying) this dumb bitch!!! this is kinda more ooc adam but i hope you still like it !

truth prevails

—adam x gn!reader

—tags : handjob, bottom adam, dom!reader, absolute overuse of the nickname baby and baby boy 😭

what a fucking wake up call.

you really should’ve just made adam sleep on the couch.

honestly, you aren’t even that surprised that he was grinding against you while asleep, murmuring your name in a soft voice. it was quite nice actually, compared to his usually brash one.

especially his whimpers.

“lemme cum...please-fuck….” his head would nuzzle further into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as his hips kept bucking up. so he was in that type of mood, huh?

well… then maybe it wouldn’t hurt to indulge in his fantasies for a just little bit. after all, it was hard to get him to bottom without him throwing a tantrum. which, of course would just lead him to get wrecked, just the way he liked it.

“adam.”

“mm…mhm?” his eyes slowly open, his arms still around your waist as you turn around to look at him. his confused expression is almost cute in a way, although a bit disheveled with his hair falling in front of his face.

“what were you dreaming about, baby?” you ask, a smirk forming on your lips as you stroke his hair, running your fingers through his coarse strands. your other hand snakes around to his hip, teasing his waistband just slightly.

adam, now shocked, looks at you with an almost abashed expression before clearing his throat, going back to his egotistical persona.

“uh, psh, fucking you, duh,”

well, at least he was honest. somewhat.

“and begging for me to let you cum?” you ask bluntly, raising your eyebrow at him as you chuckle. his mien was what you could on describe as flabbergasted. it was clear he had no idea what he was doing to you just a few minutes ago.

clueless, cute, baby.

you coo at him, the hand on his hair moving down underneath his chin as you cup it gently. still sleepy, instead of pulling away with a scoff like usual, he leans into it, letting his instincts take over.

“how would you know?” he says with a grin, clearly doubtful, yet the anxious twitch of his smile shows that he was less relaxed than he portrayed himself to be.

“you talk in your sleep.”

“…” he stares at you for a few seconds before laughing nervously.

“nooooo…?”

the deadpan expression on your face says it all. so much so it makes him feel way too awkward, forcing him to retract his statement.

“…sorry.”

“i don’t know why you try even and lie when you’re so bad at it.”

he frowns at you, furrowing his eyebrows.

“whatever! are you gonna do something about my hard-on or keep making digs at me?”

“i could always do both.”

the smirk on your face widens as your hand slips past his waistband, your hands tracing his v-line ever so delicately, your touch light as an angel’s feather.

“you just have to say please.”

“fuck you.”

“not today, honey,”

adam just rolls his eyes, grumbling as he ponders on what to do. that’s not good, he isn’t made to think.

quickly, your hand under his chin places a finger on his bottom lip, just barely tipping over to make its way inside of his mouth to distract him.

“come on, baby. don’t you want to be a good boy for me?” you kiss his neck, gentle and sweet like a divine’s touch. “just think about how nice it would be to let everything go, let me take care of you. my perfect, little angel.”

he stifles a moan, but with how close the two of you were, you could hear it clear as day. usually, it would take way longer to get him in such a state, but apparently the tedious process was 2 times faster when he was sleepy.

clearly this means you should do this more often.

"...please-ah!"

he can't even finish his sentence before your hand wraps around his cock, stroking it in nice, slow movements as you whisper in his ear. "good boy!" you praise, your fingers leaving his lips and slipping underneath his light shirt. with the tips of your fingers, you pull and twist at his sensitive buds, reveling in his sweet whimpers and cries as his chest jerks up into your hand.

"tell me what you really dreamt of, baby. were you all pliant underneath my hand? maybe even getting fucked by me? tell me truth."

all he can do is whine as his legs quiver, digging his head further into the crook of your neck as he pants. his wings start to flap a little against the bed, and only from a few touches.

"okay okay! i—yeah," he tried gulped away his embarrassment, but the heat on his face was a clear indicator of his nervousness. "you—you fucked me and told me all these-these stupid little compliments-yes, oh—!"

you laugh as you he bucks his hips into your grip, trying to chase more pleasure before pulling away, deaf to the groan of annoyance coming from the man.

"don't get greedy, baby boy." you chide, shaking your head in disapproval. "take what you get, nothing more, and maybe you'll get a reward!" you say, kissing his cheek sweetly in contrast to your cruel command.

"oh—oh, okay! oka—ayy!" he mewls shakily, clawing at your waist as he tries to stop his hips from moving. surprisingly, he does quite well, letting you take control of the pace with only a few jerks up into your fist. but, you decide to let it go, after all, adam was being sweeter than usual.

"alright, alright, you can move now, baby. you did so good for me."

"yes! finally—ngh! fuck—thank you...!" he cries, moving his hips quickly into your grasp as he finds himself getting lost in his own pleasure.

you didn't even need to remind him to be grateful, how polite! he's learning!

he wails your name like a weeping sinner, hoping that you'd grace him with your love and mercy.

which, of course you would. for once, he's earned it without much push at all! perhaps this would set as an example on what he should do next time instead of being a brat all the time.

"cum for me, my love. you deserve it," you croon, moving your fist faster and faster with his pace. the hand on his chest presses harder onto his nipple, twisting the way you know he loves—as much as he denies he's a masochist, you know by the way he keens that he's just being proud—and let him keep babbling about anything that comes to his muddled little mind. yeah, you'll bless him just this once.

"i love you, love—love you, i love—ah—ah!"

adam sobs shamelessly as he reaches his climax, his hips stuttering as he slowly returns from his high. his whole body goes limp as he shuts his eyes, his hands falling from your waist as he steadies his breathing.

you wipe the tears away from his eyes, peppering his face with kisses.

“see? this is what you get for being good.”

“mm..mmmhm,” adam hums mindlessly before falling into silence. strange, he was usually big on pillow talk—

you hear a soft snore coming from beneath you, slow breaths loud amongst the quietude of your shared bedroom.

…seems like your baby boy fell asleep.

a/n - please someone request like a mommy/daddy kink for any of the goobers i write for i am INSPIRED rn im opening my reqs rn 😭

tags : @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

#hazbin hotel #sub hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel dom reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel x reader #dom reader #sub adam #bottom adam #adam x reader

[makoodles]

ミ tìyawn / ve’kì [nsfw]

🍓 pairing: tsu'tey x fem!human reader

🍓 word count: 12k

🍓 tags: nsfw, human/na'vi relationship, angst to fluff (kinda), jealousy, vaginal sex, tsu'tey is one seriously conflicted boy

masterlist

It’s no secret that Tsu’tey hates the Sky People.

They are demons, blind to the world around them and so utterly destructive in their natures. His planet, his home, has seen nothing but chaos and hardship ever since they have arrived.

They are small and weak, yet vicious and harmful in just about every way. He has not known true peace since their arrival.

The sky demons have no redeeming qualities. Or at least, almost no redeeming qualities.

“Fuck! Oh, god-”

“Be quiet.” Tsu’tey grunts, gripping the woven cushions that you’re bent over so hard that the skin goes taut and bloodless over his knuckles.

Honestly though, it seems as though this is your attempt at staying quiet – your eyes are squeezed shut tight and your little blunt teeth are digging into your lower lip hard. Your face is all screwed up, your breaths coming in little panting gasps as he ruts into you.

“Are you not embarrassed? So loud.” He mumbles, though his tone doesn’t match his words at all. 

He really can’t manage to stir up the usual feelings of disgust he has for sky demons, not when he can see the way your little toes are curling everytime he fucks into you.

“Fuck off.” You say, but your voice is all weak and trembling.

The sound of it only intensifies that heat building in his lower belly. You’re so small underneath him, your pussy stretched to its limit and dripping all over the thick length of him. Despite the size difference, you’re taking it so easily.

It’s far from the first time that he’s had you like this, on your hands and knees beneath him as you take him so well, but he still gets such a thrill out of it. He enjoys your pathetic little noises, the whimpers and moans and mewls as you wiggle and squirm beneath him, trying to get him to hit just right.

You make a sort of little mewling noise, muffled by the floor as you turn your face into the woven reed flooring beneath you, and then he feels you tighten up like a damn vice around his cock, your cunt fluttering as you come again. 

“Another one,” He notes, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Greedy.”

When he comes into you, it’s with a soft, satisfied little grunt. He has done this many times already, yet the pleasure always surprises him. He’s never felt anything as tight as you, so good that it borders on painful, and the element of illicitness only adds an additional little thrill to the whole thing.

You’re still making soft, muffled little sounds as his hips rock lazily, riding out the last tingling aftershocks of his own orgasm. He enjoys those little noises immensely, and he makes a rumbly sound of satisfaction as he plasters himself over the top of you and allows his weight to press you down into the floor entirely.

“Ow, fuck-” You mumble into the floor. “You’re fucking heavy, asshole, getoffme-”

“Quiet.” Tsu’tey mumbles, his eyes sliding shut as he attempts to enjoy the pleasant tingling feeling in his fingers and toes following his release. “You are always talking, mouth never closed.”

“You didn’t mind my mouth being open earlier.” You shoot back, attempting to throw a pitiful little glare over your shoulder.

 He thinks of your mouth earlier, wide open and hot and wet as you worked your tongue over him, and smirks.

“Okay, seriously.” You grumble, a little louder this time. You reach around and shove irritably at his chest. “Get off, dickhead. Did you tear your stitches? I told you to be careful-”

Tsu’tey just grunts and rolls off you, landing on his back and stretching his spine out with a sigh. No sooner has he started to relax than you’ve sat up to peer closely at the healing wounds along his chest and stomach.

“Do not touch.” He snaps, baring his teeth at you when you prod at the ridiculous little sutures that you had insisted on threading into him weeks ago. 

“You’ve been touching me for the last forty minutes.” You grumble, but you take your hands back all the same.

Tsu’tey doesn’t bother responding to that. He’s feeling pleasantly loose and relaxed, and he’s trying to enjoy that feeling for as long as possible before the weight of all his responsibilities come rushing back in.

Though you’re not touching him, he can feel your eyes on him as you examine his injuries, making sure none of them have torn open during your activities. Your concern pricks at his pride, and he grumbles lowly as you peer closer at him.

“You’re lucky you didn’t bust these,” You say. 

“You would just redo them anyway.” He grunts without opening his eyes.

There’s a pause. Then you sigh.

“Yeah.” You murmur, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear. “I guess I would.”

This little… arrangement with you had started nearly two months ago. He can’t even fully remember how it had happened – you were some kind of healer, and had stayed around after the battle to help the wounded. Initially, he refused your help. He would have rather suffered the pain of his wounds than feel your little demon hands on him, but you had been practically forced upon him by Jakesully. 

For the first week or so, it had been nothing but sniping back and forth with each other. At some point, his insults and your challenges had evolved into heated exchanges that ended up like this, with you on your hands and knees or on your back for him as you both search for pleasure out of each other's bodies. 

After the great battle with the Sky People, most of them have been forced off the planet. The ones left are loyal to the Na’vi, or so Jakesully says. Tsu’tey is not convinced; they do not belong here, and he does not like them. Their presence aggravates him; he is still healing from the near-fatal wounds he had sustained during the battle, and he does not like having enemies around while he feels so vulnerable. 

You are not an exception to this; your presence aggravates him in a way he does not know how to describe. He is not blind or ignorant enough to claim that you are not attractive, in your own demon sort of way, but that reluctant sort of attraction only infuriates him further. He thinks something may have broken inside him after his fall from the sky during the great battle, but he refuses to think too much about it. 

It’s just a way of working out his frustration and you clearly enjoy these encounters. It’s not worth putting too much thought into.

Life slowly returns to normal after the majority of the Sky People leave. For weeks, the Omaticaya rebuild their home. The loss of Hometree was devastating, and the efforts to rebuild is both physically and emotionally taxing for the People. 

Tsu’tey does his best to pull his weight when it comes to helping out with the construction of their new encampment, but it is made difficult by the fact that you follow him around like a pest.

“I said no heavy lifting-”

“Go away, demon.” Tsu’tey grumbles, irritated by your presence.

“Doctor’s orders.” You’ve tilted your chin up, as stubbornly obstinate as ever. “Put that down.”

“Go away.” Tsu’tey repeats, but this time he reaches out and shoves at your head. It’s not a particularly rough gesture (he doesn’t actually want to hurt you), but it’s just enough to push you off balance.

You stagger a little, but keep on following him. He doesn’t bother trying to hide his irritation – the basket he is carrying is full of building materials, but it is not particularly heavy. He resents the fact that a creature as pathetically fragile as yourself would question his strength. 

And even more than that, he resents the fact that his wounds are admittedly paining him a little.

“I’m the one who’s gonna have to stitch you back up if you burst those-”

“I did not ask for your demon medicine.” Tsu’tey bares his fangs at you, growing genuinely aggravated. “I do not want it. Go and bother someone else.”

“But-”

Someone calls Tsu’tey’s name from further into the village, and he pulls his attention away from you to look towards the call. At his hip, you cross your arms and grumble as though you’re unhappy that his attention is not solely on you. You are a greedy thing, just like the rest of your people – always looking for more.

The one who has called him is Saeyla, and he has to suppress a sigh at the sight of her. She was his student once, and a talented one. She always did have much potential, but things have been very awkward between them since she had offered herself to him as a mate at the Tree of Souls. He had been harsh when he had rebuffed her, but perhaps not harsh enough if she is calling to him once more. 

It is typical that she has appeared in his path while you are hovering at his hip. A Na’vi woman that he rejected, and a human woman that he frequently chooses to be intimate with. It sounds like a bad joke.

“Saeyla.” He greets, hoping that he does not sound as tired as he feels. “What do you want?”

Despite the fact that she had called out to him, Saeyla is not actually looking at him. Her eyes are fixed on you, her brow puckered in visible distaste. There is no way for Saeyla to know of the little illicit sexual relationship between you two, and yet Tsu’tey feels his shoulders tense. He does not like to think of how she would react if she were to find out.

“Go away.” Saeyla speaks, but it’s not directed at him. She bares her teeth and hisses at you, and Tsu’tey bristles despite himself.

You actually take a step back, no doubt cowed by the venom in Saeyla’s tone, but Tsu’tey grabs the back of your neck and holds you in place by his hip. The audacity of his old student irks him, and he narrows his eyes and lets his lip curl as he looks at her.

“You do not give orders.” He says sharply to Saeyla. “I have business with the demon.”

You’ve gone uncharacteristically silent by his side, and he just barely resists the urge to glance down at you. Where is all that annoying fire gone? Usually he can’t get you to shut up at all.

Saeyla is still glaring, but at least now she’s looking at Tsu’tey. “Why is she following you?”

He doesn’t have a good answer to that, so he just glares back at her. He dislikes her tone, and he is not used to being questioned. 

“What do you want?” He repeats himself, an unmistakable edge creeping into his voice.

There’s a pause, and then Saeyla purses her lips and throws her hair over her shoulder. Her kuru is drawn over her chest, long and glossy – her movements are calculated to draw attention to it, in a move that is unmistakably flirtatious. 

Tsu’tey’s ears flatten against his head at her boldness, uncertain what to make of this. 

“I wish to speak to you.” She says, before cutting a glance towards you at his side. “Without the demon present.”

For a moment, Tsu’tey says nothing. He stands there, tail swishing uneasily, as he considers the situation. This is admittedly more uncomfortable than it should be. He had rejected Saeyla’s mating proposal harshly, and now he feels as though he has been cornered by her yet again. 

Even worse, you stand at his side to remind him that he has apparently turned down the company of a fine, respectable Na’vi woman to rut with a human.

With a sigh he removes his hand from the back of your neck and instead pushes at your shoulder. “Go. Leave us.”

You pause, dithering a little, before relenting and stepping back. He does not glance down at you as you retreat, but rather keeps his eyes fixed on Saeyla, who is watching you as though she’s about to start hunting you.

Once you have retreated beyond earshot, Saeyla speaks up. “Ma’Tsu’tey. I was wondering if you have reconsidered my proposal.”

Once, Tsu’tey may have attempted to keep a neutral expression and to meet her bold requests with patience. But since the battle, since his injury, since he had started fucking you, he feels like a raw nerve, pulsing and peeled open and exposed. He feels as though he’s lost some of his control, some of the safe rigidity that had ruled his life up to now. 

“I have not.” He says bluntly.

But just like always, Saeyla does not know when to stop pushing.

“I understand that you are not ready to take a mate.” She says, stepping closer to him even as he stands stiff and still. “But the battle is over, and the People are rebuilding. I am happy to be… if not a mate, then a lover-”

His eyes flare wide, surprised by her brazenness.

“Saeyla,” He bites out. “You overstep.”

“It is an offer.” She says simply, bowing her head in what would have been a gesture of deferment if not for the way she is stubbornly maintaining eye contact with him. “Just an offer.”

Tsu’tey’s upper lip lifts up in a snarl, baring his sharp upper teeth. “I do not enjoy repeating myself.”

As always, Saeyla is unapologetic. She keeps staring up at him in a way that she likely believes is seductive, but is really just uncomfortably intense.

“Consider it.” She entreats him, finally stepping back. “You are lonely, I know it. I wish to share the burden with you.”

His jaw clenches, his shoulders straightening and going rigid. He probably should consider her offer. She is a woman of the People, a warrior-hunter who has completed her iknimaya, and she is not unattractive. And yet, his entire being rejects the idea of taking her as a mate. It feels wrong in a way that he does not understand.

Without another word, Tsu’tey turns from her and marches away. 

He feels restless and discomfited, his tail swishing low around his legs in annoyance as he storms back through the village. Some of the People call out greetings to him as he passes, but he is too preoccupied to reply. 

“Tsu’tey,” Jakesully calls when he passes by him, “Brother, I thought you weren’t cleared for heavy lifting yet-”

“What?” Tsu’tey snaps, turning with a scowl.

Jakesully pauses, his eyebrows creeping up at Tsu’tey’s overly aggressive tone of voice. Chagrined, Tsu’tey takes a moment to breathe, forcing himself to calm down. He is being unreasonable.

“I thought our resident little nurse had ordered you not to be doing any heavy lifting.” Jakesully says slowly. “You’re bleeding a little there.”

Tsu’tey follows Jake’s pointing finger to his chest, and sees that one of the neat little stitches around one of his wounds has torn open a little bit.

“Ah,” Tsu’tey’s brow contorts in frustration. “She will be a pain about this.”

Jakesully reaches out and takes the large basket from him, still watching his face carefully. “Yeah, well, we’re lucky to have her. Most of the medical personnel went back to Earth.”

“All of the demons should have gone back.” Tsu’tey says, but he’s somewhat distracted. He’s basically just repeating old arguments, his attention preoccupied with the blood that’s trickling over his chest from where your careful stitches had torn at the skin.

Jakesully gives him a look of intense disapproval, but Tsu’tey does not quail beneath it. It is a disagreement that the two of them have had several times. Tsu’tey believes that Jake is blinded by his past as a tawtute, and that he is unfairly biased in their favour, and Jake believes that Tsu’tey is allowing his prejudice to blind him when it comes to forming alliances and friendships with the sky demons that remain here.

“What crawled up your ass today?” Jake demands, brow furrowed.

Tsu’tey nearly chokes. “I- what? Nothing is up my-”

“Why are you even grouchier than normal?” Jake interrupts his protests, still frowning. “I thought you were getting along better with her.”

“No.” Tsu’tey denies instantly, his ears pinning back defensively. “I do not like her.”

Jake’s eyes narrow, visibly unconvinced. “Right. Well, Jesus, if you’re so against having her help, go to one of the Omaticaya healers.”

It’s not an unreasonable suggestion, but Jakesully has no way of knowing that Tsu’tey goes to you for reasons other than simple medical help. There is no simple way of describing the strange sexual relationship he has with you now, not without admitting a level of vulnerability that he is uncomfortable with. His attraction to you is a shameful thing that he would prefer to indulge in without having to analyse at all.

He just grunts, brow furrowed, and doesn’t answer.

“Whatever.” Jakesully blows out a frustrated breath, clearly done with both Tsu’tey and the conversation. “Do what you want. But don’t be so damn hard on her, yeah?”

Tsu’tey just scowls at him, before turning on his heel and storming purposefully back into the village. Why is it that everyone thinks they know what he wants better than he himself does today?

Predictably, he finds you in the little outpost that has been built to house the demons that have chosen to stay close to the village. 

He has to loop one of those horrible little masks around his neck when he ducks inside, taking the odd puff of air every five minutes or so as he lopes into the outpost. The ceilings are high, made to accommodate the demon avatar bodies that some of the scientists have, but he still feels claustrophobic in the confined space.

The outpost itself is quiet at this time of day – the sky demons keep busy, often attempting to offer help in the village or just wandering the forests with their stupid technology as they research. 

He finds you in your usual workspace near the back, fiddling with one of the glowing pad things that the demons usually use. You don’t look up as he approaches, even though he’s sure that you hear him. You appear absorbed in your work, except when he gets close he can see that you’re just staring at the pad without actually doing anything.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, still not raising your head. “I thought you were busy.”

Tsu’tey hums, poking at one of the strange machines that line the little room you’ve been working in. All this demon technology makes him uneasy, and his ears stay pinned against the side of his head as he hovers behind you.

“These stitches have broken.” He says, reaching up to scratch at where some of the blood has begun to dry.

That finally makes you turn, though your expression is all crumpled up into a frown as you step forward to peer at his chest. Ridiculously, he feels a little guilty. You had told him to be careful so many times, after all, and now he has made more work for you. But then he pushes those little feelings of guilt down deep – he was not going to be a burden on the clan by not helping out when he should, no matter how much you begged him to be still and useless as he healed.

To his surprise, you don’t scold him. You just purse your lips and gesture to the small flat bed that you use for his medical check-ups, and he sits without complaint. He is familiar with this routine by now, but his tail curls uncomfortably as you remain silent – you haven’t even said I told you so.

You place your small hands on his chest as you lean in to inspect the wound that cuts across his left pectoral muscle, right where the stitches at the top of the cut have torn. Your expression makes it very clear that you are unhappy with what you see, and yet you still remain quiet.

Tsu’tey allows the silence to stretch as you wash your hands and gather your medical supplies, threading a small needle as you prepare to redo his suturing. Even when you actually begin to fix his stitches, the needle pricking at his skin uncomfortably, he waits for you to speak first. 

It becomes clear very quickly that you’re content to do his stitches in silence. Unusual. You should have been scolding him by now, insulting him as you usually do. Then he would be able to insult you right back, and you would respond with a challenge, and then eventually the two of you would wind up in a sweating, moaning heap, as usual.

But you stay silent, your tiny hands gentle as you painstakingly work on his wounds.

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes, on edge. “You are quiet today.”

You just hum, without making any real effort to answer at all. It only makes his agitation worse. Why are you acting so strange?

When you finally finish up with his stitches, you step back and move to wash your hands, still not saying a thing. He watches you carefully, brow furrowed. 

You’re wearing a small white top, but you seem to have gone without your usual breast covering – a bra, you’ve called it before. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but now that he’s looking at you he can see the way your nipples press against the thin cotton material. Despite the oddness in your demeanour, Tsu’tey can feel himself growing aroused.

Perhaps he’s been conditioned to expect pleasure from these little encounters with you, because he’s growing hard beneath his tewng. He reaches for you, his tail swishing slowly as his hand trails over your waist.

You finally look up at him, but you neatly sidestep his hand. Surprised, Tsu’tey’s ears twitch back and flatten. You’ve never avoided his touch before – if anything, you’ve always been deliciously eager for him.

“What did Saeyla want?” You ask, turning away from him to dispose of the used needle and bloody wipes.

He blinks. He’s a little taken aback by the question, so it doesn’t occur to him to lie.

“She wished to offer herself to me as a mate.” He says. “And when I denied her, she offered herself as a lover.”

A muscle in your jaw pulses, and you flick your hair back before throwing him a look over your shoulder. “And what did you say?”

He frowns. Your manner is confusing him. Are you angry at him for tearing the stitches? You have always told him that you would stitch him back up again, so he had not thought you would be mad. 

He reaches out again, and again you step away. He scowls, frustrated.

“Am I not allowed to touch you?”

“What did you say to her? What was your answer?” You repeat, taking another step back as you squint at his face.

He blows out a breath, irritated. “It is not your business.”

“Not my business?” You repeat, sounding faintly disbelieving. “Not my business?”

Your eyebrows are raised and your eyes are narrowed, your mouth pressed into a firm line. Tsu’tey is not very good at reading the expressions of Sky People, but even he can tell that he’s treading a dangerous line here. You seem angry, though he can’t understand why.

“My mating prospects are a concern for the People, and the People alone.” Tsu’tey says, leaning forward to scowl at you. “It is not the business of tawtute.”

You scoff, folding your arms tight across your chest. “You seemed to enjoy making your mating prospects my business when you were fucking me after every damn check-up.”

“That was not mating.” Tsu’tey snaps. “That was…” He thinks of a phrase he has heard Jakesully use before, a human idiom that you will surely understand. “That was blowing off steam.”

You take a sharp breath. If you looked angry before, now you look furious.

“Blowing off steam?” You repeat, your voice trembling with righteous anger. “Are you fucking joking? I mean- I know that you don’t like humans, but I thought- I thought that you-” 

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes, and he pushes himself up off the bed. He does not like this; you are unexpectedly angry, and he does not know what to do with the brunt of your frustration. He has argued with you before, small and petty disagreements as you snipe at each other, and it has always been resolved with you face-down and ass-up as he pounds his way into you. This argument feels different. He doubts there will be such a pleasurable end to this one.

“Do you even-” You start, your face all screwed up. “Do you even like me?”

What a loaded question. He doesn’t even know how to begin answering that – he just stares at you like a total skxawng, his brows furrowed and eyes flared wide in bewilderment. The two of you have never spoken about what it is you’re doing together, or about how either of you feel about it. If anything, Tsu’tey has been trying his damn hardest not to think about things. 

“You-” He starts, floundering a little and trying to hide it. He hates appearing uncertain or vulnerable in any way. “You are… a good healer. And you are… attractive.”

You are more than attractive, really. You are so small and delicate, squishy and soft, and you heal rather than destroy like the rest of your kin. He likes that you are so concerned about him, that you care so much for his healing. Your weakness is also something that is distinctly… thrilling to him. He likes that he feels as though he can protect you, he likes that he feels so strong around you. When you’re not actively tending to his wounds, he’ll admit that his eyes trail after you more often than they should.

He doesn’t say any of that out loud. “But you are still a tawtute.”

“So it’s fine to fuck me, but nothing else, is that it?” You demand, glaring at him. “Jesus, why have you even been wasting your time with me?”

His ears pin back, confused. He had thought that you were both on the same wavelength when it came to where you stood with each other. It had never felt like a waste of time to him.

Tsu’tey hates the Sky People. Everyone knows that. You were the most bearable of all of them, and he will admit that you are enticing with the soft plushness of your body and your sweet little face, but you are still a sky demon. His attraction to you is a shame that he wrestles with constantly, only quieting when he is with you properly.

You’re breathing heavily, your chest heaving as you try to regulate yourself. “You know what? Fuck off. Go ahead and fuck Saeyla, or one of many other Na’vi women that are clearly into you. There’s no fucking reason for you to be wasting both of our time like this.”

When he doesn’t move, you bare your teeth and reach up to shove at his stomach as hard as you can. You are one of the weakest little creatures he’s ever come across, so there’s no chance of you actually managing to shift him – still though, he takes a step back as you shove at him again.

“Get out! Go away!”

Tsu’tey growls warningly, and grabs at your small hands with one of his before tugging your arms to the side so that you can’t shove at him anymore.

“Calm down.” He warns, frowning at you. “You are overreacting-”

“Oh, you asshole!” You yell, visibly furious. “Don’t tell me I’m overreacting! Just go – go find Saeyla and tell her that you accept, and don’t come around here anymore!”

Tsu’tey rumbles a growl, his lip curling at you. How do you have the audacity to tell him not to come around somewhere on his own planet when you are the interloper here?

“You do not tell me what to do-” He begins, but you’re not even listening to him.

“Go!” You shout, and this time he does as you say.

He beats a retreat out of the outpost, his tail lashing in agitation as he storms out. He doesn’t look back once, and you don’t follow after him. 

For the next couple of days, Tsu’tey stews.

It is his nature to brood over things anyway, but even he can recognise that he’s particularly moody in the days following his disagreement with you. He skulks around the village and tries to help where he can, but Jakesully banishes him from the heavy-lifting. That means that Tsu’tey has even more time to sulk to himself, replaying the argument in his head and trying to figure out what the fuck had happened.

Strangely enough, he does not see you around the village at all. Not even a glimpse in the distance. It makes him uneasy.

Before the incident with Saeyla, you used to follow him around constantly, badgering him about being careful and minding his stitches. It had been irritating, but now that you’ve seemingly disappeared he finds himself hyper-conscious of your absence.

Eventually, he finds himself outside the demon outpost once more. He can’t quite believe that he’s here of his own free will, but he tells himself that it’s just because he needs his stitches checked. They look fine, but it’s better to just make sure.

But when he shoves his way inside, he’s unnerved to find that you aren’t here either. There are several tawtute around the outpost, and they look both startled and bewildered to see him here. He pays no attention to them, searching the place for any sign of you.

There’s another Sky Person in your usual work space, a male, and he looks absolutely terrified when Tsu’tey approaches.

“Oh,” The demon says, straightening up. “I- hello. Do you- you’re here for a check up?”

Tsu’tey’s lips peel back in a sneer, a harsh snarl rumbling in his chest. The tawtute shrinks back, horrified.

“Where is she?” He demands, looking around as though you might emerge from behind one of their strange machines at any moment.

The demon swallows thickly. At least he doesn’t insult Tsu’tey by pretending that he does not know who he’s talking about.

 “Um… she’s not around right now.” His voice is trembling slightly, but he still gets his point across. “She said that if you came in about those stitches, that, um… well, she said to tell you that you should go to a Na’vi healer.”

Tsu’tey’s nostrils flare, and the tawtute flinches. “I want to speak to her.”

The man just shrugs, all jerky and stiff. “She’s not here, man. Sorry.”

It takes days before Tsu’tey sees you again.

He is starting to grow genuinely frustrated with your absence, and in some sense worried too, though he didn’t want to admit it. So when you finally reappear, Tsu’tey is honestly relieved.

That sense of relief doesn’t last for very long, because the next time he sees you, you aren’t alone. 

Tsu’tey knows that you are a healer, of course. He knows that you must surely attend to other people. But ever since he was injured in the great battle, the only person that he’s seen you focus on is him. 

Maybe that’s why it’s such a shock to finally catch sight of you tucked away in a corner of the village with your head bent over the arm of Artuk, a recently blooded male of the Omaticaya. He was a student of Tsu’tey himself, and only completed his iknimaya trials a few weeks ago. 

As a young hunter, he is free to choose a mate for himself. It is utterly galling to see the way that his tail coils so close to your thigh as you inspect the cut on his arm, gently cleaning it of blood. 

Artuk’s ears rotate forward as you speak to him, his eyes half-lidded as he listens closely to whatever it is that you’re saying. He looks too interested, and Tsu’tey feels his own ears pin back defensively at the sight before him.

Perhaps he is reading too much into this. You are a healer. You are healing. Artuk is probably not looking at you in that way at all – surely Tsu’tey is the only one with that specific illness that makes him feel attracted to the sky demons that tried to destroy his home. Or at least, one particular sky demon.

Still though, he ends up hovering nearby and trying to look busy as he steals glances over to where you’re standing next to Artuk. The young hunter’s arm has been carefully bandaged up by your gentle hands, but Tsu’tey notices that you’re still holding onto his arm anyway. 

When you laugh at something he says, Tsu’tey’s ears flick even lower. Art’uk has never been particularly funny, so what are you laughing at?

Artuk starts to grin, looking disgustingly pleased with himself. Then, to Tsu’tey’s horror, he starts to shuffle closer to you. 

And you just stand there, not making any move to edge away. If anything, you look flattered by the attention. As Tsu’tey watches, your smile turns faintly shy and you reach up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. 

You look so pretty from here, even if you are too small and weak and odd-looking. The fact that your smile is directed at Artuk is disgraceful, and it causes Tsu’tey’s teeth to gnash.

The last straw comes when Artuk’s tail moves low and begins to coil around your ankle. There is no mistaking what a move like that means, and Tsu’tey grimaces in pure shock. Art’uk is flirting with you. His intentions are unmistakable.

What the fuck? Artuk setting his sights on a sky demon is one thing, but setting his sights on you? That is something that Tsu’tey could never have predicted.

He’s moving before he even realises it. There is no plan, he’s not even thinking, and before he knows it he ends up standing in front of you and Artuk with a scowl so forceful that it’s nearly giving him a headache.

Artuk startles, his eyes blowing wide as he attempts to sit up straight. “Ma’Tsutey! I did not see you!”

Tsu’tey just glowers. The youngling is hardly even a man yet, and yet his tail is still coiled around your ankle in some pathetic attempt at asserting ownership. Where did he get the audacity? And you! You were letting him!

“What happened?” Tsu’tey asks, and his voice comes out rough with irritation. He nods pointedly towards Artuk, where his arm has been so carefully wrapped by your skilled hands.

“Oh,” Artuk’s ears twitch, a sign of embarrassment. “An accident with construction. A beam slipped and cut me.”

“A foolish mistake.” Tsu’tey snaps disdainfully.

You speak up for the first time, but you don’t look at Tsu’tey at all. Your gaze is still focused on Artuk’s arm, despite the fact that it’s already been wrapped.

“Accidents happen.” You say, before sending Artuk a sympathetic little smile. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little.” He says, and Tsu’tey snorts in contempt. 

What kind of warrior snivels over such a small injury?

“Oh,” You coo sympathetically, and stroke a thumb just beneath his bandages. “Poor thing. Well, it’s clean now, so you shouldn’t be at risk of infection-”

Artuk is nodding, but Tsu’tey knows that he isn’t really listening. He’s too busy staring at your face, his eyes lingering around your strange little blunt teeth and your odd nose. Tsu’tey understands the appeal – he has studied your foreign features enough to be rather intimately familiar with them – but he finds himself resentful of Artuk’s interest. Innocent fascination would be one thing, but he can see by Artuk’s body language that his interest in you is not innocent. 

“Thank you for your help.” Artuk says so earnestly that it sets Tsu’tey’s teeth on edge. “You have very gentle hands.”

Tsu’tey rolls his eyes violently, but you seem flattered by that little comment. You look down, all flustered, and smile up at Artuk from beneath your eyelashes. It’s a look that would have had Tsu’tey’s kuru tingling and his cock stiffening, if only it had been directed at him and not Artuk.

“Alright,” Tsu’tey finally says, his voice much louder than entirely necessary. “Go away, Artuk. I must speak with the tawtute.”

Your head snaps around, and you glower at him so intensely that it almost physically burns. Tsu’tey doesn’t care – it doesn’t matter that you’re glaring at him so long as he has your attention on him and not Artuk.

“I can’t imagine what you think we have to talk about.” You say sharply, sticking your nose up at him.

You’re such a prissy little thing. He has no idea why he likes it so much – he doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed that in a woman before. 

“I think we have lots to talk about, little thing.” He rumbles, and watches the way your lips purse.

He is not blind. He sees the way your eyes dart over the muscles of his chest and down over his waist and hips, before quickly darting away towards safer territory. Unfortunately, it seems as though you’ve decided that safer territory means towards Artuk.

Tsu’tey bristles, frustrated that your attention keeps straying. He’s never had an issue keeping your attention before. If anything, he’s always found it difficult to escape your fussing. That he is being denied your attention now is making his skin itch.

“I’ll check on this later, alright?” You say, smiling at Artuk once more before straightening your little tank top and stepping back.

Tsu’tey relaxes slightly as space grows between the two of you, though he keeps darting his gaze between you and the young hunter. Artuk’s tail coyly slips away from your ankle, though it drags painstakingly slowly across your skin as it does so. Tsu’tey just barely manages to resist the urge to grab it and tear it away from you entirely.

“Yes. Thank you again.” Artuk says, his ears lowering in supplication. “Will you have dinner in the village this evening? I will see you then?”

“I’m not sure yet.” You say, a little awkwardly. “We’ll see.”

Artuk takes that in stride, and he gives you one last smile before leaving you alone with Tsu’tey. He doesn’t even spare Tsu’tey a glance as he walks away, and Tsu’tey is struck by his boldness once more. He certainly hasn’t always been this confident; Tsu’tey remembers him as a weedy youngling who cried from frustration when he found himself unable to hit the target during training. 

Now that it is just you and Tsu’tey, it seems as though you’re absolutely determined to ignore him. You drop your attention to the little medical kit that you carry around everywhere, packing away the disinfectant and the bandages that you’ve been using. 

“What was that?” Tsu’tey demands, ducking his head down towards you so that he can speak to you with an illusion of privacy. “You say you will check on that small scratch of Artuk’s, and yet you have not looked at my stitches for many days now.”

“You’ve told me hundreds of times by now that you think human medicine isn’t worth shit and that you don’t want it anywhere near you-”

“You have never listened to me before.” Tsu’tey snaps back, aggravated. “Why are you listening now?”

“Tsu’tey, go away.” You grit out without looking at him. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“So you would speak to Artuk instead?” He asks, frowning as he shuffles closer.

You turn and scowl up at him once more, and Tsu’tey feels something within him ease at having your attention on him again.

“Artuk actually wants to speak to me.” You say sharply. “Unlike you. Why are you here?”

“I am here because I do want to speak to you.” He points out in frustration. “You have been avoiding me.”

“Yes, obviously.” You sling your little pack of supplies over your shoulder, clearly preparing to leave. “I can’t imagine why that would bother you. You have made your opinion on me perfectly clear-”

“Well, I obviously have not made it clear if you are avoiding me.” He reaches to stop you from leaving, but stops short of actually touching you. “Stop. I wish to talk.”

“Fine.” Your small hands are clenched into fists. “Talk then. Tell me exactly what you think of me.”

For a moment, Tsu’tey just stands there. You’re watching him expectantly, your hands on your hips, and your brows are drawn together challengingly. It’s almost comical to see a small thing like you act so defiantly, but Tsu’tey feels warmth curl in his belly at the sight. It’s sweet.

“Come back to my kelku.” He blurts. It’s not quite what he had meant to say, but the words are already out and he can’t take them back.

You scoff. “No. Jesus, all you do is think with your fucking dick-”

“Not for that.” He says hastily, ears lowering. “Just for talking.”

You're still scowling, your arms coming up to cross defensively over your chest. You don’t appear too convinced by him, but he is not willing to give up just yet. 

“Let us go to the tawtute outpost instead, then.” He offers. “Just to talk. That is all.”

Slowly, so slowly, you start to relent. Your shoulders lower and your arms drop, but you keep scowling. 

When Tsu’tey sees you start to give in, he seizes on it. “Ten minutes. Just ten minutes.”

He’s pleading like a moron, his dignity lying in tatters around his feet. It’s a little mortifying to have to beg a demon just for the chance to plead his case, but he stands firm anyway – he may as well commit fully, after all.

You sigh, and reach up to rub at the back of your neck. You look tired, and he feels guilt creeping into his stomach.

“Ten minutes.” You say firmly, before turning on your heel and marching away.

Tsu’tey wastes no time in following you. Usually, it is him leading the way with you following along at his heels, so for him to be following behind you like this is a novelty. He finds his eyes glued to your back as he walks after you, careful to take smaller steps so that he can stay behind you.

He lets his gaze travel down your back and over the curve of your waist and the swell of your hips. It’s not often that he gets a chance to look like this – he’s usually trying too hard to pretend that he’s not aware of you at all. Now, he allows himself to appreciate the view as your steps cause your hips to sway.

The two of you have just reached the edge of the village when there’s a call of Tsu’tey’s name.

He’s fully prepared to ignore it, but then you pause from where you’re marching ahead of him and turn your head to look back in the direction of the village.

It is Saeyla again, he knows without even looking. He sighs as he follows your lead in pausing and looking towards her.

Saeyla has taken a step towards the two of you, her eyes narrowed and resentful as her gaze falls on you.

“Go away, Saeyla,” Tsu’tey calls, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I do not have time today.”

He places his hand just in between your shoulderblades and pushes, just hard enough to get you walking again. You half-stagger, glancing from Tsu’tey to Saeyla and then back again, before lurching forward.

“Are you not going to talk to-” You sound a little sour and Tsu’tey has no doubt that you’re planning some snappy little comment, but he has no intention of letting you finish.

“No,” He interrupts, still pushing you on. “I am not going to talk to her, vrrtep.”

That seems to mollify you, and you keep taking your somewhat clumsy steps into the forest, leading the way through the trees towards the outpost. Your journey together is quiet – you are still stubbornly avoiding talking to him, and he is reluctant to push his luck by attempting to draw you into conversation. 

It is a relief when the shoddy eyesore of a building looms up from the forest, and Tsu’tey speeds up without conscious thought. You let out a soft sound of complaint, but allow him to guide you into moving faster all the same.

When he follows you into the outpost building, he finds that it is far busier than the last time he was here. The sight of all the sky demons chatting and laughing and working irritates him, and he glares as he straightens up, his shoulders drawing back.

“Get out!” He delivers the order in the same harsh tone he usually uses when he is training the young hunters, and he finds it gratifying when he’s met with a frantic burst of movement.

“You are so goddamn rude.” You grit out, clearly irritated with him, but you just push further into the outpost as the other humans begin to file out.

He doesn’t particularly care for manners when it comes to interacting with tawtute, but you had looked at him so reproachfully that he hesitates to snap at them again. He just follows you towards the little medical bay you work from, looming over the scientists and glowering at them to get them moving out of the building a little quicker.

You lead him into the small medical room and as the doors whoosh shut behind him, you lean against one of the work counters and cross your arms as you watch him. Your regard is weighty for such a small creature, and he finds himself puffing up his chest and rolling his shoulders under your gaze.

“Go on then.” You say, eyes narrowing. “Explain.”

There’s a challenging bite to your voice that has his tail curling. He is getting excited, and he hopes that you don’t notice. He imagines that you will only get angrier at him, but he can’t help it – there’s something about the jagged edges of your anger that is impossibly enticing.

“I told Saeyla no,” Tsu’tey says, and watches you very carefully for your reaction. “I told her no about mating, and I told her no about taking her as a lover. Just as I have told her before.”

Your expression wobbles, but you manage to keep up the veneer of calm aloofness remarkably well. “Am I supposed to care about this?”

Tsu’tey steps towards you, and is pleased when you don’t step away from him. He ducks his head, just slightly, so that he’s closer to eye-level with you. 

“Yes,” He murmurs. “I think you do care.”

Your jaw clenches, and he realises that you’re beginning to get defensive. He tilts his head in supplication, attempting to appear non-confrontational – he will need to be careful or you will grow too angry to listen to him.

“I do like you,” He says. “You asked me before. The answer is yes, I do like you.”

You sigh, then reach up to rub at your face in frustration. It is rare that he gets access to your face like this; your face always appears so impossibly distant to him, all locked behind the awful plastic bubble of your mask, and he watches with ill-disguised interest as you press your fingers into your eyelids.

“Are you only telling me this because I was talking to Artuk?” You demand, your eyes squeezing shut in frustration. 

Tsu’tey shifts on his feet. He feels as though it would probably be unwise to answer that question, but he wants to be truthful with you.

“I have been thinking these few days.” He says, frowning. “But I did not like seeing him with you. He should not make advances on you like that.”

You laugh, but you most certainly do not sound amused.

“Why not?” You demand, stepping towards him. “He doesn’t mind that I’m human.”

Tsu’tey’s ears twitch, his mouth pursing. “Is today the first time he spoke with you?”

You scoff again, turning your face away from him. At first he thinks that you are so frustrated with him that you can hardly bear to look him in the eye, but then he sees that your mouth is pursed and your eyes are shifty – you are embarrassed.

“No.” You say, clearing your throat. “It isn’t.”

Tsu’tey inhales sharply. This does not please him at all.

“He’s friendly,” Your arms tighten across your chest defensively. “And he treats me like a person rather than a demon.” After that jab you pause, but then keep going as though the confession just spills out of you. “He… he’s hurt himself a couple of times over the last few weeks. He brings me fruit when he comes to get fixed up.”

That is a revelation that leaves Tsu’tey reeling. There is no reason that Artuk could not find a Na’vi healer in the clan to fix him up – and why was a hunter who had completed his iknimaya and was recognised as a man in the eyes of the People getting injured so often, anyway? And bringing you fruit? That, in conjunction with how his tail had curled so boldly around your little ankles, was undoubtedly a mating display.

And this has been going on for weeks? Tsu’tey has been fucking you for months, at least two, which means that surely Artuk has smelled his scent on you. That means that he has chosen to challenge Tsu’tey’s claim to you anyway, a fact that has Tsu’tey bristling. Not that his claim is obvious, admittedly. He should have noticed, should have done something about this.

To realise that his old student has been seeking you out like this is utterly galling. He feels a little ill at the thought of you accepting Artuk’s offering of fruit, of you smiling at him as you patch up his wounds, of you allowing Artuk to touch you.

Tsu’tey steps forward without thinking, reaching for your waist. This time, you don’t back away from him. His stomach leaps a little bit in mingled excitement and relief, and he lowers himself to his knees as both his hands cup you by the waist. It chafes at his dignity a little, to kneel before a sky demon like this, but when your eyes settle on his face he feels something in him ease.

Your eyes dart down to his hands, so large where they wrap around your torso, before darting quickly back up to his face.

“You only have ten minutes.” You remind him, raising your chin. “And you haven’t done much talking.”

Bossy, he thinks, amused despite himself. He has never been very good at talking, but he’s determined to do the best he can.

“I do not like Artuk talking to you.” He says, his fingers curling into the soft material of your clothes. “I do not like him bringing you fruit. I do not like that he is attempting to offer himself to you as a mate-”

“Oh, that isn’t what he’s doing.” You roll your eyes, but Tsu’tey ignores you.

If Artuk was brave enough to be so damn unapologetic about his desire for you, then Tsu’tey should be too. It might be shameful to desire a tawtute, but it would be even more shameful to have the tawtute he desired stolen away by another.

“I enjoy your softness, I like your small hands, I like that you care so much about the wellbeing of other people,” He starts, his tail lashing. “I like that you are small and bold. I like it when you get angry. I like the noises you make when you open up around my cock-”

You let out a noise of pure mortification, your hands jumping up to grab at his wrists where he’s holding you.

“Oh, stop!” You hiss, clearly flustered. “Where is this coming from? I thought we were just blowing off steam. If you want a lover, go to Saeyla-”

Tsu’tey cuts you off with a frustrated snarl, his fingers tightening around your little hips. 

“You are angry at me for something that I have not done.” He points out, clicking his tongue. “I have rejected Saeyla, I have rejected Txisma, I have rejected Ninat. Can you not see? You are the only one I have had.”

Your forehead is all wrinkled as you frown. You seem confused, and he can’t blame you – his feelings have been confusing him, too. 

“Do you-” He starts to ask, insecurity rising up in his throat like bile and gripping him tight. “Do you like me?”

“Ugh!” You throw your hands up, narrowly avoiding knocking him upside the head. “You’re so stupid! “

His ears pin back and his lips press tight together, but he does not argue. He is still waiting for you to answer the question, and it seems as though you’re just working yourself up.

“Of course I fucking like you!” You snap. Tsu’tey doesn’t even have time to feel pleased about that before you continue. “Do you have any idea how humiliating all this has been? I didn’t even really care that you were being a total asshole the whole time we were hooking up because at least you were noticing me. I understood why you called me a demon, I understood why you talked all that shit about humans. I still do undertand! We’ve been awful!  But I thought that maybe you were getting over it, since you were coming to find me damn near every day just to fuck. I thought that maybe you might like me-”

“I do like you.” Tsu’tey says quickly, but you actually hiss at him. 

“Shut up!” You snap. “I’m not finished!”

You have no fangs, so you should be utterly unintimidating, but he finds his ears flattening as he sits back on his knees, falling silent. It probably shouldn’t be attractive, seeing you like this. He attempts to stifle his reaction the best that he can in the hopes that you won’t notice the way he is shifting.

“You’re rude, and grumpy, and sometimes talking to you is like trying to talk to a brick wall!” You continue, your little face all contorted in frustration. “You think you know best, even when you don’t, and you won’t listen to my goddamned medical advice even when it will fucking help you! And I’ve had to redo those stupid stitches of yours at least a dozen times-!”

Tsu’tey’s own brows are furrowed now. Are you confessing that you like him, or are you just going to list out all of his faults?

“And yeah, I like you anyway.” You sigh, rubbing at your face. “God knows why. Maybe it’s your nice face, or stupid sexy body.”

Ah. A compliment. Tsu’tey tosses his braids back and smiles smugly. So you do like him. Excellent. 

“I am sorry that I upset you.” Tsu’tey says, his voice low in the intimate quiet of the room. “I have been… confused. But I know that I want you.”

“Like, actually want me?” You ask, one of your eyebrows cocked in challenge. “Or do you mean you just want to fuck me?”

“No, I mean-” Tsu’tey takes a breath, confused but determined. “Fully. I want you fully.”

Your expression falters, and you bite your lip hard in an effort to conceal your feelings. “Oh yeah? Even if I’m just a human? Are you willing to defend your choice to the rest of the clan?”

“Yes.” He breathes. “I… I think so.”

Your face collapses into a scowl, and he realises almost immediately that he has made a mistake.  

“Well,” You say; your tone is so faux-sweet that it’s almost sickening. “Why don’t you just come back when you're certain, then?”

You reach down and knock his hands off your waist, then turn from him and begin to march towards the door. The sight of you trying to leave sends his stomach plummeting to his feet. Has he lost his chance? Is his ten minutes up? Panicked, he lunges forward and grabs at your little hands.

“Wait.”

 He is still on his knees, which makes it difficult to shuffle after you, but he still manages to lightly tug you back to him. You yelp, reaching up to plant your hands against his chest in an effort to keep your balance. 

“I want you,” He says urgently. “I am certain.”

You pause, your breathing coming heavier as you stare at him. He can see the whites of your eyes as you watch him in what looks like disbelief.

“What if you want to take a mate later?” You demand, eyes narrowing. “What if you decide that I’m not enough, or that you want a Na’vi mate-”

“You are it.” He interrupts, hoping that his tone conveys just how earnest he is being about this. “Demon or not, I… it is you that I want. Just you.”

He’s not expecting you to lurch towards him, your little hands reaching up to grab at his face. When you press your soft little lips to his in a kiss, his hands find purchase on your hips and he uses his grip there to haul you closer.

"Sweet little demon," He breathes against your mouth, "Please, just- let me-"

"Yes," You gasp into the kiss as you reach up to tangle your hands in his hair, desperate to make the kiss last. "Yes, alright-"

When Tsu’tey’s hands slip down your back and over the curve of your ass, it sends a visceral jolt up your spine. He lets out a soft grunt, and squeezes at the pliable flesh there as you kiss him fiercely. He doesn't know how you’re able to do this, to make every small contact feel so unbelievably good. He swears that even your chastest touches make his head swim. 

The hand that he had on your ass slips around to your front, where he plucks at the waistband of your stupid leg coverings.

“Remove.” He groans out, his voice rough and gritty with arousal. 

You do as he says eagerly, pawing at the button closure before shoving your pants roughly down over your thighs. You are so sweet and insistent, and you keep kissing him with unrelenting heat as you push your trousers off. He unclasps his own tewng and tosses it aside before his hands return to your body.

His hands roam over the soft material of your top, landing just over your squishy breasts. You are not wearing a bra again today, and he delights in the feeling of them in his palms through your top. You are so much smaller than him that your breasts fit neatly in his hand, and he marvels at the sight. 

“Fuck,” You whimper as his thumb brushes over one of your firmed up nipples. “Oh, fuck, please.”

His fingers curl into the fabric covering your tits, and he tugs at it lightly. “Remove.”

You start to wrestle your way out of your top, and Tsu’tey feels a little thrill at how easily you are obeying him right now. As soon as your top is removed and your breasts are bare, his hands coast down over your ass. His hands squeeze lightly over the squidge there, and then he uses his grip on you to haul you up into his arms. 

You squeal a little in surprise, before you dissolve into laughter as he holds you against his chest and nuzzles into the base of your throat. Tsu’tey breaks out into a wild grin at your reaction, unrestrained and thrilled – your laughter is an unspeakable relief after being on the receiving end of your ire for so long.

You’ve barely stopped kissing him once, your little hands cupping his face and keeping him firmly in place as you nip at his mouth. The wet heat of your tongue against his has his head spinning as though he had drunk too much of the fermented nectar the clan makes for celebrations.

When one of his hands slips into the flimsy cotton of your panties, he takes a sharp breath when his fingers find the slick heat between your legs. Oh, you’re so wet, all sticky and slippery as the pads of his fingers ghost over your swollen little clit. 

You moan, your hips jerking, and Tsu’tey grins into the kiss, sharp teeth bared. It seems as though you want him as badly as he wants you.

His fingers press into at the same moment as he ducks his head down and bites at your throat, and you wheeze as your back arches. Your hips are chasing his hand, rutting up and trying to get him where you want him. It’s cute, and he suckles at your neck as you shiver against him.

“Tsu’tey,” You breathe, your hands winding into his hair. “Tsu’tey, please-”

He is almost unbearably hard, but he can’t bring himself to tear his hands away from you in order to take care of himself. He just grunts, and allows his thumb to roll over your clit as you gasp a tremulous little breath.

"Tsu’tey," You complain, beginning to writhe around his hand. "Will you- can you just-" 

When he just chuckles at your tone you huff and reach down, grabbing a hold of the hand he’s got between your thighs and rutting your wet pussy against his fingers.

“Yes,” You breathe, your eyelids fluttering dazedly as your head tilts back. “Like that.”

Tsu’tey watches with an open mouth as you grind against his hand, sucking his fingers in deeper as you rut your clit up against his thumb. Heat flares through his nerve endings at the sight alone, and he ducks his head down and laves his tongue over one of your breasts.

You cry out, pressing closer, and he takes the hint to keep going. He suckles at your firm nipple, enjoying the way that your breath stutters as you absolutely soak the hand between your legs.

“Fuck!” You sob, but then you bite your lip hard to stifle any more sounds as he rolls his thumb insistently over your clit.

Tsu’tey breaks away from your chest, his mouth leaving a string of drool connected to the breast he had been sucking at. He frowns at the sight of you biting your lip to stay quiet.

“Let me hear you.” He says, and the gravel in his voice surprises even him.

“No,” You grumble, though you’re breathless. “You always say I’m too loud. Mouth never closed, remember?”

Damn. He curses his past self for sabotaging him like this.

“I was a skxawng. You must not listen to me.” He murmurs, kissing your breast before licking over your nipple. “I like it. Let me hear.”

The next time his thumb rolls over your clit, you let out a soft, breathless moan. The sound hits him like a punch to the gut and goes straight to his cock. 

He feels a little bit feral as he takes a hold of your hips and lifts you, walking quickly to the large medical cot in the corner of the room.

The medical bed was built to withstand the weight of avatar bodies, yet when Tsu’tey lands heavily on it with you in his arms it judders unsteadily beneath him. You let out a small noise of concern, grabbing at his biceps for stability as he clambers atop you, settling between your legs and looping your thighs around his waist.

His fingers return to your cunt instantly, and his chest rumbles in a satisfied purr when your little cunt swallows them inside with ease. Your hips buck up to meet his thrusting fingers, it seems without conscious thought on your part. You’re absolutely soaking, and your pussy makes obscene, wet noises with every plunge and retreat of his fingers as you pant.

Your obvious pleasure and the feel, sound and smell of your sex ratchets up Tsu’tey’s own excitement. He finds himself rock hard just thinking about how good it’s going to feel to have your soft, slick body envelop his cock, and he moans against your breast.

“Okay,” You breathe, spreading your thighs further as he settles into the cradle between your leg. “Come on, fuck me.”

You’re such a pushy little thing. It’s taking every ounce of strength in him not to flip you onto your stomach and just pound you senseless, but he’s trying to prove himself to you here. He will make you feel good, but he will do it carefully.

“Yes, little thing,” He breathes, his cock hard and unyielding as it rubs against the folds of your sex. “Alright.”

He grips the base of his cock, grunting with the effort it takes to hold himself back. He pushes his hips forward, the tip of his cock dragging against you as he grinds lazily in between your thighs. 

When he does finally begin to push in, he does it painfully slowly. Your brow puckers, your lower lip sucked in between your teeth as you inhale sharply and whine. He watches your reactions with avid interest, his eyes tracing over your face as he pushes into you. He thinks you look beautiful like this. You are soft and strange and small, but your features please him just as your bossy little attitude does.

“Relax, vrrtep,” He murmurs, nosing at your sweat-slick temple. “Or I will not fit.”

“Just- do it-” You’re trying to hump your hips onto his cock like a damn little brat, and it nearly makes him laugh out loud.

He knows you can take it – he’s had you before when you were less prepared, and he’s not sure why it feels so different this time. 

He eases his pelvis back, and then pushes forward all at once until he’s halfway inside. You shriek, clawing at his strong shoulders, and he stills for a moment to let you adjust. 

You whine, breathy and wanting, as Tsu’tey lowers his chest so that he’s pressed tight against you with your breasts all squished up against him. Like this, he can feel the frantic flutters of your heartbeat against him, and his own heart thumping rhythmically as if to mellow yours out. He purrs, chest rumbling soothingly as he slides deeper.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you gasp, and Tsu’tey’s purring takes on an edge.

“I want you to look at me when I claim you.” He says, his lips dragging over the base of your throat. 

“Stupid,” You gasp, your nails biting into his back. “As if it could be anyone else.”

"I want you to watch," He clarifies, nipping at your collarbone. "After this, your cunt will know no other than me."

“Jesus fuck-”

He hunches over you until you’re engulfed beneath him – you’re so tiny, and he’s never felt like such a mighty warrior as he does right now, with you safe and caged in by his own body.

With a grunt, he begins to rut into you properly. You fit around him like a vice, so tight that it feels as though you’re trying to actually squeeze his cock right off. The wet heat of you steals his breath away, and he moans senselessly into your throat. He feels lightheaded with pleasure, and clutches mindlessly at the soft flesh of your ass.

You scrabble at his chest, and he blinks in bewilderment as you grab at the breathing mask looped around his neck and bring it to his mouth. He takes a deep breath and some of that lightheadedness fades, but he still feels positively dizzy.

He looks down, and feels his brain practically blank at the sight of your pussy stretched taut around his cock, swollen and shining wet as he fucks into the hot cradle between your legs. You take him so well, entirely at his mercy as he lifts your ass up so that he can push into you at an angle, your legs locking tight around his narrow hips.

You reach up and fist his braids in your hand, and he snarls like a beast. Has this always felt so good? Or does his body recognise that his mind has finally opened up, accepting you as a potential mate?

His strokes steadily became long and powerful, angled just the way that you usually like. You reach above your head and clasp the steel bars of the medical bed to hold yourself steady, and Tsu’tey’s eyes drop eagerly to your chest as your breasts bounce.

“Lovely,” He mutters drunkenly, bowing his head to suck a bruise into the top of your breast. “Yuey, ma’tawtute.”

The noises that you’re making have his head spinning. How could he have ever shushed you? He was a bigger fool than he can even fully comprehend.

He grips your ass and pulls you up closer, your thighs squeezing tight around his hips. You whine, then choke, then go silent as he strokes into you as fiercely as he dares without hurting you.

“Do not go quiet on me now, mate.” He croons, one hand pawing between your legs in search of the swollen bead of your clit. “Let me hear you.”

He isn’t going to last long in the agonisingly tight heat of you, but it’s so terribly important that you come first. It is a matter of pride, of dignity, of his honour as a man – he needs you to know that it is a priority for him to please you.

“Oh, fuck.” You practically wail it, the word all drawn out and slightly slurred as your head tosses back. “Keep- keep touching me like that, please!”

Tsu’tey does as you ask, his fingers rolling insistently against your clit, so soft and swollen from your arousal. Your back arches and your cunt clamps down on him, and he damn near blacks out from the sheer overload of sensation.

“Oh, yes,” You pant, eyes wide and mouth open. “Tsu’tey, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-”

“Yes,” He says eagerly, a purr ripping through his chest. “Yes, let me see your pleasure. Give it to me.”

It seems to wash over you like a wave, your eyes rolling back as your head tips against the bed, your fingers scrabbling across his back. Your walls tighten around his cock in pulsing waves, and you let out a soft keening that sounds like a garbled version of his name.

You’re a mess, all sweaty hair and glowing skin and limp limbs as your orgasm rocks through you. You look beautiful, and Tsu’tey doesn’t allow himself to blink the entire time you’re coming. 

Your climax marks the end of Tsu’tey’s control, and he lets himself go. His head drops to your shoulder and then he’s running on pure instinct and biting. His teeth are sharp and pierce your soft skin easily, without the need for any real force. He drives into you, breathing heavily, grunting as he thrusts harder and faster, letting the world fall away until he’s aware of nothing else but the singular sensation of fucking you, of knowing you’re his, of keeping you safe, only you, his and his alone.

With that thought, he comes suddenly – harder and faster than he’d intended – and the shock of it ripples down his spine like an electric current, sparking in his blood and seeping into his veins. He moans around your shoulder as he spends himself inside of you, feeling his release fill you and overflow, dripping out of the tight space already stuffed so full.

For a long moment, the only sound in your little cramped office is the sound of the two of you panting for breath. It doesn’t occur to Tsu’tey to breathe from the mask again until you start fumbling for it, but he releases your shoulder from his mouth and takes a deep inhale when you press it to his face. His tail waves lazily at the gesture – you’re such a caring little thing.

Just like all of the previous sexual dalliances between the two of you, Tsu’tey goes entirely boneless after his orgasm. He doesn’t even bother to pull out of you, just enjoying the feeling of intimacy as he goes lax over you, ensuring that his body weight is rolled slightly to the side so that he doesn’t crush you. 

“Okay?” He manages to ask, still feeling a little as though his brain has been liquefied.

You pant out a breathless laugh. “Oh yeah. I’m so okay.”

Tsu’tey hums as he nuzzles your jaw, the side of your neck. When you raise your hand and run them through the braids at his scalp, his eyes flutter shut instantly. Your small fingers scratch lightly at his scalp, and he lets out a purr so loud it nearly shocks him. How could Saeyla have ever thought she could compare with this? It feels so right, and he curls himself around you with another quiet purr thrumming in his chest.

You let out a soft noise, and Tsu’tey raises his head so that he can look at the bite mark he’s left on your shoulder. It’s bleeding lightly and sluggishly, and he runs a thumb lazily over the indentation of his teeth, smearing some of the blood over your skin. The sight of his mark on you, his claim on you, has his spent cock pulsing tiredly inside of you.

“Are you hurt, small one?” He wonders. He can’t quite drum up any guilt over marking you this way, but that doesn’t mean that he wants you to feel pain.

You just scoff, your head tilted back towards the ceiling as you breathe. “It stings, but it’s fine. You’re a real asshole, you know that? What the fuck was that? You’ve never bitten me before!”

“Of course not,” Tsu’tey mumbles, laving his tongue over his own teeth marks on your shoulder. “I have not claimed you properly before. It was important to fix that.”

You exhale at that, a breathy little laugh. “Oh, claiming, huh? Why didn’t you tell me? Next time, I’ll give you a big nasty bite too.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls, his ears twitching in excitement. Do you mean that? You wish to claim him too, in the way of his People? How would it feel to sport your mark on him, made by your blunt little teeth? He would wear it with pride, he thinks. He can imagine your smug little face at the sight of Saeyla noticing, and he barely stifles a quiet snigger in your hair.

“Next time, tìyawn.” He promises you, hardly able to contain his own excitement at the idea.

You just yawn, blissfully unaware of the way that his thoughts are racing, and turn your face into his chest. “I feel like I want to sleep for a hundred years.”

Tsu’tey chuckles, his hands drifting low over your back. His fingers pet absently over the base of your spine, fascinated by the lack of tail there.

“You must sleep later, vrrtep.” He murmurs, before nipping lightly at your other shoulder that doesn’t have his bite. “Come. Let us go and get food.”

That catches your attention, and you squint up at him through disbelieving eyes.

“Now?”

“Yes.” Tsu’tey says simply, his tail lashing. “Artuk is waiting to see you there.”

He nuzzles into his mating bite on your shoulder, and feels you sigh under him. There is no possibility of you misunderstanding what he means, what he wants Artuk to see.

“You’re such an asshole.” You say yet again, but this time Tsu’tey’s ears twitch at the unmistakable fondness in your voice. “A possessive asshole, apparently.”

He doesn’t bother trying to deny that. He is a possessive man, and always has been. There are very few things in life that he has to call his own, and he is fiercely protective of them. Now, that stretches to include you.

It’s no secret that Tsu’tey hates the Sky People. But he’s willing to admit that you just might be an exception to that.

#tsu'tey #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey fic #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #avatar 2 #na'vi x reader #na'vi x human #terato #alien x human #avatar 2009 #awow

[valeskafics]

"Hi, I'm Billy. I'm Dead. Wanna Hook Up?" - Ghost!Billy Washington x Reader (AHS Murder House AU)

a/n: first full fic for billy w! hope you guys enjoy 💕

Summary: When your parents move you halfway across the world during your senior year to fix their imploding marriage, you find comfort in an unlikely source.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of death/murder, fingering, loss of virginity, p in v sex, ghosts, major character death

Word Count: 3,500 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Trigger Point characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

A little bit of resentment against your parents isn’t abnormal, most psychologists would say. Of course you know what a psychologist would say, your dad is always trying to shrink and therapy talk you, the sanctimonious fuck. Maybe if he’d gone to couples therapy like your mom suggested years ago and done the work which he tells everyone else to do, he wouldn’t have fucked his secretary and blown up your entire life. Moving to the UK just to fix their marriage? And you thought you were selfish. You scowl as you carry box after box up to your room, doing your level best to ignore your parents.

The house is huge, you note as you walk down one of its many hallways, and you absently wonder how your parents were able to afford this. The fixtures alone look like they run in the tens of thousands. It’s a creepy house, the realtor said it’s over one hundred years old, but you sort of dig that about it. It gives it history, personality. You use your elbow to open your door, dropping the box on your bed as you begin setting up your room, carving out your own little corner of the world in this new place.

But something feels off somehow. Like someone’s watching you. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, but when you turn around? There’s no one there. You chalk it up to just getting used to the new place and resume your task. The house is so large that apparently your dad is going to be able to see patients in the home office downstairs. Well, at least there won’t be any secretaries to fuck that way, you muse as you hang up one of your posters.

You mutter to yourself, annoyed, “I swear if this stupid house is haunted…”

“It is.”

You let out a shriek, turning around and facing the source of the voice, a tall, lanky guy, probably around your age, with blond hair and baby blue eyes, “Who told you that you can just go sneaking up on people like that?”

“Sorry,” he smiles awkwardly, “Anyway, I’m Billy. Billy Washington. I used to live here till my family moved out.”

You stare at him, unimpressed, but give him your name, “How’d you get in here, Billy Washington?”

He shrugs, eyeing the posters and pictures you’ve hung up on your wall, “Front door was open. Your parents aren’t the most safety-conscious people it would seem,” Billy turns to face you, “I have an appointment with your dad, was looking for his office when I found you.”

You nod in understanding before asking, “So do you go to the high school- er, I mean college down the road?”

“Something like that.”

“Year 13?” you ask, trying to remember how the school years work here. He nods and you let out a quiet sigh of relief, “Well, at least I’ll know someone when I start.”

“I don’t go to class that often. Kinda the local fuck-up,” he gives you a lopsided grin, “But, yeah, you know someone.”

“So what do you see my dad for? You some kinda psycho or something?”

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping an octave, “Do you want me to be?”

You gaze up at him, noticing yet again how fucking tall he is before replying, “I’m guessing… Anxiety? Depression?”

“What gave it away?”

“The dark circles and the band shirt. And the cigs,” you tease, “You have all the hallmarks of existential angst.”

“Ah, yeah. That’ll do it. Sorry for being so transparent,” he jokes.

“Well, Billy Washington, you are on the wrong floor for an appointment with my dad,” you say pointedly, “Down the stairs, first door on the left.”

“Cheers,” he nods, turning to leave, but giving you one last look over his shoulder, “See you around.”

The next morning, as you leave for school, in a fucking uniform no less, you see Billy sitting on the steps of your front porch, smoking a cigarette. You close the door behind you and walk over to sit beside him while you wait for the bus. Billy looks at you from the corner of his eye and you notice how his gaze lingers on your thighs, exposed by the uniform’s skirt, and on the bit of cleavage he can see. You have half a mind to call him out on it, but you don’t. Maybe because you sort of enjoy the attention he’s giving you. After all, he’s definitely cute in an emo grunge sort of way.

“Those things will kill you,” you say dryly, eyeing his cigarette.

He chuckles, exhaling some smoke, “Maybe I’m already dead.”

“Hilarious,” you scoff.

Billy turns to face you, “So what made your family move here anyway?”

You let out a sigh, “Dad cheated on Mom. They’re here to ‘fix their marriage’ or whatever.”

“And blowing up your life in the process is just collateral damage?” Billy raises an eyebrow.

“Pretty much,” you grab the cigarette from his hands and take a drag, enjoying the way his lips quirk up into a small smile, “Anyway, that’s my life. Dragged to a new fucking country because Dad couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and is a dirty fucking liar.”

“So your mom still loves him.”

“Fuck love,” you retort, exhaling some smoke.

Billy laughs at your words, looking at you, “Someone’s not a fan of romance, I take it.”

“What can I say? I’m a fatalist.”

“Fatalist?” Billy repeats, grabbing the cigarette back and taking another drag, “You know the way you talk and your outlook on life, it’s kinda sexy.”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks before muttering, “Yeah, well, people are all fucking liars, I don’t know.”

Billy is quiet for a moment before speaking up, “I won’t ever lie to you.”

His words are earnest, as is the expression on his face. Your heart skips a beat but you quickly shake off whatever this feeling is when you see the bus roll up.

“You going to school today or ditching, local fuck-up?”

“Ditching. I have a morning appointment with your dad anyway,” he says easily, “You should too. Hang out with me.”

“It’s my first day or I would,” you sigh, turning to board the bus, “See ya.”

You give him one last wave over your shoulder before the doors close.

Your father greets Billy politely as he enters his office. And he’s quite surprised at how curious Billy seems to be about you. The way he keeps glancing over at the picture of you that’s on his desk, the way he seems completely uninterested in his therapy. The questions are innocent at first, like him asking if you’re an only child. Asking what sort of music you’re into. Your dad humors him and answers, unsure of where this is going. And when he tries to steer the topic of conversation back to Billy’s therapy, Billy seems determined to antagonize him.

“So what do shrinks think about when a patient doesn’t talk about their trauma to punish said psychiatrist?” Billy asks, lighting another cigarette, “I bet you think about sex.”

“Do you think about sex a lot?”

“I think about one girl in particular,” Billy grins, “Your daughter. I jerk off thinking about her a lot.”

“I’m not comfortable with you talking about my daughter anymore, Billy,” your father says coolly, trying to maintain his composure.

“Don’t you wanna know what I think about doing to her?” Billy leans forward, “How I lay her on the bed and caress her soft skin, make her purr like a little kitten,” your father cringes at Billy’s words, prompting the blond to grin again, “I bet she’s a virgin. They get wet so easily. Would hardly even take any work.”

“Do you turn to these thoughts to comfort yourself in times of stress?”

“Yeah, I jerk off a lot to make the bad thoughts go away. You probably do too, don’t you, Doc? I mean, you’re a pretty sexual guy,” Billy taunts, “Your daughter told me all about you and that secretary of yours.”

Your father promptly kicks Billy out of the office, making a mental note that he needs to give the boy’s family a call to let them know he’ll no longer be treating him. He tells him not to go near you ever again.

An instruction Billy has no intention of following.

Billy thinks you should count yourself as lucky that out of all the spirits that reside in this house, it’s him who’s taken an interest in you. He bides his time until you get back from school, remaining out of sight until you go up to your room. He watches as you lay in your bed, completely exhausted from your first day, and all the assholes who messed with you, saying you’re the freak who lives in the “Murder House”. He leans against your doorway, gazing at you. You seem to feel his stare on you and look up, meeting his eyes. He can’t help but think you look so gorgeous and vulnerable right now, his breath hitching as you look at him. You’re just wearing an oversized tee shirt, and fuck, do those thighs have him thinking some less than holy thoughts.

You take out one of your airpods and greet him, “Hey…”

“Hey,” he mutters, taking a seat beside you on the bed, taking the airpod you extend to him and placing it in his ear, “What’re we listening to?” Billy asks, glancing down at your bare legs.

“Nirvana,” you say, humming along with the song.

Billy moves to rest a large palm on your thigh as he listens, reveling in the feeling of your smooth skin against his hand, “You listen to them often?”

You glance down at his hand before turning to smirk at him, “What’s that hand doing?”

He chuckles, moving it slightly higher, “You know exactly what it’s doing.”

You shiver slightly at his touch before asking, “So why do they call this place the Murder House?”

“Couple of murders a few years ago. And a lot more before that,” he says, squeezing your thigh slightly, grinning at the way you react to his touch, “I could show you where they happened, you know-”

You’re interrupted by your father knocking and entering your room - you scowl, glaring at him, “Can you knock?!”

He immediately kicks Billy out, telling you that he doesn’t want you hanging around him anymore. But all that does is make you even more interested in him.

And he’s there on the front porch steps again the next morning, smoking a cigarette. You approach him.

“So I was thinking about ditching today.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, “Really now? And I thought you’re such a good girl,” he says, patting the spot next to him on the step, “Looks like I’m proving to be a bad influence.”

You roll your eyes, sitting beside him and question, “So do you wanna hang out or not, jerk?”

He chuckles playfully, “You’re kind of a brat, aren’t you? I like it.”

“I was thinking maybe you can show me where some of the murders happened,” you suggest, “I’m into the dark and macabre.”

Billy nods, “That I can do, but are you sure? This is pretty macabre. Might be too much for your pretty little self to handle.”

“I promise you I can handle it.”

He stands up, putting his cigarette out and gestures for you to open the door, “Alright. Let’s go.”

Billy proves to be pretty good company. He points out where one of the previous owners shot her husband after discovering him having an affair with the maid, where another previous resident allegedly tortured some local kids. He’s a fountain of knowledge, at least as far as creepy shit about this house goes. The two of you head down to the basement, where he says that one can commune with the ghosts of the house. You give him a weary look, telling him you don’t believe in ghosts.

“You will.”

You gasp softly as he pins you against the wall, pressing his body up against yours. Those gorgeous blue eyes bore into yours, the intensity behind them leaving you weak in the knees.

“I’m not scared,” you murmur softly.

“I think you are,” he says, moving to whisper in your ear, one hand resting on your cheek, “And I think you actually like that.”

“Does that make me a psycho too?” you murmur as he brushes his nose against yours, inhaling your scent.

“It does. We belong together,” Billy replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “You’re the only light I’ve ever known.”

You close your eyes as his lips meet yours, a slow, sensual kiss. You let out a soft moan as his tongue moves into your mouth, dancing against yours. Billy’s hands move to your thighs, squeezing them before hiking them up around his waist so that you’re wrapped around him. He moves to kiss your neck, nibbling on it softly, sure to leave a mark behind, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’ve never been kissed like this, like someone needs you. His hands move up your skirt, caressing your ass before giving it a light slap.

“I haven’t really done this before,” you murmur between kisses.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, “I’ll be gentle.”

Billy moves your panties aside, his fingers moving along your pussy, a little smirk playing on his lips as you shiver against his touch. He pushes one finger inside you, letting out a low moan at how wet you are for him already, moving it in and out, torturously slow, watching the way your face twists in pleasure. He adds a second finger, slowly pumping them in and out of you. His fingers feel so good inside of you as he curves them in a come hither motion, brushing up against you sweet spot as he begins to increase his speed. You let out a mewl of his name, clinging to him as he moves his fingers in and out of you faster and faster, your pussy squeezing around him.

“Knew I’d have you purring like a little kitten,” he chuckles darkly, “Isn’t that what you are? My little kitten?”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp, your breathing ragged as he begins to circle your clit with his thumb, pressing down ever so slightly, “Oh my God, Billy, I’m so close…”

“Soak my fingers, kitten,” he urges, rubbing against your clit as he continues moving his fingers, “Come on, baby.”

You let out a wanton cry of his name as you reach your climax, your entire body contracting before the tension is released, your mind going completely blank at the white hot pleasure that sears through you. Billy watches as your entire body trembles all because of him, feeling pretty fucking satisfied with himself. He undoes his jeans just enough to free his cock, giving it a few quick tugs, working himself to full hardness. You stare at it, mouth watering slightly. But Billy wants this to be all about you. He runs the tip of his cock along your pussy, laughing softly at the way your entire body tenses. He slaps it against your clit once, grinning at the little cry you let out, then again before finally sheathing himself inside you.

Your head hits the wall behind you as you lean back against it, adjusting to his size. He’s so thick that it nearly feels like he’s splitting you in two, but it feels so fucking good. Billy fills you up perfectly and it’s like everything you ever imagined it would be. He stays still inside you for a minute, barely resisting the urge to rut into you like an animal. After a few more moments, you give him a reassuring smile and a nod, urging him to just fuck you already. And he does. He snaps his hips against yours at a breakneck pace that has you mewling his name, bucking your hips up against his as his fat cock bullies against your walls, hitting that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. Billy keeps going, faster and faster, pulling back and slamming into you, his lips pressed to your neck. You squeeze around him tighter and tighter, feeling the pleasure rising up in you like a tidal wave until finally, you soak his cock, coming with a near scream of his name. Billy reaches his own end soon after, resting his forehead against yours as the two of you come down from your high.

“That was…” you trail off breathlessly.

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You hear the front door open and panic, “You’ve gotta go. My dad will freak if he sees me with you.”

Billy nods, buttoning his jeans before asking, “You want me to come back and visit you later, kitten?”

You smile as he kisses you again, quickly saying, “Are you ditching tomorrow? Don’t you ever go to school?”

He scoffs, “Course I am. And so are you.”

“Maybe I wanna get an education,” you retort playfully as he squeezes your hips.

“I can tutor you in anatomy-”

You burst into laughter, “Oh my God, so fucking cheesy.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin as he kisses your throat, “Come on, just ditch tomorrow.”

“I’ll ditch after lunch, we can meet back here,” you say, giving him one last kiss before dashing back up the stairs to greet your dad.

Billy watches you go, a pit growing in his stomach as he whispers, voice cracking, “I don’t want you to go…”

Billy’s mildly shocked when you approach him, fire in your eyes, lips set in a grimace, the next day, “Are you a fucking ghost?”

His eyes widen and he immediately tries to downplay the accusation, “Hey, hey, calm down there, kitten-”

“Fuck you, I won’t calm down!” you snap, waving a piece of paper in his face, “Billy Washington. Deceased. 2022.”

He sighs, speaking in a disappointed tone, “Dammit… Yeah, I’m a goddamn ghost, happy?”

“You lied to me!”

Billy looks at you, raising his hands as a gesture of surrender as you shove him, “I didn’t lie to you, I just didn’t tell you yet. What did you expect me to say? ‘Hi, I’m Billy. I’m dead. Wanna hook up?’ No, you would’ve thought I was batshit!”

“You promised you’d never lie to me,” you say angrily, glaring up at him.

“Look, can I be honest with you?” Billy asks, his voice soft as he cups your face in his hands.

“That would be a first,” you retort sharply, wincing at the injured look on his face, “Yeah.”

“I just… I needed you to like me. I needed to be close to you,” he mumbles, “Please…”

“I need time,” you say, pulling away from him, “You need to leave me alone.”

His jaw drops, expression pained, “But… I…”

“Leave me alone, Billy, please-”

“I can’t,” he shakes his head, tears streaming down his face, letting out a heart-wrenching sob, “You’re all I want, you’re all I have!”

You turn from him and walk into the house. You run up to your room and bury your face in your pillow, sobbing.

But little do you know that being parted from Billy makes you more vulnerable to the other entities in the house.

You successfully avoid your spectral ex for the next few days, but God, you fucking miss him. All you can think about is being with him again, sitting with him, laughing with him, making love to him, kissing him. It’s becoming a fucking problem. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, all your thoughts are haunted by your ghostly lover.

The hauntings in the house increase. Things being moved around, doors creaking, windows flying open. It terrifies you. You wish you could ask Billy about it, but you do your best to soldier on.

Until one day, when you’re leaning over the bannister to fix a lightbulb per your mother’s request and an unseen force pushes you. Billy tries to catch you before you land, but it’s too late. He holds your body in his arms, sobbing hysterically.

“Don’t you die on me,” he pleads, his voice cracking as he holds your head to his chest, “Baby, please wake up… I love you…”

He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see you, “Billy… It’s okay. I… I was going to find you today to tell you I’ve taken the time I need and I want to be with you,” you pause, “Being alive would’ve been preferable but I love you too, Billy,” you press a kiss to his cheek, “I want to be with you.”

Billy wipes his eyes and embraces you tightly, never wanting to let go.

And he won’t have to.

#billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #billy washington imagine #billy washington x y/n #billy washington trigger point #my writing #billy washington smut #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington fan fiction #billy washington x fem!reader #billy washington #ewan mitchell #trigger point #billy washington oneshot #ahs au

[rosepascal]

Put On a Brave Face | Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Joel Miller almost loses you the same way he lost his baby girl.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, blood/gore, standard tlou stuff, reader gets shot, graphic descriptions, kinda softer!Joel so a little OOC

a/n: I got this idea and honestly idk if i like it that much but im posting this anyways. Also this is for the besties who would be absolute crybabies if they got shot bc that is 100% me lmao. I get a papercut and im in tears fr.

The universe must really hate Joel Miller. For all the shit it’s put him through, it just has to add more. It’s not his fault, something that you really really hope he understands. He heard the gun fire but it sounded like white noise. He didn’t feel any pain so he knew it didn’t hit him.

A blur of gun fire and the men around him are dead. Jackson was mostly a safe place but lately there’s been a gang of people who were attempting to infiltrate the commune.

They were easy work for Joel, he wasn’t thrilled that you tagged along on patrol but he trusted you and if he had to have someone he’d pick you to watch his back.

If only he paid a little more attention.

It was like a punch straight to the gut. You felt a sudden pressure as you shot at the bandits. You were too busy focusing on keeping Joel safe to notice you had been hit by a stray. When the chaos stopped is when the pain set in.

Everything feels fuzzy. Like something ain’t quite right. And everything was hot. It’s the middle of winter but it feels like your whole body’s on fucking fire. An ache starts to burn in your stomach, you set your hand on it without thinking. Only to be met with a red stained hand.

“J-Joel?” His world stops.

Panic claws at his heart as it beats louder and louder in his ears. He turns around to face you. Sweat runs down your face, a small smile on your lips as you try and stay calm for both your sakes. His eyes fall to your stomach and that's when he sees it.

One of the bullets from their gun went clean through you. The blood, there’s already so much of it.

“Joel.” You whimper as you fall to the ground. Staying upright becomes the least of your worries as it becomes harder to breathe.

You’ve lived through twenty years of this shit and yet this is the first time you have ever been shot. Those who survived always said it’s either nothing or the worst pain in the world. Joel’s been shot before.

You were there once. The bullet went into his arm and it was awful trying to get it out. He was strong as hell though. Kept his calm and walked it off a few days later.

You always admired how strong Joel was. Not just in the physical sense but he always seemed to be calm even in the worst situations. Maybe it was all a show. But right now you wished you could do the same.

You wish that you could look up at him and tell him you were okay and crack a joke but you can’t. It hurts so bad, it’s burning and pain is tearing through your whole body.

“I got you baby.” Joel falls next to you. He tosses his gun to the side and wraps you in his arms. One hand under your back to try and get you upright.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” He wants to puke. A sob crawling its way up his throat.

“It hurts!” You cry, clawing at his shirt. Fingers digging into the soft fabric of his flannel.

“Joel!” It breaks his damn heart to hear you cry out in such pain.

“I know, fuck I know baby.” Jackson isn’t far and right now it’s your only hope.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles as he stands you up and irritates your wound. Your scream makes him flinch. It’s raw and full of fear and so much pain.

Why couldn’t it be him? Why did it have to be you?

“Please, please I don’t want to die Joel.” The words tumble out of your mouth without thinking.

“Please please.” You bury your face into Joel's chest as he half drags and half carries you to the gates of Jackson.

“I don’t want to die!” You wail loudly and Joel tightens his grip on you. It’s pure agony. Every minor step or bump sends waves of pain through you.

“You’re okay, we’re so close, baby, just a few more steps.” Joel closes his eyes as you cry out for him.

It’s a sickening sense of deja vu. Bleeding out in his arms by a bullet he didn’t see. He needs to focus. It feels cruel but he has to zone out. The gates are so close and that’s all that matters.

“Help!” Joel screams till his throat is raw as he gets closer. The gates open too damn slow as someone rushes out to help. Together they bring you inside the walls and rush you to the doctor.

“What the fuck happened?” Joel tenses up when he sees Ellie running towards him. A panicked look on her face. Worry written all over her face when she sees you being carried in.

“Joel?!” She tries to run in but Joel grabs her arms.

“Stay outside.” He commands, not wanting Ellie to witness you in such a bad state.

“Fuck no!” She tries to push past him but he’s stronger than her. Your pained scream makes Ellie stop fighting, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Don’t worry.” he says unconvincingly as he turns and runs into the room. You’re lying on a table, your shirt already torn so they have access to clean the wound. Joel rushes to your side and grabs your hand.

“I’m here baby.” He brings your hand to his lips and lets you squeeze it tight. The medic opens a bottle and looks at Joel before pouring some of it onto your stomach.

“FUCK!” You seethe and try to squirm away but someone holds you to the table.

“Make it stop! Please!” Sobbing, you squeeze Joel's hand as tight as you can.

“Joel please! It hurts so bad!” Your vision is blurred by the tears and the tiredness that your body feels right now but you can still make him out.

You can’t leave him, you can’t die. It hurts more than the bullet did as they start to patch you up. Spots of black cover your vision and you start to cry more, you just want Joel to hold you and make it better. Your eyes flutter closed and you feel a hand tapping harshly on your cheek.

“Stay with me baby, come on.” Joel opens your eyes and in pure panic snaps at the medic.

“DO SOMETHING!” Joel is an intimidating force but right now he’s utterly helpless.

“We’re doing everything we can.” The medic says calmly. Keeping your eyes open becomes too hard, you just want to sleep.

“No no, come on. Wake up!” His voice fading out as darkness and peace consumes you. 

- - -

Two centimeters. According to the medic you were two centimeters away from dying. The bullet entered and nearly missed a major artery. If it had hit you there then you would have been dead in minutes.

You’re lucky to be alive.

It doesn’t feel lucky. It feels like shit. You’re stuck at home while on recovery and with Joel as your caretaker that meant you couldn’t even leave. After the doctor left he took one look at you and you know there’s no argument here.

When you woke up Joel was there. He wouldn’t tell you much. Just that you were shot and that you were okay. He doesn’t think you remember much of anything after the bullet hit. But you do. Somehow you remembered everything up until you passed out and all you could feel now is guilt.

You wished you were stronger. That you didn’t scream and cry for him to help you even though you know he couldn’t. There’s nothing he could have done and you made it worse. You weren’t in the right headspace but it felt cruel to beg for him to save you after everything.

After...Sarah. He doesn’t talk about much. He opened up to you once in the middle of a sleepless night. You don’t know every detail but from what he told you, you put a few pieces together.

Shot by a soldier with a bullet that should have hit him instead.

A situation that felt too similar to this one. How could you do that to him? How could you look him in the eyes after all of this? Being in recovery meant you couldn’t do your chores so Joel took them. Great, first you remind him of his dead daughter and now you’re making him work even more. At least Ellie was here. She rarely left your side. 

“A book just fell on my head, I only have my shelf to blame.” Ellie looks up from her pun book with a smile. It’s just after dinner and Joel still isn’t home. So she has taken it upon herself to be your entertainment.

“That's four outta ten.” You say and she rolls her eyes.

“No way that one was funny.” She flips the page and reads another one.

“Okay okay, you wanna hear a joke about pizza?” Resting your face on your hand you nod.

“Sure.”

“Nevermind, it was too cheesy.” You snort and she laughs.

“Alright, that one is pretty good.” She punches the air in success. You notice her eyes keep darting down to your side where the bandages are.

“You know Maria told me about the school sleepover, bunch of kids your age are going.” You say and Ellie shrugs. It makes you feel guilty that Ellie’s here and not out with people her own age.

“I don’t know, not really my thing.” She’s lying. You know she is. That girl she’s grown quite close to will be there and you don’t want to stand in the way.

“I’ll be okay Ellie, I want you to go and have some fun.” She looks hesitant but after a little bit of pushing she caves. Hugging you tight before leaving.

Sighing you try and get comfortable on the couch and wait for Joel. He comes back late. You must have fallen asleep because next thing you know you’re being shaken awake. Joel's tired eyes stare at you, only meeting them for a second before looking somewhere else.

“Where’s Ellie?” He asks.

“Sleepover.” You answer sleepily.

“You shouldn’t be sleepin’ on the couch. It’s not good for you.” You hold back a laugh as you recall the many times you’ve found Joel passed out on the couch. You try to sit up but you move too fast. Squeezing your eyes shut as you feel a sharp pain in your stomach.

“Careful,” He places a hand on your back to steady you. Silently he guides you upstairs to bed. He’s given up the extra pillow and blanket to make you as comfortable as possible.

“Coming to bed?” You ask hopefully as he helps you in. He shakes his head and your face falls.

“I will soon.” He kisses your forehead before turning out the light.

He hasn't slept easy since the incident. He knows you’re alive. In his brain he sees you breathing and talking but sometimes when he closes his eyes he can only see you lying on that table.

He comes to bed a few hours later. Being as quiet as he can so he doesn’t wake you, but you aren’t asleep. The guilt has been eating you alive for days now. You put him through so much and now you feel like dead weight. He’s pulling away to protect his heart and it’s killing you. You know he’s asleep when he starts to snore. He swears he doesn’t but he does.

Carefully you throw the blankets off, resting the extra one back on him. The floor underneath creaks with every step. Sleep isn’t coming and you need a drink. Opening the cabinets you see the bottle of whiskey all the way in the back of the top shelf.

“Dammit Joel.” You huff as you blindly reach to the back.

It’s just out of reach and you feel anger start to seep in. It shouldn’t be this hard to get a glass of whiskey. You should be able to do this without anyone's help. Pain starts to blossom in your stomach as you put one knee on top of the counter and stretch the stitches. When you finally wrap your fingers around the neck of the bottle you feel your foot slip.

Glass shatters on the ground around you as you land hard on your back. You let out a whimper of pain as you sit upright and look at what you’ve done. Shards of glass surround you and the amber liquid pools on the floor. Heavy footsteps come running down the hall. Joel looks frantic as he holds his gun out, looking around for intruders. When his eyes land on you, you look down in shame.

“What the hell happened?” His voice booms and you feel like crying.

“I-I’m so sorry. I just. I thought I could..” Without thinking you reach to clean the glass.

“Stop!” He kneels down and grabs your hands before they can touch the glass. He doesn’t say a word as he cleans the shards of glass. You could feel how angry he was.

“Wanna tell me what was so important?” He crosses his arms and stares down at you.

It’s like you're a little kid being scolded for stealing a cookie. You feel angry and sad and so guilty and your stomach really hurts. Digging your nails into your knees you start to cry. Small sniffles snowball into sobs that make your whole body shake.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” It’s all you can say as you bury your face into your hands.

“Baby..” Joel’s voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. He falls to his knees and wraps his arms around you. Tears shining in his eyes as he feels you tremble in his touch.

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, what are you sorry about?” He rubs your back and closes his eyes.

“I remember everything Joel, W-When I got shot. Fuck the things I said.” You bury your face into his chest as a fresh wave of tears fall. They just won’t stop.

“What are you talkin’ about?” He gently pushes you back so he can see your face. Wiping those tears from your cheeks.

“I shouldn’t have..I made it so much worse.” He’s confused. Really confused.

“Baby, There’s nothing to be sorry for,” He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, heart cracking as he looks into your broken eyes.

“I begged you to save me when there was nothing you could do.” He grimaces at the memory of your painful cries, but you were dying and you were scared. He could never hold that against you.

"I wanted to be strong for you but I couldn’t a-and I hurt you." You rip his hands off of you and curl into a ball.

“It's not your fault baby. None of it.” He rests his hands on top of your knees. It baffles him that you think any of this is your fault.

“You were in so much pain. " His voice cracks slightly and it gets you to lift your head.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you baby.”

“Joel…” You start but he silences you.

You never should have been in that position in the first place but it's not about him right now. He gently pulls you into his lap, hugging you tightly. He closes his eyes, feeling your heartbeat.

“I shoulda noticed sooner. I..." He stops himself from going down that path.

"You’re so strong baby. You fought like hell and didn’t give up.” You don’t say anything. The guilt is still there but it won’t go away anytime soon.

You’re living in a fucked up world and you’re just two fucked up people trying to survive. And somehow you survived.

“Can we go back to bed?” You ask softly, tired from the crying.

There's more to say but its too late now. Tomorrow Joel will tell you over and over that it's not your fault. He'll tell you every damn day until you believe him. He’ll pray for your forgiveness for putting you in danger, for letting you get hurt and you’ll read him like a damn book and tell him it’s ridiculous. Maybe then you’ll both realize their’s not guilt to be had on either side.

Watching you bleed out on that table, it really did remind him of the day he lost Sarah. That fear and pain never really goes away but right now he can hold you in his arms and feel your heart. He can see your eyes and hear your voice. That’s all he needs right now. He’s not going to lose you. Ever.

So god help anything that stands in his way.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction

[dearestgojo]

Let Me See...

Aki x Fem Reader

A/n: Will this be the end of writer's block??? who knows.

Warnings: 18+. Roommate to Lovers (kinda). Mutual Masturbation. Masturbation. Exhibitionism. Spit. Overstimulation.

Wc: 2.3k | CSM Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The tops of your ears burn, your eyes staring down at your hands clasped together in your lap. Your words echo in your head while you stare at Aki's shoes, waiting for him to laugh, to call you a pervert for voicing what you have. But he stays frozen in his spot, the buzz of the open fridge filling in the silence between the two of you. The seconds tick by slowly, an eternity passing before you look up to find him looking at you with the tips of his ear and high of his cheeks painted red, eyes wide, and mouth agape. You realize your mistake and step back, pushing your hair out of your face as you ramble on, "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that out loud. Actually, I shouldn't have even thought about it, I don't know why I did when I could have just kept my mouth shut. Better yet I should have stayed locked up in my room." 

You turn on your heel and hurry back to your room, your request replaying over and over as you bolt towards the door, the warm messy pile of blankets you can hide on until tomorrow, and the rest of your lease. 

I wonder what his dick looks like.

God, you could have asked anyone else. You could have walked out into the street and asked any guy that came across you. You could have walked to the local bar, seduced your way into someone's pants, and asked them to pull down their pants and jerk off in front of you. But no, you'd walked out of your room feeling a little buzzed from the glasses of wine you had been drinking as you binged a few spicy movies. Feeling an insistent ache build between your legs with each sensual scene and glass of wine. 

You hadn't been expecting to run into Aki, who was coming in from work and getting ready to make his dinner, shirt untucked, and hair falling loose. The sight had you squeezing your thighs as you walked further into the kitchen, approaching the fridge that Aki was leaning on. The conversation had started normally before you'd blurted out your inner thoughts as you fantasized about him right in front of him.

There was no way you would ever be able to face him again. You'd remain to holed up in your room until the end of time - or at least until either of you moved out. 

Wrapped in the warmth of your blankets, your face still feeling warm and your ears ringing, the remote to the television digging into your stomach. Above the ringing you can hear soft footsteps approach your door, pausing outside of it. There's some shuffling before a knock on your door and the sound of Aki clearing his throat travels through the tightly closed door. You don't know how many times he clears his throat before he finally speaks your name, slowly trailing off by the last syllable, "Y/n?"

You freeze underneath the pile of blankets, the inside of your mouth becoming dry. The thumping of your heart shakes your ribs, and you feel your breath caught in your throat. Letting out a shaky sigh, you call back, "Yes?"

There's a pause, followed by more shuffling, "Can I come in?"

Swallowing down the saliva in your mouth and pursing your lips, you shift underneath the covers. Your stomach churns uncomfortably, and the corners of your eyes sting. It takes a long time before you respond, you silently pray that Aki's moved away from the door when you weren't paying attention. "Yeah."

The door creaks open, soft footsteps threading over your bedroom floorboards that become duller when they pad over the fluffy carpet that sticks out from underneath your bed. You remain frozen underneath the covers, your body shifting only when Aki sits on the opposite side of you, the mattress dipping under his weight.

"Are you gonna hide under there the whole time?" 

The lump on the bed moves again, the very top of your forehead peeking out, "Preferably. I can't look at you."

Aki breathes out through his nose, his eyes burning a hole through the blankets, "Okay...just know that I know that...you have nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I think I have everything to be embarrassed about," you grumble under the blankets. 

"Trust me, you don't. The amount of alcohol you've had made you say something you didn't mean. We've all been there trust me." 

"What if I meant it? What if what I said is true and I was only able to say it cause of the alcohol?" You ask, your voice muffled by the covers. 

The bed shifts again, and you feel two dips on either side of your body. Poking your head out, you find Aki has caged you down into your mattress, and that his face is inches away from you. 

"Then it means, I should be ashamed too."

~

Aki settles on to your bed, back pressed to your headboard. He slides his pants down his thighs before pulling onto his lap. Suddenly you're highly aware that you're only in an oversized t-shirt with no bra and only your panties underneath. Not only that but you're sitting directly on his groin, folds spread over the covered hardness. 

Your breath hitches when Aki's calloused hands slide up your thighs and back down. "You sure about this?" He asks blue eyes glued on the fat of your thighs, "We can talk about this when you're soberer."

The butterflies in your stomach flutter, heat traveling from the part of your skin Aki's hands massage up to your face. You squirm above him, grinding down on him in the progress, the two of you letting out breathy whimpers. His long and girthy, the head bumping against your covered clit. You tremble in his hold, letting out a sigh, the palms of your hands feeling clammy.

"Maybe we can take things slow," you breathe out, rubbing yourself more on his lap, hesitantly resting your arms on his shoulders.

Aki looks up at you, moving his hands further under your shirt, thumbs grazing the seams of your panties. "We can do things as slowly as you want," he mutters leaning forward to capture your lips in his. 

You return the kiss, tongues become tangled with one another. Teeth bump against each other as the kiss grows more greedy. Your fingers become ensnared in Aki's hair, tugging on the dark strands and deepening the kiss. Aki groans beneath you, his fingernails digging into your thighs. 

"Seeing you onto of me like this, kinda makes me wish you'd drunkenly confessed sooner," he murmurs against your lips.  

Your face becomes even warmer, "I certainly wish things had been done differently." 

Aki's fingers finally touch your clothed sex, his fingers sliding down your slit and pressing down on your clit with the tips, "I don't." Your lips collide once again, and you relax into him, the taste of tobacco lingering on your tongue when you pull back again.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers, sliding your pointer finger beneath the material. Bottom lip caught between your teeth, "I think it's time we lose these." 

One of Aki's arms encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him, his free arm sneaking between your bodies, "I do too." 

You feel him tug his underwear down his legs, kicking them off the rest of the way before his hand goes up your shirt to pull off your underwear. The palms of your hands start to sweat again, and your stomach starts to turn as you feel his cock rest on your thigh. Aki notices your nervousness, and he rests his chin on your chest, his fingers massaging the inner part of your thigh. 

"We'll go as far as you want, y/n, and if this is where you want to stop then we'll stop. Don't force yourself to go further." He presses a kiss on your chin, "We can talk about this tomorrow." 

"No, no, no. I want to keep going," you reply, falling back in the space between Aki's thighs, "but maybe we don't have to...go... all the way?"

Aki gives you a short smile, his hand coming up to cup your face, forcing your head down to kiss you on the lips. "Okay. That sounds good to me." Pulling away he brings his hand up to your mouth, running his thumb on your bottom lip. He pushes it into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, a groan reverberating from the back of his throat when you wrap your lips around it and suck lightly. Removing his finger from your mouth, he holds his palm open beneath your lips, "Spit," he orders. 

You do as he says hesitantly, gathering a glob of spit in your mouth. Satisfied with the amount, you let it drop into the center of his palm. His eyes never leave yours.  

Settling against your headboard, Aki drops his hand down between your bodies. You don't realize you holding your breath until you hear the soft squelching sounds of something wet sliding along something, but don't feel the calloused touch of Aki's fingers on your skin. Looking down you find Aki's hand wrapped around his member, which makes you feel even more flustered.

You watch his hand glide up and down his cock, his hand twisting as he glides it up his shaft, applying small amounts of pressure on the head. The sight strangely have you squeezing your thighs, and forgetting about the heat you feel on the high of your cheeks. Aki's own face is a shade of pink, small strangled whimpers falling from his lips. He's struggling to keep his eyes open, the fingers of his free hand digging into your thigh.

"You know this isn't fair if I'm the only one," he huffs, biting on his bottom lip. 

You look away from where his touching himself and meet his lust-hazed eyes, squeaking out a small "Oh," before shifting your weight off your calves and slinging them over his thighs. Trying to ignore the heat that's rising to your face, you lift your shirt up to your stomach and lean back, resting all your weight on one arm. 

Taking in a deep breath you let your hand gradually drift down your torso, barely dipping in between your thighs, grazing the inner part of your thighs. Your entire body begins to burn as you tease yourself, squirming in between Aki's spread legs, letting go of his gaze to look down where he's pleasing himself in a similar antagonizing fashion. Mustering enough courage your spread your lips for him with two fingers, giving him a clear view of your clenching untouched hole. 

"F-fuck," he moans, his hand speeding up as he watches the juices spill from your pussy.

Swallowing down the embarrassment from being watched, you dip your fingers down, barely pushing them into your core, letting the heel of your hand stimulate your clit. You thrust them in and out at the same pace Aki moves his hand, your needy whimpers bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. A particularly deep thrust of your fingers has your hand tossing back, a gurgled moan escaping followed by a surprised yelp when you feel an extra hand on your thigh. 

Snapping your eyes open, you look down to watch as Aki pulls your fingers away from your sopping heat to replace them with his own, guiding your now free hand to his cock. He clears his throat before your fingers even graze his length, "Is-fuck you wet- is this okay?"

Your brain is starting to feel foggy as his fingers are already touching places you could never reach with his long fingers, and all you can do is slurp the drool falling from your lips and nod, letting him wrap your fingers around him. 

From there he does most of the work, guiding your hands up and down his dick while fingering you. His long fingers keep thumping up to hit that one spot deep inside you, making 'come hither' motions every time he moves them out. The feeling has your head spinning and unconsciously grinding your hips into his hand, walls clenching on both his fingers as you're propelled to the edge.

Aki notices and increases his effort, speaking through his own haze, "You're gonna come soon aren't you?" He receives a string of jumbled sounds as an answer, "Me too, so just hold on a little longer okay?" 

You nod as your eyes droop, drool coming out of the corners of your mouth. Your hand is slack beneath Aki's, your real effort on your behalf as your touch him, your thumb twitches and gazes at the head of his cock which pushes him over the edge, you falling close behind. His fingers keep moving you, helping you ride out your orgasm while he releases over your sheets and his stomach. Moans echo in the four walls of your bedroom coming out of your and his mouth.

Aki lets go of your hand once he finished coming, letting out a heavy sigh, but his fingers continue their ministrations prolonging your climax. He watches your body tremble long after he removes his fingers, your chest heaving up and down before he gets up to grab a few tissues from your desk to clean you with. Swallowing down the spit that forms in his mouth when you whimper and squirm as he does it. 

He tosses the tissues and get's back into bed with you, pulling the blankets you had used to hide over you. He settles into the bed and turns off your tv and lamp, wrapping an arm around you.

"What are you now?" you yawn, letting his arm pulls into him.

Aki shrugs and stares up at the ceiling, "Whatever you want us to be. We can talk about it in the morning though, you're basically half asleep already."

You nod and settle into his side and let sleep take over your body, feeling at ease around him once more.

© Copyright 2022. Dearestgojo. All rights reserved.

Taglist: @enneadec @neologyro @shan-nein @lottahart @jolynegf @h1gh4ru @mulberrysilk

#csm smut #chainsaw man smut #aki smut #aki hayakawa smut #aki x reader #aki x reader smut #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa x reader smut #csm x reader #csm x reader smut #chainsaw man x reader

[woonhakist]

your only girl

synopsis — you see karina as your own personal aphrodite on earth—arguably even more alluring than the goddess herself—but you could never imagine her knowing that.

pairing — yoo jimin x fem!reader

genre — fluff, angst

warnings — one-sided pining(?), the infamous nail painting scenario, mostly just best friend!karina things (but y/n is horrendously down bad), kinda ambiguous ending

word count — 2.3k

notes — i finally did it…..after suddenly feeling the urge to write this for her, i came out with this 🙏 enjoy!

“what color do you want?” karina asked, fanning out her shimmering, ruby-painted nails. her gaze was glued onto her hands, pure satisfaction in her expression.

“whatever color you want, rina,” you responded, giggling through your words at her intentionally over-exaggerated awe towards her freshly colored nails. “i don’t mind.”

“ooh! okay,” karina clasped her hands together excitedly, tucking her long, shiny black hair behind her ear before digging through the nail polish bin beside her. “i’ll find the best color for you, just wait.”

you hummed in acceptance, staring down as you pressed your palms onto karina’s silky sheets. you silently envisioned different colors on your bare nails, the entire rainbow cycling through your head: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, then purple; all of them over, and over, and over again.

suddenly breaking your color-filled trance, you brought your eyes back up to karina, being met with her nauseatingly gorgeous side profile. you swallowed heavily, your cheeks heating up. instinctively, your hands met each other, taking turns wringing the other hand’s fingers.

there wasn’t a single ounce of makeup on her skin, yet she still had the face of a goddess. she radiated a type of energy that never failed to reel you in, it was like you were eternally hooked on her line. you thought she was above every standardly beautiful face; not even aphrodite could touch her.

“i think i found one,” karina announced, pulling out a thin bottle of shimmery, dull pink nail polish. she shook it gently between her index finger and thumb, smiling widely. “we can match!”

you smiled back at her, your heart pounding. “i have no complaints, that color’s so pretty!”

no amount of times you called something ‘pretty’ could equate to the amount of times you wished you could call her beautiful. even though you already found yourself saying it tons of times, you wanted to say it in contexts that weren’t just complimenting her pictures or makeup.

“even if you did have complaints, i’d still put this on you,” karina joked, beginning to prep the nail polish for painting. “it’s gonna look so good, promise!”

as much as you’d like to be, you weren’t even close to being the only one who thought karina was heaven sent. she was the type of girl that was adored by every passerby and classmate she came across; she was completely the type of girl to be the one you’d see first in a crowd of people.

you couldn’t even fully count the amount of admirers she had on two entire sets of hands. as far as you remembered, nearly every boy in your classes had their heart beating for her. valentine’s days for her were far beyond eventful, and the school’s dance seasons were even worse.

she got far more attention than you ever did, but you never minded; you could barely even care to recall admirers of your own. her attention was the only attention you had ever really wanted; she was enough. you never wanted to be her or be like her, you wanted to be with her.

“give me your hand, y/n,” karina spoke, interrupting your thoughts. she had her own hand out, palm up, patiently waiting for yours.

as soon as you reached your hand out to her, she took it into a gentle grip into her own soft, pretty hand. the pads of her fingers tickled your palm and the back of your hand, awkwardly trying to find the least awkward position to paint your nails. she extended your arm out a little bit more; assumedly for comfort while she worked.

she took the lid-brush out and carefully balanced the topless bottle on the sheets beside her, playing a dangerous game of ‘will it’ or ‘won’t it’ fall with the polish. you let your eyes linger on the bottle for a few seconds, monitoring it as karina carefully shifted in her spot.

“whatever! if it falls over, i can just have you help me wash the blankets,” karina giggles, eyes on your nails. she finally begins to paint the first coat, the cold feeling of the polish spreading through your finger.

you watched her watch your hand, admiring her in the same way everybody else does. you like to think that you do it better, but you know that you don’t. if you did, you knew that karina would have some sort of suspicion, and you didn’t want that.

as much as you didn’t want to be like everybody else, you wanted a special life with karina. you wanted to be what she considered to be her type; her standard. you wanted to be like the boys on the football team that she gawked over, swooning every time and time again. you wanted to be what she wanted, but you couldn’t.

“so, find any new crushes or anything?” karina pried, her voice gradually rising in pitch as she spoke. “you were talking about jaemin from physics earlier, what’s that about?”

you rolled your eyes, sighing at her. “no, nothing new, as per usual. jaemin’s not my type, either—and before you ask why, don’t! i’m just not into him!”

karina laughed and you soon followed her lead, trying your best to keep your hand still for her. she held the polish brush away from your hand as she laughed, but you didn’t want to smudge any of her work.

“so, what is your type, then?” karina settled down, her eyes following as she continued to paint. she was nothing near professional, but you’d pick her over picasso any day. “i don’t think you’ve ever really told me.”

“that’s because i don’t think i really even have one,” you lied, staring at your type right in front of you. “i thought you knew that?”

“well, yeah,” karina tilted her head down and back up, smiling awkwardly. “but, i mean, you can change your mind?”

“that definitely won’t happen anytime soon,” you laughed, and karina fake pouted. she looked up at you, and you could feel your heart skip a couple beats.

“i want to see you all lovey-dovey with someone!” karina gushed, leaning forward for dramatic effect. you laughed for what felt like the hundredth time. “it’s normal for people to want to see their best friend happy like that!”

she only wanted you in the way you didn’t want her to; friendly. you knew it was better than growing apart because of a potential confession from you, but you couldn’t stop your chest from burning every time she talked about someone else romantically. you wanted her to talk about you like that.

“i don’t know, rina,” you shook your head, speaking with purposely amplified uncertainty. “the time will come when it’ll come.”

there was a beat of silence before karina suddenly bursted out laughing, acting as if you said the greatest joke ever told. “wow! how beautifully spoken, y/n. who knew the time would come when it comes?”

you dropped your jaw, instantaneously hunching over to act offended. “hey, i was shakespeare’s ghostwriter in my past life!”

“yeah, right!” karina refuted, leaning forward as her laughter consumed her entire body. “you barely passed english last year!”

she struggled to get her words out as much as you struggled to process them. yours and her laughter was all that you were able to focus on, and it was almost like the pounding beat of your heart was completely inaudible. it was moments like this where you could almost forget how you felt—almost.

in the midst of her laughing fit, karina suddenly squeezed your hand, consequently snapping you back into the moment. your heartbeat rose back up to your throat, replacing your breathtaking laughter. you began to blink at karina slowly, feeling your skin heat up under her grip.

you watched her calm down as you internally did the complete opposite, feeling like you were bound to explode from the heat bubbling up inside your chest. karina put her “free” hand over her own chest, making sure she kept the nail brush away from her shirt.

“jesus christ,” karina breathed out, her last laughs fizzling out. “i swear, i can only laugh like this when i’m with you!”

“i’m not even that funny!” you grin widely, karina returning the smile without a second thought. “maybe the nail polish fumes got to you.”

“stop! you’re gonna make me laugh again,” karina whined, rolling her head back in faux annoyance. “i don’t know, i think it’s just your effect on me.”

you froze. you knew she didn’t mean it in the way you were interpreting it as, but hearing those words from her did something to you. your insides felt like they did a complete turnover, flipping the ‘in’ to the ‘out’ during the process.

“what are you talking about, now?” you questioned, trying your best to sound teasing instead of troubled.

karina shook her head, giving you a gentle smile before continuing to paint your nails. “you know how i like, love you more than life, right? i’m pretty sure that has something to do with it.”

you took a long pause before scoffing lightly, trying to choke down everything that was suddenly fighting to come up to the surface. “why so sentimental all of a sudden?”

karina didn’t respond, opting for finishing your first hand instead. aside from the occasional sniffle, she looked concentrated. her eyebrows were furrowed and her shoulders were tense; you would’ve thought time stopped for a second if it wasn’t for her lax painting.

karina bit her lip lightly, her mouth morphing into a small smile. “switch hands—be careful with the polish, though.”

she let go of your painted hand, and you simultaneously gave her your other one. you took a look at your freshly colored nails, satisfied with the way the pink looked on you. the shimmer was just right, as well, almost catching the light in the same way it caught karina’s eyes.

“you were right, rina. this color looks super nice,” you commented, in awe with your own hand. you weren’t sure if you were in love with the nails or the fact that karina was the one that painted them—probably both.

“what’d i tell you? you have to trust me!” karina scolded, a smile growing on her face for the millionth time. “it shouldn’t need a second coat, either; this polish is just perfect!”

you didn’t know how she could call something perfect when she herself was beyond it. “yeah, it is.”

karina began to repeat her nail-polishing cycle; reshaking the bottle, readying the brush, steadying the bottle on the sheets, adjusting your hand, then finally painting. it was a slow, peaceful minute of silence, letting you bask in the comforting presence of your best friend.

“you never answered my question,” you blurted out before you knew it, breaking the silence.

“what question?” karina mumbled, not completely present in the conversation.

you shook your head, already regretting what you said. “nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“no, tell me,” karina insisted, glancing up at you then back down.

the watered-down mood would’ve felt uncomfortable to you, but since it was karina, you found yourself smiling. “i was just wondering why you suddenly got so sappy earlier.”

“oh, that,” you could see karina’s silent laugh, her shoulders bouncing lightly. “i don’t know, i just can’t help it; i feel so comfortable around you—i trust you more than anything, y/n.”

you felt a pang in your chest as soon as you heard the word trust; something you knew couldn’t apply to you at all. it felt so wrong; you were lying—keeping such a huge secret from her—yet you were allowed her unquestioned trust.

she lived out her life with you believing that all you thought of her was that of a best friend, but it was so much more. you knew how you felt, but you also knew you could never let karina find out. you practically betrayed her every day, but you didn’t think you could ever bring yourself to come clean to her—even if you knew she deserved it more than anything.

the best you could do was pretend—pretend you weren’t head-over-heels for the beautiful girl who called you her best friend; your only girl. the most you could do was try for her; you didn’t want to know what would happen if you didn’t. you did everything for her as much as you did it for yourself, but no matter who you did it for, the consequences were all the same.

“did that answer your question?” karina interrupted, bringing you out of your thoughts. she was looking up into your eyes now, her charmingly kind expression resting on her face.

“yeah, it did,” you responded shakily, nodding your head. to your relief, karina didn’t seem to notice your nerves, happily moving on to her next topic.

“okay, good!” she let go of your hand, and you almost tried to chase her touch as she pulled back, reluctantly settling for letting her slip away. she frantically picked up the open polish bottle then carefully screwed its top back on, looking straight at you. “i finally finished painting your nails; do you like them, or do you love them?”

she was almost too excited, her pure joy giving her a picture-perfect girlish look. her clear delight was infectious, subconsciously making you mirror her expression. you found it all too hard to not be overly captivated by her, and this time around, you didn’t even think about fighting it. you couldn’t even look at your nails; all you saw was her.

“i absolutely love them,” you admitted, your eyes only seeing karina.

© woonhakist 2023

#woonhakist #yoo jimin #yoo jimin x reader #jimin x reader #karina x reader #karina angst #karina fluff #karina au #karina imagines #karina scenarios #aespa #aespa x reader #aespa angst #aespa fluff #aespa au #aespa imagines #aespa scenarios

[yanderambling]

Ohh my goodness, can we get more of crimelord and puppy-like reader, with time jump when the reader is receptive and soaking willingly in crimelord' love and loving them back? 🥰🥰🥰 (A huge time jump i suppose haha) Maybe reader even licks/kisses the once-wounded hand? Wagging their tail? Cuddling crimelord to sleep? Nuzzling? Omg now I have hyperfixation

ahh i’m so glad you enjoyed!! thanks for this prompt, i had so much fun with it! i hope you like this one too <3 (it kinda got away from me a bit lol)

pairing: Crimelord!Yan(gn) x Puppy Hybrid!Reader(gn)

words: ~1.4k

if you'd like to read the original post, you can find it here!

CW: 18+, yandere behavior, referenced past abuse, implied ptsd

As soon as you start warming up to them in any given area, Monty pushes a little more. They always move at your pace, but they just want to get as close to you as possible- they’re gentle but damn persistent.

Earning your trust instantly became their top priority, all their ill business delegated to their inner circle, and they don’t regret it a bit. They revel in watching you relax into your new life, and they take every setback in stride, meeting you with nothing but gentleness and endless praise. It’s infinitely gratifying to see you accept comfort and affection, and they give it to you in abundance.

You can be sure that they'll be petting you whenever they have a free hand, nothing calms yet excites them like the slide of your fur through their fingers, and they can’t get over the domesticity of simply sitting down and running their hands over you like it’s the most natural thing in the world (it is, for them at least). If you start getting closer, cuddling, crawling into their lap, they won’t be functional for the next few hours at least- the proximity alone is enough to make them fear hyperventilation, but the thought that you’re seeking them out for comfort (or even just some kind of entertainment in this giant, empty house) makes them dig their nails into their skin to make sure they don't float outside of their body. Sometimes you feel their grip tighten the slightest bit around the back your neck, their arms pull you a little closer, but when you look up they only meet you with a barely stifled manic grin.

Monty would also love to feed you by hand, they’ll do it for every meal if you let them. Once you’re more comfortable, they’d get a little less careful, letting their fingers slip into your mouth from time to time. The feeling of your teeth and tongue against their skin, so gentle now from when they first felt it, leaves them weak-kneed and lightheaded (if you suck on them even a little, they might just faint).

If you were to express remorse over their scarred hand, it would melt their heart, but they would discourage any guilt you might feel. They actually delight in bearing your mark (if you hurt any of their staff while you were still adjusting, they're lucky if all they left their service with was a scar- they weren’t worthy of even the illusion of your claim). Still, they would never stop you from licking them, they'll always take your “kisses” however you’ll give them (your tongue against their skin feels like the caress of an angel, a pureness they can feel cleansing them within, each motion a sacrament).

The first time you wagged your tail when they entered a room, Monty had to check their camera feeds to be sure it even happened. They had walked downstairs in the morning and greeted you in the living room, where you were most mornings you woke early, when they heard the soft, telltale thud thud of a tail against the couch. Sure enough, when they rounded the corner, there you were- a hesitantly friendly grin on your face as the end of you tail tapped a steady rhythm on the cushion. They nearly choked on the emotions that clenched their chest in that moment, and they felt newly rejuvenated in their quest to earn your love trust. Every time you show that same excitement at their presence from then on, it's all they can do not to melt into a puddle at your feet- and it only gets harder as you grow more comfortable.

They would love to give you a collar. They’d give you options, endless varieties of materials and colors and styles for you to try on- you’d probably have to make a whole day of it. They still feel their pulse pick up whenever they look at the proof of your bond, which you so proudly display (to their staff and the few shopkeeps in their pocket that have been sworn to secrecy to provide essential services, and to let you leave the estate on occasion). They often like to just hook their fingers through it and let their knuckles rest against your neck, a sort of subtle claim that settles some primal part of them, if only slightly.

Monty is a pretty big person, and remarkably strong, so you can bet they’ll be picking you up and carrying you around whenever you’ll let them (once they can stop their arms from going weak and shaky every time they feel your body against their chest). They take immense pleasure in scooping you up from wherever you may be- lounging on the sofa, standing in their garden, sleeping in their bay windows- and just carrying you about with them, or sitting you on their lap and stroking you until you settle into a doze (you’ve spent many evenings splayed across their legs or cuddled tot heir chest while they reviewed reports and receipts). They feel their heart soar every time your weight settles into their arms, so completely at their mercy, so hardened to everyone else yet allowing them your complete vulnerability; they could cry. (They have.)

This would probably take the longest, but Monty would never give up hope of getting you to share a bed with them. They might start by letting you sleep in their bed while they sleep on and watch you sleep from a surprisingly luxurious pullout. The sound of your deep, even breaths is almost enough to calm their racing heart- or maybe it’s actually making it go faster. They can't focus on anything else enough to tell, just knowing that you trust them enough to sleep in their room sends them into a flustered, shivering tizzy. They spend most of those nights obsessively memorizing the outline of your silhouette, struggling to convince themself that it wasn’t a dream (maybe they’ve snuck a few pets in when they just couldn’t hold back any longer, the feeling of your fur against their fingers always making their chest clench so wonderfully they've definitely taken closeup photos of your captivatingly peaceful face in the moonlight).

Once you two make it into the same bed for a night, they can hardly contain themself. You actually get a little worried, watching your sweet master shake and shudder in place beside you, their body sweaty and hot to the touch oh sweet lord you’re touching them but when you ask if they’re okay, they just nod fervently (their mouth is too dry to speak, and they’re fairly certain they wouldn’t be able to formulate words anyhow). They don’t really sleep that night either, and it would probably take them a couple nights to make any more moves forward unless you initiate (and that still would be so delightfully overwhelming).

They would try to hold you, ideally you two would cuddle up as close as you could be without being under each other’s skin (though they might actually prefer that). They would be happy with being the big or little spoon, too. Being curled around you makes them feel like they’re protecting you, like you want them to protect you, and they love feeling every line and curve of your body under theirs. But they would also delight in being wrapped in your arms, feeling your comforting weight around them, your breath against their back, letting themself be vulnerable to you.

It would probably take a couple nights before they get any actual rest in that bed. They’ll relish every second.

Waking up to you feels like a dream, and they always have breakfast delivered to the room so they can watch you lounge about, all rumpled and sleepy as you lazily nibble at the bites they hold to your mouth (so different from the frenzied way you used to gorge yourself, like you thought it might be taken from you and you weren’t sure when you’d get more. Monty intends to hunt down every last person that made you feel that way, and they’ve already made good progress).

They can, and do, spend hours upon hours just watching you- basking in a sunbeam on their sofa, napping in bed, exploring their vast estate- they’re basically always with you even when you don’t know it. The only time you two are apart is when they have to take care of business in person, which is pretty rare but still crushes their soul each time it happens.

But it’s necessary, in their mind, to keep you removed from all the sickness and violence in the world; they’re well-versed in dealing with violence, as they know you are too, and the thought of exposing you to anything of the sort is nauseating. They have a need to protect you from that darkness, to ensure that you never feel even a fraction of the way you’ve felt your whole life. And they do just that.

And, as long as you’ll let them (even if you won’t), they always will.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #gn yandere #gn reader #criminal yandere #hybrid reader #puppy reader #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere requests #requests open #tw yandere

[aesthetic-bbyg]

hey, can i request a tom x puerto rican female reader? Kinda similar to the chola one but it's in new york instead of la🤭omgggg. It can be any era idm sjensjsj

AY, BENDITO ~ TOM K.

Tom Kaulitz x reader

In which a determined Tom won’t stop till you accept his offer to take you out.

Nattie speaks: Yayayaya!! Im excited to write this bc I literally love Puerto Ricans sm like y’all are real ones ong🙏. Keep the request coming in bc I def wanna start writing more on here!

YOU NEARLY GROANED AS you saw the boy approach, your friend, Daniela, giggled from beside you just watching in amusement. Nearly everyday, Tom Kaulitz managed to find you and ask you the same question.

“You free tonight?” His German accent so alluring yet you knew you couldn’t, and you wouldn’t. Yes, you will admit that Tom was a very attractive boy, you liked him a lot, but you also knew the type of person he was. It seemed as though every girl you talked to had at least one interaction with the Kaulitz boy that ended in sex. “Come on, just one date and it’ll be worth it.”

You glared, turning back to the line and waiting for your lime flavored piragua, choosing to ignore him. You weren’t sure why he decided that picking you as the main victim of his pestering was good idea but each day it annoyed you more. There we’re even some where you nearly gave in and excepted his offer but ultimately walked away before the words could leave your mouth. Was the piragua guy purposely taking long to shave the ice or was it just you? The mix between the heat of New York and Tom’s blabbing in your ear made the tone feel slow.

“Enough!” You snapped, turning to face the boy who was listing off reasons as to why taking you to Señor Guzman’s pizza place would be the perfect first date for the two of you. “I already told you that I’m not interested in going out with you.”

You could hear your friend snickering beside you, “Ay bendito.” She was just observing and sipping the cool cherry flavored syrup from her cup. (Poor boy)

Tom only smirked, adjusting his hat and backing away with his hands up in defense. “Okay, okay, I hear you, I will come back tomorrow.”

You sighed heavily as he walked away, “Don’t come back at all!” You yelled, but he didn’t turn around or do anything to acknowledge your words, based on his past actions you knew he would be back.

“Aquí está.” The tan man gave you the piragua in a small plastic cup, the shaved ice soaked in a lime-flavored syrup. Your demeanor immediately changed, a frustrated scowl turning into a soft grin with just one sip. You dig through your shorts, handing some bills before walking off. (Here you go)

“At this point, it’d be better to accept his date then reject it, Amiga.” Daniela spoke up, giving you a knowing look as she shoved some of the ice in her mouth, letting it melt on her tongue.

“No quiero, Dani, to give him the satisfaction of taking out another girl would be like hell to me.” You argued back, “He just doesn’t take a hint, and everyday he comes and bothers me about something.” (I don’t want to)

“If you really about it.” Daniela began making you roll your eyes. “I’m starting to think that he really likes you and isn’t just playing around to get in your pants.”

You turned to her with furrowed brows, “What do you mean, it Tom fucking Kaulitz, of course he’s gon’ something involving.”

“When’s the last time you heard of him hooking up with someone?” Daniela asked, watching a a you shrugged your shoulders. “Exactly, and don’t you think that it’s strange how Tom is constantly flirting with you, only you.”

“I think it’s very strange, and annoying, ya me tiene esta los cielos, Dani.” You huffed, stopping as you arrived in front of her apartment building. (he has me up to the sky)

“Just take a moment and think, he totally got a thing for you because he’s putting in actual effort, not just shooting out some lame pick up lines.” Your friend tossed her cup into a nearby garbage bin before climbing up the steps. “He likes you, and I know you like him.”

You processed her words as you made it back to your own home, the refreshing snack cleared up your mind from its previous annoyed state. It made you frustrated, how could it be that a player was suddenly wanting to get with you of all people. For as long as you could remember, Tom would always flirt with you, it gave you a string of hope before he ended up in another girls room that same day. If the reason why you became so cold, more brutal with your rejections then before.

Walking into the house, your auntie and mom were in the kitchen, they could already sense the annoyance radiating off you. “Nena, que tú tiene?” Your auntie questioned, raising her thinly drawn eyebrow at you. “And don’t bullshit me.” (Girl, what is wrong?)

“María!” Your mother scolded towards her sister, “Don’t be using those groserías in front of my daughter.” You walked into the kitchen, jumping onto the counter as you watched your mother cut up some chicken. (Bad words)

“You know Tom K, el aleman te la esquina?” You began, getting the attention of both of the woman. (The German from the corner)

“El que tiene un hermano emo?” You auntie asked, placing a hand on her hip. (the one that has an emo brother?)

“Titi.” You warned as she threw her hands up in defense, “Bueno, pues, he’s been asking me out for the past five months.”

Your mother let out a dramatic gasp, stopping her motions and looking at you, “Cinco meses? Y qué carajo todavía haces aquí?” (five months? And what the hell are you still doing here?)

You groaned, throwing your head back, “No salir con el, mama, he’s a player, I’ve been sayin’ no each time.” Your tía grinned, clapping your hands. (I don’t want to go out with him)

“Mira, no mas!” She squealed, shaking your shoulders proudly, “Mi nenita ya tiene todo los hombres a sus pies.” (Well, well, my little girl already had all the men at her feet)

“Ay, no titi, no quiero salir con el, qué pasa si no mas me trata como otra.” You frowned, feeling your mom place a comforting hand on your shoulder. (I don’t want to go out with him, what happens if he just treats my like any other?)

“If he does anything.” She threateningly raised the knife that she was chopping up vegetables with. “You just come to me.”

“Mhmm.” You tía hummed in agreement, “Just gimme that address and you won’t have to worry about it.” Her serious face was then replaced by a bright smile. “Pero, you should totally go out with him.” (But)

“Dani was sayin something about how he might be interested since he’s been trying to hard, and just earlier when I was getting Piragua from Señor Rodríguez he came up to me.” The two woman listened intently, “He asked me out again and I said no, and when he said he’ll come back tomorrow I said he should never.”

The woman in front of you winced, “Ay, bendito.” They said in unison, making your frown even deeper. Maybe you were too harsh. (Poor boy)

“But since he’s so adamant on me, saying yes then he probably does have some interest. Well, that’s what Dani thinks.”

“Mira, nena.” Your tía placed her tan hands on your shoulders, “Back in my day, yo traía todos los hombres, tu mama era una virgencita.” (Listen, girl. I had all the men, your mom was a virgen)

“Ey!” Your mother slapped your tias arm angrily, making your scrunch your face up. “I was just waiting to find the right hombre.” (Man)

“Pero esperaste unos mil años.” The woman turned back to you, “As I was sayin’, no matter how much a man tried to be all playa’ by sleeping around with women and shit, the thing that’s gonna touch his heart is when a woman cares. So the next time he comes up to you and ask you out, you say yes when you go on your first date, show him that you’re interested.” (But you waited some thousand years)

You sighed heavily, “I’m nervous.”

“Why? Because you’ve been crushing on him since you were a kid?” Your mother questioned, tossing all the ingredients she’d been cutting up into a boiling pot of water. You eyes widened, mouth opening to say something before shutting itself up. “No crees que no te visto, te gusta, and I know it.” (Don’t think I haven’t seen you, you like him)

You hop of the counter and head into your room, you pick up the small phone that was sitting on your bed, clicking in Daniela’s phone number. In just a few rings the girl picked up with her usual chirpy voice. “Wassup, Amiga?”

“Dani, I’m gonna say yes the next time Tom asks me out.” You spit out quickly, not wasting a second to pause in between words. It was nearly inaudible but Dani still registered every syllable instantly.

“No way!” She squealed, “No me chingas amiga!” (Don’t fuck with me, bestie!)

“I’m bein’ for real.” You smiled slightly at her excitement, fiddling with the gold necklace nervously. “The next time he comes up to me, I’ll say yes.”

“WHERE THE HELL IS HE?” You asked anxiously, eyes looking around to see if he’d magically pop up. The day had nearly reached an end, the sun beginning to lower itself into the horizon while you and Dani had walked around the area multiples times. By this time, Tom would’ve already walked up to you, gripping his baggy pants, a shit eating grin on his face, German-laced accent speaking the same words that you usually rejected, it almost became a routine.

But today you hadn’t seen him, it begun to make you nervous and ask the sun disappeared and the street lights flickered on, you sighed sadly. Never did you think you’d be so sad about not being pestered by Tom, in fact, you wished for a day like this. Now that you have it, you realize how boring the day has been, not hearing him or his corny pickup lines made it feel like a puzzle piece was missing.

“It’s okay.” Daniela rubbed a soothing hand up and down your back, “Maybe tomorrow, he could be busy with his band.”

“But he said he’d be back.” You frowned deeply, shoulders slumping, feet dragging on the pavement as you walked back home. You did the usual, dropped of Daniela first, her right hug lingering longer then usual before you walked the next few blocks to your own home. Just as you stepped on the steps that lead up to your front door a repetitive shuffle caught your attention.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Tom held flowers in one hand, the other one timidly waving at you. You’d never that you’d be so happy to see him, a smile would’ve taken over your features but you held back. Keeping a straight face as he held out the roses. “I got these..for you.”

Your eyes widened, taking the flowers and blushing. “Thank you, how’d you know these were my favorite?”

“You told me.” He smiled softly, it made your heart flutter and stomach twist into knots. “And, uh..I wanted to ask you, again, if you’d wanna go out with me?” He fiddled with the bands around his wrist, expecting the usual words of no and a slammed door in his face, but you have a warm smile instead.

“Yeah, I’m free on Friday.” You tried to hold the eye contact but his eyes practically hypnotized you, you stared down the roses, a shy smile on your lips. “I’m sorry for being mean on the past times.”

Tom chuckled, demeanor shifting from an laid back player to a timid lover boy who was stupidly excited that his crush finally said yes. “It’s okay gorgeous.”

An awkward beat of silence engulfed the air before you leaned forward, pecking his cheek and watching as the red blush creeped up onto his face. “I’ll see you Friday then.” You mumbled, hand gripping the door handle and pushing it open. You looked towards the boy one last time, “Bye Tom.”

“Bye, gorgeous.”

I hate using y/n if y’all couldn’t alr tell by the amount of pet-names I have in all my fics. 😭 I tried my best to capture the Puerto Rican culture but as someone who isn’t really familiar, I don’t really know if I did all that good. Apologies if there was some errors in some areas!! either way I enjoyed writing this fic and loved the idea!! Ik it got corny at the end but pls ignore that.

hehehe

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #tokio hotel imagine #2000s #puerto rican #puerto Rican reader #Tom Kaulitz x reader #Latina #boricua #tom kaulitz x you #tom Kaulitz imagine #fanfic #fluff #tom Kaulitz fic

[prettyyyathieee]

✧˖°.Rin Itoshi Is Your Unpursued Love.✧˖°.

A/n : Have any of you guys had a crush that you never confessed to? Yeah this is kinda inspired by true events that I never got over but yk what? I feel like Rin is the type of person to be like this.

Warnings ⚠️: Curse words! Very much angsty!

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Rin Itoshi liked your best friend first.

Nobody knew but Rin Itoshi had a crush on your best friend. Who didn’t? She was the happy-go-lucky type that befriended everyone. She had the energy you could never match. She was the golden retriever girl that always saw the best in people, that always knew to comfort and feel their feelings.

She was the girl who would not stop pestering the cold and passive Rin Itoshi who never wanted to be bothered. And just like that, he caught feelings for a girl that would give him more happiness than he deserved.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Rin Itoshi was miserable.

From the sidelines you watch as the boy fell deeper and deeper, only able to notice because silence had things that were never achievable in the slightest noise. The way he would always notice she was near, the upturned smirk as he threw a small dig at her jokingly, something he never did to anyone. You had thought something very big was unfolding, and you were right. although, for the wrong reason.

Your best friend got a boyfriend. You felt pity for him. You knew since the first day about the guy but thought nothing of it. By this point, everyone knew Rin Itoshi had feelings for your best friend. After all, what kind of person throws punches at walls and picks fights with random people in the hallway after someone loudly teased your best friend about her supposed boyfriend.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Rin Itoshi is the most talented person you know.

He was good at a lot of things if he tried. Hard emphasis on the “if” because he never tried in anything except soccer. He lived and breathed soccer, and everyone would be damned if he didn’t because that kind of talent only ever came once in a century. Nevertheless, there were days he tried. 

Like when he passed a project for your art class, a beautiful canvass of something only the great Claude Monet could ever paint. Like when he began to be a little competitive for a group contest just because he didn’t want to be on the losing group and leading his team to victory, and of course nobody could ever forget the famous debate that ended after the first 30 seconds because he had said the most damning words that made everyone question if he had a religion.

Yet, you knew most out of everyone how insecure he was, perhaps even more than your best friend because once again, you were loved by silence. You knew of the fact that he thought he was the least deserving person when it comes to your best friend when every girl in your class would fight each other for his attention. How he looked up to his older brother so much that he sometimes stalks his social media accounts, how he believed he was truly lacking, truly undeserving of many things because he wasn’t enough for him.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Rin Itoshi noticed you because of your similarity with your best friend.

Your best friend wouldn’t be your best friend without the same interests and hobbies. When he started reading these deep romance novels that hooked him into reading for hours, you were the first to give him recommendations. How you had such an understanding and kind view towards everyone, even those who wronged you. How you had the same mannerisms as your best friend that he could bet it was influenced by one another.

He saw how driven you were, he admired your passion towards everything you set your mind to. He knew it was genuine because he saw the fire in your eyes that he could see in himself in the mirror, that he could see in his teammates and opponents alike. 

But perhaps, you were far more passionate than him.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Rin Itoshi admired you from afar

Sitting at the back of your best friend’s chair, he focused on your happy smiling face as you and your best friend conversed about the mistakes in your exam. You looked back and noticed him, the same exact upturned smirk. 

“What is it?” You asked, still smiling.

He shook his head, turning to face his own exam.

As you had established a more subtle and formal relationship with Itoshi after your best friend did, you couldn’t help but notice the way he’d be around you more. Picking you as his group member, which he always excused as you were the type to be hardworking, then always wanting to sit beside you, which he also excused as ‘you’re quiet, less disruptive than everyone here’, before plugging his earphones and leaning on his table.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Rin Itoshi gave your best friend a chance.

It didn’t happen within a snap of a finger, a month or two passed and your best friend was going through a break up. Why didn’t it affect her like those in the movies was a question you always asked yourself. But you already knew the answer, you just didn’t want to believe it. 

It also happened when you were absent, sick as a dog in your room. 

Even so, Rin Itoshi was…happy. Everyone knew of the break up, and everyone knew of Rin’s feelings. So that happened. 

The day you were finally well enough to go to school, though a bit late, they weren’t present. It was then that you caught word that they were out on a date. 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Rin Itoshi never knew how to approach you.

Everything he did to get close to you was always dismissed as him trying to befriend you for your best friend or because everybody knew you were the kind of person that was hard to hate. So instead, your every interaction had a purpose– a business-like approach. He didn’t go out of his way to make things easier for you or talked to you about your interests and hobbies because he just didn’t know how to. 

You weren’t like your best friend, you weren’t easy smiles, occasional giggles or just have the “approachable vibe" within you. You didn’t approach him that much either, just for necessities which made him believe he could never catch your attention.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Rin Itoshi was the farthest thing from slick

Him and your best friend weren’t together officially. Far from it actually, there were no boundaries or talking of feelings at all. They just acknowledged each other as someone they want to spend time with.

Yet why was it that whenever you were alone outside of the room he would catch himself sitting outside as well. Why was it that when you both were in the room, you were the first and last person he would look for. Why was it that he looked for your name in every class event, groupings and projects.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Rin Itoshi never confessed.

It continued until the end of the school year. As a graduating student and moving places for a college nowhere near you, it was probably the last time you would meet some of your classmates.

As a graduating student who had no need for college after being recruited into a national youth team for soccer, Rin Itoshi was destined for big things. 

As the day came closer and closer, you hoped to god there was some sort of closure, some sort of words that needed to be said, some goddamn f*cking spine to have one last moment with him.

Alas, Rin Itoshi never confessed that he liked you more than your best friend.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Rin Itoshi did not have you in his small and numbered list.

Diplomas were handed out, medals were clanging on each other, the smell of roses from the bouquets and the money from money sashes was all you could focus on until you saw him in the middle of everyone. Looking directly at you.

You shot him a smile as you left to go find your parents, feeling hurt and distressed.

Rin Itoshi watched as you walked away, quite possibly the first and last time you ever will in his and your life. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret at the thought of still having enough time and chance to run towards you and talk.

Yet it seems he wasn’t destined for you. That was what he thought as he stood like a marble statue in the same area you found him, devoid of emotion. His hands hanging limp from his side and his mouth turning dry. 

He dismissed the wetness of his eyes from the harsh shade of sunlight.

Then he, too, walked away.

What could have been:

Right outside, after watching you for a couple of minutes take pictures with every person you knew, he found himself walking towards you. With a bouquet in your hand, he watched as a boy, a boy he wasn’t familiar with, had his arms around you, holding a v-shape up with his fingers with a giddy smile on his face, taking a picture with you.

As soon as you both separated, he was quick to grab your wrist and lead you to a place where nobody could hear or see you.

It wasn’t a romantic place at all. It was dark, damp and smelly. You turned your hopeful eyes to him, praying to god it would be something that’ll clear everything up.

Yet he didn’t speak at all. Frustrated, you turned to leave.

To your confusion, you felt something warm and rushed behind you. Then, arms hesitatingly embraced you from behind.

“What about her?” You asked, feeling so dumbfounded yet so comforted at the fact that you were right all along, he like likes you. Just like how you like liked him.

Rin Itoshi buried his face at the top of your head before he spoke “Things between us stopped weeks ago…did she not tell you?”

“...no” you said, breathless and tearing up. Your hands found their way into his, encasing them as if wanting to lock him into this position with you.

Yet you knew what this moment meant. 

Before Rin Itoshi could imprint this moment in his memories he felt something slide through his wrist. Opening his eyes, it was a white bracelet. 

You forcefully remove yourself from his grip. Turning back to look at him properly.

“Goodbye, Rin Itoshi.”

You beamed at him. That was the last time he saw you.

#blue lock #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock angst #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk #bllk angst #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #athyathye💌 #athyathye♡

[hopelessdazai]

I just read your latest post and I honestly love it so much

Can I request a Dazai x fem reader and they have a little bar date…? And maybe Dazai gets a lil jealous somehow..? I don’t want to make it too specific for you!!! So ofc do what you will!! 💕

hi anon! I hope this is what you were looking for. it's a liiiittle off subject but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!!

At least you were his.

contents ; dazai x reader, fem reader, slight harassment, jealouszai, reader is called a slut, kinda bad writing idk.

Dazai had never been too good with getting anywhere on time. today wasn't much of a difference. though, you did have his card with you today, so you could treat yourself without him here yet.

you sigh, tracing the rim of your glass with your index. you'd been waiting pretty patiently, as much as he'd been sending you the occasional message as a check up. he wouldn't stand you up, you knew that much. but it was still arguably embarrassing to wait.

you finish your drink, sliding it forward so the staff can take it easily for a refill. just as a guy sits next to you at your right. not your boyfriend.

"hey beautiful." He slips you a smile, you grimace a little, smiling back awkwardly as to not be rude.

"drink on me? you're here alone aren't you? such a shame. would've thought a pretty girl like you would've been carried off and married up by now." He chuckled, you didn't respond. dazai had always told you to just ignore rather then playing into them.

the man frowns at the lack of response, shrugging a little as he orders himself a drink. you feel a hand on your other shoulder, looking over.

"hey sweetheart, sorry I'm late." your boyfriends voice was smooth, as he sits down at your left. a small smile plays at your lips, dazai's hand tracing down to rest on your thigh as he orders himself something to drink.

the man to your right scoffs, gently rubbing your arm. you tug your arm away a little, though he doesn't seem to pick up the hint.

"hey, babe. who's this then?" the guy on your right whispers close to you. and you can practically feel dazai's glare on the two of you, his grip on your thigh slightly tightening as he watches the scene between you.

"my boyfriend, please don't call me that." you respond, digging through your purse to hand dazai's card back to him.

"boyfriend, huh?" the guy looks between you two, a chuckle leaving his throat. "so like, you're still not married? there's still a chance for you to change your mind, dollface."

you scoff, feeling dazai lift you up slightly. he brings you onto his lap and weaves his hands around your waist.

"no chance." you mumble, adjusting how you're sat and looking up at dazai for a moment. he looks pissed, glaring at the other man as he holds you tight. you were sure that if he still went by his old ways, there'd be crime tape already scattering the bar.

the guy scoffs, standing up and mumbling something about you being a slut under his breath as he wanders away. you exhale slowly, leaning back into your boyfriend and taking a sip of your drink.

"who was that?" He looks down at you, gently trailing a hand under to your stomach and rubbing your abdomen with affection. you shrug.

"no idea. I admire his confidence though." you reply, offering dazai a drink from your glass to try. his hands brush yours as he takes it and drinks a swig.

"hm." He hums, shrugging and resting his head on your shoulder. "least he's gone now." you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"you seemed like you were ready to kill him," you smile, dazai grumbles something, burying his face into your neck.

"I was." He replies, gently kissing the area his mouth was. you close your eyes for a moment, getting comfortable on his lap still.

"jealous?" you tease, he rolls his eyes. at least you were his, that's all he cared about.

I'll do a potential rewrite if it's not up to your standards ! but I hope you enjoy anyway :) for future future requestees, check my pinned post for details on what I do !! - zai

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