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catscidr · 12 days

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// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”

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pinkeos · 21 days

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AFAB! Neuvillette x AMAB!Reader || 18+ MDNI

Warning/s: SMUT, they have seggs in a lake

Notes: *drops this and scampers back to play swarm cause ive been procrastinating*

In a secluded lake, somewhere in Fontaine only known to two, was the Chief Justice. His horns glowed a translucent blue, tail swishing in the water as he relaxed his body.

Neuvillette seldom took breaks, often drowning himself with piles of papers, working tirelessly for the sake of his nation. However, he needed a break. He deserved a break.

And being a good partner, you decided to take him out for a late night swim, knowing well it would help him clear his mind off of his troubles. That, and you also wanted to finally spend time together outside of the very quick lunches you shared.

The surface of the water rippled when you entered, the man turning to face you with the softest smile on his face. The moon was bright and high up in the sky tonight, the way its light shone down upon your lover only made him even more ethereal than he already was.

You returned his smile, leaning forward to press a soft kiss on his forehead while he instinctively wrapped his arms loosely around your neck. You felt him shiver in your arms at the way your fingertips gently traced his spine, going down until your hand settled on the fat of his ass, earning a gasp from your beloved.

“You look so perfect.” You murmured against his cheek, placing kisses against his cheekbone, adding with a chuckle, “As you always do.”

Neuvillette smiled, “You flatter me, my love.”

Your kisses on his cheek traveled downwards, reaching his jaw and then his neck. In compliance, the white haired man tilted his head to the side, giving you more room to place loving kisses on his skin.

He could feel your hands roaming his body, groping, caressing with adoration. You’d been intimate with him a number of times, but nowadays, with the sudden rise in the number of cases he had to deal with, you could only sneak in a few kisses and sometimes make out that would ultimately be cut short due to his busy schedule. He sighed in pleasure, slowly feeling his knees grow weak at your affectionate touches.

Your naked bodies pressed against each other when you pulled him closer to you, the water flowing softly at the sudden action as his tail wrapped around your waist. It was quiet, with nothing but the sound of nature surrounding the both of you, coupled with Neuvillette's whines when you nipped on a sensitive spot on his neck.

“It’s been so long. I need you, sweetheart.” You groaned into his neck, snaking a hand between the both of you to take a hold of the base of your cock, inserting it in between his plush thighs to rub against his throbbing pussy.

The Chief Justice whined, hand coming up to hold onto your bicep as you continued grinding, your length rubbing against his folds, the veins stimulating his clit just right, “Then— ahh!— t-take me.”

You didn't need to be told twice, really. Your hands immediately grasping his thighs, mouth devouring his own with a sense of urgency, so thirsty and deprived of him. His tongue danced with your own, his hand running through your hair while the other held onto your shoulder as you wrapped his legs around your waist.

“Mm!” He whined into the kiss, feeling your fingers rub his nipple, twisting and pulling. The stimulation along with your tip pressing and teasing against his clit drove him nuts.

You pulled away from the kiss, panting as you caught your breath, staring lovingly into his eyes while your hand guided your dick near his entrance, pressing into him slowly. The man’s lips parted, forming a small ‘o’ at the sensation of the stretch.

He could feel your eyes linger on his face, intently watching to see if he was in pain. It was a simple action, but it did make his heart flutter with how attentive you are. As much as you wanted to pound into him with everything you have, especially with how good he felt around you, you still prioritized his comfort and feelings first. You weren't going to lie, though, taking the hydro dragon in a secluded lake was hot.

“You feel so tight.” You grunted, slowly grinding your hips against him as you waited for him to fully adjust.

With red cheeks, Neuvillette buried his face against the crook of your neck, “I-It’s been a while…”

A smile spread across your lips before you drew your hips back until only the tip was left, and thrusting back into him. You kept a steady pace, eyes closing and eyebrows furrowing as his warmth clouded your head, feeling nothing but his walls clenching around your cock.

“Mmm-ahh! Aaahh! F-faster… go faster…” He whispered through pants, gritting his teeth as you placed your hands on his hips, bringing him to meet your every thrust. He could feel your tip kissing his cervix, tears gathering in his eyes at the immense pleasure.

“Keep clenching around me and I might just come inside you.” You groaned, speeding up your thrusts, your movement creating waves and splashes.

His sharp nails scratched your back, desperately trying to ground himself from the overwhelming ecstasy brought by your onslaught of pumps into his pussy, pulling at the knot in his stomach to cause it to tighten and tighten.

From the way he only tightened even more at your words, you could tell he wanted it. He wanted your cum to paint his insides white, for you to breed him without a care in the world.

Neuvillette tilted his head upward, hearts in his eyes and tongue lolling out. He looked adorable like this, all dumb on your cock.

Without warning, his eyes widened, a loud gasp falling from his parted lips as his legs shook, hold on you loosening as his climax tore through him, his pussy spasming. You had to hold him tighter, making him lean against your figure as you continued to chase your climax.

“Cum… inside me.” He panted, biting his lower lip, “Breed me. Please, please…”

Who could refuse when he chanted and whined in your ear, meeting your thrusts and coaxing you to do as he told you.

“Fuck, that's so hot.” You grinned, finally stopping still, groaning into his neck as you spilled your semen inside of him, directly into his cervix.

He whined, ignoring the cool water the both of you were in, instead focusing on the warmth of your seed inside him.

You held him against you still, rubbing his back and placing soft kisses on his shoulder, whispering how good he was for you. He remained silent, however, and before you could ask what was wrong, you felt a drip of water against your cheek.

Slowly, droplets fell from the sky, clouds now blocking the full moon as rain took over. With wide eyes, you pulled back just enough to show him your worried face.

“My love, are you alright? Were you hurt—”

Neuvillette shook his head, nuzzling closer towards you, “It just… it felt too good.”

You worry dissipated, instead chuckling softly as you cupped his cheek, “You’re adorable.”

Ending note: i love neuvillette sm (totally didn't skip his rerun for a 4* in 4.7🤡)

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fanfic #neuvillette #genshin fanfic #genshin x male reader #neuvillette x male reader #x male reader #genshin impact neuvillette #genshin neuvillette

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hellowoolf · 5 months

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on strawberries and masonry: chapter iv

series summary: you atone for your sins, now, in a jackson garden, learning to care for soft things and yourself. joel miller is a lethal sort of similar, and misery loves company

you live in jackson and meet joel and you’re both damaged little babies and fall in love (but i’m drawing this shit out🫶🫶)

warnings: angst, age gap (reader late 20s/early 30s, joel 50s), mention of killing, mention of knives, SMUT, thigh riding/dry humping (…), fingering, pussy eating, some feelings…. (as always, let me know if i missed any !!)

word count: 5k

authors note: and so here's the thing about this is that-🏃🏼‍♀️💨💨

series masterlist | masterlist

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you wake up with a tug between your legs and your hand around your throat. you smile at the space of your room; you fucked joel yesterday. he was unflinching and hard, concrete under your inky wetness, but you walked away leaving him stained, you know, and this is enough. at last, you feel you’ve marked him just as irreparably as he has you (you cannot linger on this thought for too long).

you killed yesterday, too. sliced someone open at your feet just as you did all those years ago, left the body to rot with the rest of the mold outside jackson’s walls, and the ease of it certainly should frighten you, but the great lifting of your fuzzy secret from your shoulders lightens you as you pull yourself out of bed. joel knows the whole of you now, and in your first moments of consciousness this morning you can admit that the bareness of that pleases you.

you’re off patrol today, jesse insistent on beginning his rounds, so he and noah have inherited your and joel’s route for the day; maria figured the early light would make the induction less horrifying than it is. you want joel again, you think, maybe once the sun’s gone down, and move through your kitchen on your first free day in months.

of course, joel has always seemed attuned to your most secret thoughts, and so when you open your front door to greet your little fruits in the morning sun—you did this so little, these days—he’s there, waiting for you. the curls of his hair reach out every which way and you want to run your fingers through them again like you did yesterday, but he looks worried, almost frantic, so you refrain. there’s mud cupping around his boots and track marks behind him in the newly thawed dirt, like he’s been walking circles outside your doorstep.

“hey, are you o-”

“can i come inside?”

something in your stomach turns over. you step aside to let him through. he paces across the floor, hands tightened into balls and then running over his jaw.

“listen, baby, i been thinkin and i don’t think we can do that again. what we did yesterday. i…you’re tommy’s friend, and ellie likes you so much, and you’re half my goddamn age i mean, jesus.” he says all of it with his back turned to you, but spins to face you, now. “we go on patrol and i…i don’t mind your company, really, but it can’t, i can’t. we can’t.”

joel is sort of winded with the words. you flare up, first, with a searing anger—you’d murdered and confessed and given yourself to him, and it’s taken joel all but 12 hours to decide none of it was worth it. and it was so good, you want it again without compromise. you flinch to lash out, to yell and scream and plead with him.

but then you think of baby. baby. baby is an artifact of the act of yesterday, of him inside you and the stretch and the warmth. despite the rest of it, you know you have him, with baby you have him. so you allow him this moment, allow him to believe himself righteous and you willing to let it go.

“okay, sting. it’s fine.”

because he knows you—an unintentional mistake, but one that will kill you someday, surely—he looks unconvinced. “fine?”

you hum. joel’s knuckles are white with the fists he’s formed at his sides, and you’re certain if you asked him to open them there’d be crescent marks in his palms. you almost break, looking at his tightness there, almost grin at him and laugh that it’s inevitable he will fuck you again, it’s inevitable. but he looks so disconcerted here, a few steps from your doorway. you nod, solemnly, wetness collecting between your legs thinking of when he’ll take you next.

“yeah, joel, come on, i’m a big girl.” he rustles. “it doesn’t have to be a big deal. we can forget it happened.” no we can’t. and it’s your internal dialogue, but joel seems to hear it, too, because he rocks back and forth on his heels, waiting, it seems, for you to convince him further. you say nothing, shifting your weight onto one leg. he nods, to you and himself, and gulps down a sigh.

“alright,” and then more sure, “alright.” he walks to your door, half-turns his face to you with a hand on the knob. “thank you, darlin.”

once he’s gone, out through the door with his musk wafting down your hallway, you consider yourself, and the mud he tracked inside. you know he’ll seek you out again, from how off-put he seems with you now, and the way he twitched in his jeans, but still, a part of you bleeds, wounded at his attempt at rejection. what is wrong with you? it is strictly physical, you repeat to yourself for the millionth time since he came back to jackson. you think of leaving the dirt he streaked on your floor, a reminder that he came for you, but this is precisely the fear, the fear of wanting him for more than what he can give you, and so you move to wipe it up. you figure that joel is likely right; however this ends, it will be widely destructive and perhaps unfixable. but you’re right, too. it felt too good, and you’re both too unforgivable, to feign goodness now. something like giddiness bubbles up in your stomach—even against the doom you’re so adept at conjuring and the deep shadows joel casts, you’re eager, elated, thinking of him and how he touched you.

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the next day, you and joel return to your rounds like normal. like normal. almost normal. you talk at him from horseback, call him sting because you felt how it made him harder against your dripping seam, and he grunts responses back at you, doing his best, you feel, to believe in the normalcy.

but he watches you. you suppose he might have always eyed you this way, but it’s more feral now, unconcealed. you catch him glancing at your ass as it bounces on the saddle, the curve of your neck when you lean down, the grip of your fingers on the reins. your arousal grates at you, screams from your cunt and up your spine, and you hush it with tenderness. you will be sated again.

“so you heard about tommy and maria?”

joel bristles a little. “yeah, i did.”

“what, you aren’t happy for them? have a heart, sting, he’s your brother,” you smile.

he gives you a tight lipped grimace back. “yeah, and he’s irresponsible, thinks himself a fuckin hero.”

“no, not a hero. he knows himself too well to think that. he’ll be a good father, you know that.” joel stays quiet, and you look him over on his horse. the breeze makes space for the ghost he saddles up with, the one you’ve yet to meet. he is so brittle, always, but you remember how he’d asked where to touch, how intent he’d been on gentleness, at least at first. so you say, “you’ll be a good uncle, i think.”

joel looks at you surprised, and then down at his hands. you’re learning the language of his face; you watch him turn his hands over, reins slung through them, the both of you measuring their size. you’re slapped across the face with that devastatingly terrible want to hold him, the one you felt when he came to you about ellie, though you can’t bring yourself to cut through it as mercilessly as you did then.

“i hate to be the one to tell you, but you aren’t as horrifying as you think you are.”

this shakes him, but so too does it brush some of the mournfulness from his shoulders. joel looks back up at you, a little amused and a lot guarded, and says, “yeah? is that what i think?” he’s deflecting, shielding himself with your shared sexual tension, but you let him.

you hum, grinning. “mhm. you walk around like you’re this big awful beast.”

“i think i might be.”

“well, there are worse things to be.”

joel snorts. you think he likes when you criticize him. “and you’re the authority on this, huh, darlin?”

you twist a little in your seat, your own wetness more insistent. you do your best to smirk, look unaffected, defiant. “yeah, i think i am.”

he shakes his head, smiling more in earnest, trying to keep the ends of his mouth down. “you’re somethin, baby, i’ll give ya that.”

the pet names seem to come naturally now, coming and going as they please, and you notice him shift in his saddle. you know he’s just as coiled up as you are now, can feel the buckle of his body under the memory of you beneath him. you urge yourself to be patient, to wait him out, bate him to you, and let silence fall over the both of you as you trot back down to jackson, hoping the quiet soothes the sparkling ends of your open wiring.

it’s not until you dismount in your horse’s stall, saddle shucked to the side, and walk out to meet joel outside the stables that you’re struck with how immediate the inevitability you’re both playing with is.

he notices your limp—slight, nearly imperceptible to anyone other than him, and far better than it’d been the day before—only as you pad over, his side leaned against the doorway. you make it to him, his features strung together and mouth open slightly, and with frustration that teeters on offense he says, “why are you walkin like that?”

you look down at your legs and back up at him. you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy. “walking like what?”

joel rubs a hand over the side of his face and huffs, lowly and enunciative, “you know what the fuck i’m talkin about. why are you walking like that?”

you know you won’t get the words out properly, so you keep your eyes on him and stay silent. he brings a hand to grab around your jaw, and it reminds you of that night on his porch with the strawberries, but this time he keeps it there, squeezes, inspects the push of your skin. he whispers a goddamnit, mainly to himself, and then pulls your face closer to his and you breathe into each others mouths.

“this real? are you—fuck—are you fuckin limping? or are you tryin to set me off?”

you don’t hesitate. “real.”

joel nearly growls at you, and gives your head one last tug before he drops it. “let’s go,” he grits out, and starts storming towards what you know is his house. a shudder runs through you and you feel yourself clench around nothing; a part of you makes to refuse him, to decline to follow behind him like you need him for the sake of stubbornness and point-proving. in the end, though, you let yourself be led, for the knowing that you’re pulling at him in someplace irremediable.

as soon as you walk through his door he’s got a paw on your bicep, pressing his fingers deep into your flesh, and another at your throat, holding lightly to keep your head close to his. you push your face forward to feel his tongue in your mouth, but he ducks his chin back as he hauls you to the couch in his living room, giving you a satisfied mm-mm and a shake of his head. he sits himself in the center and pulls you down onto one of his thighs, running his hands up and down your sides, under your ass, up around your tits, pressing and pulling. you duck your lips down to his again but he catches you by the throat.

“no kissin this time.”

you whine in response, but he presses his thigh up and the friction on your clit through your clothes makes you mewl. you drag your cunt, soaked through, along his pant leg, and tip your head back with a moan. “i thought you wouldn’t fuck me again,” you say, breathy and mainly to his ceiling.

joel groans watching you, pulling your hips back and forth along his thigh. “an’ i won’t.”

you grip his shoulders and glide your pussy on him, hoping he feels the wetness and unbearable heat there.

“but-”

he lets a breath out hot along your collarbone and you arch further into him. “but nothing. keep going. make yourself come on me,” he pants.

you’re sure you’ll draw blood, even through his coat, with your hold on his shoulders. your moans grow high pitched and loud, wrecked, as pleasure pulls through your limbs and swirls around your clit. and it’s so good, but your self-destructive insistence still finds a way out, between moans letting out “joel, i-” but joel moves the hand on your throat to your jaw, pulling your mouth open with his thumb and pushing the tip in. you swirl your tongue around it, accepting silence and accepting him at last, and he moans wildly as you suck on his finger.

“please darlin, just give me this, just let me watch,” and he sounds so fucking desperate you can’t help but move faster, pressing yourself further into his leg and feeling the dampness you leave in your wake. you move like that, his thumb in your mouth and watching you, intently and mercilessly, while you pant and mewl with your clothed cunt rutting along his jeans, until you feel your orgasm tapping down your shoulder blades.

“jesus, darlin, you’re soakin me, fuck, you see that?”

you nod, his thumb corking any foul response you could possibly throw back at him.

“you need it that bad? sweet thing,” he purrs into your neck.

from around joel’s finger, you moan, “oh god, joel, i’m gonna come.”

joel grunts and groans back at you, “that’s it, baby, make a mess, fuck.”

you go tight and press further into him, thrusting faster and harder, and you’re so close when you realize he’s tipping his hips up and twitching as he moans, and oh fuck he’s coming from watching you. you spasm as you come, screaming into his skin as he pushes his thumb further down your tongue. the taste of his hands, the hardness of his cock as it presses into your leg when you thrust forward, the spreading heat from his come in his jeans, all of it twists you up, hot arousal dragging through you until you’re spent.

you both pant, clothes trapping your come to your body and his to him. he lets himself one deep breath in of your scent, running the curve of his nose through the light sheen of sweat glistening down your neck, before placing you next to him. he’s delicate with your body, limp and all limbs and elbows, as he sets you on the cushion, but still you feel him deflate. you’ve returned to that place at the edge of his bed, of his drowning in self-condemnation and your straining to keep him afloat.

“joel, let’s not do this again, it’s fine, you’re fine, i’m fine. what’s wrong with this?” it comes out lighter than you intend, voice still narrowed by your fading orgasm.

he clears his throat of something thick and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, but he’s not as decisive as he was that first time, and a piece of you lifts. “so much.”

“you’re just being combative now.”

he laughs, then, sort of delirious, but your cheeks warm with it anyway as he says, “it’s like i…” and then he raises his head to peer down at you, “i can’t help myself. i don’t know.”

you sigh. “are you planning on trying again? to help yourself?”

he looks around the room, mostly untouched despite your coming. “i guess so.”

you nod, brushing your pointer finger down his bicep. he doesn’t flinch. you find you aren’t angry at him, what with the overwhelming sense that it’s unnecessary. there’s a resignedness about him, one that’s unbiting and soft; it will give under your fingertip, if you push it.

“okay. come find me when you give up,” you say, and there’s no malice in it. he leans back on the couch and runs a knuckle down your hand splayed between you.

“alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

by the time joel looks for you again, you’re altogether impressed—he held off, this time, for a whole 48 hours. when that soft spot you prodded two days earlier finally caves in, he comes to bang on your door in the near twilight darkness. you let him in, and he insists, repeats like a hymn into your stomach as he gets on his knees, that this ain’t fucking either, and pulls your jeans off.

you don’t tell him it’s your first time having your pussy eaten; in your experience, men find the end of the world a wholly viable excuse for avoiding it. the lack of it hasn't bothered you until he presses his face into your cunt, swirling his tongue around your clit and anchoring his hands on your hips.

“oh jesus fuck oh my god, sting,” you moan, still pressed up against the wall by the door. you pull on his hair to grind yourself further onto his face and he groans into your skin “so good, darlin, so good.”

joel laves his tongue over your clit, circling and rolling it on his taste buds. you’re screaming, and hitch a leg over his shoulder. “fingers, joel, please.”

you feel him smirk, frenzied, into your cunt, tongue and teeth still eating at you there, mumbling, “say it again.”

you whine, “please, please,” but he shakes his head, and the friction pulls your spine from the wall into an arc in the air. your toes curl as the heat of his mouth spreads from your pussy through your body and you know you’ll be close soon, but you want to feel him inside. “i’ll say it as many times as you want me to, fuck, please.”

“my name, my name, say it again,” he corrects, sounding about as lost as you are.

you respond immediately, pleading, “joel, joel, joel, please, your fingers, joel,” and as he growls at the sound of his name in your mouth he pushes two fingers into your aching sex. you feel your cunt swallow them whole, pulsing and buzzing around them.

“jesus, so fuckin tight.”

you dig your heel into his back and he thrusts his fingers faster, stroking your walls and reaching for your cervix. the sound of you, around his hand and dripping down his wrist, makes you both rasp out something unintelligible. you try to mewl out something like i’m so fucking close, and joel seems to understand, nodding slightly. as you tug tighter on his hair and pleasure comes roaring at you, world humming and white as you gush, joel pulls his fingers from you to position his mouth under your hole, pushing his tongue in and out of you. you scream, at him and yourself, that it’s so good, and he moans in agreement, lapping up everything you give him.

when it’s over, you slump slightly against the wall, and he leans back on his haunches to assess you, naked from the waist down and barely standing. he looks down at the fingers he pulled from you, wetness shining here, and then back at your bare thigh. without a word, he begins to bring them up to your skin.

“joel, what are you-”

he looks possessed, almost, unresponsive, as he wipes his fingertips across you. you look down, light catching where he’s touched you. J. the sight of it makes you slide fully to the floor, something quick and beastly baring its teeth within you. the silhouette of his cock, stiff in his pants, draws you in. you feel him watching you as you stare.

“can i?”

he shakes his head, out of breath. “no.”

“please?”

“i think i really will die if i see my cock in your mouth,” he heaves, and you both sputter at the thought. you bump your head on the wall behind you and close your eyes.

“thank you, sting.”

you hear him sniff as he lifts himself from the floor. the door creaks open.

“wasn’t for you.”

he leaves you to cope with whatever that means, dripping onto your floorboards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

neither you nor joel ever say, out loud, that your rapacious meetings are confidential, but it’s an unsaid promise you keep regardless. the moments come to you much like the strawberries, small and saccharine and due for rot, but yours. he holds you taut against the side of the stables to pet his middle and ring fingers into you, stretching you like a promise he knows he cannot keep; he finds you, before patrol and after, to fuck you on his tongue, leaving marks down the backs of your thighs, blushing letters of his restraint; a few times he allows himself the demeaned enrapture of rutting his cock, through his jeans, along the seam of your pussy, rasping out soft and terrible things about the way you look and feel. all the while he reminds you, into your clit or along your hairline, that this isn’t fucking, though you suspect he says it more for the way it reverberates through you and comes back to him.

you find yourself unused to being someone’s secret. your first, danny, was dark moments in a treeline with the rest of your group feet away; the lot of you were shameless, an incestual sort of family, and nobody minded the noises. you’ve taken a few men home in jackson, too, but they unanimously found merit in the achievement of fucking you, reclusive hermit as you have been, and set the stories of you loose to circulate through the commune the morning after. you might have minded, the first time, but in time you supposed the rumors humanized you, at least, made you more woman than you sometimes let on. besides, such objectifications never materialized; to avoid castration or some other gruesome slice of a death, the whispering always quieted as you walked past, and quickly became uninteresting. before joel, it’d been a year, at least, since you’d taken someone to bed, and now you find yourself more woman than human with him, but the rest will never hear of it. a piece of you remains convinced the secrecy, for joel, is born of his mortification, disgraced by your body and the ways he meets it; this truth is an unrelenting one that twists something smarting through your chest. the rest of you remembers the J he drew on your thigh, painted on with your own slick, and thinks (hopes, if you can be honest with yourself) that he is just as possessive of you as you have become of him.

you sit on your porch bench with a strawberry in hand, red wetness staining your skin as you slice it with your knife. ellie told you a few days ago that she saw a magazine once, with food and chefs in it, and they had a page about fruit art. the both of you laughed at how trivial that sounded, doubled over on the floor of the greenhouse, but when the laughter died out, you found yourselves shoulder to shoulder wondering how exactly one made roses out of little fruits. you make nicks in the strawberry and pull them down with the flat of your knife to fan them out. it looks much more like a little pine cone.

“the hell is that?”

you don’t have to look up to know who it is, but you can’t help watching him approach. the warmth of late spring continues to dance through jackson, and you feel a heat curl in your stomach watching his forearms press from his rolled flannel sleeves. you grin down at your strawberry.

“it was supposed to be a rose, but i don’t feel too convinced.”

the soft rumble of a laugh rings through your ears. joel pulls your open hand toward him to inspect the thing.

“hm. maybe if i squint real hard.”

you pull your hand back, biting your tongue behind your cheek to keep from beaming at him. “you’re impossible.”

“uh huh,” he smirks, and sits down next to you. a second of quiet spreads its legs between you, feline and satisfied. his breathing comes slowly, deeply, and you feel your lungs synchronize with his, continuing to cut at your strawberry and spinning it in your hand.

“why’d you come?”

joel clears his throat. “not for that.”

you hum. “just the pleasure of my presence, then?”

with a smile he tries to hide from you he says, “somethin like that.”

another open moment, the wet scratch of your fathers knife reverberating in the air. joel watches the people of jackson walk by, on their paths to food or sleep or love somewhere, squints his eyes as the horde makes its way and does not turn its head to you.

“you don’t…” he circles his thumbs together, shaping his words very carefully, “you don’t got a lotta people to talk to here, huh?”

“is that what you came here for? to ask me that? don’t be an asshole.” he shrugs. you let out a tiny huff. “i don’t know, i guess not. but i don’t do a lot of talking, so i don’t need that many listeners.”

“don’t do a lotta talkin?”

“no, not really.”

“well shit, darlin, you talk a helluva lot with me. why’s that?”

something biting sinks its teeth into you, cheeks flushing and hands closing more over the strawberry, nearly mutilated now (the both of you). “cause you refuse to say anything and the silence gets exhausting.”

“i’m exhausting?” and there’s a smile in his voice that you take in like a tonic and nearly spit back up. you will not feel this feeling, you will not.

“yes, you are,” you insist, and you know you’ve laid your cards out now with the waver in your voice, feeling him shift beside you. you think he’ll let it go.

“really…” a breath, “why d’you…talk so much to me?” the emphasis, there, to me, surprises you.

“what do you mean why?”

“i been told i ain’t good company.” you smile something tragic at your feet. he continues, “and you’re so young. pretty little thing. and you don’t have any friends your own age. it’s sort of…odd.”

you could turn around, storm inside and slam the door behind you; you consider this option. but what’s one more awful truth? what’s a million more? you seem to relinquish them all, at one point or another. pretty little thing, oh god, oh god.

“i think you’re a lot like me, sting. a lot like me.”

joel shakes his head, admonishes, “don’t say that.”

“i mean it, you are.”

“i ain’t.”

“you are! i am violent and ruthless and the killing doesn’t bother me anymore. i get nightmares and i think i’m saved, but then they slip right off. the people here are so tormented by the blood on their hands, or they have none to begin with, but i don’t even mind it. that’s so much fucking worse.” joel opens his mouth to say something but you stop him. “and that’s what you are, too. i know you’ve killed people, joel, a whole fucking mass of them just like i have. but then you’re…” and here’s the most horrific part, you brace yourself for it, “you’re sort of gentle with me. did you know that?” you look at him, now, and wish you didn’t. he winces at you like you’ve punched him square in the stomach. still, you don’t rush the words, let them crawl out slowly. “that’s not forgiveness, that’s apathy. you don’t care about the things you’ve done. and i don’t either. so i…” you make one last scoring line with your knife before setting it down, cupping the fruit between both hands and letting the juice seep out. “i guess i thought talking to you would feel good. it does feel good.”

joel’s eyes are brown and gleaming at you, and you watch as he unties the things you’ve said. he looks over your eyelashes, the bridge of your nose, at the plush of your lips, and then out onto the street ahead, slouching over. please say something, say anything.

“you got a real keen eye on you, baby.”

something heavy and unforgiven washes out of you, but he sounds like absolution, you think, with the drawl and the sugar in his words. “you think so?”

“mhm.”

the tone of his voice reaches around you, shakes a grin along your lips as you hold back deep heaves in the column of your throat. his broadness sat next to you, his unrelenting appraisals of you, it’s all deeply intimate; he twists you in his palm like you and your little fruit, but he does not slice you open. he raises a thumb to cup around the back of your head, stroking the pad back and forth along your hairline. you don’t dare move.

he whispers, “so soft here.” you shudder, and the bench creaks as he leans over. you feel the heat of his lips press, light as anything but intentional, decided, right under where he’d dragged his thumb. threading his fingers up through your hair he holds you in place, dipping his canines a moment into the line of your neck before pulling back, flickering his lips one final time on the little mark he made. goosebumps raise down your shoulders and wrists at the closeness of him, scent of his spit and skin.

you’re certain he’ll leave as he sits back in his spot, certain he’s pulled you both back to his terror of the sweetness of you. but his hand stays, he stays. you sit there, unspeaking with wet fruit in your hand, until the sun dips below the horizon, his palm behind your neck, brushing his fingers over the fading indent he left. a ravenous thing tugs below your navel, pulling your wetness out, swelling your clit in your jeans, and you greet it like an old friend. but the grip up higher, around your trachea and through your arteries, is new. the beating heart of it grows with the swipe of joel’s fingers, and you know you are fucked, but oh, you’ve fought so hard. you’re condemned to love him—you’re nearly there, it occurs to you. maybe martyrdom and death in halfway love with him is worth it, if he can keep his skin on yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @koshkaj-blog @shotgun-shelby @limerence4u @5oh5

#joel miller #joel miller fic #fem!reader #jackson!joel #the last of us #tlou #hello woolf #on strawberries and masonry #joel x reader #joel miller smut

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driflew · 1 year

Text

it’s six sentence sunday. i do have six sentences, yes, but ive decided instead of posting them, im giving you the entire piece theyre from w incredibly minimal context

woe lamplight role swap be upon ye. we talked abt this in the server and then a few days ago i circled back to it w some friends and fleshed out the details more. god Martyn, paladin Ren, 1.7k words written in a frenzy before my DL session yesterday. this one’s treebark + very late in the theoretical Complete Storyline that exists between me and like three other people

Something is wrong. That’s the first thing Ren thinks when the shield starts to wither, the vines in front of him turning a sickly yellow-grey-black. Usually when Martyn finishes a fight, he simply calls his plants back, but this is… It’s as if someone cut the chord between Martyn and the shield.

But Martyn would defend Ren with everything and more, so if it’s started to die, something is wrong.

There are still voices outside the shield he can hear. Someone is laughing, and the sound comes through the thick vines.

“Holy shit, since when could you…?” someone says. His voice is harsh and tainted with a sadistic sort of glee that makes Ren’s skin crawl every time he hears it.

The vines at Ren’s eyes start to clear, and he grabs at the top, trying to pull himself up. He shouldn’t draw attention to himself, but he wants to see Martyn is okay, that Ren was simply cut off…

Ren doesn’t see Martyn. He peers over the shrinking wall for that familiar blond, but he doesn’t see it. The bandits, or whatever they were, don’t pay the vines any mind at all. They’re gathered nearby, standing over… something.

“I’ve never seen— did you see how much blood—?” another voice. Martyn’s shields are always so thick, the crumbling that overtakes them is much longer than any one off vine. Ren’s stomach turns as the vines crumble past his chest. What does that mean? Why is there blood? It can’t be Martyn’s, though, surely they’d notice if the blood was a god’s.

“I can’t believe you managed that in one hit.” Someone is laughing. Ren fumbles for the knife at his waist, not that it will do anything. Not that he’ll need it—Martyn is fine. He’s fine, and he wouldn’t let anything happen to Ren.

“How hard did you hit him?” She’s looking down, though Ren can’t see at what.

Martyn will be fine, he tells himself. The vines crumble away at his waist and past his thigh, and he doesn’t bother waiting for them to go any lower. He shoves himself over the shield as quietly as he can, but he’s still too loud.

A bandit turns, and when he does, he steps back to reveal what they’ve gathered around. Ren sees a familiar shade of green fabric, crumpled to the ground. He’s on his knees, though his torso is pitched to the side, so Ren can’t see his face.

Ren raises his knife. It isn’t threatening, not with the way his hand wavers, but he doesn’t care.

“Step aside,” Ren commands, sounding far more authoritative than he feels. The bandit actually laughs.

“What, you’re worried about your friend?” he asks. He’s big, much taller than even Ren.

“Yes,” Ren admits, “Take what you want from me, just… step aside. Let me treat him.”

The other bandit begins to smile.

“You want to treat him, huh?” she asks. “I hope you’re a damn good doctor.”

She steps aside as well, finally revealing Martyn.

It’s not that Ren hadn’t been able to see Martyn’s face before he was slumped over. Martyn simply no longer has one.

Martyn’s entire chest is splattered in shimmering red blood, down in places to his stomach. His body slumps sideways, leaking golden blood into the dirt. The cut looks clean, having cleared his head entirely from his shoulders. Ren doesn’t see his head, but he doesn’t look—hardly sees anything, really. His eyes are stuck on the fact the stump is still dripping, leaving a trail down Martyn’s shoulder and toward his hand, still curled around the withering vine that was once Ren’s shield.

“Martyn…?” Ren whispers.

Ren doesn’t even care about the small crowd. He drops the knife and doesn’t think twice about pushing his way through to Martyn, dropping to his knees at Martyn’s side.

“Martyn, come on,” Ren whispers, pleading, grabbing onto Martyn’s shirt. Somewhere behind him, someone laughs.

“I don’t think your buddy’s recovering from this one,” she says. There’s footsteps behind him, but he ignores them, pulling Martyn against his chest to support Martyn’s weight. The wound is so much clearer like this, though Ren doesn’t dare look—the nauseating mix of gold, red, and green are enough to make something thick and heavy catch in his throat, and he can’t tell if it’s the promise of tears or the return of his lunch.

Martyn isn’t… isn’t capable of dying. Martyn can’t die. He’s said as much a dozen times. Surely he’ll be fine, but maybe he just needs…

Ren looks up, but the day is so cloudy, there’s no sun. Is that why Martyn… got hurt like this? Not enough sunlight to stay powerful? He’s in the soil, but Ren’s eyes are starting to blur so much that he can’t even see if Martyn’s grown roots. Surely he’s put down roots by now. He’ll need them to… heal.

“Aw, I almost feel bad for him,” says someone. Ren doesn’t care who, his fingers tight in the soaked fabric of Martyn’s shirt. “Let’s see what plant boy died to keep from getting stolen, cuz it must be good.”

Ren shoves his face into Martyn’s shoulder. Blood soaks the skin around his eyes, but near instantly water clears it.

There’s a clattering of Ren’s bag being dumped open, but he can’t make himself care. The bag isn’t what Martyn died for and Ren knows it.

Ren wraps his arms around Martyn’s chest, soaking both of them in blood. He’d usually wrap his arms around Martyn’s neck, but…

God, they should have just handed over the stupid fucking bag.

“Aw, what? There’s nothing good in here! Who gets fucking beheaded for a watering can?”

Somewhere behind Ren is the clattering of metal on stone, and Ren’s blood would boil if his veins weren’t already shot through with ice. He wants them dead, but he can’t muster the rage for it.

“This isn’t funny,” Ren whispers into Martyn’s shoulder. His voice breaks on something wet, and he shoves his nose further into Martyn’s body to hide it, “Please, this isn’t funny.”

“It’s a li—“ starts a voice, but they cut themselves off. “What is that? What’s he doing?”

Ren doesn’t look. Before he can process the questions, he feels a hand on his back, familiar as Ren’s own. It snakes up the back of his neck, finding purchase in Ren’s hair and holding him in place.

Ren knows Martyn well enough to know don’t look. He screws his eyes shut, and somewhere behind him, someone gasps.

“What the fuck!?” “How did—?” “Drop the bag!” “Just run!”

Ren hears footsteps more than anything, but no screams of pain. Martyn’s scaring them off, he supposes—he wishes they’d die, but he’ll manage.

“You’d think,” coughs a voice, quiet and smug and achingly familiar in Ren’s ear, “if they’re going to comment on ‘so much blood,’ they’d at least look long enough to see it’s not normal.”

Ren pulls his head back, but Martyn holds it in place.

“Gimme a second. I’m not decent yet.” Martyn says, “You really don’t want to see me before I’ve put my face on, and growing something like that takes forever.”

“I don’t care,” Ren says, “I’m really mad at you.”

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes you did.” Ren’s hands cling hard to the fabric on the back of Martyn’s shirt. It’s damp, still. “Apologize.”

“No. What for?”

“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” Ren says, “You made me cry.”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Martyn says, “Salt water isn’t ideal, but it can work in a pinch.”

For how callous he sounds, Martyn loosens his hand in Ren’s hair, petting his head. He threads his fingers through loose strands, carefully avoiding tugging on any tangles.

“Thanking me for crying is worse,” Ren says, and he almost wants to sigh—only Martyn could get him to stop grieving because he’s annoyed. “You owe me an apology.”

“Hmm,” Martyn says. He moves his hand to the back of Ren’s neck, scratching at the base. It feels nice, but Ren knows what he’s doing.

“You aren’t weaseling out of this,” Ren decides, and this time when he pulls away Martyn lets him.

“You’ve got blood on your face,” Martyn says, as if that’s noteworthy. Ren would hit him in the face if he weren’t so distracted by the fact Martyn had a face at all.

His face is entirely free of blood. There’s a clear line in his neck where he lost his head—everything below is drenched red-gold, and everything above it is as clean as if he’d just bathed. He’s smiling, but his eyes betray that he’s worried.

Ren wants to cry again. Just lost his head, and he’s looking at Ren like Ren is the one they need to worry about.

“And whose fault is that?” Ren says. Martyn hums, removing his hand from Ren’s hair to cup his face. He lets go just as fast, tugging on part of Ren’s cloak to start clearing the blood away.

Ren frowns.

“You’re going to use my cloak?” Ren asks.

“Mine’s too bloody, plus you’re already mad at me,” Martyn explains, shrugging.

Ren wants to smack him. Ren wants to grab him and shake him. Ren wants to take his face into his hands and never let him go. Ren wants…

“I’ve decided how you can apologize to me,” Ren says.

“I’ve done nothing to apologize for! It was those bandits!” Martyn says, arguing as Martyn commandeers his hands. “What do you want me to do?”

“Lean in,” Ren mutters, putting Martyn’s hands on his own face, “You’re too tall.”

“What?” Martyn asks, though Ren pushes closer to him. He tugs Martyn’s shirt, drawing him closer. When Martyn is only a breath away, Ren stops.

“You scared me. I thought I lost you and I was more terrified than I’ve ever been in my entire life. You made me sob, Martyn,” Ren says, “So apologize. Unless you’re still too stubborn.”

“I’m…” Martyn says, and he swallows, and he’s close enough that Ren can feel him breathe. That could almost be an apology in and of itself—Ren will certainly accept the relief in that feeling alone. “I can do that.”

#six sentence sunday #....loosely. this is many more than six #lamplight au #.........also loosely.#we've been calling this one leaflight. tho admittedly sunlight would probs be the name i would use if i published more of this #lew writes #'hey lew how is your work on lamplight going' well it sure is going places #leaflight au

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thithesandofferings · 3 years

Text

“Open Wide”- Ogami Shirou x Reader

TW: 18+ MINORS DNI!! Dom!Shirou/Sub!FemReader, Comeplay, Choking, Voice Kink, Rough Sex, Praise Kink, Degradation, lil bit Size Kink SMUT!!

This is bad .

“Look at you Alan, I thought you said Purebloods didnt get Nirvalys Syndrome? Let me put in into you, before you lose your mind”

Who says stuff like that to the enemy? Ive never seen Shiro this angry before. Especially to say words like that. He barely speaks at all most days. Only when he absolutely has to. This should surprise me or- or stress me out but-

It's so hot.

Link to my Ao3 for this fic= https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414948

This is bad .

“Look at you Alan, I thought you said Purebloods didnt get Nirvalys Syndrome? Let me put it into you, before you lose your mind”

Who says stuff like that to the enemy? Ive never seen Shirou this angry before. Especially to say words such as that. He barely speaks at all most days. Only when he has to. This should surprise me or- or stress me out but-

It's so hot.

“Hey you! Look alive we gotta go!” Michiru yelled, startling me out of a downward spiral.

She was right. I had to get out of there before the place was destroyed to shreds. I could barely think. All I could think about was Shirou splitting that evil bastard's mouth open and putting his power inside it.

I couldnt help but feel jealous.

His wolf had such a presence on its own, how could I not be affected.

I needed to get it together, there were still people that needed to be saved. I shook my head and ran after Michiru towards Shirou. She was chattering excitedly, but I honestly couldnt understand anything she was saying. My eyes were on him.

He must’ve caught something in my gaze because he turned his attention to me.

“You okay?” His voice was gruff from exertion and I had to take a calming breath from the shiver that coursed down my spine. He caught that too.

“I should be asking you that Shirou” I looked away, but with a sideways glance I grumbled that he was, in fact, amazing. He raised his nose a notch, almost an afterthought, and I could see him take a deep breath.

With his penetrating gaze solely on mine, I could feel my pulse jump and my temperature rack up a thousand degrees, I had to look away. He scoffed, almost smugly, and slid attention back to Michiru, who was still talking and running around. Something about having Shirou howl to the town.

We watched as he changed into his silver wolf form again to howl into the microphone. It was a beautiful site to see. Seeing all the animals completely stop what they were doing just to howl with him. Alan had no idea what he had been talking about.

Shirou had the Howl.

Michiro and I could only watch in awe. We were born human turned animals so we didnt have the innate instinct to go along with him. It was such an eye-opening experience, so much so that I felt a little empty at not being able to do it. Shirou looked so regal, the urge to fall on my knees in front of him was an encompassing feeling.

Shaking violently at the thought, I had to blow out a long soul-suffering sigh. Michiru glanced with eyebrows in an “are you okay” motion and I could only just nod.

What is going on with me? Where are my thoughts?

I had hoped that thoughts of Shirou would leave. The attention was of us and finally life was, in all intensive purposes, back to normal. Michiru was able to hang out with her fellow friends, and I- was able to start my work in the office.

Except, I could get nothing done.

Shirou was constantly in my peripheral, working on whatever case was in that week. But when he wasnt there, he was in my mind whispering in his growling voice about the things he could do to me.

I was dying.

There would be times where I would stare at a research book, never turning the page, just staring. It was becoming so hectic that Shirou asked if I needed time off.

“I know its been hard for everyone” Shirou had said. He had been in that leather jacket again. Who wears gloves inside? Why was it so hot?

Its not fair.

“What's not fair?” I looked up from his gloved hands and I could feel my heart rate sky rocket in panic.

I said that out loud.

His gaze is so piercing, it felt like he was staring into my soul. He was leaning on my door frame, completely relaxed. His usual bored expression was placed with something that was almost- teasing? Not that couldnt be right.

But it had been the same expression and mood for weeks now. His casual bumps and grins were so much that Ive had to actively avoid him before I had a heart attack. I wasnt in control of my emotions half the time, so any sort of embarrassment would make me change into my animal form. Even through his cold demeanor, it still seemed like he was laughing at me. I'm sure he could tell that I was flustered, especially when he turned into his wolf form. It always made my blood pressure go up and something slick slide down my thighs.

Which is what was happening now.

Oh no.

I prayed that he wouldnt notice anything amiss, but the world wasnt on my side. He lifted his nose up again and sniffed. It was as if he was trying to find someone miles away, but when he finally looked towards me, his pupils were wide open. Alert.

“You never answered my question.”

There was a hitch in my breath at that tone. That growl that Ive been dreaming about for weeks.

I’m so fucked.

“I-i uhm… sorry what?” I could feel myself blinking rapidly. I couldn’t get my thoughts in order. This was getting ridiculous.

“You humans are very odd,” Shirou rose up from the door, and for a moment I felt relief only to freeze when he closed my door.

With him still inside. We’re alone.

“You even more so.”

He walked slowly towards my desk. Well more like prowled. There was intent in his walk.

I’ve never felt more like prey than right now.

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me” He’s whispering now. His gloved fingers gently spread out to the edge of my desk and he leans over it.

He’s so close.

“I smell you all day. Its intoxicating.” One hand lifts up and brushes my cheek, I know he can feel the heat.

“You’re the first human that I have ever wanted”

I froze.

Hes been feeling the same? From his expression and the dropping of at least two octaves, it was definitely confirmed.

“I- uh I want you too” My voice was hoarse from emotion. He could hear it just fine it seemed because if his pupils werent blown out before, they sure were now.

Shirou visibly licked his lips and I couldn’t help but follow the motion. He watched me watch him and he grinned, showing his fangs in satisfaction.

“Good because I plan to devour you. Stand up”

I could barely hear the order due to his growling. His ravenous expression was drowning me. I was swimming in heat and desire.

“I wont ask again”

Shirous’ voice snapped me back into reality and with shaky sweaty palms I pushed my chair away and stood. He never told me to move so I just stayed there. He seemed very pleased that I didn’t move.

Not like I could, I was barely able to breathe.

He stalked slowly around my desk until he was behind me, moving the chair completely across the room. It crashed into a plant and I jumped, still not moving an inch.

I could feel his breath across my nape and goosebumps coursed down my skin. I could feel him smelling my hair, breathing in the sweat that I felt that I was pouring out. I tried to move away, embarrassed, but I could feel his grip tighten and him growl at my into my neck.

“Stay still” He whispered. “You can be a good girl and do that for me right?”

I froze at the pet name. I’ve never heard him call me anything other than my last name. I couldn’t believe how it affected at me. I could feel myself become even more drenched.

He could tell.

“Oh? You like that huh?”

I felt his leathered hands slide slowly underneath my shirt and palm my breast. I gasped, my head falling on his shoulder at the groping. This was getting intense fast. I heard something tearing and tried to glance down only to have one of his hands press lightly at my neck. Holding me still.

Shirou shushed me, keeping his hand curled around my throat. Murmuring something about not needing this or that, I felt fabric fall at my feet and my chest became covered in hot leather. I let out a choked moan, only to have his grip tightened.

“You’re gonna have to be a quiet pup, you don't want all your colleagues to know what you're doing right?” He was so mocking, I couldnt help but feel flustered with how demeaning he sounded.

I nodded knowing I couldnt say anything in this position.

“Thats right, good girl, now go on bend over the desk” He slipped his hands away and disorientation readily slid back into my head.

I laid over my desk, paper be damned, and wrapped my hands over the edge to hold on. I heard him growl in confirmation at the act and I preened at the act of pleasing him.

I’ve never felt this way. I was completely ok with him taking the reigns. I didnt have many braincells left, I could barely think. All I could do was just do.

Shirou hands caressed my ass in appreciation, his ungloved hand (when had that happened?) made a purposeful track up to my waistband, hastily taking them off. I was completely soaked and hearing him swear obscenities definitely didnt help.

“I can’t wait to knot you, pup” I felt his weight against me, his bare chest completely covering my whole body. He was so warm, degrees hotter than his normal, his breath hot on my cheek as he licked my face from chin to forehead.

“The real question is,” he says through licks down my spine. “Which form do I want to take you hm?” I shivered violently at the thought of Shirou taking me in my wolf form. Outside of Anima city it is forbidden to have any of those kind of thoughts. But you couldnt help that you constantly thought about Shirou fucking you in his wolf form.

I could hear his deep chuckle at my spine. He knew my answer.

I felt him nose my wetness and my breath hitches. It didnt last for more than 5 seconds and I could hear myself grown out against the desk.

“I would love to taste you, but unfortunately we dont have that kind of time.” There was a zipping noise and I tensed, gushing even more at the thought of what it could be.

“I would need hours to be satisfied from your taste” He is suddenly in my ear. “But I plan to fuck you like you need it.”

I could hear myself mewling at the thought. I’ve been wanting this for weeks. I cant believe someone like Shirou even wants to touch me. Shirou, cool-mannered and distant, wants to fuck me five ways to Sunday is honeslty an eye opening experience.

There is a clicking sound and I gasped. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didnt feel the fingers. I could feel myself clenching around and my mewling became even louder. Colleagues be damned.

There was an surprised hum from behind me.

“You’ve been touching yourself?” All I could do was nod embarrassed. He cooed sweetly and added 3 fingers inside of me.

“What were you thinking about? Were you thinking of me? Tell me” I gasped in affirmations. I couldnt take it anymore. I needed inside of me now.

I felt like I was going to die.

“P-please Shiro, I need it.”

“You need what pup?” He grinned savagely and I felt something hard and hot against me.

I wiggled in frustration. Only to have him laugh and hold my hips still. Using his strength to make me stay still.

I was going to have bruises.

“Please fuck me Shirou” I whispered into my shoulder. I knew he could hear me. I felt my chest tighten at the gasp and growl.

“Good girl.” I shivered and gasped as he pushed the head in with a savage force of his hips.

“I wont hold back pup” He laid his furry chest against my back “You might be ruined for any one else.”

“I dont want you to Shirou, give me your all”

A growl was heard and then the most intense feeling of my life was radiating through my whole body.

He thrusted so hard that I could hear the desk screeching. The other colleagues, if they were still there, would definitely hear it. I prayed that they weren’t gonna check to see if I was okay. I wouldnt be able to speak anyways. I’m pretty much holding on dear life on the desk. There was no way I was able to explain anything.

Shirou didn’t seem to care either. The constant growling and heavy breathing that was coming from him was telling.

“Youre so tight, I cant believe all of me fit inside of you” He groaned and all I could do was tighten around him, which made him go even faster. There was a crack from the desk, but I ignored it. All I could concentrate on was the heat and his cock bruising my insides.

“Mine mine mine MINE” He stopped abruptly and pulled out. Only to pick me up effortlessly and turn me around, my back hitting the desk.

He entered me again and with that the world was crashing around me. I’d never come so fast in my life. Watching him in his wolf form growl over me as he pounded me into the afterlife, I wasnt gonna last long.

Seemed like he wasnt either, his thrust got more savage and I got louder. He took his right hand and placed it at my throat again to cut off the noise.

“Be quiet while I shove my knot inside you, I need to concentrate” It made me fall again, shivering while he grinded his knot inside me. He came with a roar, tightening his hands on my throat, cutting off my sound.

“Shhhh, good girl, you did so good” He whispered praises to me while he continued to grind himself inside me. He lifted his hand and I gasped dazed.

He looked up at me and caught my disheveled appearance and grinned.

“Dont move, I’m not done.”

I returned the grin.

“Good Shirou, cause neither am I”

#brand new animal #bna #shirou ogami #shirou ogami x reader #bna headcanons #bna drabble #i just live for this

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

#john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby fluff #john shelby series #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

352 notes · View notes

bibbawrites · 3 years

Text

Family Ties - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (16+)

Request: Can you please do one where either Charlie is meeting your family or you’re meeting his and he keeps trying to be touchy/wanting to have sex but you/him don’t want to get caught xx

Word Count: 1721 words

Summary: your annual family trip gets a little bit more hands on when your boyfriend Charlie and his family join you

Warnings: heavy makeout, touching, a little bit of grinding, swearing, mentioned and implied sex

A/N: sorry if this editing is shit my brain is not working lol hopefully y’all like this one, ive been debating on rewriting it for what feels like years but fuck it i dont have that motivation lol also idk if theres beaches in canada like what we have here in aus but if there isnt oh well in this fictional version of canada they have aussie beaches anyways, enjoy!

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals @bartok-the-magnificent @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1 @katrina765 @fandomxreaders @ifilwtmfc

It had all started when you had jokingly suggested that you should invite your boyfriend Charlie and his family along on your annual family trip to the beach. Your mother had agreed, and before you knew it she was on the phone to Charlie’s mother working the whole plan out.

Your family lives in Quebec, and Charlie’s in Dieppe, so your mum’s quickly decided that your family would drive to his house, and then the two families would continue the rest of the way together.

So that’s how you ended up in your dad’s old truck, pulling into the driveway of the Gillespie house at 6am in the morning after almost 8 hours of driving.

You jumped out quickly, wanting to get away from your brother’s annoying rap music and your sister’s constant whining about being bored as quickly as you could. The front door of Charlie’s house swung open and within a few seconds you were being pulled into the arms of your boyfriend, inhaling his familiar scent.

“God I missed you.” He murmured into your shoulder and you grinned.

“I missed you more handsome.” You replied, exchanging a soft kiss.

Charlie’s family joined him outside and after a few quick introductions, you were on your way to the beach, this time tucked away in the passenger’s seat of Charlie’s car.

Once you arrived your families spent the day at the beach, and Charlie couldn’t keep his hands off of you. By the time you finally headed off to bed you were certain that every other person in the house was sick of his touchy behaviour.

You made yourself comfortable on the bed, watching Charlie as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

“I don’t think your dad likes me that much.” He said with a giggle, flopping down onto the bed. You rolled over to look at him.

“He’d like you a lot more if you stopped looking at me and touching me like you want to fuck me at every free moment you have.” You stated, and a light blush appeared on Charlie’s cheeks.

“You think he noticed that?” He asked, pressing his nose against yours.

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t. You haven’t been subtle at all. We’ve only been here for the day and you’ve tried to jump me three times and that’s not even counting the shower sex.” He grinned cheekily at your words.

“I can’t help it, you’re just so hot.” He whined, and you rolled your eyes.

“But we’re on a holiday with both of our families. You gotta tone down the horny.” You said. He sighed dramatically.

“Fine, I’ll try to be better tomorrow. But for now, we’re all alone... and it’s our first night...” He trailed off, pouting, his eyes dark with lust. You nodded once and that was all the consent he needed, crashing his lips against yours and making quick work of climbing on top of you and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned, your fingers scraping down his back as he grinded his hips into yours.

“Fuck.” You mumbled against his lips, your hands finding a place in his hair. You tugged lightly on his hair causing him to moan into your mouth.

“Hey Y/N?” Your mum’s voice called.

“Shit.” You exclaimed, pushing Charlie off you. Not expecting the reaction, he jumped slightly, falling off the edge of the bed with a thud.

You giggled as your mum opened the door, frowning as she took in the sight.

“Charlie, why are you on the floor?” She questioned. You laughed harder.

“Fell.” He replied simply, rolling over to stand up, climbing back onto the bed.

“What’s up Mum?” You asked, hoping that you didn’t look like you had been making out with your boyfriend only moments ago.

“Did you remember to grab the bag of board games? We were going to play Monopoly.” She said, leaning against the door. You nodded.

“I put it in the little den room.” You told her and she smiled.

“Thanks Hon, you two are welcome to join us if you’d like.” She invited. Charlie shook his head.

“We’re good thanks Mrs Y/L/N. My mum is scary good at Monopoly so I’d rather not lose to her again.” He grinned and your mum returned the smile.

“Well the offer is there if you want it.” She said, before leaving the room. You let out a sigh of relief.

“That was a close one.” You mumbled. Charlie nodded, leaning in to kiss you again. You pulled back, giving him an incredulous look.

“Really? You’re still horny after being interrupted by my mum and monopoly?” You asked. Charlie pouted.

“A bit.” He admitted. You rolled your eyes at him, pushing him away. He whined but gave in, curling up next to you instead.

“Tomorrow night.” You said, flicking the tv on. Charlie snuggled his face into your upper back.

“You promise?” He mumbled against your skin. You nodded.

“I promise. But only if you’re good during the day.” You bargained. He thought for a moment before humming in agreement.

“Deal.”

“This is not being good.” You whispered to Charlie as his hand crawled up your thigh at lunch the next day.

It was tradition for your family to get lunch at your favourite restaurant on the second day, and you had barely been there twenty minutes when Charlie started to get fidgety.

“I’m not doing anything.” He lied, giving you an innocent smile.

“Bullshit.” You muttered in reply, and Charlie shook his head, making a disapproving sound.

“Language.” He faked disappointment.

“Fuck you.” You rolled your eyes. He gave you a flirty smile.

“Oh I wish you would.” He teased, his voice deepening slightly.

“Charles.” You warned, and he sighed, sitting back up again, his hand returning to your knee.

“Remember our deal?” You said quietly, and he nodded.

“How could I forget, I’m so sexually frustrated I might explode.” He admitted. You stared at him in disbelief.

“We literally had sex yesterday evening.” You whispered, your voice hushed. Charlie nodded, eyes wide.

“Exactly! It’s almost been a whole 24 hours.” He sighed.

“A whole 24 hours since what?” Meghan questioned, and you choked on a mouthful of fish, grabbing your glass of Coke quickly to wash it down.

“None of your business.” Charlie retorted. “Stop eavesdropping.”

“Don’t have private conversations around other people then.” Meghan bit back, but dropped the conversation anyway. Charlie gave you a relieved look.

“That was close.” You muttered.

“You’re telling me. Almost enough to get rid of the semi in my pants.” He winked and you hit his arm.

“Charles. Stop it.” You reprimanded. He grinned cheekily.

“You love me.” He sung, placing a wet kiss on your cheek. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“I’m reconsidering.”

“So what were you and Charlie discussing at lunch that was so private?” Meghan questioned, once you, her and your sister Isabella were alone sunbathing later that afternoon. You cringed slightly.

“You don’t want to know.” You replied.

“Oh god was it a sex thing?” Isabella gasped, and Meghan’s eyes widened in fear. You blushed.

“I told you that you didn’t want to know.” You said simply, and they both squealed in disgust.

“Do mum and dad know that you’re sleeping with Charlie?” Isabella asked after a pause. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m a fully grown adult Bel, I don’t need parental permission to have sex with my boyfriend.” You told her. Meghan fake gagged.

“Can we not talk about this? I do not want to think about my brother having sex.” She begged. You grinned slightly.

“You were the one who brought it up.” You said. Meghan sighed.

“If I’d known it was a sex thing I would have never.” She replied.

“With Charlie it’s always a sex thing.” You answered.

Meghan and Isabella groaned in unison as you giggled, flopping back into your chair.

You really needed to get some girl friends who weren’t your sister and your boyfriend’s sister.

“Was I good today?” Charlie questioned, jumping onto the bed next to you as you scrolled through Instagram that night.

You put you phone down, pretending to think.

“Well, you tried to tease me at lunch and then tried to discuss it, which then led to me having a very awkward conversation with our sisters about our sex life. So I’m gonna go with no.” You said. Charlie’s eyes widened.

“Y/N!” He gasped. “You can’t do that to me.”

“Why not? I told you to be good and you weren’t so that’s on you.” You replied, returning to scrolling on your phone. Charlie placed his head on your chest, pouting.

“But...” He trailed off. You raised an eyebrow.

“But what?” You questioned. He sighed loudly.

“But I’m so horny.” He complained. You rolled your eyes.

“That sounds like a you problem.” You replied.

“Baby.” Charlie whined, dragging out the ‘y’. “I’m gonna get blue balls, do you want that?”

“You’ve got hands. And I know you know how to use them.” You said. He sat up, giving you his infamous puppy eyes.

“Please?” He asked. You stared at him, not wiling to budge.

“Your sex drive is frankly disturbing Gillespie.” You told him.

“I know.” He agreed, batting his eyes at you. “Please?”

You groaned.

“Fine.” You said. His eyes widened.

“Really?” He questioned, a grin appearing on his face.

“Yes. Quickly, before I change my mind.” You nodded. Charlie moved forward but paused.

“Wait.” He said. You frowned.

“What now?” You questioned, your tone clearly showing your exasperation.

“You want to do this, right? I’m not making you do anything you don’t want to be doing?” He asked, suddenly serious, and your frown fell as your heart filled with love for the boy in front of you and the fact that he was still asking for consent despite how desperately horny he claimed to be. You lent in, kissing him gently.

“I promise you’re not forcing me to do anything I don’t want to do.” You said softly.

“You’re sure?” He checked. You nodded.

“Positive.” You reassured him. He grinned.

“I love you.” He whispered, leaning closer.

“I love you too.” You replied.

And with that Charlie pulled you towards him, ready to show you just how much he really loved you.

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #reader insert #charlie gillespie smut #charlie

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astraphel · 3 years

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🐙𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐄𝐫𝐨𝐬 𝐈𝐈𝐈🐙

Amajiki Tamaki x GN!Reader

🔞 1,644 Words

I ☆ II ☆ III ☆ IV

Master List ✰ Flash Fiction ✰ Main ✰ Daily GIFs

You and Tamaki are in an established relationship with dom/sub dynamics. You finally breach the topic of including his quirk during play and things take off from there!

'Lunchtime. Finally.'

You sighed as you clocked out. You had an extra-long shift today, so you got an extra-long break, which means more time for stress relief at home. Once outside, you pull out your phone to text Tamaki.

On my way home, be ready.

> Okay...what do you want?

Surprise me :)

Also, think about how you want to cum today if you haven't already <;3

He doesn't respond. You smirk.

The walk to the train station is short, and so is your stop. You and Tamaki both have about a 30-minute commute for work, a rare luxury. The ride always seems longer when you know you have a treat waiting at home, though. You look through your phone at pictures you've taken of him and fantasize about what you want to do when you get home.

‘I wonder if he'd be okay with being tied up...just a little bit.’ You wonder.

During your last venture with rigging, you directed him to tie himself up with grapevines. Guiding him every step of the way until he was "restrained" and comfortable, then he manifested bushels of grapes. You took a photo to capture the beauty. Dionysus himself would be proud.

Lost in thought, you end up at home in no time. You kick off your shoes with haste as soon as you get through the door, then walk through the house to search for Tamaki, beyond eager to see what he had in store. By process of elimination, you get to the bedroom. The cracked door was a gateway to a positively delicious sight.

He was propped up on his knees in bed, naked. His body was covered in dairy cow spots, and small horns were poking through his hair. He made floppy ears down to his jawline and a tail that was flicking nervously next to his legs. His soft cock rested on his thigh, already starting to chub. You also noticed a stitched-up gash along his collarbone. You approached and ran your fingers under it, careful not to touch.

"You okay?"

"Y-Yeah," he gulped, "Had to fight a villain first thing this morning,"

"Well, we'll get that taken care of," You assured. Tamaki glanced up at you with big, pleading eyes. Coupled with all the cow traits, the view was almost too much to handle. You felt yourself melt on the spot and gently push him down onto the bed. "I swear you get more beautiful every time I see you."

"You see me every day! " Tamaki blushes and squirms under the weight of your compliments.

"I know," you lean down and plant a soft kiss on his temple, then hump his leg. "And, somehow, it never feels like enough." You turn his face to yours and kiss him. He moans into your mouth. "So, did you decide how you want to cum today?" You whisper into his ear while caressing his cheek.

His breath catches in his chest; you stay still as stone, waiting for his response.

"I- Uhh-" He stutters, "Can you- F- From behind?"

"Do you want a cock ," you kiss him on the neck, "or fingers ?" You knew what he wanted but relished hearing him say it out loud.

His blush intensified. "F- Fingers …"

"Do you want me to touch you in front?" He shakes his head. You hum and kiss his cheek, then sit up. "Can I make a request?"

"Mm?"

"Could you tie your arms together?" You lean down and kiss his chest a few times. "You look so delightful; I want to make sure you don't touch yourself."

"Y-Yeah," he struggles. His growing erection was apparent, pressing against your pants. You get up and take them off, then lay back down to hug him from behind and nuzzle his shoulder and neck.

"Mmmm, I've had such a long day already," you murmur while exploring his torso with your free hand, "All I've been able to think about is coming back here." He shivered and flicked his tail against your legs, almost tickling you - enough to make you giggle. You pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping your arm across his chest and turning your face to squish against his back. You stayed like this for a few minutes, breathing in rhythm. You could hear his heartbeat, too; if you weren't careful, it might lull you to sleep.

You prop yourself up and tap his forearms with a finger. He wordlessly manifests vines and wraps them around his arms. Once secure, he blooms roses all over them. The sight made you throb. "You're so pretty , Ama," You cooed.

"Sh-shut up! " He blushed and averted your eyes. You glance down between his legs.

"My, my, " You grip a handful of his ass and kiss his ear, "You're so needy for me already. You wanna give me some milk?" He whimpers, lifts his tail, and pushes his ass into you. Your heart rate quickened at his enthusiasm; you grind back and gently bite into his shoulder, drawing out a moan. Knowing you didn't have all the time you wanted, you turned him onto his stomach and propped up his ass. His arms gave him some leverage, and you appreciated the backdrop of roses complementing his hard cock. Watching his perineum pulse as he cums is your favorite song.

You rub his ass and thighs before spreading him and leaning in for a sloppy lick from his balls to his asshole, making him buck and moan. You smile and smack his ass. His cock twitches with his feeble cry into the pillows. You lean over to reach into the nightstand, pull out the lube, then drip some on his rim and your fingers. You plant a kiss on his cheek,

"You ready, baby?"

A desperate moan and an irritated tail-flick are all you get. You kiss him one more time, then slip a finger in. That first moment of tight warmth always makes you gasp. He moans even louder. You made a mental note to change your underwear before going back to work. You were a mess. You've long known how to make him sing with a prostate massage, so you settled in to enjoy the view as he fell apart under your touch. He was a quivering, dripping, red mess in a manner of minutes.

Knowing you have a time limit, you decide to go straight for the jugular. You use your other hand to massage his perineum and slip a second finger inside him: your signature finishing move; synchronized circular motions.

"You're doing so good, baby,"

"Mmm- Ahh! M'Close-"

"Yeah," you kiss his ass cheek again, "Good boy, cum for me,"

He buried his face in a pillow and shouted as he came so hard he nearly blacked out. Getting front row seats to his pulsing cock is all you could think about since you woke up. Sometimes dreams do come true. He sprayed cum all over the roses up his arms, and you were surprised at how almost elegant they looked. Like morning dew.

Once he's relaxed, you pull your fingers out and sit down. You peel off your underwear, spread your legs, and then tap him with your foot to get his attention. He may have finished, but you need some relief now. You're too wet to ignore at this point.

"Ama, can you…?" He glances at you and shifts to bury his face exactly where you need it. He makes it sloppy with spit and the cum still on his hands before massaging you vigorously with his tongue. He still had the cow traits manifested, and you knew it wouldn't take long for him to send you over the edge. Usually, you'd like a bit more prep, but you both have to run the 100-meter dash during a lunch break hookup, so there was no time for pretense.

He slipped two fingers inside you and along with his tongue; this was his own K.O. move.

"Fuck, I'm gonna -!" He moaned in response. You grip his hair and grind into his face as you cum in his mouth. "Yeah, get all of it-" You encourage, breathless words punctuated with your body spasms as you come down. He licks and slurps up every drop he can get.

You both sit up together and giggle for a moment. You nuzzle into his shoulder and neck, "You're so perfect, Ama. How did I get so lucky?"

"Stoo~p! " Tamaki whined, burying his face in his hands - which made you giggle even more.

You lean back and trace a finger over his collarbone and watch the skin morph together, the wound diminished before your eyes. You plucked the stitches out one by one, each tiny hole healing instantly upon removal. You admire your handiwork, or rather, your quirks handiwork, by rubbing the spot again to confirm there was no scar.

"There you go, good as new!"

Tamaki blushed and grabbed your hand to kiss the palm.

"Thank you…"

You looked at your phone; you didn't realize how close you were cutting it on time.

"Shit, sorry - I gotta change and get back. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

He nodded vigorously, gently pushing you off the bed to assure you.

You jump to change, then rush to the bathroom to thoroughly clean up. Before you leave, you pop back into the bedroom for one more kiss. You were jealous of the nap he was clearly about to take.

"I'll be home later, okay? Let me know if you want me to bring you anything back for dinner."

"Mm."

You kiss him one more time, then get up to leave.

"Oh, wait," he called after you, "There's bento in the fridge. Don't forget to eat."

You rushed over to smother him in more kisses until he swatted you away.

"Thank you, baby. I'll see you later, okay?"

#tamaki amajiki x gn!reader #bnha x gn!reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki x reader #tamaki x reader #bnha smut #tamaki amajiki #🔮☆fic.

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

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~ 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕡 ~

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: SMUT! dom!seungmin x fem!reader. KNIFE KINK, fear kink, mentions of blade, lingerie, degredation, master kink, explicit language, slight oral fixation, blowjob, hairpulling, dumbification, slight death threats.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 1.4 k

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: Putting the biggest fucking warning here; !!!KNIFE KINK!!! do not read the following if easily triggered!! ive been thinking non-stop about this and so here it is,,, from my horny brain to yours damn it its the fucking intro kingdom stage shit,,,, ive lost again LMAOHAHDGSAH

“Which one is it tonight?”

Seungmin’s voice echoed in the rather frigid bedroom, the only heat you felt was the one between your legs. You looked at the dark haired boy, his eyes hooded and his piercing gaze filled with lust. Inside the wooden box a array of daggers were neatly placed on a burgendy piece of velvet, the sharp tips shining in the moonlight. Hesitation quivered in your voice before you spoke out in a frail manner.

“T-that one”

You pointed your finger towards a small knife, it’s handle being decorated with black details against a matte golden background. Seungmin tsked and you reacted instantly, looking at him with fear.

“Isn’t that one a bit too small?”

The lump in your throat got harder to swallow as a cold wind gushed from the crevice of the window, lightly gazing your bare arm as you wore nothing but a thin set of white lace lingerie that was being held up by nothing but strings.

“I think this one”

Seungmin picked up the biggest dagger in the box, the blade making it’s signature sound as he held it firmly in his big hands, veins running up his arms and hiding underneath the part of his shirt that was rolled up. He twirled it in his hand, every spin making you more and more nervous as you stood merely inches away from him. Suddenly the blade stopped spinning, the boy holding the knife securely by it’s leather handle and the sharp tip pointing at you, lightly burrowing into the soft skin of your cleavage. The atmosphere in the room grew as cold as the air outside, nothing but the sound of your strained breathing being heard. Seungmin’s mouth contorts into a smirk as the blade runs higher up, eventually running it across your jaw, his sadist tendencies appearing as he lays he blade flat against your throat.

“You know I have the power to do whatever I want right this moment?”

You gulp loudly, nodding as you looked him dead into his dim eyes. His monotone voice ringing in your ears.

“I want an answer, slut”

“Yes master, you have my life in your hands”

Your voice sounded unstable at the end of your sentence, even though this was a frequent occurance the fear of always submitting your existance to him felt just as arousing as the first time.

The sharp blade moved swiftly down to your shoulder, slipping underneath the silk bra strap before you felt a tugging and the coldness of the room grazing your sensitive nipples, now erect from lust. The strap was cut into two with Seungmin’s slight pressure, the blade sharp enough to cut through the fabric like butter causing your one boob to be exposed as the bra cascaded to the side. You whined quietly at the feeling, thinking the noise was only audible to you but nothing passed through Seungmin’s ears.

“My whore likes this, right?”

A shiver descended down your spine as his deep voice bounced off the walls, it almost sounding melodic.

“Yes master, I’m your pathetic whore that only lives for her master.”

You knew what he wanted to hear since you knew him well, the word spilled out of you carelessly, almost sounding insincere.

“You sound bored, babygirl. Should master make it fun?”

The blade came closer to your exposed nipple making you sweat bullets. You didn’t want to provoke him and so you nodded slowly, your gaze following the shiny metal that was tracing around your sensitive erect bud. One wrong move and things could end badly. A pointy feeling prodded between the two curvy valleys, Seungmin pushing in the tip just enough to hurt but not puncturing you. Drawing in air through your clenched teeth, you hissed making the dark haired boy scoff, pulling the dagger away from your and twirling it once before putting it against your heated cheek, the cold sensation making you bunch up your fists, trying your hardest to stay quiet.

“You know I love you, slut”

The mixed messages made your head drift away to unholy places, wanting nothing more but for Seungmin to pound into your leaking hole, showing no mercy with his sloppy thrusts that were pulling you closer to your impending orgasm. Your gaze fell on to the hardwood floor beneath your bare feet as the blade got closer to your plush lips, the tip tugging on your bottom lip.

“I love you too, m-master”

Your voice trembled, everything from the danger to his masked affection making your body react, your erotic juices pooling in your panties from the way Seungmin looked in your doe eyes. As if you’d been commanded, you poked your tongue out, licking the tip of the twinkling blade without avoiding his gawky gaze. The cold piece of material spread a metallic taste in your wet mouth as the edge of the knife glistened with your saliva. Without noticing, your gaze wandered down Seungmin’s body, your breath hitching as you saw the tent in his tight pants, you having to pinch your thigh in order to stop from smirking, knowing you had such an effect on the horny boy.

“Nasty whore, huh? Dirty little slut wanting to suck master’s dick?”

You nod enhustiastically, dying to have his girthy cock so deep down your throat that you could barely breath, everything to satisfy the man that had your life in his grasp. He gently retracted the knife, putting it on the dark box that contained the other daggers before unbuckling his belt, the sound echoing through the room and making you quiver in excitement, you now being on the verge of dripping.

Your bruised knees hit the hardwood floor once again like they’ve done many times in the past, you wincing from seeing his erect clothed cock so close to your face. Impatiently, you unzipped his pants, popping his dick over the rim of his boxers, his impressive size almost scaring you as his crimson tip shimmered with precum in the dimly lit bedroom.

“I haven’t even fucked you and you’re already dumb.”

You nod silently, his veiny erection mere inches from your warm lips as you looked up at him in confusion, feeling dazed from the arousal bubbling in your core. Before you could answer him he grabbed the big dagger that was resting on the box, putting the tip against your forehead and circling it in one place, letting the dull sharpness through your sensory nerves.

“Are you testing my patients, babygirl?”

“N-no, master”

No more words came out from between your tingling lips before Seungmin once again put the knife away, instead grabbing onto your hair, pushing you down on his length with a fistful of your locks in his grasp. Tears burned in the corners of your eyes as you choked on his twitching cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat with the tip of your nose against his abdomen. Your muffled plea didn’t mean anything to Seungmin that was looking down through his blank hooded eyes at you struggling to keep him inside of your mouth. He rolled his head back, a quiet thump being heard when his head hit the wall behind him, him growing weaker with each second. The tight grip loosened causing you to pull away, coughing and desperatly searching for air as Seungmin devilishy smirked, ruffling his hair with one hand. You latched your lips onto his tip yet again, swirling your tongue around him with saliva running down your chin and gently dripping down onto your breasts.

“F-fuck,, y/n,,, right there”

Licking fat stripes from the base of his dick and upwards made him roll his eyes back into his skull, his previously hard demeanour turning helpless as his orgasm approached. You smirked against his length, kissing the tip sensually before sinking down again, wiping the saliva off your chin with the back of your hand, wrapping your warm hands around his flexed muscular thighs. Your hair bounced in your face as you bobbed your head eagerly, starting off slow but gradually quickening your pace as you heard his deep growls being swallowed by the dark. Your wet pursed lips felt like heaven for Seungmin that was getting lost in his own pleasure, not noticing how he yanked on your hair before he felt himself unravel in your mouth. Seungmin’s sweet cum coated the inside of your throat, a warm feeling descending downwards. The boys husky growls die down as he milks himself from every drop of cum, not letting anything go to waste. The both of you pant, Seungmin pulling off his cock with a pop and rubbing the cum coated tip on your swollen lips, humming quietly. He grabs your face, the dagger making a scratchy noise against the wooden box as he grabs the big knife by the leather handle, putting the raw blade against your cheek.

“Get on all fours unless you want this against your neck”

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tales-unique · 3 years

Text

FAITH, LOST IV

Oh honey she starts off so spicy! Hence why it's all under a Read More since I don't wanna get done for showing the nasty straight out the gate. Minors better beware! ;3

Tagging the boos, for obvs reasons @chelseareferenced @buckysbaby1 hope you all like it! 😘😘

Chapter 4

It begins as soon as your eyes flutter open. The darkness, familiar, like an old friend, coerces your senses into a heightened state. Exposed, your skin prickles at the coolness of the room, writhing against soft sheets. You exhale in exhilaration; you know what’s to come. It starts small, a low thrum of electricity in the air that tickles your bare flesh. Then it builds, tantalizingly slow, a measured surge of power that has you twisting yourself in knots. You want more. Only He can give you more. His arrival is heralded by the scent of oil and whiskey, leather and smoke. It caresses you, embraces you, and sends you into overdrive. It’s instinctual, a primal desire. It corrupts your mind, the sequence disjointing in its take over. Thick boots echo on a wooden floor, your mouth falling open with a heated breath. Your back arches when you feel his weight dip the bed, heat radiating from him. The contrast has you trembling, body wired. His hands, strong and calloused, grip the backs of your thighs easily. A simple tug and you’re at his mercy, legs parting easily in his strong grip. You moan, he growls. He likes what he can see, those beast eyes glowing a dangerous red in the blackness. Sharp indents form against delicate skin, his claws marking your inner thighs. His little lamb, so sweet and so ready for the slaughter. Then there’s movement, the shuffle of fabric, the chink of a belt buckle. You tense, but you’re ready. The air surges with the oncoming crescendo, the room spinning, or maybe it’s you? You’re not sure, preoccupied with the molten heat that pools suddenly between your legs. You feel his grin, all teeth and tongue helping to blot out the sharp stab of pain. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned—

The sudden chaos of a burst steam pipe in the hallway outside your room abruptly shocks you from your slumber, a cacophony of sounds assaulting your sleep-hazed senses. You hear Heisenberg shouting, the scraping of metal being reshaped at will, the harsh hissing of escaping steam. Groaning at the rude awakening you flop back against the lumpy couch cushions, kicking off your blanket in protest. A light sheen of sweat covers your body, making your nightclothes stick to you in an uncomfortable way. As you stare up at the ceiling you try to decode the meaning behind your dream. You recall with an embarrassing amount of clarity just what it was you were doing and who you were enjoying it with. Humiliation blooms within you, coloring your cheeks a shade of scarlet. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t indulged in the past, you just never had desires so blatant before. Especially for someone who was your superior in every way. “Hey, you awake in there?” Heisenberg’s voice cuts your thoughts short. All the racket has stopped, there’s just the usual hum of the Factory. “Y-yes!” You squeak, stomach clenching uncharacteristically as you sit up, “I’m awake!” “Well get your ass up, we have work to do!” He claps his hands hard to exaggerate his point and you lament your new found torture as his footfalls recede down the corridor. Oh merciful Mother Miranda how were you supposed to face him anymore?

Heisenberg is, for lack of a better word, pissed. It surges through him and it shows in the haphazard, volatile approach he takes with his work. It isn’t rational, this level of response on his part, but he can’t help it. You’ve barely spoken a full sentence to him all day. Now, he’s under no illusions that you were going to become the best of friends. After all, you had been sent to him by Mother Bitch herself to be his servant and he knew that you were three sheets to the wind over this religious bullshit, but he’d thought that you’d been showing progress in becoming your own person. At least, you were , until that little incident where he had you pinned against his desk and decided to take his teasing to the next level. It isn’t often that Heisenberg considers that he may have gone too far with something, or someone , but he’s definitely considering the possibility now that you seem to be avoiding him wherever possible. You’d even brushed off his blatant last ditch attempt, an offer to accompany him to see his forge and the projects he’d been working on, in favour of praying to Mother Miranda. It’s the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. You’d been so close to opening up, to no longer being a tool, but instead you’re become even more the meek little lamb of Miranda’s flock. Frustration bubbles within and his temper, short-fused as it already is, takes a critical hit. As a result everything he does has a sharp, volatile edge to it; even something as simple as opening a door is menacing in his current state. It serves to further deter you from him, giving you the space you so desperately desired. That is, until Heisenberg reaches his limit. “Just open up already! You can’t ignore me forever!” He thunders where he stands in the hallway, gritting his teeth in a vicious snarl. When he’s met with your persistent silence he howls in frustration, throwing his arms up in the air. The irony of him choosing to remain outside your door doesn’t go amiss, since it’s well known that he could easily rip the door from its hinges with the flick of his hand because of his nifty little ability to manipulate metal. Which, coincidentally, nearly everything in this Factory is made of in some form or another. But he doesn’t and you’re thankful for that, even if you still don’t want to face him. It continues on relentlessly, neither side backing down, and without realizing it, the whole thing becomes a game in its own right. One that pits you against one another to see who cracks first. So it’s a surprise when it’s Heisenberg that seeks you out first. It’s a situation of his own making, having followed you on the gritty live feed from his security cameras. With ease he catches you off guard on your way out of the elevator, taking your fright in his stride. “Easy now!” He exclaims, his hands raised in surrender. You’re cagey, looking for a way out. He isn’t going to give you one because he’s had about enough of you giving him the cold shoulder over a goddamn joke . You’ve pressed yourself tight against the wall, watching him like a hawk. He can hear the frantic flutter of your heart, the sharp intakes of breath, and his jaw tightens. He can’t get distracted now, he needs to focus — this was not the time to enjoy your distress. “Now I know that I can be a bit of a handful,” he starts, then falters, mouth working to try and word it just right, “but, really, hasn’t this gone on long enough? I didn’t mean any harm by it! Just a little teasing, you weren’t meant to get upset.” Oh, he thinks this is because of that time. You stare up at him in utter disbelief. You want to slap him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt the innate burning desire to inflict bodily harm on anyone, but here you stand, about ready to knock those glasses right off his face. “You have literally no idea how you make me feel , do you?” You accuse him, incredulous, your posture straightening. Things might have slipped back to the way they were before all of this if he had just let you be, allowed you to warm back up to him, and maybe you might have been content with that. This was a turmoil of his own creation, after all, so why not let him stew in it a while. But now? Now you were at your limit. You’re tired of constantly tip-toeing around yourself because of him and his stupid games. If anything, you’re even more tentative to rekindle whatever this relationship is that you have with him, to throw in the towel and tell Mother Miranda she’d been wrong about you. It made you sour to think that what little progress you had made had been lost and it’s taken its toll on you. There’s a harsh look to you that has Heisenberg’s head spinning, apprehension gripping him. “H-Hold on a minute,” he attempts to defend himself, an uncomfortable blend of emotions sitting like a stone in his stomach. He’s conflicted over your new found confidence. You’re no longer the mild-mannered devotee that was wound around Mother Miranda’s finger, standing tall. You’re practically shining. It’s a good look on you, but he’s not exactly thrilled to be the one on the receiving end. “No!” You snap, squaring up to him. You see his brilliant eyes widen behind his circular glasses and for once in your life you feel powerful and in control . “I’ve done nothing but try my best here, trying to make something good out of this situation and you made me feel like a complete idiot !” The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you feel lighter now that they’re out in the open. Who knew that having your shame out in the open could feel so liberating. You take a deep breath when you feel the pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, trying to ground yourself. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him. Not in this lifetime, or the next. Heisenberg stares down at you with a look of realization on his face, now fully aware that there was more to this than your feelings of inadequacy, that you were little more than a joke to him. It’s always been there, in the way your heart races when he gets just that little bit too close or how your eyes soften when he’s agonizing over his work. He goes to speak this revelation but you shake your head, lower lip trembling. “I was just trying to help .” The way your voice breaks has him in a tailspin, the look of pure anguish in your eyes cutting him deep. This is in no way what he had envisioned when he spotted the chance to clear the air with you. “Oh come on, don’t cry!” It’s a desperate plea, something you never thought you would hear from him. “You’re making me feel really shitty here!” “That’s because you are!” You sob, unable to hold it back anymore. You feel like such a pathetic idiot. That overwhelming monster of self-degradation looms, fueling your misery. If only a dark abyss could just swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment, but you know that’s not going to happen. There’s only this awkward moment, lingering between you. You whimper, trying desperately to wipe away your tears. They stream down your cheeks, burning against your already flushed skin as you sniffle. Suddenly his hands are encasing your own in a firm grip. With a surprisingly gentle touch he tugs them down, exposing you. The whites of your eyes are marred with tiny lines of red and your long lashes clump together from your tears. You’re a mess, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds you oddly endearing in the moment. Swallowing, you try to understand what’s going on. Your hands are still held in his, the feel of soft leather almost comforting against your skin, and you wonder if you’re dreaming again. Something stirs in you, glowing embers kicking up from ashes, and you try to pull away. It’s an admirable attempt but Heisenberg easily catches you, holding you in a vice-like grip against him. You whine at the harshness of his grasp and he frowns, loosening his hold just enough to make it bearable. “I’m sorry, alright?” He mumbles, hesitating. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s been in such close proximity to someone who wasn’t prey. You aren’t fighting him, you aren’t trying your damnedest to get away. In fact, you look as though you’re captivated by him. It’s a side of him that no one has ever seen before, the dejection of a man twisted into being a monster. Something inside you breaks anew at how lost he looks, the last and most dangerous of the Lords at Mother Miranda’s disposal. He’s nothing more than a dog on a choke chain, to be used when it’s suited and then discarded afterwards. Just like you. “Heisenberg,” your voice is hushed, woeful. The words are so genuine and your heart isn’t yet made of stone to be immune to their plight. When you shift in his grasp there’s no resistance and you reach up to gently cup his cheeks in your hands. The stubble on his face tickles your palms and his skin is warm and smooth to the touch. You find you quite like it, the contrast of textures. He does little in the way to stop you. In fact, he encourages you. His hands find purchase on your hips, thumbs brushing the delicate spots just below your rib cage. It elicits a soft gasp from you, your body stiffening beneath him. Glistening eyes stare up at him, a swirling maelstrom threatening to drown him along with you. He’s curious whether or not you’re ready to commit to this. Heisenberg knows what you want, or better yet, what your body wants, but your mind eludes him. He waits with bated breath to see what path you will take, the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety creeping in his bones. It’s like poison, a crawling taint that threatens to take over him. What have you done to him? The exact same thing he did to you. It’s a disquieting notion, one that almost overtakes him, until it doesn’t. The doubts are suddenly banished and relief washes over him at the feel of your silken lips against his in a tender kiss. The chain breaks; you're both suddenly free, and it feels euphoric .

#RE #RE8 #RE 8 #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 Village #RE Imagine #RE Imagines #RE8 Imagine #RE8 Imagines #Resident Evil Imagine #Resident Evil Imagines #Karl Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg Imagine #Karl Heisenberg Imagines #Karl Heisenberg x Reader #Heisenberg Imagine #Heinsenberg Imagines #Heisenberg x Reader

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sugawara-sweetheart · 3 years

Text

𝔰𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔢 (𝔪)

❥yamaguchi tadashi x fem!reader

❥warnings: yandere, dubcon, ill-prepped sex, bleeding, guilt-tripping & manipulation, jealousy and possessiveness, toxic relationship, vomit (not like that dw)

❥word count: 3.7k

❣︎anon: Hello love! I hope you’re having a good day :) I was hoping to request a yandere!yamaguchi fic where he’s the team captain and reader is the manager. Maybe after a really bad practice game he manipulates reader into dating him by saying sumn like “oh if we are together the teams foundation will be stronger”. And like through out their relationship it shows how he will guilt her into staying and fucking him but she doesn’t realize he’s toxic and is just like “ he just loves me a lot and is kinky lol” (sorry idk if this makes sense essentially just Yan!yamaguchi dating manager!reader lol)

he strikes when morale is low.

you can see devastation etched on everyone’s faces. hinata’s shoulders slouch with utter dejection, kageyama’s jaw is clenched tightly and there’s worry and shame across the first years’ faces. a sense of hopelessness.

you want to cry. being manager wasn’t something you were new to- you’d been working as one of them since your first year- but this was yamaguchi’s first year of being captain. this was the first practise game of the year and the loss was devestating. any chance of going to nationals this year seemed like a far away dream, like trying to grasp smoke.

“don’t mind, guys.” you hope your smile isn’t shaky but you don’t get much of a reply as the boys head to the clubroom, leaving you and yamaguchi the only ones remaining outside the gym. the air feels cool on your skin, the sky tinged with streaks of pink and a warm glow as the sun sets below the hills.

“i’m not doing great as captain, am i?” yamaguchi murmurs. you frown at him, mouth falling open but he contunues, staring off at the scenic distance with the tangerine sun reflected in his round, dejected orbs. “i shouldn’t have been captain- if tsukki or kageyama-”

“no, tadashi.” he looks stunned and you hope you don’t look as flustered as you feel as you smile gently. “you’re an amazing captain- this was just a tiny bump in the road but i know you’ll lead the team syccessfully, just like ennoshita, just like daichi.” the mention of your former captains makes him smile slightly, a wistful longing apparent in his face. “i know you will. don’t worry, this was just one practise match and everyone knows dateko is a bitch to play with.” he chuckles, nodding and as you gaze at the setting sun you notice him edging closer towards you.

“i’m really glad you’re our manager, y/n.” he beams and your heart flutters at his sweet words, warmth tingling through you as you grin. “i feel like you’ll really help our team feel so much stronger as manager, but..” he trails off with an awkward chuckle that has you narrowing your eyes.

“tadashi?”

“no, you’ll think i’m stupid- i’m just being dumb-” hesitation is etched all over his face, brewing with anxiety and it makes your chest twinge as you shake your head, trying to ignore how endearing he looks with his freckled cheeks flushed pink.

“no, no, don’t think that! tadashi, what is it?” the corners of his lips tug in a shy smile as he rubs the back of his reddened neck.

“uh- i-i was thinking...well, you’re really pretty and i’ve always liked you, but because you’re manager too, if we- um- you know- we’d be such a stronger team…”

his cheeks glow bright pink, doe eyes widened and you can’t help the smile that stretches across your face, utter warmth flooding through you. so innocent, so sweet, your heart drums against your rib cage as you try to resist the giggle that escapes you.

“tadashi, are you trying to ask me out?” he looks worried, a little crease between his brows as he stammers over his words.

“i-ive always liked you- it’s not just for the team, that’s more of a bonus- it’s okay if you don’t want to, i know...i know i wouldn’t be a girl’s first choice but-”

“nonsense.” he falls silent, blinking in shock as you slide your fingers into his, squeezing his warm hand tight. “you’re my first choice.”

the thing with traps is that they never look obvious. a serpent under the innocent flower. and yamaguchi was the perfect trap.

it starts off sweet- it always does.

you’re not sure how such a sweet angel has been single for so long because your life becomes entirely better with yamaguchi brightening it up. he’s there every morning at the end of your garden bolding a can of coffee and his other outstretched for you to slip yours into, to let him place a gentle kiss on the back of it before you make your way together to school. he’s so proud to tell the team you’re dating- it’s such a thrill to have him announce it with a sense of pride, his eyes softening as he gazes at you whilst hinata cheers him on and yachi is bursting with questions to ask you. and he’s so besotted with you, every bit of free time he wants to spend with you- tugging your hand during breaks at practise, pulling you into empty corridors at school to make out with you pressed against the wall, his leg nudging between your thighs, his hand always entwined with yours whenever you’re both walking, every evening and weekend spent together.

until it starts to feel like too much.

“y/n,” you sigh heavily when hinata clings to your sleeve, resting his head on your shoulder with his brown eyes wide and pleading. “please, please- i’ll buy you meat buns!”

“shōyō, what are you on about?” you’re half-amused by your friend, the friend you’d had since your first year at karasuno, the same friend that encouraged not just yachi to be manager of the volleyball team but you too. if there was anyone you trusted more than yamaguchi and yachi, it’d be hinata- the sweet, vivacious boy you’d spent so many happy times with.

“help us study!” he cries, gesturing to himself and a sheepish-looking kageyama stood a few steps away. “we’re going to fail the exams without your help!” you can’t help but laugh at the same occurrence that happens every exam season without fail, nodding slowly as smiles brighten up the two boys’ faces.

“fine, fine. we’ll study tonight and on the weekend- but next time come to me earlier! you know maths is on tuesday-”

“what’s going on?” you can’t explain why your chest suddenly feels tight when yamaguchi’s bright, tender voice fills your ears. his soft scent of linen envelopes you as he takes his seat on the bench beside you, tsukishima right by his side and you’re not sure why a smile seems to hard to plaster on your face as your boyfriend slides his arms around you.

“y/n’s helping us study for our exams!” hinata beams. you’re aware of tsukishima scoffing, the three volleyball players beginning to squabble childishly, but all you can focus on is yamaguchi’s eyes burning into you. from the corner of your eye you can see the hurt flashing across his face, his head tilting to the side as he speaks quietly.

“you’re helping them study?” you frown slightly at the tone of his voice, nodding with an awkward smile tugging at your lips.

“yeah- just tonight and on the weekend. why?” yamaguchi’s face scowls slightly as his lips are pulled into a thin line. you don’t like the look that lingers in his eyes, the same look he has when you’re chatting away to a classmate instead of him, when you compliment kageyama or the second years on their abilities, when you ask hinata tenderly if he’s okay after he’s had a ball to the face. why does he always look so scorned? you hate the heavy feeling that twinges in your chest when he does.

“alone?” you have to laugh- it’s the only one way to brush it off but he doesn’t look pleased, even when you force yourself to relax in his arms and brush your lips against his cheek.

“don’t be like that, tadashi.”

but he is like that. it seems to be a regular occurrence, and it worsens. anxiety brews in your stomach, weighing you down and making you feel sick every time. hinata hugged you for a moment too long after a successful practise game, his head buried in the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped around you, and yamaguchi refused to even look at you the whole way home, a sour look on his face and his eyes fixated on the road ahead whilst you pleaded and begged for his attention. but nothing- he just left you on your doorstep sniffling and your throat raw from the constant apologies. one time you walked with tsukishima to practise after a lesson with him, smiling and laughing as he shared with you his warm childhood memories of yamaguchi, but your boyfriend didn’t see it like that. your heart dropped the moment you locked eyes with him standing by the gym expectantly, utter betrayal and hurt etched on his face you wanted to sink to your knees then and beg for his forgiveness.

“girls don’t really like me.” he’d sniffled afterwards in your bedroom. “they just use me for tsukishima, they always have- i really thought you liked me for me, y/n.”

“i do, tadashi, i do.” your eyes are hot with frustrated tears as you crouch before him, nuzzling your face into his thigh. “please believe me when i say it wasn’t like that! you know i love you.” his wet eyes sparkle when you say that, face lighting up.

“r-really?” you nod eagerly, not resisting him when he cups your face and brings your lips to his, kissing you sweetly and tenderly. and when you think it’s all solved dread begins to seep into you again as he takes your hand and presses it against his hardening cock.

“t-tadashi,” yamaguchi’s face crumples at the tone in your voice. “i-i’m not ready- you know that-”

“i thought you liked me.” he spits bitterly. it’s the same words, the same words that always makes you feel so pathetic, so useless and shitty, breaking yamaguchi’s heart over and over. so you hold back the salty tears and try not to think too hard about it when you let him use your mouth, trying not to feel hurt. this is normal, you tell yourself. yamaguchi deserves it, you hurt him earlier, but you still hate every moment of it.

eventually you start avoiding people. it feels like every interaction yamaguchi watches goes wrong and ends with him upset, hurt, betrayed, insecure and the guilt of it, the consequences where you have to make amends weighs down too heavy on you.

“you treat me like shit, i just feel like you don’t care.”

“a good manager doesn’t flirt around with the other players- you’re supposed to be my girlfriend!”

“why am i never good enough for you? i’m not even good enough for the team and now I'm not good enough for you.”

the simple thing is just to simply stay away.

the team are confused when you’re suddenly curt and cold towards the first and second years, no longer sweetly encouraging them with enthusiastic compliments and kind words. you have to hold back the tears that prickle your eyes when you see the look of hurt flash across hinata’s face, the sparkle dulling in his brown eyes, when you push him away when he tries to hug you but yamaguchi’s eyes piercing into your back serves as a reminder. your friends see less of you when you decline hanging out with them at lunch to be with yamaguchi instead and you hate how they frown at you with unfamiliarity.

“what’s wrong with you, y/n? why do you keep ditching us now that you have a man?” you want to explain, you really do, but how do you tell them that you don’t want to hurt yamaguchi too, you don’t want him to cry to you about how he feels neglected and pushed aside like you don’t care anymore? how do you tell them you don’t want to have to use your mouth or hands to make it up to him? so you let them be hurt instead, you pull away till they pass you in the hallways without even so much as glancing at you.

you think it’ll get better, that yamguchi will be happier now. but it all breaks down at the inter-high tournament when winning is so close, so close you can almost taste the sweet victory on your tongue. the gym is tense and the boys are playing hard and you’re holding your breath, heart pounding as you will them to win the semi-finals. they’re so close to getting through. it’ll save you if they do.

but they lost. bile burns in the back of your throat when the referee blows his whistle and the shock and dejection floods through the team. your bitter tears match theirs but for a different reason altogether. your body shakes when yamaguchi envelopes it, his tears staining your shoulder and you hate his fingers pressing into your body because you realise you’ll probably have to use it later.

he asks you to come over to his later that night. his eyes are bloodshot and freckled cheeks stained with tears when he asks, his voice cracking and with the rest of the team surrounding you, you can’t say no. you’re their manager, a pillar of the team, and yamaguchi’s girlfriend. how could you say no? so you go, inhaling the cold air and ignoring the dark dread that festers inside you.

“are you cold?” yamaguchi sniffles as you walk, his eyes focused on your shaking hand. you shake your head but as he reaches for you, you have to will yourself not to flinch. you’re not scared of him, you can’t be.

“i’m a rubbish captain.” he mumbles later on, shoulders slouching with dejection. your chest twinges as you sit beside him on the end of his bed, gazing at his forlorn eyes that he can’t even bear to look at you with, utter sympathy flooding you as you reach out for his hand. “everyone thinks it.”

“no one thinks that, tadashi.” you murmur softly, edging closer to him and squeezing his hand. he looks up at you slowly, his dark eyes wide and adoring. “you’re an amazing captain-” you’re cut off by his lips pressing against yours, the kiss hot and feverous as he slides your entwined hand down to his crotch, pressing it enough for you to feel his erection hardening under your touch.

“tadashi-” you groan when you try to pull away but yamaguchi just kisses you more, his other hand cupping the back of your head as he tries to force his tongue into your mouth as you grimace. “tadashi-” you push him away, saliva coating your lips you can’t help but scowl as you wipe it away, yamaguchi watching you with his face falling. “not now, i’m not re-”

“so now i’m a rubbish boyfriend too!” he cries.

you’re stunned as you watch him twist away from you, his pouting lip beginning to tremble and your heart wrenches when you see the tears beginning to flood his eyes, his freckles cheeks becoming flushed as a heaviness settles in your chest.

“i didn’t say that.” you murmur. how stupid of you. he was already feeling sensitive and now you’re making him feel worse, letting his insecurities flood him more and more when you’re supposed to uplift him. how are you messing this up so badly? “don’t say that, tadashi, you know you’re wonderful.”

“then why don’t you want me? every time you say no-” he sniffles, rubbing at the reddened tip of his nose. “why can’t i just do anything right?”

“tadashi, it isn’t like that.” a thick lump rises in your throat as he stares at you expecrantly when you wrap your arm around his shoulders, tenderly ruffling the back of his head. “i’m sorry- you do everything right.” you try not to whimper when you slide your other hand along his thigh, goosebumps pebbling your skin as an icy chill runs down your spine. “i’m sorry- let’s- we can do this.”

you try not to tremble when he peels off your clothes, mouthing kisses at your cold body as his hands roam over you. it feels weird- you’d never been touched before but it hurts when he pinches your nipples and you force yourself not to squirm when he pushes you onto the bed, straddling you as he spreads your legs.

“tadashi-” you whine when he touches your folds, a horrible coldness washing over you. it doesn’t feel like when you touch yourself but you push it away from your mind, telling yourself you’ll like it when he actually does something, you’ll get wet when he fingers you or something. but yamaguchi doesn’t, instead pulling off his clothes and your heart thumps when you realise how fucking big he is. he’s thick and long, painfully hard with the reddened tip leaking precum, a deep moan escaping him as he strokes himself.

“i’ve been waiting for this for so long- you’re going to feel so good.” he groans as he slides his cock along your folds. it feels weird and you’re not even wet but yamaguchi doesn’t take any notice of your squirming.

“tadashi- wait, i want to-” he slaps away your hand when you reach down to touch yourself, instead twining his fingers with yours and pressing your hands flat against the mattress.

“don’t worry,” he coos as he kisses you, lips tasting salty. “i’ll take care of you.”

you can’t even scream when he shoves his cock into you. it burns, the pain agonising and your back arches off the bed, mouth dropping open with silent screams. blood rings in your ears, yamaguchi’s moans as your nails drag down his back sounding so distant like you’ve been plunged under water. it feels like you could die. your tight walls are ripped apart by his thick cock, anguish burning in you and hot tears stinging your eyes as soft sobs escape you.

“oh- you’re so warm, you’re taking me so well. pretty girl, i’m so lucky to have you.” you cry as he kisses you, disgust seeping into you as he fills up your cunt. how could he be so oblivious? or does he simply not care?

“ta-tadashi- i c-can’t!” he ignores you, busying himself with kissing away your tears and you can’t fight him off as he cages you in. it’s torture when he drives his hips into yours, ripping through the flesh and you’re almost grateful for your body’s natural lubrication when you feel the odd moisture between your legs. that’s until you see the redness coating his cock when he pounds it into you and your vision is blurred by the hot tears, your sobs barely shushed by yamaguchi’s soothing hushes and tender kisses that feel so jarring, so wrong.

“i love you.” he grunts. “i love you so much- you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” hot tears run down your cheeks as you turn your head to the side, staring blankly out of his window as the sharp pains run through your body every time his cockhead bruises your cervix. “i love you.” he wants you to say it back but you just feel sick and pained, a cold sweat breaking over your body. when will this be over? you clench your eyes shut, trying to swallow the bitter taste on your dry tongue, trying to pretend it feels okay, bearable even, but it doesn’t and you’re relieved when his throbbing cock pulls out. hot ropes of cum splatter over your folds and you feel like you’ve been split apart.

“you okay?” your heart drums when you see the pinkish fluid clinging to your pussy, the deep scarlet trickling out of your abused hole. “wow, you were a virgin?” yamaguchi’s smile makes you feel sick, your stomach churning. “i can’t believe i was your first. and you were mine.” he reaches out to take your hand into his but you’re quick to turn away, to hold back your hair as you can’t fight the urge to puke all over the side of the bed, tears stinging your eyes and the back of your throat burning.

“hey, y/n. what are you doing here?” you can’t help but start at the sound of the voice, but relief floods through you and your racing heart calms when you see it’s just yachi, a sweet yet confused smile on her face as she approaches. you’re sat against the brick wall behind the gym, staring out at the fields and hills stretching out into the distant blue sky. “aren’t you coming to practise?”

“i don’t know.” you murmur, pausing to take a sip of your water. “i’m actually considering resigning.” you don’t want to meet yachi’s eyes when she yelps with surprise, her eyes widening.

“what? why? a-are you crazy? the team loves you so much, i don’t want to be manager alone!” you can’t help but smile dryly at her desperate wail, glancing at her from the corner of your eye.

“you’ll have the new first year manager.”

“it’s not the same.” yachi pouts, her shoulders slouching. but then the look on her face becomes serious, anxious almost, as she shuffles closer to you, her eyes a little wide. you don’t like the look of cautious sympathy evident in them, her hands clumsily fumbling with the hem of her shirt.

“y/n, is this because of yamaguchi?” you freeze. blood pounds in your ears as you stare at yachi, the look on her face too serious for this to be a joke.

“what? no!” your laugh sounds forced and she doesn’t even crack a smile as she narrows her eyes, scrutinising you carefully with a look of worry etched on her face.

“please tell me if something’s not right. h-hinata says you’re getting really distant from everyone, and sometimes you look a bit...scared? is something wrong?”

yamaguchi forcing his cock into your dry hole. his cries to weigh you down and smother you with guilt. suspicious whispers that leave you scared to even smile at a classmate. his constant presence, his hand gripping yours, because he tells you he doesn’t ever want to be apart from you, he loves you too much not realising he’s drowning you.

“no.” yachi looks surprised as your strong declaration. “he loves me a lot. and i love him. everything’s fine.”

but your face falls as you hear the harsh snapping of a stray twig and yamaguchi’s standing by the corner, his hands curled into a fist and betrayal burning in his eyes.

#tw.dubcon #tw.yandere #tw.manipulation #cw.vomit #darkconfectionery #yandere!yamaguchi #yandere Yamaguchi imagines #yandere Yamaguchi x reader #yandere Yamaguchi #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #Yamaguchi imagines #Yamaguchi x reader #neems’ queueueuuee :3

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draconic-ichor · 3 years

Text

Heisenberg x Juniper (oc) Smut dabble…

This is an au smut dapple involving my re8 oc and Heisenberg. This does not go with my current fic

Warnings: smut, strong language, sexual themes, blood, fingerings, oral sex, penetrative sex,

Basically this came to mind as a what if Juniper would of stayed with House Dimitrescu and over the years Heisenberg’s curiosity of her got the better of him

Summary: During a festival Heisenberg finally gets the Dimitrescu’s guard dog alone…

Feedback appreciated. 18+

Walking through the town center, Heisenberg grimaced. The night was alight with music and laughter, the village holding a festival for something or another.

He trudged through the crowd to the tables that were serving alcohol, taking a shot of whisky for himself. The sounds of mirth all around him.

He hated the village, hated how it smelled and the people’s unwavering devotions. He didn’t come all the way down here to enjoy the festivities. No, he came for a very specific purpose….To find her.

Refilling just cup he began to slowly walk, eyes keen. The villagers danced around the maiden statue, singing.

As he rounded the edge of the town’s center his eyes caught what he’d come for: across the mass of people was a woman. She stood out, her raven curls shining in the lantern light. She looked so beautiful and happy, enjoying the music along the sidelines.

Her name was Juniper, and she was an outsider. Or she had been years ago when an accident brought her into the village.

She was mutated by the cadou, but unlike him she had not earned the title of Lord. She’d been assigned to house Dimitrescu, and in the few short years she’d stayed with them they did little more then exploit her. Her mutations allowed her the unique ability to shift into a varcolac like creature. Lady Dimitrescu treated her like a glorified guard-dog, but because of her higher affinity for the cadou she could drain her for wine.

It pissed him off to no end how Juniper stayed at their heels mostly, ever quiet and innocent as one in her situation could be.

The only place he could seem to catch her away from the bitch or her bugs was during nights like these. She had a wide eyed enjoyment of the village’s festivities.

In his musings he didn’t realize she had spotted him. Coming back to reality his gaze connected with her own. Her almost unnaturally bright eyes made his heart skip a beat. He watched her break away from the crowd, turning down an alley.

Heisenberg knocked back his current shot, giving chase. He stayed just enough away to not raise suspicion. As he left the alley he just caught sight of her navy cloak disappearing into a barn.

Looking around, finding this part of the town empty of prying eyes he followed.

He stepped through the partially open wooden doors. It was quiet and the air held the fragrance of dry straw.

His eyes fell on his quarry. Standing in the back, dim light alighting her eyes like emeralds, stood Juniper. She had her arms crossed, tapping her boot. It was a nervous habit of hers that he’d noticed long ago.

Chuckling he moved closer, “Now don’t look so happy to see me, doll.”

She snorted, “What do you want?”

He swallowed, forcing his voice to sound confident, “I just want to talk, we never talk.”

“Almost as if there is a reason.”

“Why avoid me?”

“Why are you so eager to meet?” Junipers eyes narrowed, “Every ceremony or festival you’re sniffing about.”

He got closer, the smell of musk and smoke hit her nose. She twitched a bit, swallowing, “Dog.”

His face split roguishly, “You’re one to talk, bitch.”

He saw her face redden as she looked away.

“I didn’t want to come here to piss you off.” He admitted, “I just wanted to see you…away from all that other bullshit.”

She saw the glow of his eyes, the way they softened when they looked over her. She couldn’t deny the feeling he stirred up on her core.

“You’ve been drinking Lord Heisenberg.” Juniper smirked, keeping one step away from him, always moving as he did.

“And?” He almost chuckled, “Don’t have to be drunk to know how I feel.”

“And how do you feel?”

He shifted a bit before answering, “Iv seen how you look at me, all hungry and wanting.”

She brushed away his comment, feeling her face flush.

“You’re not like them.” He pressed, taking a step closer.

“The Dimitrescus?” Juniper raised an eyebrow.

“The mega bitch and her little bug witches.” He nodded, “You’re not like them and you know that. They treat you like a guard dog, feeding you their bloody scraps.”

His words stung, Juniper broke her gaze from him.

“But you’re different because the bitches couldn’t curb your want for cock, hm?” He took another step, aware she had stopped her kiting of him.

Her bright green eyes flicked up to meet his. At some point his shades had been tossed away, leaving her to look into his pale eyes: they were beautiful, shifting tones of golds and greens.

While she was distracted he closed the rest of the distance between them, all but pinning her to the barn wall.

“So I’m a dog?” He looked over her face, lingering over her plush lips. She didn’t retreat, feeling warmth flood her stomach.

He leaned in, whispering low and huskily, “Well I can tell when a bitch is in heat.”

Her breath caught in her throat, she couldn’t deny the way he made her heart race.

“So how about we stop all these little games, hm?” He lifted her chin with a gloved hand. She met his eyes for a moment.

She gave him a little nod, eyes dark with lust.

He crashed his lips on her own, relishing the softness of her skin. She met his storm. He took this as an invitation to bite at her lip until she relented and gave him access to her mouth. He groaned as he explored her with is tongue, feeling her tug at his knotted hair. He tasted like whiskey and smoke, unlike anything she’d ever had.

He pressed into her, trapping her between the wall and his knee, pushing it to open her legs. She mewled at the contact, fabric rubbing over her sensible mound.

Heisenberg pulled back, huffing out hotly, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Trying to make her voice as even as possible she smirked, “Promises, promises Lord Heisenberg.”

Her bravado sent more blood pulsing to his cock, his face splitting.

“Don’t call me that.” He dipped in, kissing and biting her neck. Her hands snaked under his coat, fingers tracing over his scared back.

“What should I call you then?” She pursed, grinding into his thigh as he found her sweet spot.

“Anything other than that.” He shook his head, sucking a dark blotch into her skin.

Thinking for a moment, she chose what felt the most natural, “Karl.”

He paused, hearing his first name spoke so honestly and sweetly was like honey to his ears. He didn’t even know the last time he’d heard it spoken. He pulled away enough to catch her lips again with his own.

She pulled away from him, lips rosy and swollen. Her hands drifted down his chest and stomach, pausing once they reached his belt. She met his gaze once more.

“Tell me you want me.” He demanded with a growl.

She nuzzled into his neck as she undid the clasp under her fingers, “I want you Karl…”

He rumbled out, pulling away to tear his coat from his shoulders. Juniper followed suit, stripping down. Their movement were desperate as they connected back together, free of fabric prisons.

He fell to his knees before her, inching up to slot his head between her legs. Not wasting time he dove in, lathing his tongue into her hot flesh. Juniper’s legs wobbled as a hand found his hair, holding him to her.

He lapped at her tender bud, feeling her tremble around his mouth.

“I-is this…why they call you a d-dog?” Juniper whimpered out.

He looked up at her though half lidded eyes, pulling away enough to rumble, “I can show you all the reasons, sweetheart.”

He added a finger to his onslaught, pushing it greedily into her core. He groaned, feeling her walls instantly clench down on him.

Pumping into her while he kept up his tongue on her clit reduced her to a mess in his hands.

Feeling her walls start to flutter, he pulled away. She whimpered, core aching from the loss of contact.

Heisenberg licked his fingers clean, loving the way her juices danced across his tongue. He wanted to devour her over and over again. But his cock was very hard and needing at present.

He found an old blanket, laying it over a bale of straw. Juniper eyed him curiously.

He sat down, patting his thigh and giving her a toothy smile.

“Come here.” Heisenberg spoke, it sounding more like a command then an option. She complied breathlessly, straddling her legs around him. She leaned forward, all hot and needy, pressing her breasts into his chest.

His heart quickened, unused to this depth of passion.

Her ass bumped into his cock, causing him to hiss and grab her hips. She lifted enough for him to line herself up, the head just starting to push against her opening.

Their eyes met and time stood still for a moment. She gave him a tiny nod.

Heisenberg began to push into her, hearing her mewl in pain.

“Relax buttercup.” He hissed, “Fuck, you’re tight.”

Inch by delicious inch she took him, until his cock was entirely buried in her liquid heat.

She felt the burn of her walls stretching to fit his girth, felt every vein of his cock as it pulsed inside of her.

Juniper grabbed onto his shoulders to steady herself, her legs shaking. Heisenberg had to take a breath himself, almost spilling over the moment he felt their hips meet.

He gave a shallow experimental thrust. She arched into him, giving him the ok to move.

Their awkwardness evaporated like dew in the morning sun, melting into the act whole heartedly.

Seeing her bounce on him: eyes dark and blown out, mouth agape with pleasure, made him sigh, “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

In the dim amber light he could still detect the light blush that ghosted her cheeks.

Feeling her release close he surged forward. Juniper cried out, feeling his teeth puncture the skin of she shoulder. Pain intermingled with pleasure.

Licking the wound to sooth it he felt her walls tighten around him, fucking up into her as stars burst before her eyes and she writhed.

“Fuck, that’s it! Come on my cock.” He hissed into her ear. Juniper cried out his name, pleasure fogging her senses.

She could feel his breath against her ear as he spoke, “You’re mine.” He licked the shell of her ear, drawing out a whimper from her, “You might work for those blood bitches, but you’re mine!”

She clung to him, feeling overstimulated as his cock abused every inch of her sensitive cunt. Bucking up into her, her release caused the barn to fill with a loud squelching.

He couldn’t hold on much longer, he knew it.

Her previous reservations were gone, she cried out shamelessly with every thrust. The music outside drowned them out from prying ears.

Feeling his coil tighten he started to lift her off of him, pausing when he heard her mewl.

“Please don’t pull out.” She begged, “Fill me up!”

Her words struck him for a moment, hitching his breath.

He surged her hips back down onto him, filling her to the hilt. With two more savage thrusts he was done for.

Giving a throaty groan he painted her walls with hot ropes of his release. She sobbed out thanks as her core milked him for every drop be had.

He fell back against the barn wall, breathing raggedly. Heisenberg felt Juniper cuddle into his chest, trying to calm her own heartbeat.

He put an arm lazily around the small of her back, their sweat sticking them together.

He doesn’t know how long they lay there, tangled up together, but when she sat up to move away it was much too soon for him.

She stood, shivering a bit from the loss of his heat. Heisenberg’s hands itched to pull her back against him.

Retrieving her clothes, Juniper murmured, “I should get back before I’m missed.”

Shrugging he spoke, “You don’t have to stay there, buttercup. I have a big lonely factory just across the way…”

Juniper smiled, “You and I both have jobs to get back to.”

Fuck, why was she right. Heisenberg started to reclothe as she found her cloak.

“Hei-..I mean, Karl?” Came her sweet voice.

He looked up questionably, seeing her standing in the doorway. Her dark curls were a mess, face still flushed.

“Show me some of your other tricks sometime?” Her eyes were bright and mischievous, “Maybe after the next family meeting?”

Taken back for a moment his lips slowly twitched into a smile, “Anytime kitten, you know where I live.”

Juniper gave him a wink before vanishing into the darkness.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg smut #smut dabbles

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bbysamu · 3 years

Text

It Ain’t Me - Part V

Featuring: KUROO Tetsurou x you ; AKAASHI Keiji x you

Genre: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 1,465

Warning: mentions of alcohol and drinking, unplanned pregnancy

Now Playing: It Ain’t Me by Kygo & Selena Gomez

✎ Preview: It was crazy how a few months could turn both you and Kuroo’s life upside down. Now with another unexpected news thrown in the mix, Kuroo knows he’s lost you for good

Ch. I

Ch. II

Ch. III

Ch. IV

Ch. V

Epilogue

a/n: no excessive drinking please, don’t hinder your brain and health.

You sat there happily chatting with Bokuto’s girlfriend, while your boyfriend and his best friend caught up with each other. Akaashi has got one hand on your thigh, the other lifting up his cup of water to his lips as Bokuto describes how the latest MSBY game was.

“So how are things with Y/N?” Bokuto asks, glancing at the way Akaashi sat protectively next to you.

“Good,” Akaashi smiles, “very good actually.”

Bokuto looks at his best friend, eyes beaming with pride, “I'm very happy for you Akaashi.”

“Thanks Bokuto. Me too.”

A few feet away, just outside the restaurant, Kuroo has a hard time breathing. Kenma, sensing something wrong, quickly walks over to him.

“Kuroo you good?”

Kuroo looks up at his best friend with panic in his eyes and hands him the phone.

“Hello? This is Kenma, Kuroo’s friend. He’s not feeling too well right now. Who’s this?”

“uh hi....I’m Aika. I was just telling Kuroo that I'm um... pregnant and that he’s the father.”

Kenma stands shell-shocked, colors draining out of his face.

“Can you meet in person right now?”

“yeah that’s what I wanted to propose, but he said he was busy.”

“No he’s not, let’s meet up. Do you know where [name of restaurant] is? Let’s meet at the cafe next door.”

“sure.”

Twenty minutes later, Kuroo sits across from Aika, a million thoughts running through his mind as he stares at the pregnancy test in front of him.

“are you sure I'm the father?”

Aika nods.

Kuroo lets out a string of curses, not understanding how this could’ve happend. He always used protection...except that one night he got so wasted, he might have forgotten. He realized the next morning, but decided to say nothing since the chances of actually impregnating someone was slim.

Except a woman now sits in front of him pregnant.

“so what do we do now?” Aika looks at him.

Kuroo shakes his head, head empty and confused. There was nothing he wanted to do than to get out of here and pretended this never happened.

He looks out the cafe and sees you and Akaashi walk by. A huge gust of wind had you scrambling behind your boyfriend, laughing as he wrapped his arms around you. He watched the two of you disappear into the crowd.

Kuroo wanted nothing more than to turn back time to when you were still his.

Kenma spoke for Kuroo, “Hey Aika, thanks for meeting with us. This is a huge decision. I don’t think he’s in the right state of mind to comprehend what’s happening right now. Is it okay for us to meet again tomorrow? Since you’re pregnant we can meet your place if you don’t mind.”

Aika nods, “okay, I’ll see you guys tomorrow then.”

Kuroo watches as Aika walks out the cafe.

Kenma sighs, “lets go home first and try to figure this out.”

The walk back home was silent, a million thoughts in both mens’ minds.

Kenma broke the silence first, “I think you should take responsibility.”

Kuroo sighs, deep down he knew that was the right decision. He nods slightly, heart full of pain.

When he thought of children, he’d always imagine a child with your eyes and his hair. He tries to imagine what he and Aika’s child would look like, but with great difficulty because his mind was still full of you.

“I’m going to tell Y/n.”

Kenma stops in his track, “No, Kuroo. Haven’t you done enough? You guys were together for ten years, you’ve even talked about children. Now that you’re having a child with someone else the first person you want to tell is Y/n? are you out of you mind?”

Kuroo looks at Kenma, “it’s because we’ve been together for so long that it’s only right she hears about this from me. It’ll be the last I ever contact her, I promise.”

Kenma looks at Kuroo disapprovingly, but the look in his best friend’s eyes tells him any attempts to stop him would be futile. He unlocks the door, “fine, do what you need to do. But you better keep your promise”, Kenma walks in, leaving Kuroo outside.

Kuroo scrolls through his contacts and presses his fingers on the familiar name.

“Honey, your phone is ringing. Do you want me to pick it up?” Akaashi asks as you stood in the kitchen prepping dinner.

“yes please.”

Akaashi picks up the unknown number, “Hello?”

“Hey is Y/n around?”

Akaashi immediately recognizes Kuroo’s voice. “What do you want Kuroo?”

Your ears perked up at Kuroo’s name, why is he calling you?

“I just need to talk to Y/N about something Akaashi. This is it, this is the last time I'll ever contact her.”

Akaashi looks at you, something about the hint of defeat in Kuroo’s voice made him feel like you should talk to him. Akaashi hands you the phone, “he said it’s the last time he’s contacting you. I think you should hear him out.”

With that, Keiji leaves the kitchen, leaving you with Kuroo on the other line.

“Hello?”

Kuroo felt his heart flutter at the sound of your voice, his mind momentarily drifting back to the first time he kissed you.

“Hello?” you repeated.

He coughed nervously, “hey Y/n, um...is it okay if I meet you downstairs at yours? I need to tell you something in person, it’s important. I promise I’ll be out of your life forever after this”

You, like Akaashi, hears the slightest hint of defeat in Kuroo’s voice.

“okay. I’ll see you in ten.” You hang up the phone.

“Keiji, I’m going downstairs to see what Kuroo wants. Do you want to come with?”

Akaashi smiles slightly and shakes his head, “its alright babe.” Akaashi sees the way you look at him and knows you’ve got each other’s hearts forever.

You stood on your toes and kissed him, “I'll be right back”.

Kuroo nervously kicks at the pebble on the sidewalk, jumping slightly when you tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, what do you want?” You couldn’t stop the bitterness from seething into your voice when you see him in person.

Kuroo rubs his neck nervously, “I...well I just want to say I’m sorry...”

You looked at him incredulously and sighs, “you’ve already said sorry a bunch of times Kuroo, but that’s not going to change anything.”

“I know, but I don’t think I ever properly apologized for what I said the last time I saw you and Akaashi together. I’m really sorry. Thanks for meeting with me.”

“sure, is there anything else? Keiji is still waiting for me upstairs.”

Kuroo looks down, before meeting your eyes, “yeah, I want you to hear this from me and not anyone else. But um...I’m going to be father soon. I got someone pregnant”.

You looked at him in shock. Despite having moved on from Kuroo a long time ago, you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness in your heart. After all, ten years together was a long time. You thought back to all the times the two of you laid on the sofa, tracing each other’s features, wondering if your children will have his eyes or yours.

He continues, “I'm really scared Y/N. I never even imagined having children with anyone else.”

Both of you can hear the “other than you” lingering in the air.

“I don’t know what to do...” He puts his face in his hands. Despite being such a big man, Kuroo Tetsurou suddenly seemed so small.

“Tet...” Kuroo perks up at the nickname you used to give him, “it’s time for you to grow up and take responsibility.”

His body stiffens in surprise before melting into your embrace.

“Thank you for telling me. Whoever she is, treat her and the baby well okay?”

The two of you stood wrapped in each other’s arms, a million memories passing through your minds.

Under the starless Tokyo night, two exes stood embracing for the very last time.

You pull away, Kuroo lets his hands drop reluctantly.

“I really am sorry. If I could, I’d do anything to go back.” He whispers.

“I know...” You smiled slightly, “and I know you can be great father Kuroo.”

You turn around to leave, “I guess I'll see you around.”

Kuroo watches as you walk up the stairs and turns on his heels to leave.

“Goodbye Y/N” He thinks to himself, wiping away the last tear he’ll ever cry for you.

The next morning, Kenma and Kuroo sits across from Aika.

“Let’s do this Aika. Let’s have the baby.”

Kenma looks at Kuroo in surprise, but nods his head approvingly.

Aika smiles, “thank you for taking responsibility.”

Kuroo thinks back to you before wiping his mind of your smile, your touch, your kiss. He reaches across the table, taking Aika’s hands in his.

“Lets get married.”

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heartbreakgrill · 4 years

Text

Flirting in Walmart

a/n: definitely going to be writing some fetus 5sos, BUT, this video makes me feel some type of way 😌

description: being the opening act for 5sos is fun, but not when they wake you up at 12:30 to go into walmart. [PT 2]

“Pst, [Y/N].”

Someone rocked your shoulder, your body- a snoring lump- being knocked around in effect. You groaned at the movement, toes curling because your legs stretched.

“[Y/N], wake up,” the voice whispered again, warm, minty breath fanning across your face.

“What,” it came as a statement, the question mark lazily slung off from your short tone.

“Do you wanna come into Walmart with us?” Calum’s hand stayed on your shoulder, fingers pressing into your skin, exposed by the crooked t-shirt.

You shivered, brushing him off of you, “Why?”

Your eyes slowly opened, noticing the flicked on lights of the tour bus, the blackout curtain to your bunk hanging over Calum. His face was so close to yours, your heart skipped a beat.

“Ash and I want better blankets, Michael wants dog treats, and I know you said earlier that you wanted a heated blanket and lipgloss,” his eyes dipped back into his head when he listed your list from that day.

You were flattered he remembered your complaints from earlier in the day. And, even though your head was whining, your feet aching, and your joints moaning from each movement, you went to sit up.

Calum guarded your head with his left hand, afraid your sleepy state would hit it off the top bunk. “We’ll be outside. Take your time.”

You lazily pulled on the fuzzy sucks abandoned at the bottom of your bunk, feet colliding with your moccasins once you shuffled to the front area of the bus. Though your skin was covered in goosebumps, you stepped down from the bus in just your sweatpants and a t-shirt, no bra protecting you from the chill.

“Ready?” Michael cheerily remarked, Moose on a lease in front of him.

You nodded, falling in step with Ash and Calum towering on either side of you. “Can you take ‘em inside?”

Michael shrugged, “Its 12 AM; I dont think it matters.”

You managed a sleepy laugh, taking in a deep breath. As the chilly air filled your lungs, your teeth chattered haphazardly in your mouth.

“Why didn’t you grab a coat?” Ash laughed.

You shrugged, the lights of the store making your eyes squint as you came closer to the entrance. “Don’t know, I’m half asleep.”

Ash chuckled again before catching up with Michael, who called the older man up to him to look over the clearance just inside the entrance. Your arms collided with fuzzy material, the chill going slightly away.

“Oh, thank you,” you slipped your hands through Calum’s hoodie, allowing for your cold to go completely away.

“Welcome.” He stopped at an intersection of aisles, causing you to stop, too. “Wanna come with me?”

“Cosmetics is right here, lets go there first.”

You lead the way down the aisle, noticing Andy filming Michael and Ash at the entrance. Calum followed you down the makeup aisles, confused but intrigued by the products.

You squatted to look at the NYX lipgloss’ and Calum busied himself with an eyeshadow pallet.

“This would look really pretty on you,” he spoke, placing the pallet down in front of you.

You plucked a shimmery pink from the display rack and stood back to his level. “You, too.”

“You think?” He blushed: Your face didn’t have the energy to rush blood to your face, luckily.

“Yeah, Ive always thought you would look really hot on stage with eyeshadow,” you shrugged, eyes dancing over the pallet.

Calum’s eyebrows perked up, “Oh? Hot?”

“C’mon, you know I think youre hot.” You deadpanned directly into his eyes. “Blankets,” you walked away, Calum following like a lost puppy because of the compliment.

You stopped at the blanket aisle, feeling Calum pause just behind your shoulder, his chest nearly pressed up against you. You skimmed down the aisle, unsure of which heated blanket to buy until you saw the brand you had discusssed with your mom.

“You get one?” You turned to the older man, noticing he had strayed away as you were looking.

“Uh, yes, this fuzzy one would suit me.”

It was stitched with a giant Anna, Elsa, Olaf, Kristoff, and Sven.

You snorted, stuffing your empty hand into his pocket. “Still hot.”

Calum grinned down at you, backing out of the aisle as you walked towards him. “Did you wanna look at books, too?”

“Yeah, I did,” you gaped up at him, unaware he actually listened to you that much.

You finished the last book you brought on tour yesterday, discussed it with Sierra, and exchanged recommendations in the dressing room. He simply overheard you, hadn’t even been involved in the conversation.

It was your turn to look lost, following with wide eyes. Calum stepped into the aisle, beginning to gaze at different books. He plucked through a coloring book while you were reading the backs of some novels. You had two picked out when he got bored and leaned against the shelf in front of you. His arm was slung up on the top shelf, face nuzzled into his elbow, watching you with adoring eyes.

“May I help you?” You quipped, still looking at a book.

You met his eyes and he grinned, “Just admiring the view.”

You were more awake now and your body allowed the pink tint to criss cross to the tips of your ears. “Hm.”

After picking up three more books, you walked alongside one another to the next aisle. It was simply rolls of fabric, but Calum didn’t care. Or, apparently, didn’t notice.

“Well, these blankets are cheaper,” he mumbled to himself, but you still heard him.

“Cal, no-“

“I’m getting one of these instead.” He grabbed the roll of black fabric and walked away. He knocked down a roll of one designed with plaid, but didn’t seem to, again, notice.

You sighed, picking it up and putting it back. You turned to follow him again, facing both Calum and Andy, with a camera. You grinned, waving at the device.

“Wanna say something, [Y/N]?” He moved closer to you, focusing the lens on your face.

“Hi, mom!” You giggled, waving again. Your eyes flickered from the camera to Calum, who was staring at you again. He smiled shyly, but grinned when he noticed you were meeting his eyes.

You took a deep breath, clenched your jaw. The next few minutes were a blur as Ashton pointed out to Calum that the blankets were rolls of fabric. Then, checking out, trudging back to the bus, sitting yourself down on the couch. You took everything from the bags, removed the packaging and tossed the trash into the bag Ashton held out to you. You hooked up the heating blanket, and excitedly walked/ran/skipped/danced to your bunk.

You bent at the waist, leaning the top half of your body into the bunk in order to plug it in. You stood back up, clapping your hands together at the new addition to your life. You bent down again to put your books into the drawer beneath your bunk.

When you, again, stood up, you turned and your eyes collided with Calum, who was on the couch, halfway through unraveling his pack of socks, but paused because he was distracted. His eyes were focused on the middle of your body, the air where your ass had just been. You cleared your throat, hip popped out.

You crossed your arms, shuffling into the living area. Ashton muttered a goodnight to both of you, shutting the door separating the bunking area from where you were. The lights were dimmed, the only one on being a lamp on the table next to Calum.

He didn’t meet your eyes, busying himself with his socks as he rolled each pair into each other. You sat down across from him, on the other couch.

“What’re we doing?” You sighed, fingers fumbling with the loose sleeves of his hoodie.

“Hm?” No eye contact.

“Cal,” you sternly replied. He still wasn’t giving you his beautiful brown eyes, “Calum.”

There. He frowned, face red and eyebrows raised. “What?”

“What’re we doing?” You ran your hands down your thighs, clamminess seeping through your pores. “What?”

“i dont know,” he shrugged, scared of the consequences by saying he could fall in love with you.

“Dancing around each other. That’s what. But why? Youre so confusing. I compliment you, flirt with you. But, you just flirt back and walk away. Are you playing with me? You dont want to play with me. I’m a Taylor Swift, bitch, ill write a song about you- nah, actually, you could call me love, stare at my ass again, and I’ll write a motherfucking album, Calum. I genuinely, honestly, like you. I want to, like, be with you, Cal. If you want to, ya know? Like cuddle and shit and like, dance with you at the clubs like Sierra and Luke do. I dont know, I’m tired and hot and flustered because you were staring at my ass. I dont know what to do,” you let it all fall out, unaware of what you were saying until it out in the open. But, you couldn’t care less anymore. You needed to know his intentions before you fell in too deep.

Calum grinned into his lap, setting down his final pair of socks. He stood up, abandoning the clothing. He settled on his feet in front of you, out stretching his hand to you.

You glanced at the body part, eyes moving up his arm to his brown ones. “What?”

“There’s a club event tomorrow or some shit. I would dance with you right now, but my eyes are falling shut just standing here.” He shrugged, fingers wiggling in the air as he rose his brows again. “Let’s go.”

Your lips began to quirk up into a smile, legs pulling you from the couch. “Wh-“

“Cuddle,” he tugged you into him when you grabbed his hand. Calum lifted you in his arms, moving his hold to your waist. You squealed as he twisted you around, bridal style, while your fingers grabbed at his shoulders.

“Okay, but my bunk, my heating blankets all warm and ready.”

With a chuckle and a shake of his head- a kiss to your forehead- he shut the door with his foot.

#calum hood x you #calum hood x y/n #calum hood x reader #calum hood fluff #calum hood blurb #calum hood imagine #calum hood #5sos blurb #5sos fluff #5sos imgaines #5sos imagine #5sos fanfic #5sos

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theloneliestshipper · 3 years

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What about a Soulmate or red string of fate AU for Leia and Boba?

I actually had multiple requests for this one. I came up with a premise years ago for this and yet writing it out only made me realize how hard it would be to get these two stubborn, independent people to buy into it. I dragged them as far as I could, I swear.

AO3 Link

“It’s Mandalorian.” Her father’s voice was hushed. He sounded worried. “I recognize the lettering.”

“Could we have it translated?”

Leia rubbed her leg just above her knee as she listened to her parents whispering outside her door. The darker patch of skin had always been there. Her mother said she always had. It was only after her tenth birthday that the color began to deepen and the foreign letters began to take shape.

“Yes, but should we?” Her father continued. “This whole business of soulmates, it’s a lot of pressure. Maybe it’s best if she doesn’t know.”

Her mother sounded uncertain. “There’s a lot she doesn’t know, Bail. What if this is one thing too many?”

---

“You have a soulmark?” Sabine Wren’s eyes went wide.

“You don’t think it’s crazy?”

“My parents have them...so, no. My dad’s says, “I’m looking” and my mom’s says, “look at this beautiful sight!” My dad was painting a picture of a lake when they met, and he wanted her to look at the view and she wanted to look at him.” Sabine shrugged. “And those were the first words they said to one another. My mom says she was just grateful that hers was in Mando’a.”

Leia fidgeted, keeping an eye out for anyone passing in the hall of the rebel base. “Mine is in Mando’a too.”

“It is? That means it’s your soulmate’s first language!”

“I looked it up, but the translation wasn’t exact. It’s just one word. Slana’pir.”

“Huh.” Sabine considered that for a few seconds. “That can mean ‘get lost’ or ‘go away’ depending on the context. It’s kind of a funny thing for someone to say as their first words to you. The first letter, does it angle at the bottom? This way?” She illustrated with her hand.

Leia had to think about it. “No. The other way.”

“That’s interesting. It means they’re probably Concordian, from Concordia or Concord Dawn.” She grinned. “A hick Mandalorian, you know? In some places they use slana’pir literally, from a Concordian it’s more likely to be a threat.”

“Great,” Leia replied dryly. “I’ll just keep my eyes peeled for a Mandalorian who instantly threatens me. Are your parents...it’s real for them?”

“Oh yeah. They’re really happy together. My dad always says he doesn’t mind dying at the same time as my mom, because he can’t imagine living without her.”

“Wait. You die if your soulmate does?”

“That’s part of the deal. Once you meet and exchange words, you literally can’t live without one another.”

“But what if it’s someone you pass on the street and never speak to?”

“Then I guess you do what you want like everyone else.”

---

Leia couldn’t understand the grunts of the Gamorrean guards who dragged her through the door. They tossed her in the direction of the bed and left, locking the door behind them. The room was simple, the only furniture was a bed.

Jabba had made the terms of her captivity clear with the scraps of metal and cloth she was forced to wear. She was a trophy for the Hutt to display. So why lock her in here?

She paced for a while. When she got tired of pacing she sat on the bed, her eyes fixed on the door. That quickly became boring and so she laid down, curled up on her side. At some point she fell asleep.

When she woke up there were voices outside the door. Bib Fortuna, the Twi’lek majordomo, and a second voice.

Boba Fett.

Leia bolted upright. Of course. Jabba was passing her on as a bonus to his pet hunter. Her hands curled into fists as the door opened and the Mandalorian bounty hunter strode in.

“Get out.”

She resisted the urge to cover her soulmark with her hand. “Congratulations,” she snarled instead. “You can read.”

He didn’t respond. He stood frozen in front of the door until it finally occurred to Leia that something had happened. “The fuck,” he whispered, the words barely audible through his helmet. Suddenly he was moving towards her, and before she could scramble away he was on his knees at her feet, his hand on her leg. His gloved fingers scrubbed across her soulmark as if he was trying to rub it off.

“Ow!” She pulled her leg up under her, shoving him away. “Get off me!”

He straightened, started to walk away and then turned back. And then away again, as if he had lost all sense of direction. “It can’t be,” he said to no one.

“Are you on spice?”

He laughed, a harsh, unexpected sound that caused a burst of static in his helmet. “I wish this were a spice dream, but neither of us is going to get that lucky.” He lifted off his helmet, setting it on a table before he removed his jetpack. He was in his thirties, with dark curly hair and tan skin. A handsome man, in spite of his grim expression. He looked as if he wanted to be doing anything other than what he was doing.

He stripped off his bracers and then worked open the flak vest his chest plates attached to. When he started opening the neck of his flight suit Leia realized that he was undressing.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” she said. “Lay a hand on me and one of us is going to die.”

“I’m not going to touch you.” He said it scornfully, as if the very idea was offensive. “I have to show you something.”

“Why?”

His anger faded a little. “I think you have a right to know.” He pulled his arms out of the sleeves of his flight suit and let the top half hang over his belt. He wore a white sleeveless undershirt beneath it, which he pulled over his head in one smooth motion. His back was all smooth skin and muscle, except for a few scattered scars and the line of aurebesh letters that ran vertically down along his spine.

Congratulations. You can read.

“Oh my gods.” Leia could scarcely breathe. “You...you didn’t read it. It was just...the first words you said.”

“Seems impossible that we haven’t spoken before. But even on Bespin we never talked. Not directly.”

“It’s you,” Leia said, still trying to process it. “You’re the hick Mandalorian. From...Concorda...or something.”

He blinked at her. “Concord Dawn. And I’m not. But my dad was.” He waited a moment, as if he was trying to decide something. “When did they show up for you? The actual words, I mean.”

“I was ten, I think.”

“Me too.” A smile appeared, fleeting but sincere. “My dad said they were funny. Like a joke.” He shook his head. “It’s a fucking joke, all right.”

“Tell me about it.” Leia rubbed her temple. “My soulmate is a bounty hunter.”

“And mine is in love with someone else.” Fett winced as if something had just occurred to him. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

“What? Why?”

“Because if I don’t you’ll get yourself killed trying to rescue Solo. You know what happens now, right? Now that we’ve met? If you die, I die.”

“You could help me. Help me get Han out and-”

“And what? You’ll marry him, move to the outer rim and live a long, peaceful life?” His tone was rich with skepticism.

“Maybe I will,” she lied, trying not to think about the rebel forces gathering on Yavin IV.

He looked at her for a moment in silence and then dropped his gaze. “I’ll leave. Whatever plans you have, I’m not part of them. We’ll both just try to...stay alive.” His shoulders rose and fell in one sharp breath. “Since we probably won’t see each other again, is there anything you want to know?”

Leia plucked at the blanket on the bed. “I guess you’ve heard some of the same things I have.”

The bounty hunter shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

“I didn’t feel anything when you…” she gestured at her leg.

“Might have been blocked by the gloves.”

“Yeah. That makes sense, I guess.” It might be her only chance to test it. “If you want to try it again…”

He worked his glove off his right hand and approached her cautiously. His hand spread over her thigh, covering his words completely. Leia felt nothing. She gingerly placed her hand on his naked back, over her own words.

And then she felt everything.

It was...a connection. She could think of no other word to describe it. This person belonged to her. His life, his body, his mind and his soul. He fit her like home. She looked up into his eyes, eyes that reflected the same intense longing. “Oh no,” she breathed, overwhelmed and shaking.

“Yeah,” Fett gasped as he leaned in and kissed her and it was perfect the way no kiss between two strangers should be. Leia’s hand went to his chest and then up around his neck as the kiss deepened and then she was wrapped around him and they were both nearly horizontal on the bed.

And then suddenly he was pushing away, detangling himself from the embrace. He turned his back to her and clutched at his head as if he had a stabbing headache. “No,” he growled. “No fucking way.”

Leia couldn’t take her eyes off the words on his back. Her words. She wanted to touch him again. To hold him and comfort him. But clearly that wasn’t what he wanted. She swallowed the lump that was suddenly in her throat. “So I guess that’s real.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, still facing away. “No matter what some stupid magic tattoo says, that was out of line.”

“It wasn’t…” She didn’t know how to finish that. Was it better or worse if it truly wasn’t what he wanted? For that matter, how could she be sure that it was what she wanted? “No apology necessary,” she said finally.

“That’s gracious of you.” He reached for his undershirt and pulled it back on. “I think I have all the information I need.”

“Yes,” Leia agreed. “So what now?”

“Now I ask you for a favor.” He turned to face her and he put his arms through the sleeves of his flightsuit. “Be careful. Play along with Jabba and don’t do anything that might get you tossed in the rancor pit.”

She inhaled slowly, weighing her options. “I’ll try if you do one thing for me.”

“What?”

“Don’t leave.”

His hands stilled for a second, and then he looked away. “It’s going to be hell,” he said, almost casually. “Not knowing where you are or what you’re doing. Fine. I won’t leave. I’ll help you if I can, but don’t ask me to lift a finger for Solo.”

“Fine.”

---

Things had taken a turn. Leia could feel it in her bones as Jabba’s minions raced for the deck of the sail barge. Fett clearly knew it too.

Artoo bumped against her leg with a quiet beep, and Leia took advantage of the Hutt’s distraction. She crouched down beside the small droid and held the length of chain between her hands. One zap and it broke.

But when she straightened, the bounty hunter was gone.

She heard Jabba’s cry of outrage as she bolted for the deck, but she ignored it. All of his guards were busy fighting. She caught a quick glimpse of her friends on the skiff and then the bounty hunter at the rail. The engines on his jetpack were lit.

Leia seized a pike that had fallen to the deck in the mad rush and swung it as hard as she could. Her aim was too good. Not only did she smash it into his jetpack but the force of the blow sent him over the railing.

Into the sarlacc pit.

She raced to the railing. He’d managed to slow his fall by grasping at the side of the barge, but without a good handhold in reach he was slipping down the side. She reached down with the pike and he grabbed it. A blaster shot ricocheted off the barge inches from his head. Artoo appeared on the deck and whistled sharply. Leia looked over at the droid. “What do you mean ‘it’s going to blow?’”

She jumped barely a second before the explosion. She collided with Fett on the way down and they hit the sand, rolling towards the mouth of the pit until suddenly they jerked to a stop. Fett had one arm wrapped around her and when she looked up she saw his other arm stretched over his head, bent at an angle that screamed ‘broken’ but anchored by his fibercord grappling hook to the skiff above them.

“Leia!” She heard Han shout, but she was too busy trying to hold onto Fett and keep herself from sliding further into the pit.

“Blaster,” Fett rasped. “Sarlacc…”

A tentacle slapped at her ankle and she pulled her leg up as high as she could. She managed to pull the bounty hunter’s blaster pistol from it’s holster and fired at the beast, causing the ground to shudder beneath them.

Chewie appeared over the railing of the skiff and then suddenly the skiff lurched and began to move. Fett let out a muffled cry of pain as it dragged them to safety.

---

“Can you see this?” Leia waved a hand in front of his face and Han squinted.

“I can see the motion.”

“That’s a good sign. Try to get some sleep, okay?” She bent down to kiss his forehead before leaving the Millennium Falcon's crew quarters. Fett was sitting up on the cot, his back against the wall. His arm had been set and placed in a sling and at the insistence of everyone else, his other hand was cuffed to the cot. His helmet sat beside him, and his eyes were half-shut. Lando had given him a pretty big dose of painkillers.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt worse.” His mouth curved into a bitter smile. “You fucked up.”

Leia folded her arms over her chest. “I still saved your life, Fett.”

He shook his head as if the motion took effort. “The sarlacc keeps its victims alive. You could have lived your whole life while I was being digested.”

“I don’t think I could have.” Leia sat down beside him on the cot. “I don’t want you to suffer. That’s not the magic tattoo, that’s who I am.” She brushed a dark curl off his forehead and laid her palm on his cheek. The sense of connection and wholeness she felt at Jabba’s was just as strong now. He leaned into the touch and Leia leaned over and gave him a quick kiss, which led to a longer kiss. And then an even longer one.

“What are we doing?” Fett demanded as soon as they broke apart.

“Nothing. You’re drugged to the gills and Chewie would love to have an excuse to throw you out the airlock.” She sighed and leaned back against the wall beside him. “I don’t like being told what to do. Even by fate.”

“My dad used to say ‘fate is whatever you make of your life.’”

He’d spoken of his father before, and always in the past tense. “When did he die?”

“Years ago. When I was still a child.”

“What about your mother?”

“Never had one.”

“I’m sorry. I can tell by the way you talk about your dad that you were close.” Leia turned her head towards him. “I’m an orphan too, you know. Maybe if we’d met at a different time or in a different place…”

Fett nodded and gave her a quick, tired smile. “If fate is real, maybe it’ll bring us back together when we have an actual shot at it.”

She laughed softly. “I like that idea, actually. Put it to the test.”

He lifted his hand as far as the cuff would allow. “I’d shake on it, but…”

“Nice try.” Leia sat up and gave him one last kiss. “For fate.”

#boba fett/princess leia #random au #my fic #rebelbounty #prompt fic #soulmate au #boba/leia #Anonymous

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