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autumnywinter · 1 day

Note

Hiii! <3 Could you perhaps write something with Reader cheating on yandere Jingyuan?

I hope this isn't ooc! I love writing for HSR characters but I don't do it often.

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader

Tags: NSFW MDNI, cheating, spanking, patronizing behavior, light degradation, sex as punishment, gender neutral reader, implied kidnapping

You couldn't deny you felt shame. Jing Yuan was so sweet, so doting, but he could get so busy sometimes. You loved him, you truly did, but occasionally, it was too tempting to not hook up with someone else. Just a fling, that's all you wanted. Only enough attention to make up for the lack of his while he was on duty. You didn't expect anyone to get murdered over it.

Things were supposed to go out smoothly. Your husband would be gone for the weekend, so you'd have a one-night stand and sneak back home at midnight. You didn't bother hiding the hickeys since you didn't think he'd be home.

However...

"Welcome home, dear. Did you have fun?"

He was there when you walked in. He was lounging on the sofa, eyeing you as you came in, his figure relaxed with one leg crossed over the other. There was no anger on his face. On the contrary, he smiled and looked more content than he had been in a while. But you could see it.

The glimmer in his eyes, the dangerous red that clouded his pupils. He wasn't angry. He was furious.

You flinched, wanting to shrink away into your coat. How were you supposed to explain this? "I..." Your voice came out in a rasp, throat dry and tight. You swallowed down your fear and tried again. "Yes... I did."

Part of you was still foolishly hoping he didn't know about your disloyalty, that you were overthinking his mannerisms.

Perhaps he just happened to be home early because he wanted to see you, and not because he rightfully suspected anything. Maybe you could still cover this up.

He rose from his seat and came towards you. "Did you now?" His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest. Your hands shook as they hung by your sides. "Would you like to know what I did, honey?"

It wasn't a question. He didn't care if you did or didn't want to know. He was going to tell you anyway.

His face pressed into your neck, inhaling your scent, humming against your skin. "I followed you." His lips peppered your neck with kisses as his grip tightened. "I have lots of friends in the knights that patrol the area frequently. Imagine my heartbreak when I hear my darling spouse has been sneaking around. I didn't want to believe it, so I had to see for myself."

You trembled in his hold, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Jing Yuan's tone was frighteningly even, but that only scared you more. You could feel him smiling against your skin. Forced and cold.

"When I saw you enter that man's house, I thought to myself: No, there must be an explanation for this. There's no way you would do such a thing." The more he talked, the more painful his grasp got. His nails dug into your side, threatening to puncture your skin. "So I waited outside for a while and sure enough, you came out a mess." His gaze became more narrowed, trailing down to the angry hickeys covering your skin.

"You stunk of alcohol and sweat, with all these nasty marks all over you. Even on your collarbone. Absolutely shameful."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Shh." Jing Yuan's lips covered your own in a deep kiss that tasted of wine. "You were lonely without me, right? You wanted attention. I understand. There's no need to apologize. I know I haven't been paying much attention to you, so it's natural for you to look elsewhere."

Despite his understanding words, you felt trapped. Jing Yuan kissed you again and again, tongue swiping against your lips. You didn't have a choice but to open your mouth and let him in, letting his tongue explore every inch of your mouth.

He usually took his sweet time tasting you, but this time, he was impatient and sloppy. You could only grip his arms, whimpering as he poured all of his pent-up anger into the kiss.

When he pulled away, your knees threatened to give out on you. His mouth remained close, the warmth of his breath grazing your lips.

"You'll just have to make it up to me." His hand slithered under your coat and slid it off, his fingers stroking the marks on your shoulders. "These look painful. I never knew you liked pain. But I guess I never knew you were a whore, either."

His words pierced you like daggers, tears spilling from your eyes as you choked back a sob. Jing Yuan's cold eyes softened at the sight, cooing at you.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. It hurts me too when you cheat." His fingers stroked your cheek, catching some of your tears and licking them off his fingers. "I'll take care of you now, okay? Let me be your husband again." He guided you into the bedroom, pushing you onto the bed. "I'm going to fuck all of him out of you, so when I'm done, you'll only remember me. And all the other men you've seen."

Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your stomach and pulled down your pants. You squealed as his hand came down on your ass, leaving a red mark that would surely bruise later.

His palm was ice cold on your hot skin, soothing the sting from the impact.

"I want to forgive you, but I'm not going to lie to myself. You hurt me. I'd never hurt you like that." He paused, feeling between your legs. "And now you're getting aroused by this? Maybe I really have been neglecting you." He stood up to unbuckle his belt. "Let me remind you what sex feels like with someone who loves you."

You glanced back at him over your shoulder, watching him stroke himself. He looked down at you, an unsettling smile on his face.

"You know I love you, right?"

Jing Yuan climbed onto the bed, fingers tracing up your leg before pressing into your entrance. You whimpered as he eased them inside, not used to being stretched so suddenly. But he didn't care.

He thrust his fingers in and out of you, moving his fingers in scissoring motions to spread you more. You couldn't stop squirming beneath him, struggling to adjust to his pace.

"Answer me," he demanded. His fingers curled inside you.

"I do! I-I do!"

He hummed and removed his fingers, staring down at his hand covered in your wetness. He admired the way his wedding ring glistened in the low lighting, but not for long.

His gaze lowered to your reddened, flustered face, making his cock twitch.

"Good. Because I really do love you." He lifted your hips up, guiding the tip of his cock to your hole. He pushed into you and watched as you squeezed your eyes shut, desperate moans falling from your lips. Your walls wrapped around him, and he wanted nothing more than to absolutely wreck you.

So he did.

His hips snapped against yours at a rough pace, hands gripping your waist tight enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Your moans and the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. But the way you cried his name was the best song to his ears.

If he weren't mad with jealousy and frustration, he would've taken a few seconds to grab his phone to record. But he needed to chase the image of that man out of your mind first.

He reached around you and started rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, grunting against your skin. His touch sent you spiraling into an orgasm, juices gushing all over his cock.

Your tightening walls drove him towards his climax as well, and he came inside of you with a satisfied groan.

Your eyes were blown wide as you felt his cum fill you up. Jing Yuan panted above you, not having the energy to pull out yet. After a few seconds, he did, watching his seed spill out of you. His hips gave a few lazy thrusts into you as if trying to push it in deeper.

"You took me so well, sweetheart." He laid down next to you, bringing your shaking body close.

"Are you still mad at me?" You breathed in his scent.

He chuckled. "I'm no longer mad. In fact, I'm happy. You just confirmed my suspicions that you can't be trusted on your own."

You didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

He brought a hand to your neck, stroking the skin there. "You have a wild spirit. So it's only natural that I'd need to watch over you closely, right? So you don't wander off again. How can you cheat on me if I'm the only person you see?" He ignored your frightened expression and snuggled you close to him. "This is for the best. Everything I do is for you, Y/n."

#yandere #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #jing yuan #jing yuan smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #yandere x reader #obsessive love #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere fic

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miserycanary · 18 hours

Text

PERSISTS IN DELUSION ᡣ𐭩 previous ⤶

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & reader

synopsis: you've left and what was left of Ghost (pt.2)

tags: I really don't know whether to tag this as fluff or angst

The clock hanging by the wall ticks persistently like a bomb waiting to break Ghost’s delusion that you’ll come back. Ever since that night, he has spent his time like a literal ghost. Barely eating, barely moving, barely living without you.

With each heavy step that he takes toward your shared bedroom—now bare—the pain in his chest drags him. “I’m home, baby..” he gruffs at the presence he tricked himself to think was still there. Dropping his things by the door, he moves so slowly and plops himself at the mattress that is now cold.. Like how it always was before you came into his life and warmed his whole body and soul.

Ghost isn’t a crier. Never was. He took all the beatings from his father without letting a single tear fall. He didn’t shed shit when he had to force himself out of the grave he was put in alive. Not even when he left with no family and had to witness that moment with his own eyes. Ever since then, he has swore to heaven and earth that they will never take anything from him again. Depriving himself of anything that could tie him down emotionally.

Then suddenly there was you in all your glory.

Face painted similarly to his as you hand the kids celebrating Día de Muertos candies. Ghost never thought he’d take a step back in this country but as if tugged by fate, he found himself surrounded with the similar decorations that started his nightmare. Yet all he could zero out on was you. And that moment, Ghost knew that heaven and earth were snickering at him, mocking him for what he swore long before was now forgotten.

As the crown dissipates, he takes all the scuffed pieces of his heart. “That’s a pretty flower,” he grumbles. He sees the way you flinch at the sudden person, turning around to see his towering self. Simon wasn’t stupid and he knew how intimidating he looked and expected you to be scared. His apology is already at the tip of his tongue.

“Thank you! Do you want it?” He stills, blinking at the unexpected reaction. “O-oh, yeah, thank you.” You, on the other hand, expected the giant of a man to take the delicate flower with roughness, even expecting some petals to fall yet he took it so gently. Simon plucked the stem from your hand, placing it on the wide expanse of his palm and leaning lower to expect it. “Pretty..” he mutters, and you almost agreed if not for the way he said it with his eyes on you.

Time passed and you guys were intertwined, lives and love exchanged throughout the two years he was with you.

Ghost fully expected you to run when he first told you about himself, but you stayed. You tore down his walls with patience and care, showing empathy for what he has gone through but never pity and that made him fall deeper. Now Ghost would be lying if he said he has relationship experiences but he knew that if he doesn’t take this opportunity, then he’d lose you before he even had you (he lost you either way).

But what could he do now? What’s done has been done. He could learn about a relationship all he wants but who matters the most to him is gone. With a new profound energy, he pulled himself up, opening the drawer beside him. He shuffles through the pile of things before pulling out what he was looking for. Sighing, he opens the box and stares at the engagement ring.

Taking you for granted was not his intention. When you started to cook him meals, take care of the dishes, and everything else, he thought this was the norm. His duty was just to spoil his pretty girl. He never found anything wrong with the dread and exhaust that paints your face everyday because he was used to the heavy weight and assumed everyone was like that. You never complained, so he thought everything was fine.

And he never wanted to snap back at you. He knew all about the sacrifice you did and gave for him, and how much you went through just to stay with him. He watches your eyes dim each time he tells you that you guys have to move once again or how broken you were when he found you at the hands of someone who wanted him dead. Loving him and being loved wasn’t easy but you did it with no complaints.

Now he had to go out and be stupid, letting you slip from his fingers just because he couldn’t carry his weight for some measly housework. The very next day that you left the house, staying somewhere who knows where, he bought a dishwasher and hired a cleaner. Try as he might to do the housework just to please you, he knows that his time won’t allow it. So, he tried his best to work around it with the hopes that you’ll come back, but where were you?

He has called your number multiple times after giving you enough space but no calls were returned. You were coming back to him, right? You won’t leave him, right?

You’ll still love him, right? You will. Ghost smiles softly to himself, kissing the ring while a shy tear slips. “You’ll look so pretty with this ring, darling…” he whispers to the presence that he tricked himself was still there.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: this is so long overdue. Sorry for the person who requested this because it took me this long!! 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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heliiacus · 3 days

Text

to traverse this with you

tags: armin x reader, forced proximity, bathing together (technically), sexual tension, flower crowns & sentimentalities, love confessions, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, oral sex (f!receiving), penetrative sex, reader uses she/her pronouns

warnings: sexual content - MDNI!

words: 6.8k | masterlist

They used to love one another, long ago. Not loudly, nor ferociously, or even in a way that the other knew about, but they did. She knows that now. It could have stayed simple. They could have stayed apart. It has been years since she's been deployed to Marley, to live and work under a secret identity; and grieve as she may have for him, she could have lived with it. She really could have. They could have stayed star-crossed, torn away by war, but things just had to get difficult. Now, with tensions rising, she is forced to relocate – to trek through the lone mountains in the desolate Marleyan wilderness, in an attempt to clandestinely reach a port outside Liberio. And in another world it would have, perhaps, been a task of a casual undertaking. It could have been simple. Were it not for him, by her side: the man she has grieved for this entire time. Were it not for this one simple, stupid mistake.

It is the day before the night they would spend last in these mountains, and she does not think about it.

She does not.

When she wakes, she finds she is not the first. She finds him smiling faintly, his hand brushing at her temple as he wakes her. She laughs, or she tries to, chuckling weakly in the midst of the sleep that is pulling her back.

She does not think about it. Instead, she rises, chattering lightly about the upcoming hike. Instead, she keeps hold of the dream she had that night, wishing their endless, sheltering road into this waking world.

When they walk, she stays a step ahead, soles aching each time he would catch up. And still her mind feels burdened, swollen with the afterthoughts of the harbour in these mountains; of her time here, tied by the hip to the man who just keeps, incessantly, not letting her step be ahead.

It isn't until he takes another step forward that her mind clears. He steps in front of her, hand outstretched towards her, and she pauses – all of her does. She looks to him, and then she follows his gaze, and then she sees it: alive, murmurating – a bend of a river, its stream gentler than she remembers it. She hears it now, speaking softly.

"Is that the same one?" He asks her, eyes wide. He is laughing before she confirms it, the sound light and tittering.

"It is," she laughs with him, head shaking at the absurdity, and as soon as she feels his hand on hers, she takes off, running towards it. Armin's laughter echoes loudly, oscillating between the hills, and he follows her, step in step.

Her backpack thuds when she slings it off her shoulders. The jacket she wore follows swiftly, though much more gingerly this time around. It isn't until her shoes are off that Armin protests: "Wait," he tells her, loudly at first. "Wait," he repeats, weaker, and then he is at the foot of the river, hands in the water. "Won't you get cold? And we're so close to the city, what if someone passes by?"

"Armin," she says, her sternness so feeble in the wake of her snicker. "It has been days since we've been by a body of water. I don't care how close we are to the city, I am bathing, and I am bathing now."

"But what if–" and he turns around then, so swiftly she sees him stumble in his step, and his ears burst into a scarlet red; all because he'd peered at her hands, reaching to the top button of her shirt.

"Join me or take watch," she tells him, laughing as she sees him bristle at her words, his back tight and shoulders rising; she swears she can hear him mumble, right beneath his nose: not funny, she thinks he says, and she has the decency to let her shoulders shake quietly.

"Fine," he finally tells her, back turned to her. He points in the far-right direction of the river. "You go there. I'll bathe here."

Amused or not, now she finds herself undressing swiftly, feeling, with a tension in her stomach, that it is her turn to bristle. Though she turns away, she does not hear him undress – not until she wades into the water, bar of soap in hand. He'd waited for her, she realises, and she feels the skin of her throat heat at the thought.

Here, in the flowing water, she feels the cold within it bite her, but this, still, feels good – or she tells herself that, ears sharp at attention as she hears Armin join her in the water, several feet down the stream. Her breath hitches at the sound, chest contracting against her will; she hears him clearly, the water stirring at the disturbance of his body, and her hand nearly trembles as she drags the soap across her skin.

They wash in silence, her skin on pins and needles. She thinks he will say something; she thinks she should say something. Instead they stand, backs facing, bathing in the stream. It is cold, so cold, and yet the skin of her back heats inexplicably, muscles taut and tense. Her fingers dig into her scalp, begging her mind to clear with the soap, and it is when it flashes in her mind – urgent, tantalizing, the urge to turn around – that she sinks herself whole into the water, her hair feathering before her eyes.

She gasps when she rises, and she hears him – meek and startled, no doubt seeking to ask if she's okay. "I’m done," she says before he can, before her mind catches up to her again. "I’m getting out now."

He is quiet, for a moment. She knows he stands there, unmoving – turning, most likely, even further away from her. Eventually, he tells her: "Okay," and it sounds so horribly stiff.

She dries and dresses swiftly; too swiftly, hands shaking, buttons defiant. She nearly mixes up her shoes. Her hair drips down her back, rivulets running across the skin that is bare, and she thinks it should cool her, she thinks she should be cold – but each part of her heats, near blazing.

When she is done, she just stands there, hands in fists; curling, uncurling, over and over, breath difficult and strained in her chest. She hears, with an agonizing awareness, as Armin walks out the water, as he dries himself quietly, as he dresses. She keeps her eyes shut, as if in some sort of penance, and her breath does not still until she knows he is done.

Then he is by her side, and he touches her hair – and she gasps, startled by his proximity, his eyes wide as he steps back. He raises his hands, apology on the precipice. "I’m sorry," she says ahead of him. "You startled me."

"I was just.. Your hair," he says, gesturing in its direction. "Won't you get cold? Does it take long to dry?"

She gapes at him, momentarily. Then she bristles, taken aback by her own reaction. She takes a strand into her hands, the one he has touched. "Not too long," she says, and she is stricken as she feels this staggering urge for him to touch it again. "It's warm today. It'll take a few hours."

She looks back at him. He looks back at her. He seems to ease, a sort of relief coming over him, and yet still he seems tense, shoulders hunched as if in worry.

"Okay," he breathes, hands at his sides. "Okay, well, um – let's keep walking."

"Let's," she says, just as absently.

And they do. And the longer they do, the easier breathing becomes. The further the river is, the quieter it grows, so does her mind, and it seems like Armin's does, too – though slow, their chatter picks back up, and all the while, she watches him pick lone flowers on their path, weaving them into a wreath.

"Mikasa taught me," he tells her along the road, smiling fondly at his creation. She, in turn, watches with awe as his fingers weave at it with so little effort. "Back in Shiganshina."

"We didn't make these where I grew up," she tells him, keeping up her step with the man. "Is it difficult? You make it look effortless."

"It's easy," he tells her, turning to grin at her – that soft, private smile he seems to have reserved only for when she can look him in the eye. "I'll teach you. Here," the man stops, reaching the wreath out to her. His eyes glint in the mid-afternoon light, and the wind is still. "Put it on."

She blinks at him. "Put it on?"

He just chuckles at her. Then he steps closer, and she, so suddenly, becomes aware of the hair sticking to the nape of her neck. "It's a crown," he tells her softly, hands above her head. His hands don't touch her as he becrowns her, and yet it feels heavy on her head, heated from the ghost of his fingers on the stems. Then he looks down, and he grins wide, as if charmed. "There you go."

Her cheeks heat. "I feel ridiculous," she admits to him, and yet she can't help but begin to unravel beneath his look, so warm and attentive and, most oddly, proud; as if he'd really made it for her.

He laughs at her words, loud and unabashed, and he does not take a step back. "To be fair, it's for kids mostly," he admits, but they were kids no longer, she knows that now – standing pinned in front of him, she finds that the lightweight, feathering innocence of their childhood friendship has long since transformed, taking shape of something larger, something intricate and complex – something, she knows, now way out of her control. And even still, the chrysanthemums lay heavy and tight around her, and she can't help but feel her heart bloom with them, flowering under the sun within his gaze. "It looks good on you," he tells her then, and what is she to do? She smiles widely at him, hand touching at the petals.

"Let's go already," she says with no heft to the words, and he does so gladly, step in step.

They walk until evening, one that comes quicker than the rest, the sun now giving way to the coming colder, darker months. They make no stops until then, none except one – a time when she bounds for a growing sapling at the edge of their road, seeking, at Armin's advice, to hang the crown there. It would be no good to pull attention in Liberio, he mused with her sadly, and she'd told him then, she did – she will find a good place for it. With Armin ahead, waiting for her, she reaches upwards to lay the crown upon the budding tree, and there is only a moment, fleeting and precious, where she thinks to stuff the crown into her pack, to keep it safe and sound forever, crumpled or not, but then she decides to not. She leaves the crown where it shall be, somewhere growing, somewhere safe, and then she runs back to Armin, ready to soon set camp.

That same night, by the fire, he teaches her how to weave it – five blossoms in each of their hands, he teaches her, over and over, until hers looks just like his do, and she is laughing lightly, easily, triumphant for walls know what. It doesn't still until she feels his hand on her hair again, touching a strand – tentatively, this time; fearlessly. "It's dry now," he tells her, hand still on her hair; even though it has been dry for hours now.

And they sit closely, side by side, until the embers smolder weakly, giving in to the cold weather. They sit until they should tire, even if they don't – fuelled, she knows, by the second breath of the knowledge that this night will be the last.

They don't part, not really, when they go to sleep. They lay as close as they would, voices hushed with a faulty exhaustion, and though she feels her blood heat and her heart pump, though her mind burns with this feeling of his hands at her back, she can't help but think it: it is the last night. It is the last night. And she feels a sort of desperation surge through her, keening and clawing at her heart, and though she knows she won't be separated from him, she also knows something has changed between them, here, in-between these desolate hills – and she does not want it to end.

She finds herself, despite her own better judgement, clinging to him: she finds herself pulling herself closer, her hands twisting tightly into the back of his shirt, seeking, almost futilely, to close this horrid gap between them; and he makes this sound, thick and deep in his throat, and before she can even think anything of it, his hands pull at her, sinking into the flesh of her back. He pulls her closer, closer, as if tugged by the same kind of desperation, or as if, perhaps, he'd been waiting to do so, all these nights.

She's so close she can smell the soap on his skin, and she can smell the faint vanilla that follows him each day. She lays her head at his throat, nearly feeling the pulse that trembles within it, and her hands do so of their own accord as they sink into his hair, soft; far softer than she'd imagined, softer even than it used to be. And she sighs then, feeling him flush against herself; she feels as if some urge has been sated, as if some fear – soothed, and she barely notices her nails grazing at his scalp. She would not have, if it weren't for him – if it weren't for him, for this soft gasp at the crown of her head. If it weren't for the foreign hardness growing near her thigh.

All at once, his entire body stiffens, and his hold changes. She hears him inhale, sharp and stern, and she feels him try to rise, to move away – she hears him begin to apologise.

"Stop," she tells him, breathless, and he does; and all at once she makes the space – to look at him. To look right at him. She feels his heart thud dangerously hard beneath her palm. His eyes are wide, wild with a panic that seethes within his chest, and she looks at him, feeling his hold on her waver. Quietly, she finds the words; quietly, she asks him: "Is this how you feel?"

His eyes grow downcast, a blush so harsh crossing over his face. He takes a moment, or perhaps he doesn't – time stretches all the same, and then he replies with a simple: "Yes."

And it is the way he says it. Shy, and embarrassed, but so tight and so fierce that they just lay there, not speaking for a moment. She lay feeling the heart at her palm, thud, thud, thud. She finds herself, in an almost grotesque manner, wanting to reach for it – to soothe it, in any way she'd know how.

Instead, her hand slides upwards, soon reaching the skin of his throat, at which he holds his breath. Then her hand settles at his jaw, and he sighs, the sound rattled and forced. He says her name, softly, so softly, his voice so strained it almost sounds painful to her ears. Her hand splays across his jaw, and all the while, she can feel him so clearly against her thigh. He leans into the contact, as if pulled, as if magnetized, eyes closing and shut tight, his face near screwed. Her hand nearly shakes with the fervor that enters her, as if from him to her, as if it were made of the same material as the warmth they have shared all these nights.

Once more, he exhales harshly, and she feels it fan against the thin skin of her wrist.

"Look at me," she finds herself saying, as if dazed. And he does. His eyes rise as if on command, as if he were in a position where he would not deny her anything, and it twists at her heart. He looks at her as if he were stricken, a deer caught in a hunt, awed by the glint of the arrow. "Armin," she breathes, the name leaving her lips on instinct. "It's okay."

"I don't want you to feel.." he trails off, and then he gasps, as if the word were too heavy for him to even say it. His hands grow soft around her, more hesitant – but his hold does not, and neither do his eyes, steeled and focused and so, so conflicted,

"Obligated?" She finishes, her thumb so close to his lip. Her heart is rabid. He screws his eyes shut again, for a moment so short it seems meaningless, and then he opens them, and then he looks at her again, and her mind unravels at its seams when she sees the look in his eyes. In it, a craving grows, an unfiltered affection which burns high and deep within him – deep down, she knew it was there, she knew it, but now that she sees it, so clearly and so brazenly, she finds herself drowning, and sinking, and unmoored all at once.

"Tell me clearly," she nearly pleads with him, control melting at the edges. "Tell me clearly, Armin: do you want this?"

"I do," he chokes out, "I do. I..” And her palm, snuggled so flushly against his jaw, heats. Her thumb moves, almost of its own accord, and it brushes against his lower lip – and instead of finishing his sentence, Armin gasps. His hand, once so tentative, lists reflexively to her wrist, wrapping around it, holding it there, at his jaw. He looks at her with eyes wide and transfixed, nearly pleading – no, not nearly enough. He is pleading with her. He may not say it, but he is.

Her hand twitches in his hold. Her breath flutters. And then, once he sees something in her, he does plead with her. "Kiss me," he tells her, voice so low and thin it drives a punch straight through her core. "Please," he whispers when she begins to pull herself closer, and then again, as their lips are an inch apart: "Please." And there is no shock when she does. No all-encompassing jolt, unlike she expected. But he shifts. His entire being does. As if unwound by some oath, there is no breath shared between this and the moment she feels his lips on hers, and by then all else becomes moot point.

Her heart sings, unwound, at the feeling of his hand at her jaw. Her hands find his hair again, winding into it greedily, and she pulls him closer, closer, and he abides her – rolling over to press on top of her, breath hot as he kisses her back, as he kisses her first – as he sucks on her bottom lip, as he hums when she does the same. It is chaste, and gentle, and simple, and she feels drunk on the feeling of him kissing her, then parting, breathless, then kissing her again; of him holding her there, bereft of any hesitation, their kisses longing and heavy with yearning.

And it is she, then, who deepens the kiss, it is she who tugs at his shirt, she who brushes her tongue against his lip, and it is as if a second wind passes into him at it. His hands nestle into her hair with a fervor, and she lets him, angling her head back, letting him take hold of her. He deepens the kiss, jaw tight as their tongues brush against one another, and there's this sound that leaves her throat, low and quick and so desperate, and he pulls away at it, gasping for air. His forehead touches hers as the both of them heave, watching one another, and the gaze with which he looks upon her bursts with a longing, enveloping her whole. He pulls away, just a fraction, as if overwhelmed with the suddenness of their circumstance, and he takes her hand off his cheek, he pulls it tightly, flushly against his chest. He holds it there with an urgency that speaks to her before he does, and he looks pained for a moment, desperate; as if trying to tell her something through the gesture alone – as if he were looking for words that have lived in him for months, years.

"It's yours," he says, tone burnt with a passion that steals her breath. "Do you feel it?" He asks, her palm against his heart, loud – so loud. "I’m yours."

She blinks hard and ruthless, keeping back the tears that burn through her, and a fierce relief floods her. She tries to tell him, to say 'me too', but her tongue ties itself together, so instead she pulls at him, she leans into him, and she kisses him, and kisses him. "Armin," she whispers into him, "Armin." Hands in her hair, lips at her jaw, she feels weak in his hold, so carefully attentive. "I want you," leaves her mouth, feeble and desperate, and she repeats it, just as weakly, and he gasps against her lips.

"Do you know," he says in-between the pants, "do you know how long I've dreamt of you?" She tries to answer, she does, but his gaze, dark and blooming, has her pinned; his thumb brushes at her cheek, and it has her bewitched. "Every night," he continues, leaning to kiss her once the words pass, and he stops right before it. "Every night." He kisses her, brief and chaste. "Here," he angles her neck, and she lets him, feeling his lips at her throat; then his teeth, grazing gently. "When you left." His tongue follows, a wet line drawn across her clavicle. "Before you left."

Her breath shudders at his attention. It suffocates her. Her hands tremble in his hair, but so unlike they have ever before. "Please," she pleads, for what even she does not know, and he looks at her, he rises and he looks right at her, a sort of grief, an intensity settling in his eyes.

"I want you," he repeats. "I want you. Let me have you, Y/N. Please."

"Have me," she breathes, her palm cupping gently the skin of his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut, the entirety of him leaning desperately into the contact. "Make me yours."

It is as if it takes a moment to settle for him. As if he needs to decide if he truly believes what he's just heard. And then she sees it: a spark, a fire, and then a forest burning, all enchanted into his eyes, locked with hers.

Then his eyes are on her shirt, on the button he'd been so awfully shy about this morning, and he looks back at her, a question in his gaze. Her hands leave him, settling on the button, then reaching back to where they belong, curling around him lovingly – letting him decide what he wants.

And he does. Hands precise and gentle, her shirt is undone by them, and then he helps her out of it, the span of her upper body opening to him. He inhales, the sound trembling, and as he watches her so, so intently, his frame shudders when he touches the bare skin of her shoulder. He gasps, hand nearly twitching against her skin. Then he looks back up at her, meeting her gaze, and she sees a wildfire in them.

And with just a tinge of hesitation, he lowers himself to kiss her sternum, urged forward by the soft gasp that leaves her lips. He kisses lower, and lower, and then he kisses at her breast, tongue soon curling around her nipple; softly at first, then harder, spurred on by the whine that escapes her throat. And his kisses trail soon after, slow and steady and so meticulous in their exploration of her, and she sucks in a breath when she feels a hand of his settle on the buckle of her belt.

"Is this okay?" He asks her, pausing to look up at her, and her chest blooms with a warmth at the tentative care in his eyes.

"It is," she says, her hands joining his upon the buckle. "Armin," she calls, and he stays still, he stays looking at her. "I've never done this before," she admits, the gentle grasp he has on her hip now searing her from the inside out. She shifts beneath his gaze, which flutters, then steels in an odd, indecipherable way.

"That's okay," he breathes, and she feels his fingers ghost over the skin of her waist. "I have. I will.. I'll take care of you." And she feels it, his hand twitch lightly upon her skin – and she sees him bite the inside of his cheek. And then he asks her: "Are you sure you want to?"

"Yes," she tells him, quick and so desperate that it seems to spur a different kind of need in him, and she dare not feel embarrassed at being so open, so flayed before him. "Yes," she repeats, unbuckling her belt, and this time he does not hesitate. He drags her pants off her frame, gentle and decisive in a manner she has already learnt from him, and as she lay there with her knees pushed together, his hands nestle at the back of them, looking at her, once more, with a gentle question in his eyes.

And he won't do this himself, she knows this. Her thighs tremble visibly as she spreads them for him, and a heavy sigh leaves his chest, and then his eyes burn into her, at her – watching her naked before him, legs spread for him. He lays a cheek against the top of her thigh, gaze transfixed on her, his eyes heavy-lidded.

"You're so pretty," he tells her breathlessly, as if lost deeply in thought, as if he'd ached to tell her that for so, so long.

Her insides flip, watching him tower over her spread legs, and she has a distinct, mind-numbing realisation that it is him who watches her with those ravenous eyes. It is Armin who holds her thigh, who's pulled her closer to him. Him who seeks to please her; to have her to himself.

She fights to breathe in. Her chest caves beneath the feeling, leaving her breathless and utterly pliable in his fingers. All the while, he watches her, needy intent shimmering with something larger, stronger. Yearning roils in him, she sees it now. And then he leans down, forward, to kiss at her thigh, and her mind grows blank and empty. He kisses her again, and again, trailing a path closer to her core, pausing only to graze his teeth at her, only to nuzzle into her flesh.

Then, so, so close to her, he looks back up at her, and he asks, voice low: "Can I kiss you here?"

"Please," leaves her, and it is all she can muster, but he does not need more from her. He leans in, his tongue curling into her tentatively and so, so slowly, his palms gliding down her thighs as he settles comfortably between them. He licks a trail through her folds, centering around her clit, and she keens, whining pitifully. Her hips strain on reflex, pulled closer to him, and he pulls away for a moment, smiling up at her.

"So pretty," he repeats, and then his hands sink into the flesh of her thighs, holding her back in place with a strength she did not know he has. Then he closes his mouth around her, and the pleasure is so sudden and violent, she feels as if she caught on fire. She loses composure, far faster than she'd imagined she ever would with him, and soon, hips locked in his vice grip, she has nothing else but pleading, but tugging, desperately, at his shirt, or at his hair. He licks and sucks at her with a firm pace, humming into her core, smiling as he hears her slowly, slowly come undone at his attention. And he watches her as he pulls pleasure from her; eyes dark and heavy, sated in a way she knows a wolf only could be, and she can't do anything, she can't do anything but pray for his name as she comes with his tongue at her core, lapping at her as if he were a man parched.

He continues to lap at her, greedily at that, even when she tugs at him once more, eager to feel him against her, but he does not give in. Instead, he pleads with her to go easy, to let him be greedy. "Let me take my time with you," he tells her, kissing at her thigh, "please."

And so she does. It is only when she's trembling in his hands, wound tight with a different, insatiable pleasure building fiercely in her, that he finally rises to meet her lips, nestling flushly between her legs. Her hands are back on his shirt then, shaking, undoing his buttons, and he lets her, towering over her as he watches her. He says her name softly, and he repeats it when he lets her take it off him. Then he takes her hands, he collects them so gingerly into his hold, and he touches her cheek.

"Do you want to continue?" He asks her, his gaze so sweetly concerned. "Are you sure?"

Her hands shake in his. Her exhale trembles. Her voice fails her. She needs to tell him – how desperately she's dreamed of him. Of this. Instead, she frees her hands, and she settles them at his jaw. "I need you," she tells him with such an earnestness that she's sure, she's sure he knows. And he sighs then, body wracked as if in relief.

Her hands reach for the clasp of his belt tentatively, and he lets her, but then undresses himself. She watches him, an odd sort of impatience beginning to burn at her from the feet up, and her eyes rave over the span of his chest, her own burning at the sight of him: lean and muscled, a soft, light trail of hair growing down his stomach, one that she feels an urgency to touch. He catches her gaze as he takes off his pants, pausing for just the briefest moment, and she holds it there as he undresses himself whole.

Then he pauses on his knees, his hand on her thigh, and there, as he stand there, he seems overcome. She thinks she knows what he feels: bare before one another, open beyond she'd dared dream of, it is as if the years spent together and the years spent apart all come together, to a close, undulating and culminating into this one, singular moment. Then he leans towards her, hand at her waist, and he kisses her: so deeply, so fervently, it steals all breath from her.

"Are you sure?" The words ghost over her lips, and for a moment she is taken with his eyelashes, long and crowning along his eyes, so filled with an emotion that has her chest in knots.

"I am," she tells him, hands at his cheeks, and she nearly cries. "I am."

His breath wavers and shakes as he enters her, which he does slowly, carefully, with one hand at her thigh for purchase, the other finding hers, clasping them together tightly. He watches her attentively, almost hawkishly; looking, she realises, for a sign of pain, or of discomfort.

And she lets him. She lets him take his time with her. She drowns in his meticulousness, in the careful nature with which he holds her; with which he comes to a hilt inside her, a rattling sigh leaving his lips, so restrained and so overwhelmed that she knows. She knows: he doesn't even feel it, the pleasure. Not until he knows that she does, too.

And by the time he is fully inside her, there is a gentle, sudden piercing – and then, just like that, it is gone in a flash. She feels a stretching that is both foreign and right, and then he whispers her name, so delicately that it has her gasping. Suddenly, his hand leaves her thigh, and it is at her cheek, and he is looking her in the eye, he is asking her, with so much unrestrained care: "Does it hurt?"

"It does not," she tells him, and then she is pulling him closer, then she is kissing him, and her knees rise to meet his waist, her hips urging him to move. "Make love to me," she pleads with him, heart flipping three times over as she feels him smile into her lips, and he does.

He does so slowly, sinking in and out of her with a heedfullness that has her head spinning. He glides in and out, pressed so close to her body, holding her so carefully. She feels him so clearly, stretching her with a tenderness, pushing against delicate spot after delicate spot inside her, and each one has her reeling, and each one never, somehow, ever skips his attention. This pleasure is different, she knows this now; slower, encompassing, dizzying with the feeling of her love inside her. And just like he, she watches him, too; lips apart, eyes glistening, beautiful before her, breathtakingly so. She swallows greedily the small whines that leave his throat each time he thrusts back into her, so breathy and ardent, and soon, very soon, she begins to lose her composure.

She feels it rise in her, tempting and needy, almost harrowing in its intensity; desire, fervor, whatever the hell it is that the poets call it – it feels so much greedier, so much more powerful than she ever could have put to words or imagined, and soon she pleads with him to go faster, to give her more. And he does so, abiding, eager; raising her hips with the one hand at her thigh, and then he looks back at her, almost startled, at the wanton noise that leaves her throat. Instead of stopping, it seems to burst him into flames, too, and he finds that spot again, and again, claiming this newfound land for his own. He fucks into her with a precision, watching her steadfastly, with this greedy, satisfied glint in his eye – and with it, he slowly unravels her. He turns his head, just so, biting gently at the fingers she holds at his jaw, and with a fierce look in his eye, he speaks into the skin of her palm, words uttered in a reverence; sweet words, filthy ones, each one sending aftershocks into her core, and as he rocks into her with a mind-numbing languidness, he asks her: "Does that feel good, sweetheart?"

And it's the way he says it, lustful and needy as he sinks into her flesh – it has her thighs shaking at his waist; it has her whining his name, it nearly has her pleading, pleading for gods know what.

"It does," instead she tells him; "Don't stop," she tells him, and then: "Come closer. I need you. Please, Armin."

And he groans at it, at the way she says his name, pulling her with his hands by her hips, sinking deeper into her at this angle, and he kisses her as she moans, feeling out of control. There he pulls her thighs flushly over his hips, and her head spins from pleasure, and she finds her nails digging into his back, feeling the heat and steam rise from the broken skin. She cries his name out, again, and again, and again, and through it she hears her own name echo back to her, pulled from his lips between the groans and the soft whimpers that leave him. Then he kisses her fiercely, almost sloppily, whining into her throat.

"I want," he gasps, the sounds he makes soft and high–pitched and coiling deeply within her gut, "I want you to come. I want you to come on my cock, Y/N," he pleads into her lips. "Please," he says again, whimpering once more, composure cracking.

He kisses at her skin, her temple, her jaw, her throat, greedily, almost possessively, and she, in turns, pulls him closer to her, seeking to fill this space between them desperately. He lets her, he molds himself to her hold, pliant and eager. And there, there, fuelled by his mewls beside her ear, by the closeness, by that gods-damned vanilla permeating from him to her, she breaks. There, she tells him, finally, with her voice quivering to the last word: "I've wanted you for so long." And his hips stutter at this, and his hold on her thigh grows vice–like, and then his forehead is touching hers, his rhythm slowing, just so.

Then he is looking at her, gaze crested with a warmth so deep. "Say it again," he asks of her, he begs of her, his pace picking up with the words, as if inflamed by them. "Say it again, please, Y/N."

And she does. Again, and again. "I want you," she tells him, hands in his hair. "I've always wanted you," hands on his cheek. "Always."

It isn't until he's kissing her that she pauses, it isn't until she feels herself strain closer and closer as he whispers into her lips, soft things, unspoken things; it isn't until she hears his words that she finally, truly comes undone.

"My Y/N," he tells her, "mine. Mine."

And she cries out, hands seeking purchase at his shoulders, thighs so tight around his waist that it nearly hurts. She falls, and falls, careening rapidly into his hips meeting hers. For a moment, everything grows white, ceaseless and endless, and in that moment she thinks that this is how it should have been; in that moment, she thinks she was never meant to leave. Then Armin follows her, and he, too, cries out, desperately so, and she feels him slam into her harsh and uncoordinated. She kisses him fiercely, swallowing his climax with a greed that was unheard of to her before now, before Armin. They both shake in one another's arms, gasping, noses touching. They watch one another, eyes unwavering.

For a moment, she does not know what to say. She gasps and gasps, her tongue willing to curl only for the syllables of his name. Then he smiles at her. So gently, so brightly; the sight is so familiar that the words come tumbling out of her with an ease she had once almost forgotten. "I love you," she tells him, earnest from her heart.

"I know," he says, and he kisses her. I know, he repeats between kisses, I know; as if to himself, as if in relief, as if having waited, for so long, to hear it – if only just this once. "I love you," he tells her then, and she holds onto him, tightly and fiercely and unyieldingly.

They lay like this for what feels like ages, the mountains surrounding growing quieter, and quieter. She holds onto him, and he – onto her. They do not let go. She feels his heart beat against her own, and they kiss one another: small, fleeting kisses, borne not with shyness but with a gentle, permeating ardour. They lay like this until they are spread thin by exhaustion, hands weak, and here, in the dead of the night, she speaks to him so quietly; "Don't let me go," she pleads with him, hand at his chest. I won't, he tells her, his hand on hers. "Don't let me go," she repeats, "Don't ever. Not again."

"I won't. I promise. I promise."

And they sleep like this, nestled fondly within one another's crooks and edges, touching with their hearts. They do not move, or let go – even when they wake, they can't seem to let go of their hands, even when they ready. Even when they walk to the port, they do so hand in hand, talking little, but glancing often, with fleeting, earnest smiles unhidden from one another.

They feel tense and severe as they walk through the streets of Liberio, however; a goal reached, the end of their journey. It strains them, the hands with which they hold onto each other, but even that soon seems to patter out once they peer at the barren ink of the Azumabito, glinting brightly on the bow of the ship. This ship, they know, is beholden with their friends and allies. This ship, they know, is the end of this road.

And he turns to her, birds crying along the loud crashes of the sea, wind tousling at his hair. He looks so beautiful now, she thinks, and she's enamoured as he asks her: "Ready?"

His hand feels heavy and warm in her own. More than that, she thinks – it feels right.

She looks back at him. Here, right now, there is a moment which seems to stretch between them – one filled with a sadness so inexplicable, so faint, that she barely manages to discern it at all. It feels foreboding, this feeling, as if the road behind them was the easy one, as if the one ahead were predetermined; as if it bears, unbeknownst to them, challenges beyond their imagination.

But she does not think of that. Instead she looks him right in the cerulean eye, gaze as deep and as determined as the sea before them. She smiles at him. And she squeezes his hand.

dividers by arlerts-angel

tag list: @arlerts-angel @levistealeaf

@sukunascrustyfinger @chiinni

@nilaaaas @ryoiii

@dilfkentolover @arminarlertssword

@bel-https @layla240

@katestrophes @er3nscottonpicker

@siiyoko @lemontrees-things

@arminarlertspersonalnurse @dvrkfverie

@girlybelle @blvewave

thank you for giving this story your attention 💗 i harbour a lot of pride in it, and it's an honour that so many of you have enjoyed it

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bloody-delusion-expert · 2 days

Text

HELLO i was feeling creative for once..sooo here have this short Noah fic i wrote lmao let me know if you want a part two

NSFW under the Cut

I was sitting on some random guy's bed again..breathless, sweaty, and freezing i gave away my own body for money again... that guy that used me this time didn't even care if i was feeling good or satisfied during the deed..no..he only cared for his own satisfaction. Just like most of the guys she had sex with..there was just one guy .. Just one person who treated me well in bed even though he was famous and probably could have any girl he wanted in bed..instead he once told me when he finished that i was the only girl he ever had sex with.. I think that was the moment i fell for him.. For my Noah.. And i hate myself for it.

With my occupation, it should be impossible for me to fall in love, but every time he touched me, he was so gentle and loving.. I still cant belive it..he even cares for my own pleasure, going so far as to eat me like I was his last meal ever...

....

Noah, in between my thighs, was making me feel like a goddess, yet he wasn't even using so much effort; he was just gently sucking on my clit lapping at me, and it was sending me to heaven, and his eyes… oh his eyes… How he was looking up at me like I was his everything while I was just a mess beneath him, moaning his name over and over again so that even his bandmates would hear it. Not that i would mind.. They should know that their lead singer was a god in bed...

He made me cum over and over again, my legs shaking and not being able to think straight…

...

Something washed over me…

...

I shouldn't have said it, even if I was just caught in the moment

...

"I.. I love..you.."

Fuck, it could have ruined my whole carrier… i don't know what i was thinking when I said this, so immediately after i came down from my high, i knew i needed to get away from this intoxicating man.. I quickly pushed him off me…and got out of his apartment.

...

Now here I am... Months later, Sitting in this random guy`s Bed listening to the song he wrote…

About Me

…

Tags: @thefallennightmare, @broken0mens

#bad omens band #noah sebastian #badomens #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction

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wonbadtz · 2 days

Text

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ riize + how much rizz do they have?

ot7 x female!reader

genre: fluff, crack (?), suggestive

warnings: none!

a/n: this is the first time i'm trying something like this, enjoy <3

shotaro ̗̀➛ 6/10

he's quite difficult to read when it comes to his rizzness. i feel like it would depend on the kind of vibe you give off to him as well. he seems shy, but if he feels comfortable around you then his game becomes a lot stronger. his rizzing game reaches its peak when he's at places he feels at ease, such as the dance studio. dancing is almost like a love language to him; if words don't work, he's willing to let his body do the talking.

eunseok ̗̀➛ 7/10

i know this rating could be higher but LISTEN; this man doesn't even have to try to rizz you up because he already has you hooked. and he knows it. with a face card like his, he wouldn't even bother trying anything with you. just one look from him, one smile, one single brushing of his fingers on your arm and you're done for. funny thing is, he knows exactly what effect he has on you just by looking at you, simply for just existing. plus his immaculate sense of humor is a huge bonus too. whatever he does — or doesn't do — you're very much whipped for him.

sungchan ̗̀➛ 5/10

listen, i love my man sungchan but he's just so awkward. even though he's super hot, he doesn't realize it and his rizz game becomes such a mess. he would make silly jokes and laugh awkwardly around you, hesitant to approach you because he just doesn't have the confidence to do so. and you don't understand why. his awkwardness makes him cute though, and paired with his toned arms and insanely ripped abs, you can see through his efforts to win you over. and he does win you over in the end.

wonbin ̗̀➛ 3/10

sorry... he's too babygirl to flirt and make the first move. he is the one who actually waits for you to make the move because he knows that if he approaches you, he's gonna make a mess. he's too scared of embarrassing himself. similar with sungchan, he suffers from extremely pretty face syndrome, yet his confidence is quite low. he would tend to laugh and giggle a lot, scratching the back of his neck every time you would make eye contact with him. he's just very very shy.

seunghan ̗̀➛ 1737284/10

don't tell me this man doesn't know how to rizz up girls, come on. the literal definition of charisma, he just knows how to talk to you, how to touch you and how to make you feel comfortable around him. he seems like the kind of guy you would meet at a club once and never forget him because he would leave such a big impression on you. he probably kissed you all night long and asked for your number afterwards, but he actually never called. this is all part of his game though, he just knows what he's doing.

sohee ̗̀➛ 9/10

this boy screams 90's heartthrob; he has the type of face and energy you would find in a male protagonist of 90's rom-coms. the only reason why i didn't give him the perfect 10/10 score is because he still needs to work a little bit on his rizzing tactics in order to unleash his full potential. you may find him very cute and adorable at first, but in reality he's very slick with the way he talks to you. he wins you over in a matter of a few minutes with his boyish grins and cheerful attitude.

anton ̗̀➛ 6/10

same as taro, i can't read through him. he's cute, tall, pretty, quiet and calm. he doesn't have to go to extremes to win you over, even though he feels like he should. this american energy he carries around makes him seem more carefree and laid-back, so even though he initially gives off awkward vibes, in reality he's far from that. he would start talking to you with pick-up lines, hoping they would work. they do work, but not in the way he thought they would; instead, you laugh at them and hit him back with a pick-up line too, which makes him giggle and open up to you more. next thing you know, you're waking down the beach with him, holding his hand.

TAGS: @seunghancore <3

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anjelicawrites · 2 days

Note

Was rereading the Aemond x reader x osferth tag and came across this:

When still single and drunk off her ass, reader bought a huge one, a 40 cm length and 10 cm girth with thick ridges; that had been a blackout purchase which she forgot about until the package was delivered. The thing has never been used; reader and Osferth love pulling Aemond’s leg, telling him that reader has used it on Osferth (”No one can fit it” “No, not with that attitude!”).

May we please have a whole oneshot talking about this? Cause this would be something I would do and it’s hilarious

Sorry for the long wait!!! I'm not sure I have hit the mark perfectly with this one, the muse didn't want to unstruck themselves from this particular idea!

Warnings: mention of dildo usage, a small reference to reader's abusive ex, kissing, suggestive situations.

Not really NSFW but def 18+ please!

You're sorting out the toys. You've already put the nastier stuff away, under lock and key, away from Aemond's eye, now you are sorting the rest of the stuff you and Osferth have managed to collect through the years; today is a day as good as any to throw out the toys that are too old to be used, so you decided to sit on the bedroom floor and start.

You are not listening to your surroundings, too intent in finishing the task ahead to notice Aemond's light steps coming behind you.

"Are you keeping that?" He asks, his soft voice makes you jump in surprise.

'That' is the 40 cm long and 10 cm girth dildo, with thick ridges you bought and never used.

You were drunk when you bought it, not too long after your abusive ex was out of the picture and you were still trying to sort your out your life; you didn't even remember the purchase and was surprised when the delivery man came knocking a couple of days after: that was the day you had a truly hearty laughter after years of pain.

"Why wouldn't I?" You ask, knowing full well where this conversation is heading. "Because you don't use it and Osferth does neither." "Again? That's slander, pretty boy!" "What's going on?"

Osferth's head pops from the door; you two don't even need to talk, not when you know he's seen the huge dildo.

"Aemond is slandering you." You smirk. "Is that so?" "He is saying I have never fucked you using this bad boy here." You say, grabbing the toy. "I've never seen you two use it!"

Osferth enters the room and hugs Aemond from behind.

"It was before you, my sweet prince." "Is that so?"

Aemond's legendary eyebrow arch makes an appearance.

"Why aren't you anymore? Hmm?"

Osferth nuzzles Aemond long neck to hide his smile.

"It had been a feat, sweetling." You say. "For how long you didn't walk straight Osferth?"

Osferth's head sits on Aemond's shoulder now.

"Almost two weeks. I truly felt it, it was great!" "If it was that great, why didn't you use it ever again? Hmm?"

Now it's Aemond's turn to nuzzle Osferth's neck and leave small kisses on the delicate skin.

"I had to drive him to work, he couldn't ride his bike, and preparing him took a very long time. It was hard work to make sure I didn't harm him, pretty boy." You say. "I still think you two are pulling my leg."

Aemond's voice is huskier, now that Osferth's hands is traveling from his chest to his lower tummy.

"You're offending me, Aemond." He says. "I demand compensation."

Aemond turns in Osferth's embrace and grabs his hips, forcing him to plaster himself against his body.

"I can give you all the compensation you need, beloved. Take your clothes off."

You see Osferth visibly swallow and his cheeks turn a dark shade of pink.

"Are you joining us?" Aemond asks you, barely turning his head. "Nope." You answer, spreading your legs. "Let me enjoy the view."

Poly taglist : @fan-goddess, @notyour-valentine, @anakiinx

#answered #polyquestion #aemond targaryen x reader x osferth #aemond targaryen x y/n x osferth #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen #osferth x reader #osferth x y/n #osferth

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allmoshnobrain · 2 days

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Hello

So i was thinking of 16 and 3 with 80s jason

this was such a fun request to write and i'm honestly in love with jason on this. hope you enjoy reading it, love <3

from this prompt list │requests are open! send yours here

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

jason newsted x reader │ word count: 3,1k

"I'm gonna kiss you. Cool?" he asked, and you blushed, giving a shy nod. "Man, didn't the guys you've been with ever kiss you?" "Not that much," you confessed, and he let out a chuckle. "You need to pick your partners better." "Quit giving me a lecture and just do it," you retorted, and he laughed before leaning in to press his lips softly against yours.

✦ warnings and tags: NSFW!!!, jason newsted x female!reader, +18, language, mxf sex, protected sex (yay), oral sex, friends with benefits, pre-metallica jason (early 80s), reader is inexperienced but not a virgin

The soft hum of the ceiling fan filled your bedroom as it valiantly battled the stifling summer heat with a gentle breeze. You sighed, tearing your eyes away from the open magazine and glancing over at your best friend sprawled out on your rug, absorbed in your Atari video game.

You and Jason had been buddies since high school. You actually met him through your brother - they were in a band together for a bit before your brother bailed to help out your dad with the family business. But even after that, Jason just became a regular fixture around your place.

It was pretty common for the two of you to hang out in your room all day, reading comics, watching movies, or playing games together. Jason was a solid friend - he was chill, funny, and always looked out for you. It felt like he was practically part of the family by now. Your parents and your brother loved having him around, and you couldn't deny you felt the same way.

"What's with the sigh?" Jason asked, and you blinked, glancing down at him to see he'd paused his game, resting his arms on your mattress as he peered up at you, a mop of brown curls framing his face.

"What sigh?" you frowned, and he rolled his eyes.

"You just sighed. The upset kind of sigh," he explained, and you raised an eyebrow. Yeah, maybe after years of hanging out, Jason could read you like a book. It wasn't exactly news, but it still caught you off guard sometimes, how effortlessly tuned in he could be.

"It's nothing," you replied, and he raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. You blushed, shifting your gaze back to your magazine.

"Come on," he nudged your arm, and you huffed, glancing back at him. "I can tell when you're upset. What's up?"

"I'm not upset," you retorted. "Just... Ugh, fine. You remember that guy Flint?"

"That jerk Flint Jones?" Jason snorted, and you chuckled.

"Yeah, well, we went on a date yesterday."

"Damn, sweetheart," he laughed. "No wonder you're feeling some kinda way."

"Oh, shut up," you playfully nudged his head with your foot, and he snorted, grabbing your ankle and moving your foot away from his head. "He's hot, okay? But it's all surface. We went back to his van afterwards and... Well, it was terrible."

"Did he hurt you or anything? You want me to kick his ass?" he asked, suddenly serious, and you laughed.

"Unless you think he deserves a beatdown for having the smallest dick ever," you replied, and Jason snorted, blushing. "Nah, it's all good. It's just the same old story, you know? He just wanted a quick fuck, but he was all about himself. So I bounced," you paused, frowning. "...And then he had the nerve to call me today just to say I’m a bitch."

"Wait till your brother finds out about this," Jason whispered, menacingly.

"Oh, hell no, you're not telling him. I don't need my brother getting all up in my business. As far as he's concerned, I'm still as innocent as they come," you chuckled, then grimaced. "I mean, it's not that far off. I've only been with three guys, but every time it's like, why did I even bother?"

"It was that terrible, huh?" he asked, gently, propping his chin in his hand, and you nodded.

"Sorry. Too much information?" you grinned, a bit shyly, and he returned the smile.

"Not at all. You know you can tell me anything. Even about your awful sex li... Ow!" he laughed as you swiftly left your sitting position to kneel down, giving his head a playful shove before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Shut up, Newsted. Just 'cause you're getting lucky doesn't mean you can rag on my sex life."

"Who said I'm getting lucky?" he chuckled, blushing a bit, and you rolled your eyes.

"Are you serious? I don't know what you did to her, but my friend Carol won't shut up about how amazing your night was. Like I wanted to hear all the details!" you exclaimed. Jason laughed.

“I could show you what I did to her,” he blurted out. You froze, raising your eyebrows at him. "Uh, I mean... You said you've never had a good fuck, so I thought maybe I could..." Jason trailed off, his words stumbling out awkwardly. "I just thought... Maybe if you had a decent one... Okay, forget it, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's cool," you replied hastily. Sure, you hadn't exactly fantasized about getting down with Jason, but you couldn't deny he had his charms, muscular arms and toned body matching the most beautiful wavy hair, blue eyes and a warm smile. Plus, you were sick of your own lackluster experiences and the hassle of trying to score in this town. There was just one hitch: you didn't want things to get weird between you two. Your friendship was cool, the coolest kind there was — you could count on Jason for everything, and he could count on you as well. You didn’t want this to change. “It’s just… Won’t that make things awkward?”

“It doesn’t have to. We’re friends, right?” Jason answered, shifting to sit beside you on the bed with a soft grunt. "I mean, if you're gonna dive into this, might as well do it with someone you trust. Better than messing around with Flint Jones," he joked, and you laughed along.

"You're such a dummy," you teased, feeling your cheeks warm as he inched closer, his hand finding its way to your cheek. “What the hell are you doing, Newsted?”

"I'm gonna kiss you. Cool?" he asked, and you blushed, giving a shy nod. "Man, didn't the guys you've been with ever kiss you?"

"Not that much," you confessed, and he let out a chuckle.

"You need to pick your partners better."

"Quit giving me a lecture and just do it," you retorted, and he laughed before leaning in to press his lips softly against yours.

The kiss started gentle, a bit awkward at first, but you soon started to ease into it, feeling Jason's lips soft against yours. His scent, so familiar, surrounded you as he pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist. You found yourself leaning in, one hand resting on his thigh, letting out a little sigh as he nibbled on your lower lip.

“It's sweltering in here," you muttered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, saying it more as an excuse to take a small breather. Jason chuckled softly.

"I got you," he grinned, pulling your shirt off. You blushed, heart racing as his eyes roamed over your body, then meeting yours. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you replied, biting your lip. "Yeah, keep going."

He grunted, nudging you to lie back as he settled on top of you. You trailed your fingers along his stomach, tugging at his shirt to get it off. Your cheeks flushed as he leaned in, planting soft kisses along your jawline, working his way up to your ear, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

“Gonna teach you what a good fuck feels like,” he murmured, his voice gravelly as he pressed himself against you, his hardness meeting that warm spot between your legs. You sucked in a sharp breath, gripping his hair. "Feels good?" he asked softly, lips trailing along your neck before returning to yours, his body pressing against yours. You nodded, meeting his gaze, cheeks heating up; Jason had never looked at you like this before, his eyes full of desire as he watched the way you opened your mouth slightly, small sighs of pleasure escaping your lips as you felt the pressure of his hard cock against you.

"Jase..." you whispered, reaching for his pants zipper, but he groaned, swiftly grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head. You let out a little whimper of protest, but he chuckled softly.

"Take it easy," he smiled. "Got a few tricks up my sleeve to show you first."

"Like what?" you breathed, and he grinned before letting go of your wrists, sliding his hands down to your back to unhook your bra. You couldn't help but sigh, feeling your cheeks heat up as he traced circles around one of your nipples with his finger, teasing it until it stiffened. He gave it a gentle pinch, and you couldn't hold back a soft moan.

"Has anyone ever touched your boobs like this?" he murmured, planting a soft kiss on one of them, and you shook your head no. He licked his fingertips to give them a little lubrication before teasing your nipple again, giving it gentle pinches and pulls. With a grunt, he took the other into his mouth, and you couldn't help but moan as he sucked on it, his tongue swirling around your nipple while he massaged the other with his hand. "Gonna make sure you know how amazing it can feel, babe."

"Oh," you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair as you instinctively moved your hips upwards, feeling a rush of pleasure and excitement. He pulled back briefly before latching onto your other nipple, teasing and squeezing the one he had just left wet and sensitive. Your eyes fluttered shut, breath coming in uneven bursts as you pulled him in closer. He continued to suck on your breast gently, leaving a little love mark as he unbuttoned your pants.

Your whole body tingled as he stripped off your pants and panties in one swift move. This was a whole different new experience for you; sure, Jason had caught glimpses of you in a bikini before, but being fully exposed like this was a first. Your cheeks flushed hot as he took in your naked form with a low hum, reaching out to grab your waist.

"You're so damn hot," he whispered, his own cheeks tinted with a flush. You sighed contently as he parted your thighs, his fingers exploring the warmth between them. A sharp moan escaped your lips as he teased your sensitive area, circling your wet entrance with his fingertips. "You're soaking wet, babe," he grunted, and you couldn't help but moan in response. He looked up at you. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah," you whispered, closing your eyes with a moan as he slid two fingers inside you, curling them gently. "Oh, Jase..."

"So damn warm and wet," he muttered, looking captivated by your reaction as he positioned himself between your legs, his warm breath against your clit. “I really wanna eat you out… Can I?”

"Yes, please," you whimpered, hips instinctively moving with his fingers as he curled them inside you once more. He chuckled, placing a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before diving down to your clit. A sharp moan escaped your lips as you felt the warmth and wetness of his tongue against your sensitive bud. "Jason..."

"Hmm?" he grinned up at you, his fingers working magic inside you. "You're squeezing around my fingers, babe... Feels good?"

"Feels amazing," you agreed, cheeks flushing. He went back to your clit, licking it in slow circles, and you couldn't help but moan, gripping his hair. A small gasp escaped you when he sucked on it, hips moving with his rhythm as you pulled him closer. He held onto your thigh, keeping you in place as he continued with increasing intensity, sending waves of pleasure through your whole body. "Jason," you gasped, eyes shutting tight as he kept his fingers moving inside you, pleasure building with every stroke. He pulled back momentarily, placing soft kisses on your inner thighs.

"It's alright, babe," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I've got you. Just let it out..."

You whimpered, tugging at his arm until he was back on top of you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue moving with yours as he slid his fingers away, focusing on massaging your clit in slow circles. You melted in his kiss, pressing yourself against him as you felt your climax building, each wave crashing over you until you were moaning louder and louder, your whole body trembling under his touch.

"That's it, baby," Jason murmured, sliding his fingers back inside you and hitting that spot that made you cry out in ecstasy, your walls clenching around him. "Just let it all out... I've got you, honey."

"Jase, please..." you sobbed, burying your face in his neck as you attempted to push his hand away. "It's too intense, I can't..."

“It’s okay,” he whispered, planting soft kisses on your hair while easing his hand's movements. You let out a shaky sigh, still tingling from the pleasure as you came down from your high. He chuckled, brushing your hair back from your face, his body warm and sweaty against yours. "You enjoyed that?"

"Hell yeah," you replied weakly, and he laughed.

"You wanna keep going?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Just need a sec to catch my breath, please," you whispered, and he chuckled before getting up. You watched as he peeled off his pants and underwear, blushing when you caught sight of his arousal. He grabbed his wallet from your nightstand, pulling out a condom before taking hold of his cock with his free hand.

"Wanna learn how to put this on?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

"I'm not that clueless, Jason. I know how to do it," you replied, sitting on the bed.

"Well, you wanna lend a hand, then?" he asked, and you nodded, cheeks flushing. You took the condom from him, tearing open the package. There was a moment of hesitation before you took hold of him, running your thumb over the tip and spreading the pre-cum over his swollen head. He let out a grunt.

“Want me to suck you off first?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you moved your hand slowly. He let out a soft moan.

"I'd love it, but let's save it for another time," he replied, his voice husky. You blushed, the thought of a next time sending butterflies through your stomach. "Today's all about you, alright? Just wanna make you feel good."

"Well, you're killing it so far," you grinned, and he chuckled. You slid the condom on him, then leaned back on the bed, spreading your legs. Jason looked at you, stroking himself slowly with a sigh before getting back on top of you.

"There's still so much I wanna teach you," he whispered in your ear, and you let out a soft moan. "Loads of ways to make you lose it for me... You have no idea how sweet you taste."

"No one's ever talked to me like that before," you whispered, heart racing as you blushed. He grunted, planting soft kisses on your neck.

"Their loss," he replied before easing himself into you with a slow, steady movement. You let out a loud moan, clinging to him as you opened your legs wider to take him in deeper. He kissed your jaw, fully inside you now, your bodies hot and sweaty against each other. "You good?"

"I'm good," you whispered, and he let out a soft grunt before starting to move slowly. You buried your face in his neck, moaning as you felt him stretching you out, hitting all those sweet spots inside you. It was intoxicating, the mix of gentle ache and intense pleasure, far beyond anything you'd felt with anyone else. Your pussy throbbed, extra sensitive after your last orgasm, and Jason moaned your name, pulling you closer.

You curled your toes, lips seeking his out eagerly, knowing you wouldn't hold out much longer, the tension in your belly rising fast. Jason kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he tangled his hand in your hair, your lips moving together in a frenzy of soft moans and gentle bites. You were completely lost in him, in the sensation of him thrusting into you, picking up speed as you gave in to the pleasure of each other's touch.

"Jase... I'm gonna cum again," you moaned, and Jason grunted, his thrusts getting harder as he used one hand to play with your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with quick motions.

You let out a sharp moan, feeling his hot, ragged breath against your skin as he showered you with soft kisses, driving your hips forward to deepen the connection. It was too much; your climax finally crashed over you, tears of pleasure rolling down your cheek as you held onto him tightly, your body clenching around him. Jason groaned, his movements becoming wilder as he was carried over the edge by the intensity of your release. He buried his face in your neck, fingers gripping your hair as his body trembled, delivering a few final thrusts before collapsing on top of you with a shaky sigh.

You closed your eyes, giggling as he peppered your jaw and then your lips with kisses. He slipped out of you, and you scooted over to make room for him to sit beside you. You watched as he disposed of the condom and headed to your bathroom. He was back in no time, his naked form gleaming with sweat, face flushed as he ran his hand through his hair.

"What's got you smiling?" he asked, a small grin playing on his lips. He settled down on the bed, running his hand over your thigh.

"That was amazing, Jase," you said, and he chuckled, leaning in to give you a gentle kiss.

"You feeling weird now or are we cool?" he asked, a touch of concern in his voice. You smiled softly.

"We're good. We could be friends with benefits, right? I hear some folks actually pull that off."

"Yeah," he smiled at you, twirling a strand of your hair on his fingers. "So, does that mean we're gonna do this again sometime?"

"You were the one talking about all the lessons you had in store for me," you teased, and he chuckled softly.

"Okay. It's a deal, then," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief, making you giggle. "But hey, we better get dressed before your brother or your folks come back home. Pretty sure they wouldn't be too thrilled to find out how we spent our afternoon."

You burst into laughter, sitting up on the bed and rummaging for your clothes. As you watched Jason get dressed, a grin spread across your face, thinking about how rough it would be to go back to those crappy dates after experiencing how amazing it felt to be with him.

You couldn't wait to see what else he had to teach you.

#metallica #metallica imagines #metallica headcannons #jason newsted #jason newsted headcannons #jason newsted x reader #jason newsted x you #jason newsted smut #metallica x reader #metallica x you #jason newsted fanfiction #metallica fanfiction #ada writes fanfiction

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alackofghosts · 2 days

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got tagged by tumblr user @fourteenthz (loved reading about thesa, by the way <3)! thank you very much!

— B A S I C S

name: lil guy i'm very shy, don't worry about it

nicknames: none based on his name, as it's quite short already, but will also respond to a fond and/or slightly exasperated "hero"

age: 33 as of 6.55

nameday: 27th sun of the 4th umbral moon

race: rava viera

gender: cis man

orientation: gay

profession: adventurer

— P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T

hair: black, naturally wavy, very thick and soft

eyes: dark brown

skin: warm brown, freckles easily, especially his face

tattoos: none

scars: burn scar on his left shoulder from his fight with ifrit, another burn on his right thigh from nidhogg. a few other scrapes here and there. notable lack of any significant scarring from shb and beyond, because that's how i see astrologian healing working - he feels particularly strange about not having a scar from his fight with zenos in endwalker

— F A M I L Y

parents: he has not been back to his home village, for obvious reasons, so doesn't know - but assumes - his mother is still alive and well; never met his biological dad. but because he showed signs of. however the viera would call/conceptualise the inner beast, one of the women called in a favour with a wood warder who was also a warrior, to take him under his wing to train. said wood warder, however, was wholly at a loss what to do with a child, having never taken in a ward before and decided to seek out an old friend, who had since left the forest. ...long story short, he ends up being raised by an all-viera dalmascan resistance cell, who end up packing up and leaving with him in tow after almost being rooted out by garlean forces. he views most of them as Parental Figures and loves them dearly, even if some of them have scattered into the winds after he left to become an adventurer

siblings: he isn't aware of any biological siblings, but the village took a very communal approach to raising kids, so at the time he definitely felt like the other kids were his siblings, regardless of any blood relations. one of the men in the resistance cell was a 'mere' 30 or so years older than him, so he also counts more as a sibling than anything else in his eyes

grandparents: he has definitely met his maternal grandmother, but as with his mother, he's not been back home and doesn't know if she is still alive (but in all likelihood: yes)

in laws and other: THE TWINS. putting an exact name to what alisaie and alphinaud mean to him would honestly not be Good or Close Enough, but they are absolutely like family to him and a reason to keep on going. he also has a very sibling-like relationship with lyse, who is always ready and willing to match his energy, tag along for workouts and tease the hell out of him

pets: he befriends an amaro hatchling at the crystarium during shadowbringers and during a later visit, her handler notes that she's been looking glum without him around. he loves animals, but his living situation has been far too chaotic after becoming an adventurer to accommodate an animal (that isn't his chocobo, who, at least, is much easier to house) and hasn't felt particularly inclined to change that. but after endwalker, he finds himself actually wanting to change that and has the time to do it... so, with a little bit of help from feo ul, he has a little amaro friend with him now

— S K I L L S

abilities: war + drk + pld and all that that entails. skilled and formidable fighter, good at navigating/strategising through a fight on the fly, quick study (as far as fighting is concerned, anyway)

hobbies: working out (especially running and swimming), hiking, he's been learning to enjoy fishing after endwalker

— T R A I T S

most positive traits: protective, caring, insatiable lust for life

most negative traits: too willing to let other people do the talking for him, impulsive, stubborn

— L I K E S

colours: warm red, gold, the bright green of sunlight filtering through leaves

smells: fresh earth, cinnamon, a meadow in early summer, the savoury smell of the stew one of his dads used to make

textures: soft grass under bare feet, tree bark, skin on skin, the scratch of ardbert's beard

drinks: water, pineapple juice, lemonade

— O T H E R D E T A I L S

smokes: no

drinks: only socially, and even then it's fairly rare. he did drink a little more often as a baby adventurer, mostly because he simply had more opportunities to do so: mingling was useful and it wasn't uncommon to have a rowdy bar night to celebrate a job well done. he is a bit of a lightweight and tends to withdraw when tipsy/drunk, so he actually has more fun when sober

drugs: also no (unless we're counting medicine for this. he won't be refusing painkillers if he's in pain etc.)

mount issuance: his beloved chocobo, who he dotes on very much, especially because it was something of a dream to have when he was just a baby adventurer - he could not have afforded to buy or maintain one at the time

been arrested: he's got in trouble for those rowdy bar nights - he's not the type to start a fight, but if someone were to pick a fight with him or his friends, by gods, he will be finishing it. no serious jail time, more like being hauled off with everyone else involved to sober up until morning, though

#meme tag #i draw sometimes #sjddskjhs i feel a bit nervous

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dinogoofymutated · 1 day

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SFW!Cable/GN!reader - Pt 2.

@gildedjerk YOU DID THIS TO ME. I was supposed to finish my homework an hour ago but I wrote this instead. I literally haven't written a part 2 to anything this quickly ever. what is happening to me

Read pt 1 here :)

TWS: Angst with happy ending. Falling buildings, minor depictions of death, timeliness bullshit, big man cries and we smooch him. Possibly part 3 if the mood takes me

For the first time in a long while, Nathan is panicking. Buildings in the city are crumbling around him, sentinels closing in around every street corner- and he can't find you. He calls out your name, and you don't respond. He reaches for you, searching for your mind with the telepathic ability he can spare- and he can't feel you.

He can't feel you.

For the first time, he's more struck with the absence of your running mind than he had ever been annoyed by it.

He should have gone with you. He never should have let you split away from him. The two of you were a duo. No matter how much grief you gave him when you first started to tag along, he couldn’t imagine life without you. He refused to. Cable narrowly dodges a falling fire escape, and he knows he’s running out of time. He calls for you, again, and again- and there’s no response. He can’t let this happen. He won’t.

Cable bolts down the street as the smoke billows and the world crumbles. The device on his wrist beeps, and his blood runs cold when he realizes it’s a warning. Still- he perseveres. He follows the psychic echo you left behind, rounding every corner he can, staying on your scent like a bloodhound. He wouldn’t leave without you. Not again.

He’s getting closer, he can feel it- but his fear only grows, knowing that you were so close, and yet he can’t feel you. He can’t find that beautiful mind of yours. He can’t find your memories. Your nervousness. Your running mind. He can’t feel that love he was so afraid of anymore- and he is so scared for an entirely different reason than before.

He follows your trail through a warehouse, weaving in-between the machinery as he hears the distinct sound of a sentinel, but he’s horrified when he realizes it’s not coming towards him. Towards you. It’s walking away. Cable exits the warehouse, and on the other side, he finds… nothing.

Cable finds rubble. The building in front of him is rubble. He hears the shrieking of metal as the building on his left begins to fall, but he’s preoccupied. A beeping is heard, but it doesn’t come from him. It sounds again and again. Never stopping.

Cable sees the blue light from underneath the rubble, and he finds a device identical to his own. It’s still attached to your arm, but you are not there. Your mind is not there.

The building to his left finally gives in to the weight and falls.

A stabbing influx of… something, strikes Cable’s forehead, and he wakes up in a cold sweat, lying on the cot in the safehouse. His body is disoriented, his mind chilled with something more than just horror. Cable realizes that it wasn’t a dream, It was a vision. It was the future. A future.

It was real. It felt so real. He’s not entirely sure it hadn’t happened. Cable sits up frantically, looking towards your cot to find you. But you’re not there. His mind is still addled by the influx of information, powers mixed and scatterbrained, unable to find and feel. The one thing it still seems able to do is keep the virus at bay. He’s stumbling as he stands. Cable slams the bedroom door open, that cold horror all he can think of as his mind cannot find you in its haze.

He moves through the house like a storm cloud, opening every door, searching for you in the same meticulous manner he uses to search the house for threats.

You find him before he finds you. Having heard the commotion, you exited the kitchen, stepping into the hallway halfway wondering if there had been a breach in the security.

“Nathan?” The footsteps stop abruptly when you call out for him, only to pick up the pace a second later. Cable looks absolutely furious when he exits a spare room, storming over to you in a manner that almost makes you afraid he’s going to yell at you.

But he doesn't. The moment Nathan reaches you, he takes hold of your face, and he kisses you like he’d never get the chance to kiss you again. It’s desperate, almost forceful- but after a moment of confusion, you kiss him back. His hold is all-consuming, presenting his love and care for you out of urgency, and necessity. Nathan only pulls away when his thoughts pull back together. He looks at you in shock, like he himself hadn’t expected the kiss to happen. He looks worried. Scared. You pull him down by his collar to kiss him again- if only to wipe those emotions clean from his face. Tears are running down his face, but he can’t bring himself to pull away from you like he had so many times before.

He kisses you again, and again, hoisting you up into his arms when his back starts to hurt from bending down to reach your height. Nathan sets you on the kitchen counter, finally pulling away from you- and he begins to sob.

However afraid he was to fully experience the love you had for him- the fear of losing you without showing you his love had triumphed it all. You hold him close as he sobs into your shirt, wrapping him in your love. You don’t know what started this. What set him on this path when yesterday was spent the same as any other day for the two of you- dancing around each other. Leaving the ties blurry. Leaving your love unclear, choosing not to tread through the rapid waters just yet. -but what did that matter anyway, when he had kissed you with such intense emotion? You’re concerned for him. You’re worried for him. You love him. You love him. You love him. Nathan wants to bury his mind so deep within your thoughts, like a warm blanket that kept all of his self-made fears of intimacy at bay. That made them disappear.

Nathan doesn’t want to show you what he had seen. What someone had made him see. He doesn’t want you to experience the fear, the pain. Despite all of his confusion, his pain, what he did know was that he was never going to let that happen. He didn’t care what timeline he had to tear apart, what plan for the future he had to ruin. He had lost so much in life, but he wasn’t going to lose you. Not again. Not ever.

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #cable headcannons #cable x reader #cable xmen #cable imagines #nathan summers headcannons #nathan summers x reader #nathan summers #c

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sagephilosophie · 17 hours

Text

❝ PERSONAL ❞

║Y. SHIO

➲ʙᴏꜱꜱ! ꜱʜɪᴏ ʏᴏᴛꜱᴜʀᴜɢɪ x ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⊠ Tags ➢

NSFW AHEAD, Unprofessional workplace relations, Staged public humiliation, Secret relationships, Shio being a jerk at first, Office sex, Reader wears a skirt, Oral sex (f! Receiving), Orgasm denial, Missionary, "Sir" usage as a kink name, Tongue play, Vocal kink, Rough sex, No lube, Unprotected sex, breeding, Accidental Voyeurism.

⊠ Word count ➢ 1455

You stared dully from your office at the Yotsurugi meeting room, leaning on one hand.

Having lost count how many coffees you had so far to stay awake, the boredom was driving you insane, for his own unmentioned reasons, Shio didn't allow you to attend the meeting or help him in any way concerning it despite that being your job, now that you have already finished all your work there's nothing to do but sit still and wait until your shift ends.

There came a perfect chance to admire how charming the suited man was, if he wasn't surrounded by his siblings, you would have definitely surrendered to your desires and let him have his way with you.

You suddenly yelped when your half-awake eyes locked with the oldest Yotsurugi's behind the glass window and started acting like you were searching for a file to check.

To your horror, Shio reached for his office phone to dial you, oh... that is alarming, you answered the call reluctantly trying to overlook his piercing gaze, "...Yes, Sir?"

"Cappucino, please."

That was really close, "Of course."

His eyes followed you as you went to the coffee machine and out of his sight, he wasn't a patient man and the wait have always irritated him, so from your end you had to hurriedly enter the door and place his coffee right in front of him, "Here is your cappucino... sir."

He only glanced at you from the side not even thanking you, before taking the cup and spilling it all over your shirt, you screeched in pain at the burning sensation of the hot liquid, all his brothers' eyes turned to you and the humiliation you felt burned hotter.

"Do your job better."

"Sir-"

"You may leave now."

Feeling insulted, there was no point to even get yourself to look around and left the room tearing up, you made your way to the bathroom, thinking of what you might have possibly done while you try and clean your white shirt completely stained with coffee, doing nothing ? Bringing him his cappucino ? None if those reasons sounded valid, but you knew what you were getting yourself into ever since you started working for Shio, you knew he could be hot tempered despite his usual calmness, in fact you knew that better than anybody how quickly his personality changes.

You cried your eyes out in your moment of solitude, and even thought about not coming out nor face the man again, or at least avoid him until the sense of grievance wears off.

You followed your instincts to wait for some time before heading back to your office and took the chance to wipe your tears and wear a strong face again.

When the moment felt right you walked off down the hall and tried to ignore some of his brothers' stares leaving the meeting, when you opened the door you were faced with your boss sitting on your desk and hopping off it at the sight of you.

"Listen..."

"Don't even talk to me... do you have any idea how humiliating that even was, Shio ?"

"I know, my love, i'm sorry, but i had to."

"Had to what, embarrass me for no reason ?", You tried to pass him and take your bag but a rough grip on your wrist held you still.

"Just listen to me, my brothers were getting suspicious about us and i had to-"

"To prove you're serious about your position and capable of leading the Yotsurugi family, i know all about that...", you broke free from his hold, "But that doesn't concern me, you don't get to take your anger out on me!!! Because i heard all that everyone ever speak of lately, THAT SHIO YOTSURUGI WAS REPLACED BY HIS LITTLE BROTHER AS THE FIRST BO-"

A hand ruthlessly covered your mouth and throw you against the glass before you could finish speaking, "How dare you... do you even know who you're talking to... just because i fuck you doesn't mean you get to bring up something this personal!!!!"

His breathing got rigged and his glare turned dark at the nerve you just striked, you, in the other hand, were like a deer in the headlight, and couldn't even break the eye contact, slowly his hand fell down and changed orientation to your hips bringing you closer to him.

"Shio..."

"You know what i like to be called."

"Sir...", you heard a hum of approval at that as he began kissing your neck, "...i don't think we should do it here."

"We always do it here."

"But not this time, all your siblings are...a-ah... in the building, what if they... ah- come back...", the heat was getting to your head and was making you give up to his touch.

"Don't think of them, sweetheart, think of me.", when did he even open up your shirt, or lay you on top of your desk ? You only realised what was going on as he left hickies going down from your exposed chest to your lower waist, "Mmmh sir~"

"Keep moaning for me like that."

Every touch from him was pleasurable and left you wanting more, he reached underneath your pencil skirt taking off your underwear, his lips was still exploring your chest, meanwhile, you were clenching his hair tightly as he was getting dangerously low.

Your skirt arose and the sudden breeze sent a shiver down your spine, there wasn't enough time given for adjustment befire being hit with another sensation, one of Shio's cold lips against your vagina's.

"Hnngg~"

The first lick got you squirming in your place, the second had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and he just kept eating you out like a thirsty man, you couldn't suppress the sounds coming out simultaneously with his rhythmical mouth.

"S-S-Sirrr~ a-ah-ahh~", that sweet spot getting stimulated with his skilled tounge did what no sex toy ever could at the thought of him, your back arched, your legs quivering, and your tears forming, all loudly and clearly announced your orgasm.

Until Shio decided to pull his face away at the decisive moment, and remarked before you get to say a word, "You're not coming anywhere but on my cock."

His words followed with unbuckling noises of his belt, your eyes fell right to his boxers while he was about to free his massive member out.

A veiny 8-incher stood erect and throbbing before you, positioned in front of your hole without delay after its release, you swallowed your own saliva as if that thing haven't stretched you out on your lunch breaks and when he calls you for a top secret meeting, but you sensed this time was different since he usually arranges your "private sessions" during his horny hours, not as a stress relief from a personal matter like that day.

The forceful push oh his tip inside your hole proved you right, a thought came to your head that perhaps it was the lack of proper lubrication that's making the difference, but no more thoughts existed the more he squeezed himself in, your own arousal fluids helped soothe the path for him to get in all the way, he didn't care much for foreplay any further and began moving at a brutal pace.

The image of you two laying on your desk with everything knocked off of it for a quick and easy missionary, contradicted the one his siblings took of you two earlier that day from the coffee incident, and if one of them decided to come back due to the pornographic sounds you were making, there will be no way to explain it.

Shio's skin kept slamming into your heated one at an animalistical speed for god knows how long; your legs were getting sore and your face dried up from the tears running down from it, you held his collar tightly and brought him into your lips to tounge him into his edge.

You had no idea how, but he somehow managed to get faster, his scrunched up expression and sweaty palm were a visible threat for a close release; your confiscated one was reaching out too.

You felt the white painting your insides, with yours following not so long after, it was only then that you felt the suffocating weight on top of you, breathing heavily.

The brawn body backed away from you and he pulled his pants back up, "I will tell them the truth once i get my rightful place back, i promise."

You stared at him, completely worn out, then faced the light peeking in with a shadow hiding behind it, "No need, i left the door open..."

@sagephilosophie

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