#I think his eyes are dry; he won't stop blinking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kamiversee · 2 months

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 13 || The Unexpected

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, sexual tension, & smut.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOU RUSH OUT OF THE building completely flustered with an embarrassed expression written all over your face.

Perhaps after dealing with men who so easily compliment you and fell for your flirtatious traps you'd grown accustomed to not being turned down. Getting dismissed by a man like Toji Fushiguro isn't exactly something you planned for.

It won't stop you from showing up next week and trying again but it will leave you embarrassed and shamefully horny.

You strolled down the campus pathway, heading toward where your car was with your head stuck on what had just happened. The man seriously just told you to get out. You thought you had managed to seduce him at least a little but now you guess you were wrong.

So distracted with your thoughts of what just happened, you nearly miss as a familiar voice calls your name. Your lashes flutter as you blink a few times and look around the area to spot the man who'd called your name.

Your brows push together when you don't see anyone. Okay, now you're hearing things-

"Right here, gorgeous." Geto suddenly whispers into your left ear.

The sudden sound makes you jump and you move your hand to smack his chest for scaring you. He chuckles at your reaction and you give him an annoyed scowl.

"Suguru, don't scare me like that!" You huff.

Geto snickers at you, "Sorry."

A pout takes over your expression and the sight furthers his amusement.

"You're so cute," He hums, raising a hand to pinch your cheek. You immediately smack him off. "Oh c'mon, don't be like that. You didn't even send me a text after our date... How do you think that makes me feel?" He says with a sudden frown.

You blink. "Uh..."

"That's not nice, y'know. Leaving me all high and dry." Geto continues as he shakes his head at you.

"I just thought..." You trail off for a second and the man leans toward your face suddenly.

The words you were going to say fall off your tongue completely as Geto abruptly begins to study your facial expression.

"You alright?" He asks.

You try leaning away, "Yes, why?"

"You look..." His eyes narrow, "I dunno, horny?"

"H-Huh?" Your heartbeat spikes in alarm. If he can tell, does that mean Mr. Fushiguro was able to see that as well? "How the hell can you notice something like that?!" You question the man.

"Darling, I spent an entire night seeing you with that exact same facial expression. I don't think I'll be forgetting it anytime soon." Geto reminds you.

You grit your teeth slightly, "Is it... Is it that obvious?" You mumble.

The man in front of you grows surprised, eyebrows raising and a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "I mean, to me, yes. Though, I wasn't expecting you to admit it so truthfully."

You freeze. Shit, you just told on yourself. "Uh.."

"No need to try lying about it now." Get said with a shrug. He then stands straight up, "What-, actually, who got you all worked up?"

"Uhm..." Your eyes dart off to the side. Why the hell would you tell him anything-

"Was it Mr. Fushiguro?" Geto guesses. He was going based on the building you just left and who was likely to be in there.

Your eyes fly right back over to the man, "How the fuck-"

"Did you forget that I know about the list...?" He reminds you with a slight chuckle.

"You..." A sudden thought rushes to your mind. "Holy shit, you do, don't you?"

"Yeah, so-"

"Shouldn't I be pissed with you right now?" You ask as you remember that Gojo said Geto had videoed you the night of your date.

He scoffs. "What for?"

"Didn't you record me??" You question.

For a moment, Geto stares at you as if he's contemplating something. Then he swallows, "Uh, no."

"No?? But Gojo said-"

"He lied."

"He..." Your head cocks back in surprise, "He what?"

"He lied. I never recorded you." Geto says honestly.

You scowl at the male, "Bullshit."

"When would I have had time to do that?" He scoffs, "I could hardly think straight with the way you were sucking my-"

You move a hand over his mouth and look to your left and right. "Shut up," You snap at the man. "No need to put our business out there like that..."

Geto chuckles beneath your palm before lightly taking hold of your wrist and pulling your hand away. "My bad. But seriously, when would I have recorded you? And if you want," He moves to pull his phone out, "You can check my phone."

You stare up at him, glance down at his phone for a second, then look back up at him. "You could've sent it to Gojo and then deleted it from your phone." You point out.

"True but, I didn't," Geto says.

You fold your arms, "And how am I supposed to believe you?"

"What reason would I have to lie?"

"I don't know."

"And what good would blackmailing you do me? I'm not Satoru." Geto tells you.

He has a point, but you're still unsure if you want to trust him. "You're his best friend though."

"We're two different people. Completely opposite of each other." He hums.

"Okay..." You say, batting your eyelashes at him. "That doesn't prove anything or make me want to believe you any more."

"Alright," Geto sighs, "What if I offer you comfort?"

"Comfort...?"

"I can only imagine how alone you feel in your situation."

Fuck, he's right. You swallow, "I..."

"You can't tell Shoko because you feel embarrassed, can't talk to Satoru because you 'hate' him, and I'm not sure if you know anyone else that you'd comfortably want to talk to about this." Geto points out flawlessly.

You simply stare at the man with hardly any response to that. He's right, after all, you have been feeling ridiculously alone in your predicament.

"I obviously can't make you believe me about not recording you but, you can trust me." He claims.

You remain unconvinced, "How do I know you're not trying to manipulate me like Gojo?"

"Because if I was trying to manipulate you, I would've done it already."

"Uhuh, sure you would've."

"I'm serious. I only approached you today because I wanted to talk to you about this."

"Yeah right."

"I don't know what Satoru has going on in that head of his but even a blind man could see that what he's doing isn't right."

Your eyes suddenly light up, "Are you saying you're going to help me out of this?"

"No."

"But... you could if you wanted to," You say as you raise a brow, "Couldn't you?"

Of course he could. All Geto has to do is tell you the truth about the situation. "What makes you think that?" He asks.

"Suguru..." Your eyes narrow and you lean closer to him accusingly, "You know something that could get me out of this, don't you?"

"N-No." Geto stammers.

"Liar."

"Alright, let's say hypothetically I did... I wouldn't be able to help you out without fucking myself over."

You blink. "Huh, how?"

"Do you really think Satoru is going to be happy with me ruining his fucked up little plan?"

"Well, probably not... But you're his best friend!" You emphasize, "He'll forgive you."

"Perhaps." Geto hums, "But I don't think you realize, you're not the only one Satoru's willing to blackmail."

"...He'd blackmail you too?"

"Maybe. And if not, he'd probably go out and tell people things about me I never intended on sharing..."

"Kinda like how you're a dirty little pervert?" You blurt out teasingly.

The man halts for a second, then he snickers. "Yes... Like that."

"Speaking of which... Do you still have my panties?"

"I do," He smirks and moves as if he were about to pull something out of his pocket, "Want em' back?"

"Y-You don't just walk around with them, do you?"

He laughs at your facial expression, "No."

You sigh, "Thank god. A-And yes I want them back."

"Come over one day and take em' from me." Geto taunts.

"Not happening."

"That's what I thought," He chuckles. "Anyways, back to what I was saying, you can trust me. I can't help you out of your situation directly but maybe I can help you through it."

"Really? You'd do that?" You ask, smiling at him slightly.

He stares at your expression, "Sure."

"Wait... in exchange for what?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying." Geto sighs, "Here, I can even suggest something for you."

"What?"

"Satoru's paying you right?"

"...Yeah?"

"Ask him if he'll pay you for each time you sleep with someone," Geto suggests.

"You mean like," An eyebrow raises, "If I sleep with someone more than once?"

"Mhm." He hums.

"But why would I sleep with someone twice...?"

He shrugs innocently, "I mean, right now you're horny and I'm standing right here..."

"I..." You blink, "Suguru do you want to have sex again? Is that why you're trying to help me?"

"Okay, no. That's not why I want to help you, though the sex would be a nice bonus... I've been thinking about how you probably feel." Geto says. You can feel the genuine care in his voice but you're still wary of trusting him.

"So, what, you wanna be my therapist?" You reply with a playful scoff.

He chuckles, "You sound just like him, y'know."

"Don't compare me to that asshole."

"Sorry. But if that's what you wanna call me, sure. I can be your therapist." He shrugs. "Now," Geto moves to toss an arm over your shoulder and pull you close to his side. He then tips his head down to your ear, "Tell me what has you so aroused right now?"

Steadily, the two of you begin walking together.

You swallow, "You want the details...?"

"Sure, why not?" He responds rhetorically.

"Pervert."

"C'mon, what happened in that classroom?"

With a roll of your eyes, you give in, "The professor is fucking hot, that's what."

Geto scoffs, "Yet I'm the perv."

"You are."

"But... you're the one fantasizing about a teacher fucking you..."

"I-I wasn't..."

"Really?" He smirks, "You weren't thinking about getting on your knees and being like 'please sir, just the ti-"

Heat rushes to your face, "Stop it."

Geto starts laughing at you, "Shit, I'm right aren't I? That's one of your dirty little fantasies, isn't it?"

"It's not."

"You can be honest with me, I won't judge."

"...Okay, so what if it is..."

He pauses his words for a second. The man's eyes are all over the side of your face as you keep your gaze forward. "I personally think that's hot," Geto tells you.

"Of course you do." You chuckle.

"What do you mean of course??"

"Slut."

He frowns, "That's your second time calling me that."

"You like it."

He falls silent.

"See? Can't even say you don't."

Geto abruptly whispers your name into the crown of your ear, his voice lower than you expected it to be. "Careful now, darling."

You scoff, "Why?"

"Cause, you're turning me on."

You swallow. Your lower lip gets caught between your teeth at his sudden claim and you can't ignore the fact that your arousal has yet to go away.

"You uh... Do you think Gojo will actually pay me for sleeping with someone twice?" You question, slowly turning your head to look at the man.

Geto meets your eyes and both of you have the same exact thing in mind. The tension was so very obvious.

He didn't need to say anything and neither did you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

This was unexpected. You have no idea how you let yourself get in this position. Damn Geto and his way of convincing you to trust him.

Well, it's not a bad thing that you're trusting him. He made some very valid points, especially the one about him being the only one who knows about your situation and won't judge you for it.

Yet, none of that would've made you think you'd end up in the back seat of his car with his head in between your legs and his tongue deep in your cunt. Good god, the man eats you out like he'd be waiting to do so.

"Fuck Sugu," You breathed out.

The loud sounds of him sucking and slurping on your folds filled the car air. His tongue moved so sloppily over you, lapping up every drop of your wetness like there's no tomorrow.

It was all too much and too little at the same time.

"Tastes so fuckin' good," Geto groans, his voice vibrating against your clit and making your back arch off the seat slightly.

You've got your fingers tangled in that beautiful head of hair of his, unconsciously tugging at it every now and then. The way he'd wrap his lips around your sensitive bud has your lip quivering with moans pouring from your mouth.

Geto flicked his tongue over it and then shifted slightly to swirl the tip of his tongue around your clit. Those large hands over his were tightly gripping onto the underside of your thighs, keeping your legs spread no matter how much you squirmed beneath him.

He pulled his jaw back slightly and peeked up at you for a second before sticking his tongue out and pressing it flat against your wet cunt. Geto slides one of his hands up along your thigh while slurping your taste into his mouth.

Pulling away from your pussy with a loud pop, you hear him swallow. "You've gotta let me get these off you," Geto pleads, referring to the pretty lace stockings you had on.

"W-Why," You stammer as he moves to kiss over your sex.

"Mgh," He moans into you. "I n-need em'" Geto tells you, his voice desperate.

You were unaware but the man's cock was bulging against his pants and he'd been dry humping his car seat to get some kind of friction as he ate you out. You gasp as he moved to rub his thumb over your clit and his mouth focuses on your insides.

A breathy chuckle leaves you, "Need em' f-for what...?" You voice out in between a moan.

The man couldn't even respond to you as he needily worked to please you. Geto's tongue was buried so deep inside your pussy that you think you were starting to see stars. Along with his thumb, you felt his nose brush up against your clit as he pressed his face into your sex.

An arm draped over your mouth, "Y-You're makin' a mess... ngh, Sugu... hah..." You moaned out to the man.

You could feel the way he smiled at your words. The hand that's still on your thigh slides up and one of your stockings is suddenly stripped from you in an instant.

"Mmmgh... I know," He whispers. His face was so wet from you but he didn't care, simply shoving his tongue into your sopping hole regardless.

Confusion takes over your expression for a second but when Geto pulls away and spits on your cunt to further the sloppiness of it all, your brain fades to mush.

That one stocking of yours is soon used for the male to relieve himself. Another loud popping sound is heard as he pries his lips from you and lifts his head. His eyes are so low and lustful, his tongue hangs slightly out of his mouth, and the bottom of his face is coated in your slick.

Geto licks his lips, "Hah... I have class soon," He hums before sitting up.

Two of his fingers slot into you abruptly to make up for the lack of his mouth. "Hnngh... A-Ah, then why'd you w-want to..." Your words fade into a whine as he curls his digits up into your g-spot.

His other hand hastily works to free his cock from his clothes and you hazily watch him hold your stocking in his mouth for a second. After his dick is freed from restrictions, your cunt clenched around him at the sight of Geto using those stockings of yours to jerk off-- shamelessly moaning at the contact of the soft fabric to his shaft.

Your jaw drops at the sight, "You're so... f-fuckin' dirty," You say meanly, words going straight to the man's cock.

Geto tosses his head back, one hand working to please you and the other moving to relieve himself simultaneously. "F-Fuck, mgh... keep, shit, keep talkin' to me like that." He requests.

The fingers thrusting inside you increase in pace and you feel a thumb swat over your clit. "Ha-ah, you're so nasty Sugu..."

"Yeah?" He flashes a smile, "Fuck, 'm gonna cum if you keep degrading me like that."

"Mm-mmh... look at you, ngh-, getting off with my stocking..." Your eyes roll back a little, "So filthy-, fuck." You squeak out as your climax approaches.

"Agh," Geto groans, the jerking motion of his hand growing faster as his precum smears along his length.

The situation was so lewd-- Geto jerking off with a clothing item that'd just been wrapped around your leg for hours and his free hand eagerly fingering you as he did so. Your legs steadily drew together while the squelching sound of his two thick fingers plunging into you hit your ears.

It sounded so messy and sloppy. Your moaning and Geto's groaning were filling the car and fogging up his already tinted windows.

Your orgasm crashed over you when the male swiveled his digits around inside you. His eyes were on yours as you did so, large hand pumping his cock with vigor at the sight of you.

"Oh f-fuck," Geto moaned, his voice slightly pitched.

Your eyes were glossy as your orgasm died down but you clearly saw as the man slid his fingers out of you and brought them up to his mouth. You watch those pretty eyes of his rollback once your taste is on his tongue again and he groans against his fingers as he too reaches his peak.

Geto sucks your slick off his own fingers and cums hard into his hand and all over your stockings. The sight of his body shuddering slightly and a string of saliva connecting from his fingertips to his lower lip as he pulls his hand away from his mouth is something you drink in entirely.

You carefully shut your legs and innocently stare at the mess the man has made of himself. "You're gross..." You say teasingly.

"Hah," He pants slightly and glances over to you, "Am I?"

"You just came all over my stocking..." You say with a scoff, "Perv."

"S'that your new nickname for me or something?" Geto asks.

"Yeah, it is." You say with a sigh. After which you shut your eyes and grin, "Gojo better pay me for this or you're in trouble."

"I'm sure he will." He responds simply.

"If he doesn't..." You begin moving to sit up, "You'll owe me."

"Oh, so you're a full-time whore then?"

"N-No but... I need the money," You mumble.

Geto looks down at the nasty mess he's made of himself and chuckles, "I'll pay you if you come clean me up."

You blink, "Are you serious...?"

"Maybe."

You think about it for a second but when you look down at the pitiful sight of your cum covered stocking wrapped around his length, you frown.

"Nah, I'm good." You say simply.

Geto rolls his eyes, "You're no fun."

And with that, the two of you respectively begin to clean yourselves up. You ended up texting Gojo and asking him that question of yours. To which he responded with a bunch of follow-up questions regarding if you had just slept with his best friend again.

When you told him yes, he ended up leaving you on read and simply sending you more money. A smile had grown on your face when you realized that fact bothered him to the point where he couldn't even respond to you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Knowing that you could hook up with anyone on the list more than once and still get paid for it was something that oddly made you quite happy.

Over the course of the next few weeks, you did two things. First, you and Geto ended up talking more than you expected to. He'd give you decent advice on how to seduce Toji and you used every bit of it.

Secondly, you attended that one class and endured a private lesson every Monday while getting riskier and riskier with your flirting.

Each lesson ended relatively the same nonetheless, Toji would say that it's been enough time the very second you had this certain look in your eyes. He learned to steal himself for the way you look at him or the questions you may ask and ever since that one time, he's never allowed you to tempt him again.

You used every ounce of advice that Geto continuously gave you-- maintain your posture, give him bedroom eyes, respond in ways that make the man feel like he's in control, etc. Surprisingly, Geto's advice was really good.

You notice subtle changes every time you use his suggestions and you're pretty sure it was all working. Slowly but surely, Toji was growing closer and closer to crossing that line with you.

After that spontaneous hook-up you had with Geto, you found yourself doing it a few times actually. It was always random and sometimes you didn't even bother to ask Gojo for money because having a fuck buddy was kinda fun.

And no, you didn't forget about the walking green flag that is Choso Kamo. The two of you went from texting every few days and a few phone calls to texting every single day and multiple phone calls. Although you couldn't tell him about the list, you were growing very close to him in terms of friendship.

In your mind, you had Geto to rant to about the list and Choso to talk to about anything else. You had started to feel comfortable in your situation. Well, to a certain extent of course.

There was always this little voice in the back of your mind screaming every time you flirted with Mr. Fushiguro but aside from that, you were slowly getting more and more into this role of yours.

You still actively ignored Gojo unless it was about the list, Geto was a good fuck every now and then and he'd listen to you complain whenever you needed to, Choso was just this little ball of sunshine who you wanted to avoid hurting at all costs, and Toji was...

Okay well, the man was completely fine up until the fourth week of your lessons with him.

It was the first and only time you had arrived late. You missed the entire lecture and arrived at his classroom just as the man seemed to be packing up to leave.

Toji was standing at his desk grabbing a few things but he paused when you came rushing into his classroom. Your breathing was heavy, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to regain oxygen in your lungs.

Your eyes were noticeably low, your face flushed with emotions, and your top was noticeably undone. With your hands on your knees and your body hunched over slightly, you panted heavily to catch your breath.

"M-Mr. Fushiguro, I... hah, I'm sorry I'm l-late." You huffed out.

The man was quiet as he stared at you. Slowly, you stood straight up and began to fan yourself off.

"Fuck," You curse. "Sir it's so hot in here."

Toji blinked at the sight of you slightly sweaty and still out of breath. With a scoff and a light shake of his head, he turns and takes a seat at his desk. "Did you run here or somethin'?" He asks, voice deep and husk like always.

You nod your head, "Y-Yeah."

Was that entirely true? No, but, you weren't going to tell him that.

As you look at the older man you notice that his gaze is slowly trailing down your body. That little stockings and skirt combo is hugging your body again and you don't miss the way Toji oggles the sight of you.

As his gaze rises back up, it comes to a pause at your chest and he raises an eyebrow at you. You blink and look down at yourself, noticing you've got more buttons undone than intended to.

"Shit," You whisper while raising your hands to fix yourself, "Sorry Sir."

"You're fine." The man says. "Sure you still wanna' interview me today?" He asks.

You nod your head again and glance up to look at him as your fingers work against your shirt, "Yes. I know I came late but I'm here now."

Toji moves to rest his elbow on his desk, propping his arm up and resting his cheek against his knuckles. "Care to explain why you were late?" He questions.

You freeze. "U-Uhm."

How are you supposed to tell him that you were late because you were too busy sucking Geto off in his car and almost completely forgot about these lessons of yours?

"Uhm?" Toji mocks, raising an eyebrow.

"Traffic." You result in telling him before looking back down at your shirt.

You began to struggle with one of the buttons and it was starting to frustrate you, especially since you left Geto completely untouched and now you're all hot, horny, and frustrated.

Toji's eyes narrow in on the messy state of your shirt. You looked more disheveled than you realized. "Traffic, huh?" He hums.

"Mhm."

"Traffic's got you all messed up like that?" The man quizzes further.

Again, your body freezes. Your sights slowly rise back up and over to him, "Y-Yes Sir..."

He scoffs and you watch his hand raise. Toji beckons you over to him with two fingers. At first, you don't move. Then, after the slight stutter in your brain, you carefully walk over to him.

Toji's seated comfortably in his chair and peers up at you in front of him. He tilts his head to the side and nods his chin at your chest, "Need some help?" He offers.

You're not sure why his words make you shift around where you're standing. "U-Uh... yes." You murmur.

"Yes, what?" He taunts.

The words slip out of your mouth faster than you wanted them to, "Yes please."

Toji smirks and then sits up. It's so slow and teasing how his large hands rise up along your body, just barely grazing you before he reaches your chest. The man stares for a second and then flicks his gaze up to you.

You watch his fingers latch onto the buttons and he too struggles to fix your shirt properly. Something in your head tells you that he's struggling because of the angle he's at so, your body moves before you think about it.

You take another step forward and move so that one leg is planted in between his larger ones. The upper half of your body leans forward into the man's touch and you place a hand on the armrest of the chair to hold yourself up.

Then, to take it further, you lift the leg in between his and push your knee into the chair. You grow dangerously close to his crotch but you pretend not to notice it.

Toji bats his eyes at the sight of you over him. Your tits are practically in his face and he can smell the freshly sprayed perfume oozing off your body. The fingers he had on those buttons of yours slip off of you and he sits back in his chair.

You swallow, "S-Sorry is this..." You start moving back.

Toji licks his lips before saying, "Did I tell you to move?"

Your body halts all movement in an instant. He smirks at your sudden obedience. The man weighs his head to the side while looking up at you.

Those seemingly hazel eyes of his narrow at you, "Let's do somethin' a little different today." Toji suggests.

You remain over him, "Different l-like what?"

His legs spread further apart and you don't miss the way his hips roll upward as he adjusts himself in his chair. The sight alone makes the annoying throb in your core continue. Toji doesn't lay a finger on you just yet, simply gazing up at you.

"I want you to tell me about yourself today."

"H-Huh?"

"It's been four weeks and I've hardly learned anything about the woman interviewing me," Toji points out. He then tilts his head, "How's that fair?"

You blink dumbfoundedly, "Well... I didn't think it was uh, necessary for you to learn much about me."

"It's probably not but," A slow hand rises slightly and his fingertips graze the end of your skirt playfully. "I am curious."

"Why?" You ask, chuckling nervously.

His eyes drop down to where his hand is and you feel two of his fingers move to pinch the fabric of your skirt. "Every week you show up in a similar outfit and ask me all kinds of questions. And the one thing I've noticed is that somehow," Deep colored eyes snap back up to your face, "The questions always turn into something sexual."

"Well I've said it before Mr. Fushiguro, those questions-"

"Make your project better, yeah, yeah, I know." He cuts off. "But if that's the case, why don't you just find out the answer to some of those questions yourself?"

You swallow, "What do you mean...?"

"Last week you asked me about my kinks." Toji recalls casually, "Why don't I demonstrate one on you?"

Your whole body is hot and needy at the very idea of what he's suggesting. The look in your eyes is unavoidably lustful and the man could clearly see from the moment you'd walked in that you were unusually flustered.

"D-Demonstrate?" You repeat innocently.

"Yeah, how's that sound?" Toji asks, looking for your consent. "You can tell me no if I'm misinterpreting all those looks you've been giving me-"

"No, no," You cut off, "I wanna do it, sir."

Toji's cock twitches at the sultry sound of your voice and the words you just uttered.

That painfully attractive smirk of his appears, "Yeah?"

You nod your head, "Mhm."

Okay, this is not how you intended things to go today. It was supposed to be another day of you flirting and asking more suggestive questions but, this works out for you anyways. Not only are you shamefully wet because of the way Geto was moaning and praising you not too long ago but you also can't help but feel so very needy for the touch of Toji Fushiguro.

His hands are so large and veiny, you want them all over your body. You crave for this professor to manhandle you and fuck you til' you can't think straight.

"Alright then," Toji sighs, sitting back in his seat. His eyes then focus on your own with complete seriousness, "Sit."

You hesitate. Glancing around the area, you wonder if he was referring to a nearby seat or something.

Toji chuckles at the clear confusion in your eyes but then he bobs his leg one good time to gesture where he was talking about. "Right here, pretty girl." He directs.

You slowly look down at his large leg in between yours, "O-On your leg, Mr. Fushiguro?"

"My thigh. Sit." He orders.

Embarrassment was coursing through you. Surely if you sat on his thigh, he'd feel the mess you are in your underwear.

You swallow, "Why...?"

Toji snickers at your hesitance. "I wanna watch you get off on my thigh."

You think you feel your cunt throb as his words hit your ears. The thought alone is dizzying.

"So," He continues, moving a hand to your lower back and lightly tapping you. "Sit."

Finally, you do just as he's instructed. As you seat yourself on his thigh, you feel so jittery and nervous. You're soaked right now and you just know he can feel it.

When Toji sees you've made yourself comfortable, he moves his hand to your chin and grabs a light hold of it, "Good girl." He praises.

You think you had to bite back the moan that wanted to escape you in reaction to the praise alone.

The leg in between yours suddenly lifts into you slightly, making your lips part and a breathy noise leaves you. "Now," Toji takes his hand off you and stares at the full sight of your smaller body resting atop his thigh. "Go on, lemme watch you fuck yourself on me."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☐

KAMO CHOSO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

??? NAOYA ☐

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kasagia · 29 days

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Game of survival, final hunting...

Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem!rebel! reader Summary: After he catches you, he tries to turn you into a lady who can stand by his side. However, you are not that easy to break... after all, a wild animal in a cage is still a dangerous animal. Warning(s): 18+; smut scene; Coriolanus Snow being Coriolanus Snow; blood; mention of dying; Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @divineidolatry @edb954 @missakward123 @blythlover @leclercsgirlshhs @squidscottjeans @theaaeht @yourmomsbjtch @lovelydoveval @staylowessafe @jeanscremebrulee Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

One step. Second. Third. Fourth. Keys jingling. The lock is twisted. Then the second one. You hear the door sliding open.

You manage to hold back a hiss as the door to your cell opens and light floods into the small, dark cell, blinding you for a moment. Your eyes, too accustomed to the dark, are watering and blinking rapidly as the light enters through your pupils.

"Rise and shine. I hope you're in a much better mood today." Coriolanus says, placing the tray of food on a small crate. He walks over to you and uncuffs your ankles and wrists from the handcuffs attached to the wall.

You fall into his arms after your aching, tired muscles from spending the night suspended against the cold wall of the cell can no longer hold you.

"I know, little hunter. This didn't make me happy at all. You know I don't like punishing you. But yesterday, you crossed the line. We're in the Capitol, not in the District. You can't cut off the fingers of my peacekeepers and expect not to be punished for it." He explains to you, scolding you like a little child as he gently sets you down on the makeshift bed. He runs a hand through your sweaty hair and reaches for your wrist to wipe away the blood that had flowed from the wound the handcuffs had caused.

"You… despise… them…" You speak in a hoarse voice. You hadn't had water in your mouth since last morning, but you weren't going to submit to him because of it and obediently listen to his lectures. You've been through worse, running away from him.

"True. But they are useful. And maybe you were right to cut off his finger for touching you where he shouldn't have, but it's my job to punish people for desecrating what's mine, not yours. We need to temper your thorns, petal, before I announce to the world that you will be my first lady. Next time, let's try to make it less gruesome, shall we?"

You would snort or roll your eyes if you had enough strength. Instead, you rest your head against the wall and close your eyes, as you are letting him bandage your wrists and ankles. He gently wipes away the dried blood and applies some ointments to the areas of your skin that were most abraded—evidence of your feeble attempt to escape and break free from these stupid shackles.

This has become a routine between the two of you. He tried to turn you into his first lady, and every time you showed your true colours and tried to get away from him, he locked you in here. For a day, two, or a week. You will never be able to determine exactly how long you have been hanging on the wall.

And then, moments like these came.

"You know you won't make it? I am and always will be from the district. You should have killed me ages ago." You mumble as much as your dry throat allows. Coriolanus, however, as usual, doesn't care much about your sarcastic remarks.

However, he lets go of your wrists and reaches for the water bottle, pressing it to your lips. You drink slowly, keeping your eyes on his blue irises, which always seem to be watching you intently.

You had long ago stopped trembling under his gaze, but there was something about him that wouldn't let you take your eyes off him. You wanted to think it was caution—the hunter's innate, eternal vigilance. But both you and Coriolanus knew very well that the reason you couldn't tear your eyes away from each other just like that was something more than your distrust for one another.

"I would let you go for the names of all the rebels. You know it well." He says this, throwing away the empty bottle. He wipes away the drops of water that have trickled down your chin and throat with his thumb and traces the line of your lips for a moment, caressing them.

"Of course, Mr. President. You would surely let me go. By extending my cage's run to your gardens." You mock him, and he just smiles slightly. He huffs, shaking his head as he pulls you into his arms and walks out. You might have found it romantic if he hadn't trapped you in that small, dark room or forced you to play the role he had assigned you.

"The reason for all the problems we have, is that you can't trust me." He states it matter-of-factly as he helps you sit on the armchair in his bedroom.

He ignores your angry glare and takes off your sweaty and dirty clothes. He takes you in his arms again and carries you to the bathroom, despite your attempts to break free from his arms. He carefully lowers you into the tub filled with warm water and foam. It smells like roses. Damn bastard.

"Because what you're doing now is giving me a hell of a lot of reasons to trust you." You growl in anger, pushing his hands away from you. Coriolanus grabs your chin tightly, forcing you to look into his icy blue eyes.

"Behave. We're not in the district." He reminds you with a cool tone of voice.

If he thought for even a moment that you would take on the role of his obedient pet, he was very wrong. You would have bitten off his finger to prove your point, but the prospect of another few nights in the cell had effectively dissuaded you from that tempting idea. At least for now.

You glare at him with an equally stubborn gaze, pulling your chin from his grip by tilting your head back. Coriolanus sighs, reaching for the bottle of shampoo. Without taking his eyes off yours, he begins to gently wash your hair, which you reluctantly allow him to do. The bastard gave good head massages. You could have let him have that false sense of gaining a little advantage. After all, you had been hanging for God knows how long, chained to that wall... or rather, the devil kneeling next to your bathtub.

"Why did you do that?" You ask with a shaky voice, breaking the silence between you as he reaches into the water to gently pour over the skin of your collarbones. He strokes your neck lazily, making you shiver under the touch of his rough, large hands.

"Specify. You obviously hold a lot of grudges against me if you came here after all these years with the intention of killing me... however pathetic and false this reason for your arrival may sound."

"False? I intended to kill you." You say, more furious with the stoic calm he displayed than with the fact that he dared to question the reason for your fateful arrival at the Capitol. Although, maybe you shouldn't be surprised? After all, it probably wasn't the first attempt on his life...

"Of course, little hunter." He replies, amused, thoroughly rinsing the foam from your hair. As he gently runs his fingers through them, you wonder what he said.

He couldn't be right. You came here for one simple purpose: to kill him. So why did your heart skip a beat when he declared that you were bluffing and fooling yourself? It could have been because of his closeness, how he was overwhelming you, and how both his warmth and his scent made you crazy, taking you back to those peaceful days in District 12 when you didn't know what a monster he was. But everything between you and Coriolanus ended a long time ago, right?

"Why did you kill Sejanus and Lucy Gray?" You ask, trying to stubbornly focus on the reason for your anger towards him, trying to push away the poisonous thoughts this snake has put into your head.

"I didn't kill them." You shudder as he spreads cold bath liquid over your heated body while whispering his answer.

You frown and turn your head, looking at him willingly for the first time. His eyes are focused on your body, though, as he slowly explores your body with his hands, caressing your skin. You see in his eyes how he reminds himself of the times when you two used to wash each other more often and in... much better circumstances. At least for you.

"So what? You sent them to the bottom of the ocean for a vacation?" You ask mockingly, pushing away his wandering hand that started to move too dangerously down your stomach. His eyes meet yours. You flinch as he takes your hand in his and guides it to where he wants it as he continues to wash you.

"Why? You want to join them?" His tone is laced with amusement as you unsuccessfully try to resist him. He finally stands up, grabs a towel, and lays it out for you, waiting for you to get out of the tub and let him dry you off.

"I want you to join them." You say, turning your back to him and standing up. He laughs softly, steps closer, and wraps the towel tightly around you, pressing his torso against your back. You shiver as you feel his breath on your neck.

"Not going to happen, my little hunter." His soft whisper, combined with his tight grip around you and the scent of roses that fills the bathroom after your forced bath, makes you feel even more trapped than when you were hanging against the wall. It was a difficult achievement, but you should've gotten used to the fact that, for him, nothing was impossible.

"Just answer the question." You reply stubbornly, brushing his arms off of you and turning to face him, keeping an iron grip on the towel.

"Why? So you can be under the illusion that I am not a monster and that you can feel something for me without feeling guilty? Or perhaps to make it easier for you to kill me?" He asks, running his hands through your wet hair before cupping your cheek. His thumb collects the drops of water that fall from your hair onto your temple and cheek, caressing your skin tenderly.

"I feel nothing but hatred for you. And believe me, when the time comes, nothing will stop me." You growl at him, furious. You push him away and get out of the tub.

He clicks his tongue, displeased more with the way the water drips from you onto the white marble floor of his bathroom than with the fact that you are desperatly tring to oppose him.

"You've always been a terrible liar, my darling. You are a much better hunter... but as you can see, not all of your prey fall into your traps."

"A mistake I intend to fix."

"Are you under the illusion that I'll give you a chance to do this?" He aks, following you as you exit the bathroom. He is using a tone of voice that reminds you of the way parents are scolding their child. You hear how bored he is and you feel your anger grow even more as he doesn't even try to take your threats seriously.

You don't respond to his taunt. You push past him and go back to his room, only to stand frozen in the middle when you see a blood-red dress with red rubies sewn onto the bodice on the bed.

"What is it?" You ask him angrily, turning to face him, knowing full well that the bastard was standing leaning against the doorframe with that shitty, smug smirk on his face you have learned to hate with the time you have spent with him recently.

"A dress."

"That I can tell. Why are you ordering me to put one?" You fold your arms, making sure the towel doesn't fall off of you, as his piercing blue eyes are focused only on you.

"Ordering? I wouldn't order anything to my sweet fiancèe."

"What?" You ask in pure shock as he steps closer to you. You step back with every step he takes until you feel the cool window pane against your back. You curse under your breath as he walks over to you with a smirk and lifts your hand, slipping the ring onto it. A fucking gold ring with a big white diamond.

"You didn't understand?" He asks with a mocking, dark chuckle that makes you question how much you actually know about this man and the customs of the Capitol. You knew that if Coriolanus Snow planned something, there was nothing you could do to stop him. And when he became president... his room for manoeuvre only increased.

"You are mad to think that I will marry you and that society of Capitol will accept our sick marriage." You tell him, happy that he walks away from you, but only to grab the dress and hand it to you.

"Why? After all, you are Y/N Y/L/N. The long lost descendant of an important general who died in the dark days. I found you and took you from the district to the Capitol, I returned you to your rightful place. And now you are recovering from the trauma you experienced."

"Nice story. How many people did you kill or bribe to make people believe in this?" You look down from him to the dress you held in your hands to avoid meeting his piercing eyes. The bastard knew how much you fucking loved it.

By the way, you were surprised at how well he remembered your preferences after so many years... because you were absolutely convinced that the dress you were currently holding in your hand was one of Tigris' designs that you had praised when you exchanged letters.

"No one died. And no one will die if you will cooperate with me, my little doom." He says, cupping your chin between two fingers and making you look straight into his eyes again. You swallow, trying to bear his burning gaze. He smiles wolfishly and kisses your lips gently, unhurriedly. Savouring the win. At least until you push him away, to which he just shakes his head with a smirk. You hate yourself for wanting to straighten the strand of his hair that fell on his forehead. "Dress up. You have underwear in the dresser. Choose something nice. And remember. One wrong move, and you're back in your cage. And that would be a terrible pity. The chefs prepared your favourite dishes for our engagement party. I'm sure you'll also enjoy some of the delicacies from the Capitol. I'll be waiting for you downstairs, my darling."

"You can kiss my ass!" You shout after him as he walks towards the exit, giving you some semblance of privacy to change and get dressed.

"Later, little hunter." He replies, unfazed by your outburst, and leaves, closing the door behind him. Locked, of course. You were always in a cage. Either a cold, musty cell, an exclusive bedroom, or the arms of that slimy, poisonous snake. And the worst of it all was that it was the first option that started to scare you the most.

"Don't eat so quickly. They'll think we started trying for an heir too soon, my dear." Snow admonished you with a quiet whisper in your ear as he approached you from behind, gently pressing his chest against your back as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You almost spit out your food at the thought of giving him any heirs.

Although you had plans for it in District 12. Two boys and one girl. You even had names. Crassus Xanthos, Adeline Rose, and Cardan Xenos. How stupid and naive you were back then.

"Well, maybe if you hadn't locked me up without food, I wouldn't have to make up for God knows how much time I spent without it." You reply grumpily, but you listen to him and slow down your eating pace a little.

"If you behaved like a lady and not a savage from the district, I wouldn't have to do this. Besides, I thought you didn't believe in God?"

"I have to. What other explanation is there for why devils like you exist in this world?" You answer very seriously, obviously mocking him. He rolls his eyes at you and looks around, making sure no one is listening to your conversation. The last thing he wants is you, spoiling the picture of a perfect copule he made up for the Capitol masses.

"I don't think that's exactly the right thing to say to your fiancé, my lovely little rebel." He replies, adjusting the necklace around your neck. You shiver as his fingertips brush against the skin of your collarbone, hating yourself for how pleasant that small touch felt.

For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you hit him and whether the ridiculously large ring he gave you would accidentally gouge out his eye in the process. You have to test it someday...

"So suddenly you want to play the conservative, exemplary couple?" You ask mockingly, playing with the sleeve of your dress, trying to ignore the hateful glances the harpies were giving you for ruining their plans to settle down the great President Snow.

"I told you this before, Y/N. All that stands in the way of our happiness is your childishness, idiotic stubbornness, and lack of trust. I took care of you in District 12, I met your every need, and I protected you from every other man who tried to lay his finger on you, including the commander. I risked my future for you more than once. Do you think that I have suddenly changed completely? That I am not able to feel the same as before and take care of what is mine?"

"Wait... you killed Hoff?" You ask in shock, trying to hold on to that one sentence he had said. You won't let that bastard make you feel guilty. "I never asked you about any of these things. You did it all by yourself. Because you wanted to. Because you got something out of this. So don't try to pull the wool over my eyes and tell me that you're my hero, because even now, when you are trying to turn me into a Capitol girl, you are doing it only for your benefit and entertainment."

"You could show some gratitude. If I wanted, I could easly have any woman here. And they would bring me much more than you."

"Would they? Would they be able to fill the void left by me? Because that was the point, right? You saw me everywhere. In everything. You couldn't get rid of the ghost of our past, and it made you feel crazy. Maybe even mad and lonely. I'm only here for your mental health. To tie up loose ends, right, Coriolanus?"

Your mockery finally throws him off balance. His calm, indifferent façade breaks before you. You see the burning anger in his eyes as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. However, he's still composed enough to remember that you're both in a public place, so instead of reaching for your neck, he cups your cheek, holding you tightly. He leans down, pressing his temple to yours to whisper in your ear.

"I could kill you so quickly, painfully and silently that no one would notice your sudden disappearance..."

"But then you'd also be burying your sanity with me, right? You know... I heard you screaming after me in the forest all these years ago. Your desperate pleas for me not to leave you. The only person who showed you warmth, compassion, and care, who wasn't related to you, who didn't have to do it out of any sick sense of duty or fear. Tell me, do you still have your mother's shawl that I dropped when I ran away from you? Does it still smell like me?"

You keep pushing him to the edge of his patience, hoping he'll break and show all these people who gathered to celebrate your fake engagement what he really is. But instead of causing a scene, he just growls into your ear before capturing your lips in a passionate, aggressive kiss. He takes advantage of your shock as you gasp, allowing his tongue to invade your mouth.

Kissing Coriolanus has always been like this. A passionate, possessive fight between you. Everything or nothing. Either completely gentle and tender or a breathtaking, mind-blowing experience. And you hated yourself for how easily you found yourself in his arms and close to his body as he pressed you to him, trying to vent the burning anger (that you aroused in him) on your lips. A clever bastard.

Before he pulls away from you, he bites your lower lip in some twisted act of punishment. You lick your lips as he pulls away, tasting your blood on the tongue.

"For your own good, you should learn when to shut your damn, pretty mouth." He growls, moving away from you. He discreetly wipes your lipstick from his mouth with a tissue and hands it to you, so you can also fix the makeup he ruined. And you try your hardest to ignore the looks other people give you. You're fucking blushing anyway.

"I am not a puppet you can control." You say, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation.

"I never wanted you to be one. It would be so boring… after all, it's so much more fun to break you down every time you're hoping you'll escape and have someone at your side who actually uses brain cells.. Nothing can tear us apart, Y/N. I won't let you run away from me again. The hunt and chase are over, my little hunter. Even death won't separate us, because I swear I will take you with me everywhere, even to my own grave." He mumbles, his nose brushing against yours. You feel his breath on your cheek as he places his hands on your shoulders, making sure you don't run away from him. You shiver when he touches the bare skin of your arms. He gives you a cocky smirk, well aware of what the closeness between the two of you is doing to you.

From the outside, to casual observers, it might have looked like an ordinary, loving conversation between two people who couldn't keep their hands off each other. You should get used to the fact that people's eyes will always be on you and that Coriolanus can whisper death threats with the most tender expression on his face.

You move away from him and reach for the champagne the waiter hands you. You take a sip, ignoring Coriolanus' glare, but as soon as the liquid slides down your throat, you feel like you've swallowed corrosive acid. You drop your glass in shock, shattering it on the floor, and you grab your throat, coughing.

Blood flows from your mouth, soaking the neckline of your dress as you lose control and spitting the red liquid onto the floor as you kneel, unable to steady yourself on your shaking legs.

Poison. Coriolanus poisoned you. He was planning your death all along. How wrong you were...

But why would he do it this way? Why now, in public and not in the privacy of his residence, taking his revenge? Why was he keeping you alive for so long, under the pretext of making you a resident of the Capitol and his polite, obedient little fiancée and future wife and First Lady?

And when he kneels next to you, taking you in his arms and holding you, as panic begins to form around you from the screams of the crowd and their chaotic footsteps, you become even more confused. His eyes are all you can look at when you are struggling for air.

The chandelier above him causes you to see a golden halo-like glow around his head. The thought crosses your mind that this is what Lucifer must have looked like before he became a fallen angel. This is how you were supposed to die. In the arms of the devil. The devil that you yourself allowed to get close to you.

"You did great, my love." You hear him whisper in your ear. Before you drift off into the darkness, you feel him place something cold against your lips, forcing the thick, bitter liquid down your throat.

The first thing you feel after regaining consciousness is a terrible pain in your throat. As if it had turned into a real desert. You are convinced that this is hell. It's only when you realise you're lying on soft red silk sheets, on the familiar bed that belonged to Coriolanus, that you realise you're still in YOUR hell. Unfortunately, you cannot say which option was worse: meeting the real devil or facing the blonde demon in a red suit again.

You open your eyes slowly, gratefully accepting that you are surrounded by darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of moonlight that filters through the half-covered windows.

You are hit by the strong scent of roses next to you. You freeze, feeling Coriolanus's arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Only now do you realise that he is lying right next to you, his face turned towards you. He breathes easily and calmly. His usually combed and slicked hair is slightly messy, which only adds to his charm and makes you want to run your hand through it and feel its softness (an opportunity you were deprived of in District 12 during his time as peackeeper). You almost forget that he poisoned you at the party. Almost.

You slowly try to slide his arm off of you and get out of bed. You manage to sit up, but when you gently push his arm off of you, he immediately wakes up. He automatically reaches for your wrist and locks it in a tight grip. He looks at you, blinking a few times before he wakes up enough to realise what's happening around him.

"You finally woke up. Dr. Gaul said it might take you some time. You're not as resistant to poisons as I am yet, my darling, but we'll change that soon." He assures you, sitting on the bed as well. He places his hand on your jaw and forces you to open your mouth so he can check your throat. You don't fight him for now; you are too tired from the events of a few hours ago to try to stand up to him like you always do. Besides, you'd rather have him checking and treating you than that crazy woman.

The concern shining in his eyes tells you that if he wanted to kill you, he wouldn't be giving you the antidote, checking your injuries right now, or sleeping and watching over you in his bed, playing the role of nurse to help you recover.

So you have no fucking idea why he let you drink the poison from the glass. Nor who put it there.

"What happened…" You try to ask, but as quickly as you speak, you feel your throat begin to scratch. A new wave of coughing comes over you. You cover your mouth with your hand, choking as blood sprinkles on your hands again. You feel like you're about to hyperventilate or have a full panic attack as you remember the situation from a few hours ago.

"Easy." He whispers, placing his hand on your back. When you finish coughing, he hands you a glass of water. You look at it distrustfully. He sighs, rolling his eyes, and takes a sip. You wait a minute, and when you see that nothing is wrong with him, you take it from him and drink. "This should explain everything to you."

He takes a folded piece of paper from his pants pocket and unfolds it. He places it on your lap. You freeze for a moment at the image of yourself.

"Wanted poster. District 13, as your little rebel group called itself, has put a large bounty on your head. And this evening, they carried out an attack on you. Something about getting to me through you. The peacekeepers couldn't get anything more out of the rebels they caught before... I think you know what happened to them. You have become their next arch-enemy. Almost as big as me."

"At least they did a better job with my portrait. What you told your dogs to show around the districts did not fully reflect my beauty." You wheeze as you try to speak. You see, he's not happy about you trying to use your voice.

Coriolanus sits next to you again, and despite your silent protests, he pulls you into his arms, making you lean against his chest. He puts his chin on your shoulder and shows you some portraits of some people. People you knew well, people you had fought with before against him and the peackeepers. People who poisoned you likely met their own deaths at the behest of a man who wrapped his arms around you, holding you hostage in his bed. Honestly, you'd rather rot in the ground with other rebels who wanted your death and be interrogated by peakceepers than be here with Coriolanus. Or at least, that's what you were telling yourself.

"I did it on purpose. Do you think anyone would believe that you suddenly went from being an enemy and a traitor to the nation to becoming the respected daughter of a general who died in the war?"

"Why are you doing this, Coriolanus? This whole fake performance and show for the Capitol. And that keeping me alive and scaring me with my people—what is it for? What do you want to achieve?" You ask, pausing to sip your water and turning in his arms so you can carefully analyse his face and his reactions to your questions.

"People like us should stay together."

"Like us? I'm nothing like you." You quickly protest, at which he just chuckles, shaking his head. He places his hand on your cheek and strokes it with his thumb, examining your face carefully.

"Now… don't insult my and your intelligence. I know when you're lying, so stop telling yourself these slanderous things, my lovely little hunter. Don't act dumb. You know why I want you. Here. With me on my laps and by my side. Right where you belong." Coriolanus holds you against him possessively, emphasising the validity of his words.

Apart from the delicate, intoxicating scent of roses coming from him and the warmth that emanates from his body, you can feel his heart beating calmly in his chest. A cold chill runs through you at the thought that yours might have stopped pounding like that long ago if he hadn't given you the antidote in time.

"If you really wanted and loved me so much, you would never have let me drink this poison today." You mumble into his neck as you let him hold you, even welcoming the way he lazily massages your scalp and plays with your hair. There is little you can do in your dazed state. You still feel tired from the whole day. Or rather, I spent weeks and months locked in this large villa.

"It's because I love you that I had to do it. If it weren't for that, you wouldn't understand how dangerous these people are. These dogs who chew on the hand of the Capitol that feeds them will do anything to overthrow us and destroy the peace we reached. And I won't let the dark days come again for the Capitol. Our children will not have to starve like we did. I had promised you that, and I intend to keep that promise." He says, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

You shiver at the familiar feeling of his lips on your skin and the seriousness of the situation this small gesture caused. Once upon a time, these promises seemed sweet to you; they were even a dream come true. Now he was only offering you your worst nightmares on a golden platter.

"I thought then that we would stay in the district. Away from the Capitol, away from the bloodthirsty ambitions of people like Dr. Gaul and the psychopaths who think that killing 24 innocent children every year in some fucking Games is a great idea for entertainment. I thought you were different, that you were capable of love, but now I see that you are a monster, just like they all are."

"Would a monster take care of you? Would I hold you close, try my best to protect you, and make you my First Lady if I were one? Would I forgive you for your escape and betrayal and welcome you with open arms, even after you tried to kill me? What do you think this is if not love?"

"An obsession. The sick desire to have control over another." You say with complete confidence, recalling 'the training' he gave you very clearly. Maybe for him, being locked in a cold cell for a few days wasn't a sign of cruelty, but a way to educate you to be an excellent lady from the Capitol. But you would rather die than become a pretty doll on his shoulder.

"Maybe yes. Maybe I'm obsessed with you. But that doesn't change the fact that you're mine, Y/N. You were always meant to be mine. You better get used to it. I wouldn't want to give you poison without an antidote."

You don't know what's colder, the tone of his voice in which he delivers his warning, or the emptiness you feel when his arms abandon you as he gets out of bed. Either way, you don't feel the sweet taste of victory when he leaves, dramatically slamming the door behind him and, of course, locking you in the room as you are left on your own.

You start to lose control. You can feel it. You were starting to become very attached to him, to his presence, smell, touch, kisses... You were starting to question everything you had ever believed in. He fed you lies that you wanted to believe, and that was the worst. You grab your arm, rubbing it, and the large diamond on your finger mocks you, as it is reflecting in the dim light of the bedroom.

You close your eyes, sighing shakily as you realise your fate. Today's attempt to poison you wasn't just an attempt to kill you or to get to Coriolanus. You knew it. It meant something more. It was a signal. You were supposed to move before they took matters into their own hands.

And for a brief moment, as you played with your engagement ring on your finger, you wondered what would have happened if things had turned out differently. What would life be like if you and Coriolanus ran away together? Maybe you could stop the carnage he caused? Spare human lives by keeping a domesticated Coriolanus on a leash? NO. You shake your head. A caged animal is still a dangerous animal. Not a home-pet. And even if you became his first lady, nothing would change. He won't change. Not like you.

Because the undeniable truth of the world of people who have high ambitions, the ability to carefully observe human behaviour and predict their movements, insight, and perseverance, is that they either live long enough to become a monster or short enough to become a hero. And you promised yourself a long time ago that you would rather die than ever become one of the Capitol's citizens.

One step. Second. Third. You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you sneak through the presidential palace, avoiding the peacekeepers.

You stop and hide behind a pillar, waiting for the two patrolling the corridor that led to Coriolanus' office to pass by you. You hold your breath, listening to a pair of footsteps approach and recede, leaving you alone in the hallway for a moment.

You remember the first night you entered the mansion—the night Coriolanus caught you. You promised yourself that you would not leave the presidential palace until you saw his dead body. And if there was one good thing you had in common with Coriolanus, it was that you always kept the promises you made to each other. Except for one.

You were both breathing heavily as you lay in the small bed in the lake house. Coriolanus held you close to his chest, placing small kisses on your bare shoulder. You sighed, still stunned by your activity from a few moments ago. You turned around, careful not to fall off the small mattress, and clung to his chest, ignoring the smell of the two of you's mixed sweat.

The rain pounded against the roof of the wooden hut, lulling you to sleep in your peacekeeper's arms. You buried your face in his neck, humming as he lazily ran his hand through your hair. You felt peace—a rare and very precious thing in District 12. Coriolanus' arms and his closeness gave you great comfort and a sense of security; it was a promise of a break from reality and entering your world, limited only to the two of you. You've never felt anything like this with anyone else. And you know, you will never be able to feel this way with anyone else.

"Promise that you will never leave me." His soft whisper snaps you from your half-asleep state. You lift your head to look at him, frowning at his strange request.

He had his soft moments, but he had never shown you such a... vulnerable side of himself. Even when you first saw the wounds on his back, or discovered how thin he was under his peackeeper clothes two weeks after he arrived in District 12. Coriolanus trusted no one. Except you. A gift that you valued more than his love, devotion, and desire.

So when you see the hesitation in his eyes and his attempt to retreat into his hard shell, you lean in, connecting your lips in a tender, gentle, slow kiss. You taste his lips as if they were the sweetest nectar; you savour them slowly, only becoming more and more addicted to him. You massage his scalp, pulling him closer to you and straddling him.

You reluctantly pull away from him and look into his eyes as you link your hands and place them on your chest so he can feel your heartbeat. He looks at you, stunned, waiting patiently to see what your next move will be.

"It's yours. It'll always be yours. You stole it from me the day you shot that guy who was trying to get to me and arranged for him to be hanged. You hold it in your iron grip, and you'll have it until the end of time. And I'd rather die than live without my heart, Coryo."

You see that he is touched and that you are slowly breaking down his walls. To avoid showing such weakness, he pulls your head to his neck. He plays with your hair and presses a long kiss on your temple as you lay on top of him. He covers you both with a blanket, and you fall asleep cradled in his arms, lulled to sleep by the beating of his heart and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

And for a moment, being with him in the privacy of the cabin, you really felt like you were the lucky one.

You shake your head, and before the peacekeeper patrol arrives, you walk to the door of Coriolanus' office. You don't knock. You quietly open the door and step inside. The soft carpet that touches your bare feet is a nice change from the cold marble.

Coriolanus doesn't respond to your silent entrance at first, but it's only when you approach the desk that he senses the presence of someone else in the room. He looks up from the papers on his desk and frowns when he sees you in your nightgown (one of his sleep shirts, that is).

"What are you doing here? The peacekeepers were supposed to keep an eye on you so you didn't go anywhere." He says, pretending his heart didn't beat faster at the sight of you so homely. He's already replaying the fantasy in his head of this becoming your routine. You came to him late at night to distract him from presidential matters and drag him to the warmth of your shared bed. Later. With time. He will be there.

"I needed to talk to you. It was easy to avoid these two to get to your office. As for the remaining 20 in the building, it probably wouldn't have been so effortless to get out of here."

"35. There are also secret passages." He corrects you, putting down the papers he was looking at. "What do you want?" He asks, rubbing his eyes tiredly. You stop your curiosity from looking at the papers and focus your eyes fully on him.

"I was thinking about what happened yesterday… And I came to the conclusion that you might be right."

"Don't you say..." He mutters mockingly, standing up to pour himself some whisky from the bar. He comes back with two glasses, handing you one, to which you just nod politely. He shrugs and pours the liquid into one glass, not taking his eyes from you.

"Do not look at me like this. You know how hard it is for me to admit this. I... since then, in District 12... after Sejanus was hanged and... I could have been blinded by Lucy Gray's grief and resentment towards you. I could believe the picture of the monster she painted. After all, you've known each other longer. You, Sejanus, and her... But you can't blame me for thinking I'd be next." You try to explain your course of action to him. He seems uninterested in it; at least that's what you can tell from his body language. But the eyes... you had studied reading them long enough to be able to read his thoughts in them.

"I don't blame you. I would think the same. I blame you for actually running away with her. That you chose her instead of staying and trusting me." He says, not hiding the hurt in his voice. You lower your head in mock contrition as he downs his drink and places the empty glass on the desk.

"And I regretted it every single day, Coryo." You lie, trying your hardest to make him believe you. You even use his nickname and kneel next to his chair, taking his hands in yours. You don't meet his eyes. You focus your gaze and grap on his hands, knowing all too well that if you look at him, you will reveal your intentions. Because Coriolanus knew you as well as you knew him. "I know it's been hard for you without me... but I haven't had it easy either. I saw you... us... everywhere. I... I wished every day that I was in your arms. That I could somehow feel you next to me, talk to you. And that's why, instead of sinking into my growing despair and longing, I tried to turn this feeling into hatred, but... I can't go on like this anymore... I... I can't pretend that you are my enemy, that I hate you. Because that's not true. It never could be." Only at the end do you dare to look at him, trying to look as uncertain and contrite as you can. "You were right. All this time. I was... too proud to admit it, since I went so far in all of this running away from you and trying to fight you, but I can't do this anymore. I can't deny anymore what my heart wants."

"And what is it?" His whisper is hoarse, and his eyes are completely focused on you. This is a breakthrough moment. The course of events will depend on whether he believes you... but do you really have to put a lot of effort into lying to him?

"You." You confess, bringing complete silence to the room.

You don't know if he decides to ignore your bluff, or if he's fed up with this fight between you and simply needs your closeness, or if you've finally learned to lie so well from him that even he can't tell that you're entirely honest with him, or if you are trying to lie to yourself in an attempt to simplify your mission.

You don't want to know.

That's why, when he suddenly grabs you by the waist and sits you on his lap, you don't protest. Same when he captures your lips in a passionate kiss. The feeling of his soft, plush lips on yours befuddles you for a moment. You forget about your plan and let him caress your lips, giving yourself over again to that familiar, burning feeling that overwhelmed the two of you every time you gave in to your deepest desires.

When he bites your lower lip, demanding full access to your mouth, you remember what you came here for. You let your tongues tangle and sigh softly, accepting, after so many years of separation, that burning sensation spreading from your chest to his touch and closeness. You bite the inside of your cheek and deepen the kiss, your tongue fighting with his for dominance.

You give in, allowing him to place you on his desk. In one quick movement, he throws everything off it onto the floor. The glass shatters, but that's the last thing you notice as you melt into his touch and moan into his lips.

He pulls away for a moment, and you only see the smirk on his face for a brief moment before he dives down to your neck, marking you with his kisses and small bites. His hand slides up your bare leg, making you shiver as it leisurely reaches the hem of (his) shirt you're wearing.

"Coryo." You moan, tangling your hands in his blonde locks at the nape of his neck and pulling him closer to you. You sigh as he pushes his hips into yours at the sudden feeling of your fingers in his hair and tugging—something that was impossible to do in his peacekeeper days.

You hear him growl into your neck. He tries to position you comfortably on his desk so that he has adequate access to you, but suddenly he freezes, and you can see in his eyes that he's changing his mind. You're afraid he might have sensed your trick, but the moment you're back in his arms, you calm down a little.

Coriolanus from District 12 wouldn't care what surface he takes you to. It didn't matter to him at all, as long as you both could hold yourselves in the position he had imagined. That's why you're surprised when he carries you all the way through the presidential palace and into his bedroom, ignoring the brief glances he gets from the surprised peackeepers before they look away in confusion.

As he places you gently on his bed, you almost feel sorry for what you have to do. Almost. His lips on yours effectively drive any logical thought from your head. You can only feel, see, and hear him.

It scares you how much control he has over you and how much you've allowed him to control every little piece of you over the years, even though you were several districts apart. Your foolish heart believed his lies. That you belong to each other. And you're convinced that a few more weeks at his side would make your common sense stop protesting and accept the role he's given you.

But you won't admit to anyone that, in the darkest depths of your heart, you dream of the life he could have given you. About being his First Lady and about the selfish, luxurious life you could lead by his side. But you didn't want to be a monster. You didn't want to become one of them. The fear of this was greater than the fear of what awaited you at the end of the night when you carried out your plan.

But as long as he is with you, you can drown out your heart's cry for the future you could have if you were a little more like Coriolanus. You can pretend and deceive both him and yourself that this night is only the beginning of your wonderful, long future.

You gently push him off of you and onto his back. You sit astride him and lazily place a trail of kisses from his jaw, neck, collarbone, chest, and toned stomach down. Before you get to where he needs you most, he grabs your neck and pulls you closer to kiss you hard and possessively. He tangles his hand in your hair and moves to rest against the headboard of the bed.

You both moan, resting your foreheads against each other as you lower yourself onto his length. He holds you in a tight embrace, his breathing getting heavier, and you know it's not just because he's excited about what you're doing now.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him as tight and close to you as he is holding you. Your walls tighten around him as you slowly move, settling on a ridiculously slow pace compared to how you used to be madly chasing your peaks.

This is a completely different type of intimacy. You're glad he can't see your face, because he would definitely read the guilt and bitterness you feel when he moans your name and sweet words into your ear.

"I've waited so damn long to have you again. My little hunter. You will be a beautiful bride and a stunning First Lady. Nothing will stand in our way. My darling. My sweet poison. My greatest pursuit and reward. I will give you the life we dreamed about in District 12. All you have to do is stay and trust me."

You nod, moaning as he picks up the pace. You dig your nails into his shoulders as you feel how close you are to reaching your edge.

"Promise. Promise me it will never happen again. That you are mine, and you will stay with me, right where you belong. Promise me, Y/N." He grabs you tightly by the neck and forces you to look into his eyes. You shed tears that he licks away, mistaking them for tears of pleasure as he presses himself relentlessly into your most sensitive spot.

Little does he know that these are tears of guilt that you shouldn't feel. But you can't convince your foolish heart otherwise. Not when he's buried deep inside you and looks at you like you're his whole world.

"I… I promise, Coryo." You moan and tangle your hand in his hair, pulling him in for a kiss to take his burning, searching gaze away from your face. He pushes you onto your back and hugs you tightly as he pounds into you with newfound speed, aroused by the promise you just made to him. He sucks on your skin, littering it with hickeys, as if you weren't marked enough by him in his mind. As if he hadn't already completely penetrated your soul.

You scream his name, hugging him painfully tight as you come. You feel a great sense of bliss that you haven't felt in a long time. You're completely dazed, feeling nothing but the rapid thrusts as your lover and greatest enemy chases his orgasm to join you in the orgasmic haze. Coriolanus comes a moment after you, crashing into your mouth hungrily, making you both swallow each other's moans as you two are experiencing the greatest bliss in your life.

He pulls you along with him as he lays down on the mattress. He still holds you in a possessive, strong hug, afraid that you will run away from him or suddenly disappear at any moment. You bury your face in his neck and place small kisses there, drawing lazy patterns with your finger on his chest.

"I love you." He mumbles and presses a kiss on your forehead. You tilt your head to look at him briefly. Before he can read anything from your eyes, you lean in and connect your lips in a slow, tender kiss. You cup your hand around his cheek and stroke his skin with your thumb. You pull away from him. Coriolanus grabs your wrist and moves his head to kiss the palm of your hand and the finger on which you had his engagement ring.

"I love you too." You whisper and snuggle into him. Coriolanus holds you tightly, sighing with relief. Finally. The moment he had waited for since he saw you entering his presidential palace.

He begins to feel tired as the adrenaline wears off and his heart beats slower and slower. He shifts you off his chest as he finds it increasingly difficult to breathe with you on top of him, but he still holds you close to him, always having at least one hand wrapped tightly around you.

You stare into each other's eyes until he's so tired he can't keep them open anymore. He falls asleep, his face turned towards you, and you can't help but trace the line of his jaw with your hand, caressing him gently.

It was an equal fight and chase.

Coriolanus made only one serious mistake. Enough to seal the fate of the two of you.

He forgot himself, deeming you a non-threat, and left you alone in his bedroom. Exactly where he kept all the poisons he had already become immune to.

It was too easy to secure a few vials and send a message to the other rebels. And you had huge doubts as you implemented this multi-step plan, but you were there. You patiently made it to the end. His own and Coriolanus Snow's.

You bit through the vial of poison sewn into your cheek, drawing blood, and let it pass into Coriolanus' mouth as he kissed you hungrily in his office a few hours ago.

And now, you lay next to him, staring at him as he sleeps peacefully next to you. He was breathing evenly, like you; your pulse slowly decreased, as did the rate of your breaths. He looks like an angel with his hair spread out on the pillow. You were supposed to hand him over to the devil himself. Yourself too.

You closed your eyes as you started to feel the effects of the poison.

You nuzzle your nose into his chest, inhaling his scent. Roses overwhelm your senses. His scent and the warmth radiating from him lull you to sleep next to him. The last one, you think to yourself as he buries his nose in your hair and tightens his grip on you.

Hunters sometimes died in pursuit of their prey, bringing an end to both them and themselves. Both you and Coriolanus could have predicted that you would be each other's end. At least it wasn't as bloodthirsty and drastic as the outcome could have been, you think as you fall asleep cuddled together.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x y/n #young coriolanus snow #oneshot #coriolanus snow #tbosbas #coriolanus snow x you #corionalus snow #toxic relationship #dark coriolanus snow #smut #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #snow lands on top #coriolanus x y/n

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takami-takami · 1 year

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OMGSHHA I LOVE YOUR BLOG UGHHH this has been on my mind for a little while but keigo breeding reader like crazy because baby boy is in a rut and can’t keep his hands of them he just wants to breed them so good he can’t help itt 😣😣❤️

Can't Help Myself.

includes— hawks x gn!reader. minors dni. smut.

warnings— rut. breeding kink. biting. keigo getting lost in the sauce and trying (failing) to be nice. he can't help himself :(

Your doting boyfriend has always been quite handsy, but lately Keigo's been... Excessive? Desperate, more like.

"Fuck— 'M sorry," he pants above you, eyes glazed over and bottom lip quivering as the tight vice of your body just won't let him go. His tongue feels too heavy for his cotton-dry mouth, his palms clammy as he paws at your chest, neck, hips— anywhere he can get his greedy hands on.

You both know exactly what he's apologizing for, though you don't think it's necessary. He doesn't want to be too rough with his baby, his sweetheart, his lovely darling; but how can he treat you with the tenderness you deserve when wrecking you feels so good? When every backstroke sucks him in like a vice, as if you're just begging to keep him inside and fill you to the brim? Just the thought of your body responding so earnestly, of it begging and ready to be bred, sends a sharp current down his spine. It's electric.

And it goes straight to his cock.

How would you look when he's filled you, he wonders? He can't stop his attention from drifting, can't stop himself from visualizing the look of your jaw slack, his name dripping from your lips as he pulls out and obscenely fucks his cum back into you.

The sounds it would make... The ring it would form around the base of his cock as he twitches and pumps load after load inside you...

He needs it. He needs it like he needs air to breathe.

It's quite the contrast to his typical giving nature. The thoughtful, attentive Keigo who's gentle fingers would bring you to orgasm at least twice before he even thought about undressing himself is long gone.

Gone is the man who'd whisper sweet nothings in your ear as he rocked careful thrusts to the rhythm of the kisses he'd plant on your collarbone, gone is the man who took his time in breaking you down into fits of pleasure only he could provide.

He wants to be that for you right now. Honest. He is trying, you know.

His restraint doesn't go unnoticed. There's a pause in his thrusts, a pained look in his eyes as he tries so desperately to take it slow. Each time his hips cant forward, a breathy "hah" escapes his lips and his brow furrows just a bit deeper. He can't push his baby too much, no, but fuck this isn't enough. Tears of frustration burn at his eyes as he holds every cell in his body back from what his instincts scream and beckon him to do.

God help him, he just needs to breed you for all you're worth, just needs a couple loads stuffing you to make him normal. He needs to fuck you like rabbits, sweet and slow be damned.

Little does he know, you've caught on to his predicament.

His breath catches in the cutest squeak when you fist the roots of his hair and yank his head to the side to meet your heated gaze.

"You want to be a good boy, don't you?"

Eyes impossibly wide, full of fearful adoration and eager to please, Keigo nods sharply.

"Yeah, I—" he fucking whines, leaning his head into the grip you have on his scalp. "Wanna be good." He blinks away the tears sticking to his dark lashes before looking to you for orders.

Pretty little puppy, you swear to god.

"My pretty boy," you coo. He shudders in response, melting and gooey in your grasp. Pliable. "C'mon, Kei', let go for me?"

He winces, shaking his head to free himself from the places his mind is going. He begins to rock his hips again, feathers trembling with barely concealed restraint. He tries to ground himself by mouthing at your exposed chest. It doesn't work.

You roll your eyes. Of course he'd be stubborn; but you know exactly what will bring him to his knees.

Leaning into the crook of his neck, you let out an unabashed moan directly into his ear. He goes rigid.

"Keigo, breed me?" His eyes open wide, breath stopping completely, as if he doesn't want a single sound blocking his focus from your words. "I need you, please— has to be you. No one else." You run your fingers up the expanse of his back, digging your nails into the tender skin. "Fuck me, breed me, do whatever you want to me—"

He can't take any more. He plants a palm over the headrest with a firm thud and fucks you with the speed and fervor of a man possessed, a man obsessed.

"Whatever I want, huh?" The far-gone way he slurs the words out has you shivering. You grip his shoulders for dear life, high pitched, pretty little moans settling in his bones. With each punishing thrust, they seem to get louder and louder. Music to his fucking ears, he thinks.

You're close. He can feel it in the way you're squeezing the life out of his cock— greedy for it. You're the perfect little outlet for all his rutting frustrations, and he just wants to take.

When it hits you, you feel the air leave your lungs. You hook your trembling legs across the small of his back, back bowing as you wring and milk his cock for all it's worth. "That's it, dove— oh, fuck me," his harsh pace never slows, even as you squirm and hiccup beneath his grasp. The fact that your orgasm is pulling him in, like your body itself knows that he's aching to fill you breaks what little restraint he has left.

"Take it baby, need to breed you— inside, inside," he practically babbles into your shoulder, his hips losing focus. He can feel himself throbbing inside you, pumping his hips as he chases his own climax.

When he finally finishes, he can't stop shivering and snarling into the skin he's latched onto, the very skin he's sunk his teeth into.

He does good on his promise, indulgently toying with the mess he's created inside you. Mesmerized, he doesn't let you waste a drop, pushing it deeper inside.

You let out a sigh of complete satisfaction, prompting a dazed chuckle from above.

"Oh, no. We're not done here, sweetheart. What was it you said? 'Whatever I want', yeah?"

#hiii sorry i made him a bit baby gurl here #got lost in the sauce myself. thank you for the ask !! <3 #💌 asks #🖋 writing #🌶 spice #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks smut #keigo takami smut #smut mention #mha thirst #bnha thirst

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thepeonysbackup · 13 days

Text

◇Satisfaction◇

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: THE LAST PART TO DRY HUMPING??? Thank you guys for liking my dumbassery? Craaaaazy to think any of you would liked this weird brain shit I got goin on in this blog.

Warning: Smut, pure, unadulterated smut. Smut smutty smut smut smut! (Just enjoy-)

Word count: Noneeee! Just made this

That pleading look in your foggy eyes, “I'm afraid I won't be going back on my word, Darling. But I will let you have the release you crave.” He explained while moving his hands from your chest and wet, squelching cunt to your waist, from there he drew your body forward and watched as you jolted and squirmed with a noise of embarrassment from your enjoyment of the feeling. His wicked grin grew, eyes narrowing as his smile twitched until you able to see the blackness that was his gums, “Mm-” Your hips jerked against him, hands coming up to his shoulders as a brace as you began to move yourself, no longer needing Alastors help in the matter as strings of moans and blubbering gasps started up again. Satisfied with your eagerness to please yourself from his teasing attacks on your most sensitive area, he leaned further away, back falling flat onto the grass as his ears flattened against his hair and he growled at the feeling of your wet juices flowing over his pants, your knee grazing his bulge that was oh so noticeable. But not to you. “Fuck- Al.. ‘S not enough.. It's not- I can't..!” You whined, body bending forward so that you were hovering over him, hair coming undone from its once firmly tied place, framing the two of you like a curtain as the radio demons claws slipped behind your head to bring you further down. Your body was laying atop his, hands gripping the grass near the sides of his head as his lips caught you in a kiss that broke your mind in half from the unexpected action and surprising amount of affection placed behind it. He plunged his tongue as far into your mouth as he could, his other hand continuing its guidance of your lower half as your eyes rolled back into your head, and your body began to twitch harder. You were right there, and all he had to do was push you all the way. How lovely for him, to have you in this bind, and not even one with your soul but with your mind. Your leg hiked up and slung over his other thigh, your heat pressing firmly on his straining bulge before you finally could hear a noise bubble from beneath Al's static that crackled. A noise resembling a glitched moan left him, noise transferring into your mouth which you reciprocated as he bit down onto your tongue, blood falling onto his lips which he lapped desperately up before you both flipped over.

“I really am impressed,” Al hissed into your ear as his lips trailed down your neck, fingers working deep into your clenching heat as his other hand kneaded the flesh of your breast from underneath your knitted button-up sweater, “You lasted far longer then I believed you would, but alas you didn't meet my true expectations.” His fingers curled, two digits rocking into the spongey spot right near your entrance, drawing a cry from your lips at the teasing. “I fear you haven't earned me inside you just yet.” Finished with a nip to your ear, tweaking your peak with a roll of his forefinger and thumb as your ground down into his other hand, whines and soft gasps continuing to climb in volume as fireflies hummed and blinked around you both. He'd brought you into the swamplands of his pocket dimensional room, his tie, belt, and cane strewn halfway to where he had worked you up from at the door. Your body relaxed flat against the deer demons chest upon his lap so he could have his way with you as he pleased. It was torture though, the edge that was just close enough to reach always furthering itself as he'd slow his movements or move his thumb from your swollen clit to stop that thread from snapping in two. “N-no- I- But!-” You writhed, hands feverishly trying to find a place to rest as the repetitive edging was starting to become to much. “No, Al.. I'm sorry, I never- I didn't mean—” He hushed you, grinning lips placing another kiss on your skin before he managed to switch your position on his lap, making your legs straddle a single thigh so he could see that begging expression.

You felt the soft grass, hair messy against it as you panted against the man above you’s lips, your legs being tugged upwards as he broke the kiss and buried his face into your shoulder so he could rut down between your legs at a quick pace. “How..” He breathed heavily, eyes failing to focus properly on your blissful expression, “How dare you do this to me.. You filthy thing..!” Those words were dripped in malice, anger from the pleasure you were providing for him when he had only wanted you to break for him. You had, but at what cost to his own pleasure. This grotesquely marvelous feeling he'd detested with his entire soul finally feeling as it should, like he needed it to feel as his hips pushed harder, the throb becoming nearly unbearable. He was there, the gooey warmth finally adding to the damp spot that had nearly dried and then some as it seeped slightly through the fabric, the white stickiness gently coating your lady lips as he continued to rub against you until your own climax hit you like a truck. With a groan of sorts, hands holding him into your chest while your body arched, you came undone against him and allowed your mind to fade as he pulled himself flat down against you with a sigh before darkness consumed you.

#keiks piece #hazbin hotel #keiks works #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #keiks creatures of intrigue #alastor #alastor altruist x reader #alastor altruist #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #smut

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curi0us-gh0st · 3 months

Text

Porcelain Princess (Jang Wonyoung)

pairings: Jang Wonyoung!gp!Princess x Fem!Reader

word count: 2.864

genre: smut, fluffy (?).

summary: Who would have thought that the most memorable wedding of the Jang family's reign, between the children who looked like porcelain dolls, hid their sins with a beautiful smile on their faces.

warnings: top!Wony, bottom!reader, wlw, secret relationship (reader is married to Sunoo, and Wony to Sunghoon), quick participation of Sunoo x Sunghoon, swearing, pet names, worship, mention of pregnancy, blowjob, hair pulling, choking, fingering, slapping, anal, squirting, overstimulation, etc.

a/n: I've been wanting to finish this fic for a while now, god - enjoy it~~

With the marriage of the only daughter of the Jang family, while they dominated South Korean territory with the main branches of the large family. The marriage was a done deal between the Jang and Park families, who were in a cold war, each trying to outdo the other in wealth and technology requirements.

The ceremony took place open to relatives with the Ahn, Kwon, Lee, Kim, Miyawaki, Choi, Jo, Kang, Honda, Yabuki, Nakamura, Huh, Hong, Naoi, etc. A large part of the people left their tasks to celebrate the union of Princess Wonyoung and the noble Sunghoon, a couple that attracted attention wherever they went, all eyes were on the angelic beauty of both bride and groom.

A simple and luxurious traditional ceremony, the vows were made and if someone had really paid attention to every word, they would have heard something like 'this is just so there won't be war'. After the wedding, the kingdom celebrated while the royalty had a closed celebration behind the grand gates.

While Wonyoung and Sunghoon were thanking their members, while a lady in a cream dress and corset approached her companion in traditional clothes; your bright smile, your red cheeks due to the low temperature of the night, your pink lips, your delicacy, your innocent and sweet aura. When they arrived close, they bowed and greeted the newlyweds.

"Your Highness." The boy said. "Kim Seon Woo, or rather Sunoo. Member of the Kim family, the main ally of the Jang family. This is my wife, Ahn Y/N. Member of the Ahn family, sub family of the Kims. It is an honor to be here honoring your unity." He ended the presentation with a chuckle.

"No need for so much formality, Sunoo." Sunghoon smiled at the boy.

"I told him, but he's too stubborn!" You replied, the prince shaking his head in denial.

"You guys are so annoying! I rehearsed this for my character to improve. Oh, don't ask me to do anything else either." Kim rolled his eyes, irritated.

"Hey dear." Sunghoon said in a lower tone that brought goosebumps to Kim, who looked at him with red cheeks.

"By the gods, manners!" You warned them. "We're in public." He remembered.

"Manners? Appearances? Whatever you want, your wife is making it clear while she's drying you off, ready to devour you." Sunoo countered.

Your eyebrows raise and focus on Wonyoung, who didn't seem to blink in your direction, his eyes taking in every detail, his mouth slightly open, only stopping when you caught his attention by clearing your throat.

"Princess? I think there's a little drool dripping from your pretty mouth." She warned with a naughty smile, the girl waking up and looking at you, passing her hand over her mouth.

"Sorry, I-I…" She took a deep breath. "She is carrying a fey aura with you"

The princess's speech is confused, not letting you know if it's a question or not, but she was right, you look stunning in that dress, the dress she gave you.

"Thanks, I guess." You smiled. "We can drink and eat a few things, when almost everyone is drunk, or no longer noticing our presence, we can split up and go to our quarters."

"Okay, sure." Sunghoon nodded. "Let's get drinks for the ladies, Sunoo." The prince pulled the boy close to him.

A silence fell between you, before analyzing your princess. Her blue dress with lowered shoulders, leaving her collarbone exposed, her soft white skin asking to be marked, the highlight was the choker with a hanging sun, her beautiful silky hair tied in a black bow.

"Uh-huh. You look beautiful, princess." He praised her, his mouth salivating to stain her skin, but I remember why he wanted to be alone with her.

"Thank you, my love. You too are as beautiful as autumn." Wonyoung smiled, approaching. "Maybe, I should ruin that good girl image and bend you to this floor, fucking you for everyone to see what a slut you are." She swallowed hard at the thought of this, it would be an honor, of course.

"Wony, you shouldn't be thinking about these things right now." Her cheeks were flushed.

"Why not? I could raise him here." She snapped, her stomach starting a familiar burn, you were so vulnerable at the moment.

"I have news to tell you!" You shook your head at the tempting thoughts of your princess.

"Tell me, baby." A shiver ran through her body, leaving it hot.

"Uh- I… I'm pregnant." He whispered to her.

For a moment, the infernal noise of musical instruments stopped for Wonyoung, who let his mouth open in surprise and jumped at you for a warm hug.

"I don't believe!" She shouted excitedly as she was squeezing you. "Really? Y/N, you're not kidding, right?" He pulled away to look into her eyes.

"I'm not. I'm having frequent nausea and I feel sick all of a sudden, I'm sure I do." She replied shyly.

"Sunoo. Does he know?”

"Yes, he was the one who suggested this. He later told Sunghoon, but I wanted to tell you this in person." She looked into his eyes. "We haven't seen each other for a few nights, that's exactly why, but Wonyoung… You know." Her shoulders tightened.

"You should move closer to the palace, or better yet, you guys can start living in the palace!" Jang started to think. "I could take care of you… And our son, or daughter."

You choked on your own saliva, eyes shining next to Wonyoung's, she was just as excited as you. She always said she wanted to raise him, well, she did. Your winter days were completely filled by an insatiable Wonyoung, any time you were alone, she would bend you over and fill you with her cum until it spilled, and the ones that flowed out she pushed with her fingers.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea…” You almost whispered. "Sunoo's family would be suspicious, maybe even accuse me of treason and-"

"Y/N, don't worry about anything. I, in fact, Sunghoon can do it, as Sunoo is your advisor." She grabbed his shoulders, squeezing them to give him confidence.

"Thank you my love." You whispered, giving the princess a gentle, grateful smile.

What you didn't notice was the princess's eyes focusing on the front of you, observing the movements of the guests and servants, a smug smile appeared on her shiny lips before pulling you into the palace corridors.

“Oh, Wonyoung, what are we doing?” She asked stunned by her lover's unexpected movement.

The princess let out a muffled laugh as she continued leading to one of the rooms in the second house of the palace, entering her own room. Unlike her room in the palace, there were only small decorations, a few photos and a small tache that she normally used to rest in the center of the room.

You were pushed inside as Wonyoung closed the sliding door, turning to look at your small, curled up being still standing, looking around. The princess approached her, placing her hands on her shoulders and leaving a kiss on her neck, her hands running down her arms as she tilted her head to make room for the princess's soft, wet kisses.

“W-Wonyoung, what if someone-” The princess kisses behind her ear, sending a shiver down her spine as she turns to face her.

“If you don’t make so much noise, no one will hear us.” She smiled, kissing her lips, painfully slow. “So, shh…” Wonyoung placed his index finger on his lips indicating silence.

One of their hands going down to her waist and the other finding a place behind her head bringing her closer. Their lips collided, their lips moved at a slow speed, feeling each other's softness, their hands finding her waist as she bit her lower lip, making a grunt and giving way for the princess's tongue to enter her mouth. , exploring her warm interior like many other times in the past. Pulling away only when the need for air was absurd, his eyes slowly opening seeing his lover's full and swollen lips, a smug smile appeared on that pretty face.

“I missed you so much…” She whispered close to his lips.

The hands leaving you and going to undo her own dress, the pile at her feet, leaving her with only the fabrics that covered her private parts, the erection trapped between the layers of fabric to hide it.

“On your knees, baby.” Obeying quickly, you didn't want to be punished tonight, you wanted to do everything just to please your princess. "You know what to do." She ran her long fingers along his jaw, reaching his lips and separating them.

You nodded, your hands flying to untie the long fabric holding your prize, throwing it away as Wonyoung's long cock greeted you. The pink tip leaking pre-cum, blowing at the tease making her groan softly, one of Wonyoung's hands flying to her hair and forcing her mouth on his penis, seeing her need, then kissing her tip and licking its length, preparing her. to your mouth.

After his preparation, without warning, he put Wonyoung's dick in his mouth, trying hard to get to where his nose touched his crotch, his eyes filling with tears, trying hard not to choke, his eyes moving up to meet the princess's. between open looking at you, her hand on your head pulling back.

“Take it easy, my love.” She gave you a small smile and grunt when you licked her tip.

“I can handle it, don’t worry.” She assured, giving his dick more licks.

“I know you can handle it, just- Ah! Cum! That’s so-” Wonyoung moaned loudly, holding onto his strands of hair as her head bobbed up and down on his big cock.

His eyes never leaving Wonyoung's face, sometimes taking his dick until it hits his throat, leaving it a few seconds later, coming and going again, in the warm-up, his tongue tracing the veins of her dick, his lover's moans were like music to her ears as he pleased her. The tight grip on her hair and her hand forcing her head was a sign that she was close to cumming with his mouth,

“Fuck baby, I-I’m almost there!” Wonyoung announced, her hips starting to move, hitting the back of his throat until she let out a louder moan and came in her mouth, his loads of cum filling her mouth and she pulled out to release the last loads onto her face, smiling with the mess he made on his face. "So beautiful.."

You got up, running two fingers on her cheek and putting it in her mouth, tasting the princess's taste more, making her moan and pull her into a messy kiss, tasting herself, the princess's big hands reaching for the bow that He caught her corset, releasing it to free herself from her dress. Just as the breeze gently carries away pieces of clothing so delicately, that's how her dress fell at her feet, in a heap only to be pushed aside as Wonyoung's aimless hands passed over her body, whispering, praising every part of her body, savoring his soft, fragrant skin, lovingly marks every part of her bust as he lays down on her.

The current position was something common for you, love comes first, your pleasure comes first, that was the only thing Wonyoung was really dedicated to, that was the first and official part of you, her mess on your face was the preparation. One of her hands going up her leg and grabbing her thigh to separate it, her hot whispers in her ear made her button throb in nothingness, gently taking his tip to her entrance, teasing her until she whimpered for her.

“W-Wonyoung, please.” You groaned, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her closer if possible. A smug smile on her lips, waiting for you to give in, so she was the one who gave in, your moan calling out to her, making her melt and push herself inside you, her wet heat welcoming you with open arms, she didn't even pay attention to you pulling the strands of hair on the back of your neck.

Her penetrations were slow and deep, her insides, after so many invasions of her princess's fat cock, still remained tight and hot. “Wow, honey.” Jang gasped. “You’re s-so tight and hot, fuck-” She moaned into his neck, letting out little curses and muffled moans.

“More, Wony. f-faster. Please-” The princess barely had time to finish her request and she intertwined her fingers, hitting you faster, her thrusts were shorter and faster, her free hand stimulating your swollen clitoris asking for attention, the meeting of your bodies filling the room sounds wet, the heated air making their bodies sweat.

Her lips meeting in a messy kiss, Wonyoung trailing your neck to mark you as much as possible, while you moaned together, her hand coming up to caress her breasts, sucking and mistreating them. “Fuck Y/N, I-I’m going to fill you up! Leave her full of me. Just m-mine.” She kisses her mouth, swallowing her moans, feeling her insides squeezing her, making his cum spurt inside her, the stimulation making you come undone with her.

She falls on top of you, trying to catch her breath, she towers over you, kissing your chin until she reaches your lips, whispering politely on your lips: “Get on all fours for me, jagi.” You moved apart to position yourself, knees on the floor as your upper half hugged the pile of fabric from Wonyoung's dress and yours.

Wonyoung's hand wandering down her back until it reached her pert ass, you heard a giggle from your princess. “So obedient and good to me." She praised, if you could look back, you would see Wony's bright eyes as he looked at her body in that state, naked and helpless desperately waiting for his touch.

The princess standing behind you, her fingers playing with your pussy, seeing your cum dripping out, her fingers moving in and out along with your pale fluid, she moaned hearing you grunt. She licked her own fingers, passing it over your pink tip, still leaking fluid, she positioned herself behind, inserting her thick cock inside you, holding your waist firmly, she started slowly, accelerating little by little, until she is bent over you, pounding you from behind like a dog in heat, while they moaned nonstop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” “W-Wonyoung!” Her nails were scratching the floor, looking for some support.

She pulled away breathing deeply, without stopping her movements, dick hitting her insides repeatedly, Wonyoung grabbing her hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist making her back touch his chest. “Fuck, baby.” She moaned, kissing her neck, your hand sliding down her abdomen and feeling the bulge formed there, letting out a smug giggle at how deep she is in you. "Look love. Look how deep I am inside you! Screw this."

“T-Too much! I will, ugh! I’m going to c-cum!” You screamed, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, your nails scratching Wonyoung's arm as you bit his lips, eyes rolling back as your orgasm made you see stars, the princess cumming right after you, painting your entire body with white jets. .

The girl laying your head on her shoulder as you breathed heavily, leaving a few kisses as she turned you around, kissing your lips again, your faces close, her eyes shining as she looked at you, your touching her body until a moan left her lips. “Wony…” You whispered, feeling her insert his dick inside her tight hole. “Fuck, so tight.” She kissed you again, distracting you from stretching.

Wonyoung pressing her legs to his chest, thrusting into her hole without stopping, hitting her mercilessly, hitting her thigh leaving her red as he grabbed her, her moans passing through the thin walls of the room, without warning, the princess sticking three fingers in your pussy stimulating you even more, you were so stimulated, on the verge of fainting.

"Cum!" You screamed. “Wonyoung, awesome! Screw this! I can’t take a-anymore!” Fat tears stained her face, screaming curses and incoherent sentences as her orgasm overwhelmed you. A whitish stream splashing on Wonyoung's abdomen, the princess removing her fingers that were stimulating you until she filled your ass with your cum, falling on you.

Your breaths were labored as you were cuddled together, she gently pulling your cock out of you, kissing your face as she praised you for being a good girl and accepting everything she gave you. She moves away a little to get a damp towel to clean you, being stopped by you pulling her back.

"A little more." You whispered as you hugged her, feeling her warmth and fullness. “Okay, just a little more.” She smiled, kissing you.

A comfortable silence enveloped you, until the sound emitted from the other room making your faces burn with embarrassment and a naughty laugh knowing it would make you both laugh a lot. “Looks like someone else is having fun.” Wonyoung laughed as he heard other muffled moans.

#👻 gh0st fic !#kpop #kpop fic #smut #ive #ive smut #ive wonyoung #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung #jang wonyoung #wonyoung smut #wonyoung gp #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung gp x reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months

Text

if i could turn back time

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'time travel' rated t wc: 997 cw: mention of canonical character death tags: fix-it, light angst, happy ending, first kiss

-------------------------------------

"I'm telling you Robin, this is probably when things went wrong!"

"And I'm telling you, things probably went wrong in the 60s! This isn't gonna change anything!"

Eddie shouldn't have been listening by the door of the RV, especially not when they thought he was hiding in the back, but he couldn't help his curious nature.

Curiosity killed the cat, but it entertained the banished.

"What are you gonna do, huh? Stay with him and Dustin? Sacrifice yourself? I'm not letting you do that!"

Eddie's brows raised.

"No, but with the three of us, we can remember to close everything off this time so none of us have to sacrifice ourselves. It keeps us all safe."

The voice suddenly stopped and Eddie barely managed to get away from the door before it was flying open and Steve was storming inside.

Alone.

Robin must have gone to help the kids and Nancy with their weapons.

Steve sat down on the couch, put his head in his hands, and groaned.

"Alright there, big boy?"

Steve jumped, his face turning to see Eddie awkwardly standing in the doorway to the back.

"Fine, yeah. Just stressed," Steve relaxed a bit, though Eddie could still see his white knuckles against his knees and his jaw clenching.

"You and Robin having a lover's quarrel out there?" Eddie asked, knowing damn well they weren't together.

He didn't have to know to know that Robin wasn't interested in Steve for the same reason Eddie wasn't interested in Robin.

"We just don't see eye to nose on some things," Steve shrugged. "She knows I'm right, she's just stubborn."

Ignoring the eye to nose comment would go down as one of the most impressive feats of Eddie's life, but he decided to focus on finding out what they were actually arguing about.

"She thinks you're gonna get hurt?" Eddie asked, moving over to the couch.

"More like killed."

Eddie couldn't hide the flinch at his harsh words.

"None of us are gonna die, man. We've got a plan."

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "I'd feel better if I was with you and Dustin though."

"I won't let anything happen to him," Eddie said softly.

He knew how much Steve cared for Dustin, felt that same protectiveness for the kid.

"It's not him I'm worried about."

"I'll be fine. I mean, even if not, it's not like we're friends. You'll all be fine," Eddie shrugged.

Maybe a part of him actually believed that, believed that everyone would go about their days if something happened to him. He didn't think anyone but Wayne would actually miss him, and he'd be fine eventually.

Steve was blinking at him.

"No, we won't." Steve's hand grabbed his knee, squeezing. "You think you don't matter to us, but you do. You have no idea how much you mean to everyone. When something happens to you, none of us will ever be the same."

Eddie's mouth felt dry, and then it hit him what Steve said.

"When?"

Steve's eyes widened.

"I meant if!"

"Steve. Does this magic girl you keep talking about know something? Did someone talk to her?" Eddie stood up and started pacing. "I know I said it'd be fine if something happened to me, but I'd rather not know. And now I'm thinkin' you might know something I don't and maybe Robin does too and-"

Steve grabbed his face between his hands, his grip almost hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Eds, I promise you, I am not letting anything happen to you. Not this time."

Eddie had a million questions, but as he looked into Steve's haunted eyes, he decided to wait.

He decided to trust Steve Harrington.

"Okay. Nothing's gonna happen to me."

----------------------------------

When Eddie made it back through the gate in the trailer, a few bruises on his shoulders and arms, but alive, Steve was there.

Looking at him in a way Eddie couldn't quite recognize.

And then touching him in a way Eddie wouldn't have expected.

His hands were everywhere, feeling along his arms and neck and shoulders, taking inventory of his bruises and cuts, the one bite mark he had on his side.

"You're okay?" He asked breathlessly.

"I'm okay." Eddie responded, just as breathless. "Steve. I'm okay."

His tone made Steve stop what he was doing and look in his eyes.

"Fuck, Eddie," Steve fell into him, pushing his face into his neck, breathing Eddie in as Eddie wrapped his arms around him.

"You gonna tell him or should I?" Robin asked from behind them.

Steve just whimpered in response and Eddie felt a wetness against his skin.

"Are you crying?" he asked, trying to push him away to see if he was okay, but Steve just held him harder.

"He's just happy you didn't die this time," Robin said.

"This time?"

"Yeah. You died the first time and it destroyed him. When we woke up back here, he spent so long trying to focus on you living, he forgot we had a real job to do. No offense."

"None taken," Eddie said. "Stevie, you gotta breathe."

Steve had started gasping for air against him, his whole body shaking as he came down from the adrenaline.

It took ten minutes, a cleared out room, and gentle hands massaging his back for Steve to calm down.

But Eddie sat with him and held him, talked him through whatever he was feeling and assuring him that he was okay.

"We all made it, sweetheart," Eddie whispered against the top of his head.

Steve stiffened in his arms, then instantly relaxed.

"Was it..." Eddie let out a long breath. "Before. When I died. Were we something?"

Steve shook his head and Eddie tried not let the disappointment be visible.

"We weren't yet. But I think we would have been. I wanted to be. Didn't get the chance."

"But this time you do."

Steve's lips pressed against his collar, lingering for a minute before he pulled back.

"This time we do."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #time travel

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brayneworms · 1 year

Text

i'll fetch you anything you like.

featuring. aki hayakawa x gn!reader

content. MDNI, smut, riding, begging, crying, smoking, light masochism, burning (reader puts a cigarette out on aki), mild codependency, pet names (loverboy, darling), gender neutral reader, agab not mentioned, sub!aki + dom!reader, a little angst, pining, kissing, vague love confessions.

word count. 3.2k

synopsis. aki's smoking is a nasty habit, but you're certain you can get him to quit. also, aki pines.

notes. minors don’t interact. anyways how’s this for a first post ( totally normal abt aki hayakawa )

Aki Hayakawa is an orphan in every sense of the word.

Literally being the one most people associate him with, but—Aki comes to a realisation when he's maybe thirteen or fourteen that the word runs deeper than that. It's not as if your entire life is defined by your relationship with your parents, after all; even people who have ones that are alive become something other than offspring in their life. Husband, brother, uncle, father. But orphan sticks, no matter how many people you fill your life up with to replace the parents you lost. Aki thinks there is something in the word that rings of loneliness; he could father a hundred children, become grandfather to two hundred more, gain friends and a partner, and still he would be Aki Hayakawa, orphan.

Alone.

"That's a bad habit."

Aki's fingers don't pause in their ministrations, thumb pressing down on the jut of the lighter as it zips to life. The cherry of his menthol cigarette glows in the blue-dark of the office. The sky outside the thin window is pale with the gloaming, and he breathes a haze of gritty smoke over it, sullying the view.

You've made yourself at home on his desk, legs swinging leisurely. You must be cold in only his work-shirt and boxers that cling to your hips and thighs. You watch him passively, head cocked.

"One of my least dangerous ones," he intones, which is true enough for a man who has three years to live at most.

"Oh? What tops the list?"

Aki eyes you serenely. "I dunno if you've heard, but I work for this place called the Public Safety Division."

Your laughter breaks the delicate quiet like a flock of birds taking off from a tree. "Put it out. I hate the smell."

Aki's dark brows crinkle. "I'm not wasting a perfectly good cigarette. If it bothers you so much, eat it."

"Eat it? You freak."

"At least then someone's getting something out of it."

You hop from the desk, yawning. In the dim light that is starting to grow just a little brighter, Aki can see the beginnings of bruises on your throat and collarbone, vanishing in an ugly rainbow trail down to the hastily-down buttons of his work shirt. Your socked feet pad along the threadbare carpet on your way over to him, and Aki inhales deeply. Maybe if there's enough smoke in his lungs it will encourage him not to breathe; that way, he won't do that god-forsaken embarrassing thing he does when you get close. His heart stutters, and it makes his breath hitch audibly. The worst part is you seemed to be goddamn attuned to it—there seems to be little you like more than knowing you have an effect on him.

Aki doesn't stop you when your fingers come up to encircle his cigarette, brushing his as you pluck it gently from between his lips. He hates that even the smallest kiss of your skin against his still sends liquid lightning zipping through him, like he's that seventeen-year-old he was when he met you, the one full of spite and anger who hadn't been held since his mother died.

You pull the cigarette away, still lit; the butt glows red and angry between your delicate hold, gleams in the reflection of your eyes. When Aki meets them, he feels his mouth go dry; your pupils are large and black, engulfing iris, barely blinking as you look up at him.

"Bet I can make you quit," you say.

Aki snorts. "Better men than you have tried."

"Anything can be unlearned," you counter smoothly. "All bad habits go away with a little punishment."

Aki feels his heartbeat quicken, tries not to let the way that one word sets his blood alight show on his face. "Hm," he says noncommittally, but frustratingly, he doesn't think he's fooled you for a second.

Your serene smile curved into something sharp as easily as breathing. "Gimme your hand."

And Aki does, though he knows where this is going. You turn his hand over gently at the wrist, leaving it palm-up, fingers splayed in your grip. You hold him so gently it makes him shiver. Carefully, slowly—Aki thinks, giving him much time to pull away—you raise the burning end of the cigarette and plant it in the centre of his pale palm, a stinging kiss. Aki hisses, grits his teeth, but dutifully doesn't move even as his hand twitches involuntarily at the contact. Just as tears start to needle at his eyes, you twist the butt and pull away, leaving a shallow pool of grey ash, a black soot mark, and a stinging red welt like a patch of burning leaves.

His eyes are glued to the masterpiece you've made of his boring skin. The burn throbs unpleasantly, but something low and hot has come alive in his abdomen at the lingering kiss of pain. It satiates something inside him just smoking the thing could never hope to touch. He likes the futility of feeding himself his own death, sure—makes him feel like he has marginally more control over it, despite what the Curse Devil might have to say about it. This sort of pain is different; it goes straight for the gullet, and it makes it all the more sweet that it's you doing it.

A stupid, lonely part of Aki—orphan—wants to believe you're doing this because you care for him. Because you want him to live as long as possible. The grown, cynical man he supposes he's become thinks you must be just as fucked up as he is. It doesn't really matter either way; Aki's loved you for years, and he's astonished he's even gotten this far with you, and he'll take anything you deign to give him, pleasure or pain because it's all sort of the same to him anyway.

You unscrew a bottle of drinking water and hold it over your discarded blazer, soaking the lapel before pressing it to the burn. Aki grunts, eyebrows knitting up as a strange cocktail of relief and pain throbs slowly through his body. Your hands holds the wet fabric over his one, like a ribcage encasing a beating heart. Oh, Aki would let you hold his heart in your hands, and who cares what you decided to do with it? It's hardly his business; it belongs to you anyway.

He leans in to kiss you, gets close enough to brush his lips against yours and feel his pupils dilate before you turn your head, ducking. Aki feels his heart stutter anxiously as you turn your serene face up to him.

"Hate the taste," you say.

Aki frowns. "I barely smoked it for thirty seconds."

"It lingers."

Aki isn't stupid; this is part of the punishment. And the goddamn annoying part is that it's working. Even as you take his other hand to hold the soaking blazer against his burn and turn away, every fibre in his body wants to stop you. Turn you back around, pin you against the wall, swallow any complaints with his lips. He wants to make you melt against him, wants to melt himself under you in that way you always manage to do to him. He likes feeling like he doesn't have to think with you; just await whatever comes next, pain or pleasure, and he'll take it because it's you.

But Aki doesn't move. He's not a problem dog. He stands quietly and nurses his burn, tracking you with his eyes as you re-dress yourself, his shirt tucked into your slacks, tie wound through the collar, work boots laced up to the ankle.

"I gotta run home and shower," you say, tugging your blazer on. "I'll see you back here in, like, an hour."

Aki nods. "Okay."

The grin you flash him is little more than poisonous; it makes it heart skip a beat. "How's your burn?"

He swallows around a dry throat, holding your stare with a touch of timidity. "What burn?"

Delight shivers over your expression like wind ruffling a field of grass, and you stride the length of the cramped office and kiss him. Aki grunts, rendered thoughtless the moment your mouth touches his, your hands in his collar and his hair; his hands go slack, blazer fluttering to the ground, and the welt on his palm stings horribly when his hands come up to latch around your shoulders and neck. He pulls you closer, a little frantic, and he has barely a moment to reflect on how worrying it is that he's this desperate for your touch after being denied only once, but before he can think to dwell on it you're parting your lips and he's tugged your body flush against his own. He's so close he could drown in you. For a moment, he wants to.

Far too soon, you pull away. You're delighted. "Good," you murmur, and he hates how his heart leaps into his throat. "You're so good, Aki."

His face is on fire. "I'm not a dog," he manages.

"Sure you are," you say matter-of-factly. "And I'm Pavlov. I'll break that nasty habit of yours if it's the last thing I do. Give you something else to focus on. Okay?"

Aki licks his dry lips. "You can try," he says hoarsely, hoping it doesn't sound as much like an invitation as he thinks it does. The impish smile you give him implies he's shit out of luck.

Aki is in hell.

He knows this, because every time the two of you have hooked up since your little conversation in his office, he hasn't been allowed to kiss you if you detect even a whiff of smoke on his breath. It's killing him a little, to be honest. Fucking without kissing just feels wrong. It makes him forget it's you, sometimes, his vision of you sliding out of focus 'till you could be just anyone. And Aki doesn't fuck just anyone. He fucks people he loves.

He loves you. But he can't have you. And he can't even kiss you so he can pretend he has you, if only for a minute. It's just fucking, a tumble of sweating limbs and gasps and grunts, of a thrilling cocktail of pleasure and pain and almost-confessions bitten back at the last second, hidden in the crook of your neck.

Your shitty wooden headboard creaks into the shitty thin bedroom wall, and Aki spends a moment in lucidity to send a silent apology to your neighbours. One arm braces against the wood, flexing with every fast jerk of his hips, and you're under him, eyes clenched shut and meeting his thrusts in a way that has Aki wondering why anyone could think being on top had to mean being in control. He's oiled to your machine, matching the rhythm of your hips and trying not to drown as your back arches up from the sweat-damp sheets, stomach curving into his, one arm holding fast around his neck.

You feel so good he could cry. Not that that would be an irregular occurrence, or anything—he'd practically sobbed the first time you fucked, and back then you'd been all fluttering concern, stopping even though he tried to sputter please, Christ, don't stop, I'll die if you stop, please. He supposes you're kind, in your own way. You'd stroked away his tears and kissed his damp face.

"Aki," you groan, bringing him forcefully back to the present; his dark bangs dangle in his eyes as he looks down at you, mouth agape and head cloudy. "Wh-what's got you so wound up?"

As if you don't know. Aki grits his teeth.

Your hand makes patterns on the damp nape of his neck as his rolling hips slow, as he breathes deep to try and regain a semblance of his dignity. "Loverboooy," you croon up at him, your free hand gripping at the junction between his hip and thigh. Aki grimaces; he hates that nickname. "Talk to me."

Aki glares at you. "You know—I want—you know. St-stop it."

He whimpers somewhere high in his throat as your body tightens around him, free hand coming up to scrub down his face. "D-don't!"

"Sorry, sorry," you laugh. "I'm sorry. Why don't you tell me what you want? Maybe I'm feeling nice."

It feels like a trap, like luring his feelings into the light just to snap a bear trap over them. But Aki wants, he yearns so deeply and desperately that he's just about willing to risk it. "Want to kiss you."

Your eyes gleam. "Do you?" you ask, as if this is news to you.

His arms shake. "Please."

God, he's pathetic. He's so used to being in control, to tailoring every facet of his life meticulously, grooming and tidying and cleaning. He knows the exact amount of calories he should eat per day. He puts his shoes on a rack so he never tracks mud onto the tatami mats. His shower utensils are organised in the order he uses them—shampoo, conditioner, face-wash, scented gel. He likes being in control. He thinks, anyway. You make him reevaluate. You make him reevaluate an awful lot.

You toss your head back against the pillows; you have the audacity to laugh. "Saw you smoking earlier," you tell him, and Aki's stomach goes cold. "Mm... full pack, too. A new one? When'd you buy that."

"Th-that was hours ago." And it's true; when Aki learns you're coming over, he puts his cigarettes in a locked draw and puts the key somewhere difficult to reach. "It won't still taste. I've eaten. I brushed my teeth."

That's just good manners.

"It's the principle of the thing, loverboy," you say, and your hand comes up to his chest and rolls him over. Aki gapes, whining at the loss of contact only to choke on his own voice as you sling a leg over his hips and slide him back into you. Your nails scrape red railroads down the pale skin of his sternum at the stretch, and Aki watches, mesmerised as you start to move, the flex of the muscles in your thighs, the vein bulging in your throat as you toss your head back. He wants to be all over you, a hand on your neck feeling your pulse go berserk for him, his teeth in your skin as proof he was there, nose buried in your hair, dirty and rough and the exact opposite of the way he usually wants you. That is—soft and kind, romantic, slow and heady as syrup.

He wants kisses that taste like tears, whispered confessions into bedsheets. He wants, painfully, the constant assurance he can never ask for. I love you. I love you. Oh, Aki, I love you.

"Kiss me," he gasps instead, writhing against the bedsheets, head thrown back at the brutal pace you set him. He's so close, teeth gritting and muscles locking up but without a kiss it feels cold and incomplete. "Please, please, kiss me, please—"

"You're a brat, Aki," you hiss, and Aki's heart twitches in his chest; he can hear his pulse in his skull. "You ignore the one rule I gave you, and you still think you get to ask for what you want?"

"It's a bullshit rule," he snaps. "I—I can't just, hah, I can't j-just turn it, off, oh, fuck—"

"You okay?" you ask in a fleeting moment of mercy. Aki's eyebrows knit up. "Am I—is it too much?"

Aki shakes his head. "I'm okay," he mumbles pitifully. "I'm close."

"I know, darling," you murmur. "It's okay. I'm gonna give you what you want. And you're gonna give me what I want. Deal?"

"I—I..." Aki chews the inside of his cheek till copper floods his mouth. "I'll try? I'll try, I swear."

You still for a moment. "You mean that?"

Aki nods frantically. "Yes, I—if that's what you want, anything, anything you want, please..."

The beam that breaks out on your face is a million watts. "Aki," you breathe, and finally you lean forward 'till your chest brushes his. Aki can't breathe, transfixed by every swoop of your eyelash and chap in your lip as you lean close. When you speak, you're so close that your lips brush his, and he has to keep every muscle taut to stop himself leaning forward and closing the gap. "Aki, I want you to live a long, happy life. You get that, right? Why I'm doing this?"

He feels his stomach flip, can barely comprehend the words through his dazed mind. His glazed eyes follow you, thunderstruck. "What—what d'you mean?"

"I care about you," you murmur. "I want you to live as long as possible. Want you to stick around with me."

With you? It's a wonder his heart doesn't explode. For a fleeting moment, there exists a future beyond the Gun Fiend, beyond Denji and Power and Nyako, one where he can love you freely. Tears needle at his eyes. It all seems so impossible.

Aki forgets himself, surges up to capture your mouth, but you turn at the last second, planting a kiss to his cheek before focusing on his jaw, his ear, capturing the lobe between your teeth and sucking gently as your hips resume their rhythm. You're faster now, gasping for breath, Aki's hands sliding over the skin of your hips and torso for a lifeline. You tongue at the cords in his neck, the shell of his ear and the sensitive divot just underneath till he's squirming.

Your hands are everywhere—scraping nails across his twitching abdomen, running up the valley between his pecs, tweaking a nipple and pulling. And Aki groans and gasps, every hint of pain from your lovely hands sending him rocketing closer towards the edge. Tears bead at his lashline.

"'M close," he gasps again.

"That's okay, loverboy," you say sweetly, words buzzing against the skin of his throat, and Aki shudders, arching impossibly closer to you. He can feel every nerve in his body sawed open and set alight, impossibly sensitive, boiling with love, and as he comes he buries his face into the crook of your neck with a hoarse cry. Two lone tears streak down his flushed cheeks.

You're not far behind, and Aki wouldn't dream of pulling out, so he squirms and gasps and whines with the prickling of overstimulation as you chase your own high. "Sorry—fuck—you okay?"

"I'm, I'm good," Aki whines. He cracks one steely blue eye open. It stands out against his red skin; he's so flushed as to look sunburnt.

"'M almost, fuck, almost there. Hang on for me?"

Aki raises shaking hands to grip your hips in answer. You laugh between pants, baring down at him.

"That's my boy."

You don't kiss him when you finish, but it's alright. You flop down beside him, taking in deep lungfuls of air, nuzzling your lips to the salt-sweat cooling on his chest. Usually, round about now, Aki would roll to reach his bedside cabinet where his open pack of cigs lay in wait. The lighter is right beside him, open and tempting. He can almost hear the flick of it, the zip of the flame bursting to life, the sizzle of the cherry scorching beneath that controlled flame. The grit of smoke in his mouth and down his throat, emptying his lungs of fresh air.

The pack goes untouched. Aki winds an arm around your shoulders and holds you close, your cheek against his thudding heart.

You don’t kiss him, but it’s alright.

Aki’s not a problem dog.

He's going to earn it.

if you enjoyed this, request something.

#🫀.scribes #chainsaw man x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #csm x reader #aki x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #hayakawa x reader #chainsaw man x gn!reader #gn!reader #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #aki hayakawa smut #aki smut #hayakawa smut #hayakawa aki smut #dom!reader #sub!aki #sub!aki hayakawa

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amywritesthings · 29 days

Text

silver underground. | chapter 21

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.8k Summary: day 163 - also know as the day your world changed Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - mentions of violence, death, bloodshed; miscommunications; amnesia trope; angst af

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 21

Bergamot.

He smells like fresh dirt and home and bergamot.

A pair of arms cocoon around you, holding you in place. Cradling the back of your head, lifting it from touching the ground, is a strong palm.

Sounds of the outside world are muffled; distant.

Here all you can hear is the wild thumping of your heart, your blood strongly coursing through your veins.

I am alive.

The crash happened so fast—

Falling from the sky. Sliding across the forest floor. Rolling over and over and over—

Until your body stopped abruptly against a cushion of muscle.

When the dust cloud settles, when the fog fades into vapor, you open your eyes.

Shades of deep, vertical brown overtake your vision. It's so vibrant, familiar yet new. For what feels like hours you stare at a small bug, a speckled ladybug, crawling in circles until it decides to head north.

With each passing exhale your attention travels with it — up, up, up — when causation connects:

One of the mighty tree trunks of the forest broke this violent fall.

(But not just for you — he was the one to take the brunt of the damage.)

He...

When your lips part, your mouth is dry.

Constricted, confused lungs try for their very first breath.

Inhale.

Breathe.

Stay with me.

But that isn't your voice; not in your mind's eye.

Blurry images flash along your vision, sprinkling red, black, and silver against the brush and trees of the forest.

No matter how many times you blink, squeeze, tear up, the visuals scatter like materialized pins and needles.

They won't go away. They clip to your peripheral, forcing you to confront what's ahead.

Nothing is linear. Nothing is clear.

Nausea, relief, uncertainty, rage — these emotions assault your senses. Emotions. Mind.

It’s like waking up after a horrible dream.

One you’ve been kicking and screaming to leave the minute it started.

Let me out.

The freefall plays over and over, a never-ending loop of sickening weightlessness, without a means to jolt yourself awake.

Let me out, let me out, let me—

Something mirrors your heart beat and fractures in its own rhythm, pounding erratically against your chest.

Your heart still beats, but not as panicked — not as heavy — as this.

As... his.

Him — the one who broke your fall.

(Levi.)

Without thinking, your trembling hand rises past his ribcage, up his arm, to his fingers resting on your trembling shoulder.

Then you realize it isn't your body that's shaking.

It's Levi's.

Quivering like a leaf, gasping for breath as if he’s run a marathon.

He doesn’t move. He’s frozen in time, right where you left him.

(I’m sorry.)

Over and over, you replay precious seconds in the back of your mind — fractured memories you’ve only just begun to uncover.

Falling.

Darkness.

(James? James, shit, wake up—)

A voice crack.

Hopelessness.

Instinctively your arms surround him, as if dissolving him into your very pores will somehow help with the confusion in your gut.

Even when your fingers raise hire on your shoulder to glide along his, he doesn’t relax.

If anything, his ivory muscles forge into steel.

Prepared, like you’re the enemy.

They do not soften when your fingers curl, timid and experimental, around his hand for reassurance.

(Wake up.)

They do not yield when you exhale, slow and steady.

They do not rest when you squeeze, as if to offer a sign of life.

(Please, James, don’t do this to—)

“Levi.”

Two syllables — you murmur his very name, realizing the severity of all that you’ve missed.

The dampness of the Underground City right above your heads;

The heat of the sun on a riverbank of the surface;

The light of the morning, just outside an open window, glittering over a bare shoulder;

All puzzle pieces, scattered across a large table.

They fit together in a way — you just need to figure out where.

When you inch your face away from his body, you see it: those blue-gray eyes, pupils dilated and whites wide, staring straight through you.

(As though lost in another time, in the same nothingness you’d lost yourself in for months.)

His chest heaves in and out, trying to catch a breath that just won’t come.

Wretched, heavy gasps contain the fear.

The panic.

All while reliving, too.

“Levi?” you ask once more, softer this time.

A sharp battle cry sounds above your heads. You glance high to witness the silhouette of Petra flying through the canopy of trees with a trail of steam behind her, swords extended.

The titan has been defeated.

The forest floor quakes and shivers with its demise.

Except that isn’t how the mission happened last time.

The realization is a chilling thought creeping, infecting, the back of your mind as you return your attention to the captain in front of you.

“Levi.”

You urge firmer this time, but it’s no use.

Levi Ackerman continues to stare ahead, but he blinks. Rapid fire, as if trying to return to his body.

This face.

You gravitate towards this face that consumes every waking dream you’ve ever had.

Caging his face between your palms, you finally snap with a command.

“Levi, look at me.”

His gray eyes shoot down, catching yours, and your entire world feels warm again.

The light in a never-ending darkness.

Your past is your present and your present tumbles into your past.

An undiscovered constellation of points in your memory that haven’t quite lined up yet, but him…

All you know is that you have missed him, this incorrigible man, lying beside you.

And all this time, it is Levi Ackerman that holds the frame of the puzzle you have been trying to solve.

Instinctively your thumbs run along his cheekbones, causing his eyes to grow impossibly wider.

Unwise, perhaps, but the softened motion brings you comfort unlike anything else, tethering bits and pieces together in the mind by touch alone.

Bits and pieces, to bigger pictures —

You — a nobody from the Underground City, meant to die by the hands of greed and saved by ones of promise.

You — a formidable fighter, a friend, a colleague, a lover.

You — Lieutenant James, member of the Special Operations squad in the Survey Corps.

Maybe you don’t have the whole story yet, but whoever she is… whoever you are…

She’s supposed to be right here.

Levi’s eyes flutter over your face as if to search for injury or damage, but he doesn’t remove his arms from your body. The captain continues to cradle you as if you'll disappear, dissolve, into the mist that swallows your very waking daydreams.

So you lean closer, murmuring just under your breath with pure wonder.

Recognition.

“I know you.”

‘You know me.’

You recall standing right in front of him months ago, begging in a stable.

Those fateful few months before you really knew how close you were to the truth.

'You know me, but you won’t help me. Why?’

That doubt on his face, deeply ingrained in curbed expectations.

It's a memory you haven’t been able to shake, not since you awoke from the hospital.

Now it twists into something much darker.

‘Because you finally have an out.’

Profound sadness infects your stomach when one jagged edge aligns with another.

The memory, fresh as morning dew on a weed, sprouts before your very eyes.

Yes, you do know him.

Yes, he wouldn’t help you.

Because you’ve been down this road before.

But not like this.

Not wrapped up like two star crossed lovers.

(That’s why you hate me.)

— suddenly your back meets the ground.

A pair of hands abruptly push you, knocking you down to the forest floor with a whoosh of a small oof from your lungs.

Your eyes connect with the bright blue sky, the twinkling of green leaves, the expanse of a bird's wing flying high above.

I know this place.

Why can't you say it out loud?

In a hasty cloud of dust, Levi's boots keep up dirt as he scrambles off of you.

To steady himself, his pale palm presses to the tree trunk. He heaves once, twice, before exhaling fully.

Breath finally returns to his body. What once was pale now has color.

When you eventually turn your gaze to him, he glares directly at you, but it isn’t cruel.

Feral, maybe, and diluted in his own confusion, but not cruel.

(You’d never witnessed someone so beautiful in your life.)

In a new light, you finally see him — a mirror image of two worlds, old and new. Of what your body misses to its very core. Of what your mind wants to remember, to know as intimately as it once did.

Slowly you roll to your belly and push up with your arms. You draw up on one knee, your hand instinctively raising to graze your neck.

There.

The silver pendant, tiny and profound, remains intact.

The fall didn’t destroy it.

Immense relief floods your system, and your fingers cradle it like a lifeline.

'You don’t own anything. Now you do.'

That melodic baritone guides your ghost of a hand, adhering one more piece to the puzzle.

A fuller frame.

All you want to do is run to him, speak to him, hear his voice, but all you can do is watch as he cycles through the motions of getting his shit together.

Struggling through stages of anger, betrayal, relief, and longing —

Before addressing you as Captain Levi would.

Because he doesn’t know.

He didn’t hear.

(You didn't say.)

“Are you out of your mind?”

An ironic question, all things considered.

Your lips part to answer, but his finger raises to warn against that judgment.

A curtain of dark fringe hangs over his eyes, shoulders heaving.

“Direct insubordination against your superior,” he spits, but the edge to his voice is frayed.

He’s barely hanging on by mere threads. You want to knit them back together so badly.

“And endangering the entire squad–”

“Levi—"

“Oluo would have been fine, but you? You weren’t ready.”

Standing on both feet now, you ignore the dirt and debris on your white uniform and take a step forward in earnest.

“Levi, if you would just—”

“I didn’t ask you to speak, James.”

His bark is as cold as ice, causing you to stop your pleas right in their tracks.

Your own wide eyes stare at him as he reprimands you, seemingly unhinged by what has transpired.

Your mouth shuts into a thin line, willing yourself to hear him out.

To hear him.

Piece by piece, the image fills—

“Commander Erwin was wrong to put you back in the Scouts," Levi growls. It’s spoken as if to convince himself of that very truth. “Abandoning your horse, defying my orders, acting without any regard for your fellow squad mates—”

He seethes, a flicker of rage fluttering across his face.

“—the recklessness of your actions could have cost not only your life, but the lives of my squad.”

“Our squad,” you correct boldly without realizing you’ve said the words out loud.

Wrong answer. His anger only grows.

“My,” he corrects viciously, “squad. You are a—”

“—Lieutenant, which is practically the same rank as you,” you blurt with your own anger, the adrenaline flushed through your veins as newfound familiarity seeps into your veins. "The titles don't mean anything. It's just shit made up for people like us."

“Excuse me?” he growls, and you don’t let up.

“And I know Commander Erwin has always favored you more, but you only pull ahead of me by two goddamn months in the Scout Regiment,” you desperately rasp, the excitement too great, “so shut the hell up and listen to me, Levi Ackerman, because I know you.”

Exhaling your frustrations in heavy heaps, you refuse to cower.

There is no reason to fear this man. There never was.

"I know you," you repeat, defeated.

As if you've confessed at the foot of his altar.

Levi, despite all of his anger, turns his chin sideways with a growing bewilderment.

Now that you speak, you can see the dots connecting behind his very eyes.

All you can do is hope — all you have is hope.

When he doesn't say anything, you step forward and continue.

"This whole time. This entire time you've tried... you tried to shut me out because you knew that if you did, I'd walk away."

"What?" Finally, he speaks, but his voice drops with caution.

"You said you wouldn't shut me out."

"And I didn't."

"But you wanted to give me an out, right?" you remind. "That's what you told me the day in the stables at the cadet camp."

His teeth grit. "I told you—"

"That day, you agreed to give me a second chance, but you hoped I'd get too scared in the forest and run the other way. Except I've seen things and—"

That grit dies instantly. "Wait, seen things?"

"Yes, I've seen pieces, Levi," you admit. "Pieces."

"Of—?"

"Us. Of my life." Your fire dies. "Of our life."

His jaw clenches so hard that his teeth could shatter.

Your shoulders drop, defenseless. Your hand touches the back of your head, trying to feel for where you might have hit it on the ground back then.

"You ran from me in that hospital in Trost when I woke up. You saw I couldn't remember you right away, so you thought..."

A small laugh of relief exits your mouth before you can stop it.

There are so many black spots in your mind's eye, but…

His face paves the way.

Four hearts, staring up at a skyless night; now only two remain.

"Damn it, you really thought I would never remember you when you were my entire life."

Falling.

All you’ve ever done is fall.

On your back, as a child in those fighting rings in the Underground City.

On your side, struggling to learn the inner workings of stolen ODM gear while a rambunctious boy with ash-blonde hair laughs to the sky.

On your front, when two strong arms pulled you on top of him, lips crashed to yours.

Yet Levi always held out his hand and picked you up.

Now his fists are translucent, tight at his sides, as your eyes meet.

“And so you pushed me around in hopes that I'd leave you here," you conclude sadly, "all while you blamed yourself for the rest of your days for my mistake — right?”

It’s as if you’ve confessed you’re a titan in the flesh.

Levi staggers back, the clink of his ODM gear rattling as he moves.

His eyes flutter all over your face, studying, searching—

“What the hell are you saying?” the captain croaks, unlike himself.

He stares, clearly waiting for the final blow, like you hold his entire life in the palm of your hand.

Oluo and Petra are somewhere.

And wherever they are means Gunther and Eld are likely not far behind.

They’ll approach at any moment to regroup with the Captain.

But you need him to understand—

Levi's jaws clenches again; an overwhelming flurry of emotion settling on his tongue.

He looks two seconds away from detonating.

"What did you remember?" his voice cracks, the facade shattering. "Just say it, damn it, what the fuck did you remem—"

“James!”

The panicked voice of Oluo shouts from the sky.

Petra follows not long after, attaching to the base of the tree trunks to softly find a landing on her feet.

The rest of the squad follow suit, eyes wide.

“Whoa, are you alright?” Oluo repeats, rushing forward. “The hell just happened out there?”

“Her gear got caught,” Petra replies with equal urgency. “I saw it when Captain Levi took off after you two.”

“Her gear?!” Oluo yelps.

The two of them rush over while their hands reach out, swiping your emerald cloak up and away.

They duck their attention to the gear to assess the damage.

The ODM canisters don’t look particularly busted, but the wire dangles helplessly without its spike.

You note just how nervous everyone looks.

Because everyone knows the story, you realize deep in your belly.

The story where a member of the Levi Squad fought titans and got her gear stuck, resulting in a catastrophic head injury where her memories were no more.

The one where they nearly lost one of their elite, only to result in that woman becoming a completely blank slate.

Someone that they'll never get back.

Except she's screaming in your head, slamming against your skull.

I'm here! I'm here, don't you see? I'm still here!

Eld and Gunther quickly descend next, their feet pattering with the quickness towards where you stand.

The squad surrounds you with a million questions, checking your head should there be damage.

Petra even places a gentle hand on your heart, but it’s hammering.

Alive.

Levi says nothing, does nothing; his chin ducks to his emerald collar, allowing his squad to have their time.

“You scared the shit out of us,” Gunther admits with a sigh.

“The hell were you thinking?” Eld adds.

You sheepishly shake your head, eyes still attached to Levi. “I-I wasn’t—”

“I had it, James,” Oluo counters, cutting you off. “I had that titan. You didn’t need to go back for me and almost risk your damn life.”

“Hate to say it, but I agree with Oluo,” Petra replies with a soft sigh, before pulling you in for a small hug. Your arms remain lamely at your sides. “You didn't need to prove you were badass to us, alright? We know." She lets go. "How did you cut yourself loose?”

“She didn’t.”

Levi’s voice breaks through, stopping everyone in their tracks.

He turns on a heel away from the squad, head remaining in a bow, and walks in the direction they'd arrived from.

“I caught her.”

You note the changes in expressions on the rest of the squad's faces.

Recognition smooths over their tired lines, like the significance isn’t lost on them.

Suddenly they duck their chins, too, as if ashamed for gossiping.

Only you remain with your head up, eyes square on the captain.

He does not look your way.

“Outing’s over. We’ll just have to break Four Eyes’ heart and tell them we didn’t capture any of those bastards today.”

“But we didn’t even make it halfway through,” Eld starts, turning his boot towards the captain with surprise. “We can go further.”

"Wait, we managed to clear the forest?" you ask without thinking, causing Eld and Oluo to glance your way.

Oluo’s eyebrows slide high to his hairline.

Eld’s narrow to a point.

“It… was,” Eld slowly, carefully, explains, “but the mission you — the one that you — Wait.”

"People still made it to the other side after I fell?" you exhale.

They made it.

The Scouts managed to push to the end of the forest.

The mission wasn't all for nothing.

A flurry of confused relief floods your system, yet the squad looks at you with pure confusion.

“...none of us told her about the forest debrief from last year yet, did we?” Oluo inquires, pointing to Petra. “Hey, did you snitch?”

“Huh? Snitch?!” Petra yelps. “What the hell would I snitch about? It’s not like it's a secret to anyone here what went down.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t make it long enough to see the end of it,” Gunther replies, rubbing his chin between his thumb and index finger. “And we all agreed not to bring up said mission when she woke up until she was cleared by that doctor guy she saved.”

“Doctor?” you blurt under your breath, blinking. "That I...?"

That you saved…

Albeit foggy, you remember the other team that fateful day.

Miro squad.

There were so many names, so much chaos…

You struggle to remember the finer details, but there was someone named Rini.

An older man — or did he just look weatherworn from war?

Was it the same man from Trost?

“Wait. James.” Petra rounds you, searching your face with budding excitement. “Do you remember the last mission you were on? Is that why you’re—”

“I said the outing’s over.”

Levi's command bites off her question, and Petra falters.

“I already have one shithead disobeying instructions. Is this going to become a trend?”

The squad goes silent, turning to their captain.

“Get the damn horses back,” the captain growls. “We’ll reconvene as a group back at headquarters. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” they all respond in unison.

One after the other, they offer a look of condolences to you before ascending to the skies.

Leaving Levi and yourself to remain.

In the back of your mind, you remember the odds.

Forty to eighty.

The screams of terror.

The urgency to fly through the trees.

A formation of horses…

A corner of the puzzle is complete.

Help me.

Why won’t you help me?

“Levi?” you start, and you see his face flinch at your tone. “Can we talk?”

“Not here,” he replies curtly.

“But—”

“I said not here,” he grunts, turning his chin to regard you over his shoulder. “I’m not doing this here.”

When his eyes meet yours, they soften.

Apologetic.

As if he’s teetering on the brink of giving up completely.

“Go back to your quarters,” he urges. “Clear your head. Figure out if…”

Did his voice just crack again?

You can’t help but gravitate towards his orbit, boots gently stepping closer.

“...figure out if you mean it,” he finishes, stronger now. “If you really do remember — any of this. We'll reconvene and debrief back at headquarters, but I told you: I'm not feeding you our memories. If you think you know me, then say it with your whole damn chest and hold nothing back."

His chin drops, his black fringe falling over his eyes.

You can't see what he's thinking, how he's feeling, but the way his voice turns to a whisper breaks your heart.

"I can’t keep up with these false hopes anymore.”

The necklace on your sternum burns.

Although you have a million questions, a thousand apologies, a dozen pleas, and very few certainties, you say one thing in return.

"Yes, sir."

You both stand in silence, awaiting the horses.

He stares at the ground.

You continue staring at him.

I know you.

You're the only certainty I have.

Once the rest of the squad arrives, you mount your horse and keep formation.

The sun bursts free.

There are no more trees clouding your vision.

Ahead there is an expanse of grass, reclaimed by time.

(A new start.)

Levi Squad returns to headquarters without a casualty in tow.

154 notes · View notes

crazyk-imagine · 4 months

Text

Mean

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Fem!reader

Characters: Fem!reader, Paul Lahote, Sam Uley, Emily Young, Jared Cameron, Embray Call, Tiny Tim (made up)

Warnings: Reader knows about the supernatural, implications of dead parent, ex's inspire people, Sam and Emily are adorable, am I making them my favorites bc of the way I write them lol, Paul and Reader are adorable, Paul is a little shit, so is Embry and Jared, no one can act normal around a sassy person

Word Count: 1,231

A/N: Was I listening to Mean by Taylor Swift? You can't prove anything

I've had this ready for a week, but shit kept happening at work man ughhhhhh

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was meant to be, or so you thought.

You blink, staring at the ceiling not sure why your ex came to mind.

He was partial to the reason for your move the gloomy town (which you enjoyed more than the sunny state you were in) but not the entire reason.

If only your mom could see you now, working hard and still keeping true to who you are.

You push yourself out of bed, needing to get started on your day.

You finish up and jot down another line, knowing it's slowly turned into a "revenge" song.

You exit your place and hop in your truck, heading down to your favorite person's place.

"Emily, your other honey is home."

Sam lets out a dry laugh. "Funny as always."

"I know, it's one of the perks of being my friend."

"Are going to do..." You snatch a muffin from the tray. "Sam things?"

The couple glance at one another, curious if you know.

"Yeah, we won't be back till later-" He doesn't finish as the boys burst through the door. Almost all ignore you, not aware of your presence.

You mumble, "now I know why you're ready to feed an army."

The boys freeze, all conversations stopping. "Uh-"

"Who's the girl?" Jared asks, snaking a muffin.

You raise a brow, picking at the muffin, breaking it into bite size pieces. "What a question."

"Who's the sassy girl?" The same guy asks.

"How do you deal with idiots?"

Emily snickers, scanning over the pack for their expressions.

"Good thing Paul's not here or else he'd flip a lid," Embry mutters.

You push yourself off the stool and grab your bag. "Later, Em. Bye bye, Sammy."

You wave them off before glancing at the group. "Such an interesting... gang you have here."

You spin around, smirking to yourself, not wanting to let the cat (wolf) out of its bag. "I heard there's going to be a full moon tonight."

Or maybe you don't care if they know you know.

"Does she-"

The door slams shut.

You shake your head, smirking to yourself, proud of your teasing. You bump into a body, not entirely paying attention. "Sorry." You pass by the person and hop in your car, not realizing the electricity he felt in that simple touch.

You look up after putting your keys in the ignition, only to find a dark pair of eyes on yours.

The subtle feeling through your body alerts you.

"Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap." You have to force your gaze away from his. "Please don't be able to read lips. Oh, crap. They can hear." You start pulling out and make it back to your house.

Weeks go by and you screen another one of Emily's calls.

"I'll call her when this passes," you mutter, writing another line. You slam your pencil down, "who am I kidding? It's never going to stop."

You don't want to answer her and send another lie.

Boo Thang #2 <;3

'Sorry, not feeling good. Will text later.' 2:59pm Sent Read

A knock on your door surprises you.

You carefully make your way to the door, scanning through the peephole. Your back's flat against the door. "Why the hell is he here?"

"We need to talk."

"I don't think so."

"You know more than you let on."

"So?"

"We need to talk."

"Can I just call you?"

"No, Emily's been trying for days, and it hasn't worked. Let me in."

You scoff, "not with that attitude."

He growls under his breath, "fine. Please let me in?"

"No."

"You're testing my patience."

"Go test it out with someone else."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"You gotta be more specific bud."

"I don't like that name."

"Bud?"

"Stop it."

You smirk, "bud."

He knocks on your door with more force, trying to get one of your neighbors to come out so they can tell him to stop and make you let him in.

You snarl as the door swings open, "stop it you, idiot." You yank him in, earning a confident smirk from him.

"I don't like this look on you. You think you've won."

"Who says I haven't?"

"Me. I am the one who decides since this is my place."

"Living here alone? Really?"

You shrug, "parents died."

"Oh," he clears his throat, "sorry."

"It's fine. Not your fault."

"So, uh- what do you know?"

"I used to visit when I was a kid and heard the stories because of my cousin."

"You know?"

"That we happen to be united forever essentially, kind of hard not to, not gonna lie."

"Are you upset?"

You furrow your brows, "what do you mean?"

"Your imprints with the hothead. The one with "anger" issues. The list goes on." His brows furrow in annoyance, the pout on his lip making him look... cute.

"Who?"

He shocked you don't know who he is. "Lahote?"

"Paul?" You ask, not entirely sure if you got the right name or not.

"Oh, so you do know."

He sighs, "great."

"Barely, I just remember your guy's names from the elders at the meetings."

"How long has it been since you were in town?"

You shrug, "few years. I haven't been out of the house as much since my life went to crap," you offer a sarcastic smile.

"I feel like I've brought the mood down, do you- do you want to go out? I know this one place with uh- with decent music." He tells you the name and it takes all of you to not smile.

"Let's go, but we take my car."

He lets out a dramatic sigh, "fine."

You two arrive half an hour before you have to go on stage.

You make up an excuse and say you're going to be right back, needing to use the little girl's room.

"Next up, is one of our favorites," the mc, Tiny Tim (your favorite guy there) announces.

You walk across stage, confusing Paul but not Emily and Sam (who told him to take you there if he got far enough). They cheer you on while listening to your song.

All you are is mean And a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life And mean, and mean, and mean, and mean

You make it back to your seat beside your wolf.

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

You shrug, not liking the attention on you.

"That was- that was amazing."

"It was nothing."

"No- no, that was really good." Emily sneaks up behind you. "And that's saying something, Paul doesn't like to use his words to express his emotions."

The man frowns. "We get it. We get it."

You roll your eyes, "stop it, you two."

You two make it back your place. "I should at least drop you off."

He shakes his head, "I'm not that far from you."

"I don't know if I believe that."

"Then believe ne when I say I can run and not get tired."

You narrow your eyes before turning your head to hide your chuckle. "Get out of here, you idiot."

You hear him close the door and stare into the woods, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

The only wolf standing between the path of trees sticks out and you know it's him.

You shake your head, going into your home. "Idiot."

You swear you hear him huff.

#twilight #twilight wolfpack #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanfic #twilight x reader #twilight x you #twilight imagines #twilight imagine #paul lahote #paul lahote imagines #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote fanfiction #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x reader #crazyk-imagine

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sameschmidtdiffname · 2 months

Note

hai i have a request for a mike fic, so i was thinking of a comfort/hurt type of thing and maybe like a “i didn’t know where else to go” kind of trope where reader shows up to his house in the middle of the night distressed and he comforts her

To All I Think is Safe

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: After a family dinner gone awry, something guides you somewhere where your mind can safely wander in better memories than the ones you're making right now.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific pronouns for Reader, mentions of arguments, heavy disassociation, heavy nosebleeding, flashbacks, first kiss, date, fear of heights, fair date, author is fucking trying, fluff.

Notes: I think my bosses want me dead. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I can handle family. Who can't handle family?

The part of me knocking on the green door illuminated only by the orange streetlight a few yards away, trying to peak through one of the three window slots on the door to see if there's any sign of life inside of the modest house, praying that there is out of selfish desperation. That's who.

I hadn't called. Hadn't given notice. I'd been too caught up in the emotions of myself to do so, worried I'd be turned away if I had. The thought makes me feel ill now, my mind chastising me for such a self interested act.

For a moment I almost turn to leave, sure that no one is awake and that I've simply wasted the gas in the trip over here. But at the loud clunk of the door unlocking, I feel my heart jump and sink simultaneously as Mike peaks his head through the crack in the door, bags under his eyes and hair tossled from sleep.

"Hey," he croaked, blinking away the sleep as his tired face managed a look of surprise.

"Hey," I said softly, trying not to let my voice crack. But it does. "Is this a bad time?"

I don't know what gives my state away. Maybe it's how swollen my face is, puffy and burning from the overexposure to salt water. I can already feel the skin on my eyes balloning in a disastrously unattractive manner. Maybe it's the snot that's still on my face even after trying desperately to wipe it away, my problem being I'd run out of napkins in my car some time ago and hadn't replaced them, so I'd been resorted to just trying my best to sniff back the snot or use the arm of my jacket, which is now soaked and covered by my hand to conceal it, to wipe it away. God, it's fucking sticky and I feel gross. I don't understand why the snot won't just stop fucking flowing.

"Shit, you're bleeding," Mike says. His eyes widen as he steps forward, instantly dragging me into the house, down the hall and into the bathroom.

Oh. That's why my head hurts.

The white light is blinding and overstimulating in the small, disorganized room. One glance in the mirror and I can see the bottom half of my face is grossly smeared in the snot-blood combo running from my nose, my eyes bloodshot and more dry than a British comedy from all of the tears. I stare at myself for a moment, hardly even realizing Mike is yanking my coat off of me, stroking my hair and trying to ask me questions about what happened. I can hear his voice but the words are muffled, and even though my eyes are staring at him now, I don't know when I turned to face him or what I'm really looking at. I'm just staring at anything. My mother used to call it 'staring off into space.' It's actually a disassociation episode. The kind that can make me lose myself in other thoughts, making me distant from reality where I assume the worst of things.

I'm rational enough to know not to lean into him. If I throw myself into his arms I'll smear my shit everywhere and then he'll be grossed out and will have to play nice after I interrupted his sleep to beg for comfort that should come easily enough from my aforementioned mother, but clearly I'm adult enough now that I don't need coddling and I shouldn't have driven here and-

Am I saying this out loud? Because my mouth is moving and I'm trying to say something but I'll be honest, my head is in disarray and Mike looks worried. Me too, buddy. Me too.

My hands try to help his find a wash cloth in his closet, trying to be useful, but they're covered in snot and blood too and it's dried and horrid looking and I just feel like some sticky toddler that's wailing over nothing because that's what I'm doing, and I'm trying not to dissolve into a new wave of tears because my eyes really, really hurt and I'm gonna end up hiccuping and sobbing and I shouldn't even be here right now.

Mike's hands wrap around mine and he's trying to pull me somewhere. But he won't get out of my way, tugging me forward and blocking me like it's some game. Then I realize it's him he's trying to drag me to, and I try to push away, not wanting to get him dirty or let him fulfill some duty of pity just because he feels obligated seeing me in such a state. He's touching my hair and there's snot in that too and this is all just entirely too much, making me burst out sobbing once more as I try to hide my face in my arm, feeling all too vulnerable and alone while in a house that's not mine in any way, shape or form. But his arms feel nice around me, and he's guiding me to the bathtub and helping me lay down inside of it. When he pulls away I'm paranoid for a second that he'll turn the shower head on and wash me like a drunk, especially when he reaches for the shower handles. He presses a clean, white cloth to the spout and let's just a little bit of water out to wet the washcloth before turning the water off and coming closer to me, dabbing and wiping gently at the drying mixture on my face.

There's a long while of silence. Him carefully washing me, his touch gentle and caring as I feel the wet glumps with dried crusts fade away. The pounding in my head begins to dull to an overwhelming ache, making me shut my eyes as I softly groan. When I think he's done I dare peaking at him from under my lashes, trying to read his mind. His brows are furrowed, probably in disgust. Lips pressed together as he sits on the balls of his heels,, watching me carefully. Most likely he'll let me sleep on the couch and then kick me out in the morning. I'll be lucky if I get the "We should see other people" speech. I wouldn't blame him if my calls just couldn't connect when I get home, leaving me to wonder what could've been if I hadn't been so selfish.

I don't even know the time for fucks sake.

"I'm not crazy," I say in this broken voice that only a crazy person would have.

I don't know what's funny, but he's laughing. His hand reaches out to stroke my cheek, and he feels so warm. His callouses have this smooth texture to them. Working hands. It's the first thing I noticed when we held hands the first time. It was at some carnival thing, and Abby was with us. It was sweet under those neon lights. The rides always look so cheap, but there's something enchanting in that. It's what I focus on now as my mind finally begins to relax, allowing me the guilty pleasure of mentally slipping away into an actual memory instead of just static filling my mind and drowning everything else out unpleasantly.

"I know," Mike says softly, his thumb stroking the raw skin under my eye as he watches me with a gentle smile, one probably meant to hide his contempt. "You're okay."

The rides had these giant speakers built into them. And the workers would play songs from them, loud enough it was blaring in your ear on the ride but it was a reasonable volume when you were just walking around on the wet, overgrown and matted grass that curls around the giant cables Mike and I both had to be irritating about reminding Abby not to trip on, both of us looking down to watch for them more than looking at anything else.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Mike asks gently. He's always so gentle. Well, not always.

"Ope, someone lost their drink," I said to Mike, pointing at a spilled lemonade on the dirt path that had been created by decades of the county fair foot-traffic.

"Five second rule," Mike said, his voice low and teasing in my ear, making me burst out laughing.

"That's fucking disgusting!" I exclaimed, looking at him incredulously. A mother passing by snapped 'hey!' At me, tugging her child harshly behind her as she glared. I blushed, covering my mouth with my hand at the outburst, which made Mike laugh just as hard as I just had.

I suppose I have to talk about it. I can't really just not show up at his doorstep in the middle of the night and not just explain myself. But my teeth feel cemented together, my throat full of glue that halts the words I could use to inform him of why I look like this. And my eyes are too tired to make contact with his. So I just melt into his hand, pressing it between my cheek and my shoulder. And he doesn't press any more.

"I always liked the rides that made me feel like I was flying," Mike said as we watched Abby spin round and round with some girl she often spent her days with. Lisa Something.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning to look at him, taking a drink from the giant lemonade that was not at all real lemonade and was instead some horrid sugar that's taking five years off of our lives mixed with whatever makes the color of the drink the same as construction workers glow-in-the-dark vests that I'm sure will have like, ten different studies on how it gives you some cardiovascular disorder from overexposure in twenty years. There's a waxy ring of chapstick around my straw, so it's easy to tell which one to drink from. Mike had gotten just the one giant drink and two straws, shoving them in with a smooth smile as he handed me the already sweaty, Pepsi branded cup to hold while we walked. I think he didn't know that I noticed the twelve year old boy who'd been five people ahead of us in line do the same thing with his date earlier, but it was a cute gesture nonetheless.

"Yeah. I don't know why, it just felt comforting. Wind fuckin' up my hair and shit," he said, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he watched the two girls, who are sticking their tongues out at us as they whirl by.

"What, like you were flying away from your problems?" I ask, genuinely guessing.

"Nah, I don't really think of it like that. Just felt like I was somewhere else for a bit. Could close my eyes and the only anxiety I felt was whether or not Genie there was gonna fucken drop me," he said, glancing at me and smirking as he points at the giant airbrushed painting of Genie from Aladdin on the side of the ride. That's definitely not licensed.

"Have you eaten?" Mike asks softly, coming a little closer to me as his other hand cups my opposite cheek. At that I shake my head, pressing my lips together.

"It was all just some giant fiasco," I said as I laughed while trying to aim my basketball for the hoop several feet in front of me. Mike's made like five goals in a row and is proudly holding a very cheap rainbow dolphin with lopsided eyes for me while he watches me struggle just to get one.

"What, your prom date?" He teased, leaning closer to my ear as I take a shot. And miss. Again. "Or this?"

I turned to him, glaring and trying to suppress my amused smile.

"The date was fine, my hair was horrid," I said, turning away from the man working the booth who was trying to convince me to try again.

"I always like your hair," Mike says softly, one hand stroking my hair as he presses his forehead against mine. God, why won't he just tear into me already? The anticipation is fucking killing me.

I open my mouth to respond, but I just hiccup instead. At that he gently helps me up, guiding me out of the bathroom and leading me into the kitchen where he promises a leftover bowl of chicken noodle soup has my name written all over it in the fridge.

There's a thousand insecure questions I want to ask right now. Does he hate me? Will he hate me? Is this just a prelude to an awful breakup? But instead I just cling to my thoughts quietly, not wanting an answer to anything. Reality fading in and out of focus.

The kitchen is quiet as he moves about, dishing out the leftovers and putting them in the cheap, stained microwave he'd had to buy when Abby blew up the last one with a pitiful attempt at making her own rice Krispy treats. He leans against the counter as we wait for the rattling machine to finish, neither of us really saying anything as my leg bounces wildly in anxiety.

"Are you okay?" Mike asks softly after a moment, tilting his head. His arms are crossed in front of him, which is normal for Mike but it still makes me on edge.

I try again to speak, but I can't. It feels like I'll just blow up again if I do. So I just shrug instead, not wanting to talk about the lengthy screaming match I'd managed to find myself in earlier that night.

The microwave beeps loudly, causing us both to start, Mike pulling the door open quickly to shut it up and take out the now hot bowl, hissing under his breath at himself for not grabbing a towel as he quickly moves to set it down in front of me. If I'd been in a better state I would've laughed at the admittedly comical sight, but I felt like I'd done enough at his expense for one night.

Once situated, there's long while of silence. No other noise except for my spoon clinking against my bowl as I eat quietly, Mike watching me across the glass table as he takes a few drinks from his clear glass of water, head on his large hand. A clock ticks in the other room, the hour later than I'd wanted to be when I showed up unannounced.

"I'm sorry," I finally say in a soft voice, my spoon scraping soundlessly against the maroon bowl. "I just didn't know where else to go."

He smiles softly at that, his hand reaching across the table for mine. The touch meant to be comforting instead sends me back into my thoughts, my body stiffening as my mind tries to distract me from my anxiety and doubt.

Our hands had been brushing against each other for hours as we'd walked. Both of us were too nervous to take the others, which is a bit silly since we were grown adults. But really we hadn't had any serious discussions yet. We were still in the dinners and texting phase, dancing around any serious 'what is this' talks until we felt like we would both have similar answers ready for any questions. The night had settled in solidly now, the fairgrounds only alive by the bright lights of the rides.

The grazing, however, had come to an end when the ferris wheel started clicking towards what felt like my untimely demise.

I fucking hate ferris wheels, fun fact.

I don't think Mike particularly likes them either, based off of how stiff his body was next to mine, his eyes trained dead ahead, his jaw clenched. I think he might break a tooth. Or maybe I'm projecting.

Abby and Lisa had been insistent on riding it, and had been even more insistent that Mike and I needed to ride something with them before the night was over. And even though we both looked at the thing with a pit in our stomach, neither of us felt ridiculous about being grown adults on that ride as opposed to all the others flooded with teens and kids dodging in and out, stomping in puddles of who knows what on their way to the next ride. So we gritted our teeth, handed over our tickets and got into the cart right behind Abby and Lisa, who wouldn't stop looking back at us with amused eyes, whispering into each other's each as they covered their mouths.

"My dad worked as a carnie," I blurted out as we hung mid air, halfway up the ride while they still loaded people in. "These things are fucken sturdy."

Mike didn't look at me. Or at least he didn't turn his head. I didn't either. His silence makes my anxiety a bit worse, wondering if my random fact had somehow irritated him, or if there was something I was supposed to do that I wasn't picking up on.

"... I'm gonna die to Creed," he finally said between his gritted teeth.

My brows furrow for a moment before I realize what song is playing, and then I'm laughing. Maybe a little too much, but that's the anxiety. Abby and Lisa are darting their heads around to look down at us, trying to see what's set me off, and Creed's taking One Last Breath on the blaring radio somewhere around us as they have been for the past however many months with the top song.

"I'm never gonna escape this, they play this way too much at work," I laughed. And he started laughing too, both of us white knuckled as we gripped the bar in front of us. Then we move up again, and the cart is slightly rocking, making me feel ill.

"That's okay," Mike says softly, his thumb trailing across my knuckles as I stare down at our hands. "I was missing you, anyways."

I look up at him, trying to read his expression, my head still trying to balance my focuses. There's concern in his eyes, obvious as he realizes how awful this particular episode is.

Abby is yelling something at us, but my head is buzzing with too much anxiety to hear her.

"Go away!" Mike yells back at her, waving his hand in irritation, then stopping as he realizes he's rocking the cart. He looked back at me anxiously, trying to smile. It just looked like he'd been shot instead. "Sisters," he said shyly.

"What's she saying?" I asked him, leaning closer to hear him better over the heavy guitar.

"Nothing," he insisted. "She's just being twelve."

I go to look up, only to feel his hand on top of mine, warm and strong as he grips it a little too hard for the first time, but I think that's out of anxiety too. No matter what, the first move makes me more dizzy.

"Your dad worked fairs?" He asked anxiously, obviously trying to change the subject.

"I should've called first," I say softly, leaning onto the table and pushing the empty bowl away from me as I lay on top of my arm.

"It's okay," he reminds me in a soft voice, rising from his chair while still holding my hand. "You're home now."

"Well, I'm at your home now," I hiccup into my arm. His arms wrap around me, guiding me up and into his warm embrace that I'd been longing for for what felt like hours.

"I thought you said you liked flying!" I laughed, terrified.

"Flying! This is sitting still while dangling above death!" Mike clarified. The carts began clicking again, and we now had an easier view of the two girls in front of us, making him gasp and yell out Abby's full name in scolding.

I see why he didn't want me to look up. Abby and Lisa are miming a make-out session while they giggle obnoxiously.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna fucking ground her," he groaned, covering his forehead with his other hand. His face is completely red, his body so stiff it feels like I could break off his arm with barely any pressure, and my own heart is slamming so hard against my chest I think it's visible.

One more click and we'll be at the top. Great.

He's looking down at me, I think he's trying to get me to refocus but I just can't. I've done my duties for the night, and now I'm stuck in this emotional pit of hatred and numbness as my mind tries to remind me of a better time that just makes me feel worse because Mike is speaking again and I just can't hear him.

"She's being a wingman. Really, she's just spotting a good opportunity," I rambled in Abby's defense. Mike glanced at me, then at the tweens in front of us.

"Yeah?" He asked, his voice nerve wracked.

"Oh yeah. Every little sister does it. I mean, it's partially based in torture, but overall she's trying to help," I said quickly, my breath shortening.

"Are you okay?" He asked, looking just as pale as me.

"I fucking hate heights, please distract me," I pleaded quickly, only to immediately feel his teeth click loudly against mine as he kissed me, his lips sweet with sugar and hands nearly breaking mine from his tight grip, Abby and Lisa whooping obnoxiously in front of us as we freeze in the moment. It's clumsy, certainly. And it's obvious on both ends how long it's been since either of us have done this. But it's an effective method, my mind beginning to refocus on the taste of the borderline awful lemonade fresh on his breath, his shaking hand moving from the bar to cup my cheek cold from the wind. My eyes widen in surprise, the music swelling around us and the lights somehow brighter as we rock above the rest of the fair in the squeaking booth.

When he pulls away, there's a soft smile on his face, his tongue quickly darting out to taste his own lips.

"... I like your chapstick," he said shyly, neither of us focused on the fact that we're now moving steadily in the ride, fully tuned in to the other.

"Thanks," I said softly, cheeks burning against his touch. "Strawberry."

There's a long second of nothing, and I'm vaguely aware of Abby and Lisa screaming "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" And someone is trying to shush them. I know it's not Mike because he's staring at me like an idiot. Completely satisfied and dramatically more calm as he leans in for another kiss, this time pulling me fully into his embrace.

"You're home," Mike repeats against my lips, then moving to trail along my cheeks, his hands carefully cupping my face once more as his touch grounds me back in reality. "I'll be here when your mind gets back."

As my own hands graze along his soft, cotton shirt, I feel my pulse begin to relax. Doubt beginning to creep away as his lips trail along my jaw, slowly working to my neck. It's not a demanding touch. It's just comfort. And he'll keep doing this until I return to him like I always do, and then he'll keep doing it until we both fall asleep in a tight embrace under a dozen blankets, half of which will be gone by morning as we wake in a pool of sweat across the bed from each other, only to seek the other out again in wakefulness. And there will be answers for his questions, and I'll be fine.

I'm home now.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I FINALLY FUCKING PUBLISHED SOMETHING. HOLY FUCK I'M OVERWORKED. (Fun fact, this was fucking hard because I was actively disassociating while writing the whole thing. Reader just like me frfr)

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool. Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

•▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

#josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #jhutch #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #jhutch1992 #fnaf mike schmidt #fnaf mike #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x you

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rogerswifesblog · 1 year

Text

Keep you quiet

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve and you never liked each other. You always bickered, even on missions-which brought you in this situation; on you knees.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Steve Rogers x reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: enemies/rivals to...lovers?, smut, oral [M receiving], dom/sub undertones, Dom!steve, sub!reader, slightly mean Steve, size kink?, dumbification/degradation kink, slight Captain kink [blink and you miss it], dry humping, boot humping, rough oral, rough treatment, face-fucking, cum swallowing, semi-public, allusion to threesome Tell me if I need to add anything

Keep in mind English is not my first language!

Don’t forget to like, comment and reblog!

18+

You leaned against the wall, hiding from the HYDRA agents, that were shooting at you and Steve.

And apparently it was your fault. That's what Steve said....which also meant you were arguing even more than before.

"-you were supposed to follow my lead and not-" "Steve just stop-" "It's Captain!"

You scoffed. How could anybody go voluntarily on a mission with Steve? You were definitely not one of those people. On every mission you've been with Steve endet the same-you two screaming at each other, always being at each other's throats.

"You can't report me! You know exactly Fury won't do anything-because there is nothing do to", you snarled, while grabbing Steve's arm, so he would stop his pacing. You were in one of the conference rooms, trying to change his mind about reporting you-again.

Angrily Steve looked down at you. "I can't report your behaviour! You always question my decision and-" "because these decisions are always stupid!"

Steve snorted. He slowly shook his head. "Unbelievable. You're...insufferable. I'm your Captain-you've to listen, don't you get that? I.am.your.supervisor", he growled while grabbing your arm tightly. Immediately you backed away, but he didn't let go of your arm.

He pulled you closed against him. You could feel the warmth radiating from him. Your breath hitched. "And? Doesn't mean shit to me", you yelled in his face. In only made him angrier. You could see it in his eyes. He pulled you straight against his chest. You could feel his chest raising against yours-his steady, deep breathing. It made your heart race. He smelled so good. How have you never noticed that?

Steve tuts, shaking his head in disappointment. He couldn't believe how you talked back to him. It's not the first time-but it never annoyed him as much as it did today. Because of you, the two of you had nearly been shot today. You were always talking back-that's the reason why the agents noticed you two were in there.

"Why can't you just be quiet for once in your life? Is it that hard?", he mumbled close to your lips. You could feel his breath on you lips. His smell was everywhere, his warm hand still holding your arm...

He was everywhere. It's like he took over all your senses. Slowly you looked up, into his dark eyes. "Maybe you have to make me be quiet", you mumbled, while one of your hands slowly found it's way to his belt. You pulled him in closer.

It's all it took for Steve to break. Roughly he pressed his lips to yours. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning into the kiss.

You've always been curious how Steve kissed. The sweet, sweet golden boy of America. He had to have a scandalous side, he'd never show to the world-The one that he'd never show anyone-unless he'd get to his breaking point. You wanted to do that. Push him to the edge.

Slowly you started rubbing your hand over his raging boner. Steve was hard enough for you to feel how big he was. You couldn't wait to see him. His massive dick. The thought alone made your mouth water.

Steve seemed to notice your eagerness, which made him chuckle against your lips. "It's all it takes for you to be quiet? Just thinking about a big dick to fill you", he mumbled, which made you nod immediately. "Yes, yes I want you to f-", he grabbed your hair roughly, which made you swallow all the words you had left in you. "Much better..I thought I made it clear I want you to be quiet", he whispered against your lips. "I guess I need to silent you some other way", Steve grinned slightly, while his free hand finished what you started; opening his suit trousers and sliding them down with his boxershorts.

You looked down at his dick and-

Fuck.

He was huge, veiny and....just massive. You've never sucked someone this big-and you've definitely never felt someone like him split your pussy open. You needed to. You wouldn't be able to concentrate on any missions or anything else, knowing how big Steve was. How his dick would tear your pussy open.

You wanted to trace the pulsing veins with your tongue. Feel his weight and girth in your mouth. You wanted to taste him so, so bad. Watch him lose himself in the feeling of your wet mouth.

Before you could think about anything else, Steve roughly pushed you to your knees and let his hand slide out of your hair to your jaw. He roughly grabbed your cheeks and forced your mouth open. His other hand stroked over his leaking tip, the leaking pre-cum dripped on your cheek, while he let his tip slide along your lips. Instinctively you stuck your tongue out.

Steve chuckled darkly. "Not a single thought behind those pretty eyes, huh?", his tone was deliciously dark and rough. You nodded slowly, looking up at him.

"Such a smart mouth...let's see if you can actually do something good with it." With that he pushed his tip past your lips, making you lick around his leaking slit. He moaned lowly, pushing his dick further into your mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat, which made you gag-yet he pushed right through it, till your nose touched his pubic hair. You could feel yourself getting wet.

The size of his dick stretched your lips. Steve's loved seeing you like this. Tears formed and threatened to spill as his cock constantly hit the back of your throat, while he started fucking your mouth roughly.

His hand grabbed your hair again, to guide your movements. There was no mercy in his rough treatment...and you felt a wet spot forming on panties, probably wetting them through.

"That's a much better use for your mouth, sweetheart", Steve chuckled darkly. He pulled out of your mouth and let the tip of his dick slide along your lips, coating them with even more salvia and precum. He pushed the head of his cock back into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, which made him moan. "Oh god, such a good girl", he mumbled while starting to thrusting into your mouth again.

Salty tars spilled from your eyes, adding to the mess of precum and salvia on your face. You were sure your mascara left dark spots on your skin.

You couldn't stop yourself from letting one of your hands slide to your throbbing crotch.

Of course Steve noticed this immediately, so he kicks your hand lightly away. "Come on sweetheart, you don't want to tempt me, do you?", he grinned while he pushed his dick deeper into your throat. You gaged around him, which made him moan.

"You know, since you're treating me so good right now, I can make an exception this time", he mumbled while letting his boot glide between your legs, nudging them slightly apart, so you could sit on his leg.

With wide eyes you looked up at him, asking. "Come on, sweetheart, you know what to do", he smirked.

Slowly you started to grid on his leg-which made you moan around his length. It felt good to feel some friction against you throbbing pussy. It would probably feel better if you were naked, but this had to do it. And it definitely would do it. "I want you to cum, baby, right with me", Steve moaned, letting his dick feel your throat once again.

While Steve thrusted into your mouth coating your tongue with his taste, you grid over his leg. "So desperate", Steve mumbled. "I'm gonna cum, sweetheart." He could feel the knot building in his abdomen, which made him thrust into your mouth harder. "And you're gonna swallow everything."

You felt his dick twitch and moaned around him, while rubbing yourself harder against his leg. Steve cried out in pleasure and thrusted into your throat, coating your walls with his cum. His veins pulsed against your tongue and you couldn't stop yourself from licking around them.

One last time you pressed your core against Steve's leg. Your orgasm crushed over you, making you moan around him. Steve pushed his leg even fiercer to your pussy, feeling your cunt pulsing against him making a mess.

He wished he could bury his dick in your tight hole.

How tight you'd be around him? Your pussy would choke his dick, while he would be splitting you open. He needed to feel you. Needed to fuck you. Right here-right here on the table.

Steve pulled out of your mouth. Some cum leaked out of your mouth, but he gathered it with his thumb and wiped it on your lips. Instantly you licked you lips and looked up with tears eyes. It made Steve grin, while he pulled you up. Your legs were a bit wobbly, so he had to hold you. "No sassy remarks?", Steve mumbled against your lips, before kissing you and pushing you on the closest table. You let him do whatever he wanted to. You couldn't wait for him to fuck you. Nothing else mattered right now.

Steve's hand found your clothed core, rubbing along your folds. "Oh sweetheart you're so wet. Can't wait for me to give you, huh? Is this all you need to be happy? Having a big dick feel your holes?", he mumbled against your throat. You started nodding. "Yes, yes..please, Captain", you cried out when his fingers rubbed against your clothed clit. Steve chuckled darkly, while kissing your throat. "So that's what you needed to call me Captain, huh? I guess I'll have to fuck you before and after every mission till you learn your lessons."

He started opening your pants, but stopped immediately when he heard someone coming closer. Quickly he pulled his pants back on. You didn't understand why he backed of so fast but when you heard the door open, you immediately wiped your face clean and tried to brush you hair with your fingers. Nevertheless you felt like everyone could tell what happened, especially when someone would look at your swollen and puffy lips.

Steve grabbed your arm once again and pulled you closer against him. "You'll come to my room in an hour and we'll finish what we started", he whispered hotly in your ear, while Bucky entered the room.

Steve let go of your arm and stepped a few steps away from you. Without giving a verbal answer you nodded quickly and walked past Bucky, on who you had a crush for a while and definitely didn't want him to see you like this. He wasn't supposed to know you just sucked his best friends dick..even though the idea of him finding out made your pussy throb even more.

Bucky watched you walk out of the room and then back to Steve. "She was awfully quiet", he grinned slightly. Steve couldn't stop himself from grinning and giving him a knowing look. "I'm pretty sure she needs another lesson and it would great if someone could help me with that", Steve said raising one eyebrows.

Buckys grin widened. „Then I think we shouldn't let her wait." With that the two super soldiers left the conference room.

Pt 2

That’s it! I hope you liked it, let me know!!

Some feedback?

Don’t forget to like, comment and reblog!

Requests are open!

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu #steve/bucky #Steve #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #dom steve rogers #steve rogers smut

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cyxnidx · 5 months

Text

SWEETNESS !

character: neuvillette

content: fluffy & a lil angst.

a/n: just reminding neuvi he matters & worth ur love. kinda short - jus haven't been in the writing mood lately. if we end up getting headcanons / mini scenarios for a while yk why <3.

"do you love me?"

that was the question neuvillette uttered moments ago.

and now, he was a crying mess in your lap while it rained. the rain matched his mood, occasional lighting strikes hitting the grounds surrounding your home due to his anger.

"i just don't," he paused, "just don't feel like m' enough for you. i don't deserve you, and-"

it hurt your heart to see neuvillette like this. his head buried in the plush of your thighs, however tears are falling from his eyes. he sat down in a praying position, head laying on your thighs as he tries to explain what was wrong without choking up on his own words or making himself cry more.

"and i just feel like it's stupidly selfish and idiotic to even think such a thing, but i just can't.. i can't just stop." he looks up to you, eyes all red and puffy from the past 10 minutes of crying. a lightning strike hit, a bit closer to your house this time. "it's hard to make it stop - darling, they won't stop."

it was hard to comprehend just how bad things had gotten for neuvillette to be in this state. and moments ago, you two were simply existing together - on the couch, with the tv playing despite neither of you paying attention to whatever was airing. instead, you were doing your own thing and he was as well - coexisting.

and then, that's when he broke the silence, with a question you never thought he'd bother to think.

were you not showing him enough love? were you not paying enough attention to him? were you not doing enough? had you subconsciously stopped certain habits since the two of you've been together? has these thoughts been racking his brain for who knows how long? just how long had he waited to tell you?

there was no clear answer.

"of course, i love you, neuvi." you tell him softly. "you're the only thing i've loved for a while."

he blinks at you, eyes slightly puffy and skin turning pink from crying and rubbing his face against the pants you wore.

"why wouldn't i love you?" you place your forehead against his, "you're practically all i've ever wanted. all i've ever known, the only thought i've ever had."

he brings a hand up to his cheek, wiping away the rest of the forming tears. "m' sorry,"

"don't apologize." you say softly, kissing his forehead. "have i not been doing enough for you?"

he shakes his head frantically, eyes tearing up at the thought of you thinking you haven't been enough now. "you've been perfect, i promise."

"so have you, neuvi. there's no reason i'd stop loving you."

he sniffles, a self-pitying chuckle leaving him for a moment. "i jus' didn't think i deserved you, with all you do f'me, and then i think about me, and," he pauses, his throat closing as he begins to get more emotional once again. "and i couldn't fathom a reason you'd be so patient with me."

"because you deserve it, neuvi. every inch of love and affection i give you, you deserve. you're worthy of it all." you begin to kiss around his face, wiping any drying tears from his cheeks once again. "you're so sweet, you're a sweetness i can't stray from."

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1whore1gang · 6 months

Text

it's the little things 🤍

This is part 4!!

Read parts 1-3 HERE

Warnings: more angst, I'm so sorry BUT BUT BUT theres sickeningly sweet fluff at the end so bare with me ;), cussing, emotions, mentions of SA

I tried to make this one longer bc i feel like part 1 was so good and then 2 and 3 kinda flopped so heres me trying to write more than I usually do.

Also, I'm surprised no one has noticed a small writing detail I did last chapter regarding Price. I'll do it again in this chapter to see if anyone can catch on hehehehe :)

EDIT: not me saying I wanted to attempt to make this as long as part one when part one was 2,437 words and this one ended up 4,314 words....oops

Taglist: @gaymistakeboi @batw3nch @thedevillovesflowers @almightywdm @ghostslittlegf @sketchyfandomgirl @under-the-dirt @clear-your-mind-and-dream @darkangel4121 @vreselia @llemes @stargaliz @rockcollector3000 @nottrosaxx

(sorry if i forgot anyone!!! please yell at me if I did!!)

"Stop that!" Your voice was almost begging as Soap kept grabbing at Ghost's little hoodie strings. Soap kept fighting with Ghost all day and you couldn't handle it anymore. You finally picked up Soap and put him alone in the playpen. "You're in time out."

He began to wail, making you shed tears of your own. You were exhausted from the three little boys. They'd been causing trouble lately and keeping you up all night this week.

Gaz looked up at you with a little toy car shoved halfway in his mouth, blinking innocently as Ghost continues to play with his blocks as he was before Soap grabbed him. "At least you two are giving me a break today." Soap continued to wail dramatically, not even crying, just wanting your attention.

Laswell had told you that he needed to learn that he's not the only one you take care of, so you sometimes have to leave him to cry it out on his own to teach him. She'd stopped by the other day to brief you on a new group of recruits.

She was definitely questioning why you of all people had your Captain's so-called 'nephews' and you had to think on your feet, but she didn't buy it.

"Tell me the truth, who's kids are these Y/N?" Her voice was in that motherly tone she had mastered with all of you.

"You wouldn't believe me." You said, trying to quiet Soap's crying, which led to her advice about letting him cry it out.

"If you're going to tell me they're yours, yeah I won't." She shook her head, becoming increasingly more annoyed with you.

"Promise you won't report me for drugs?"

"Depends."

You had told her everything about finding the boys like this, and she had to take some time to think it over until she noticed how Soap only plays with Ghost, and how Gaz keeps to himself and didn't cry once while she was there. She took a day before she texted you again telling you she was there if you needed any help.

That was 3 days ago, and you didn't want to bother her since she had taken over some of your duties since your hands were quite full.

You leaned against the foot of your bed as you finally heard Soap's cries die down, turning around to see he had tuckered himself out into a sleep. You took a couple of deep breaths, trying to dry your tears when you felt little hands on your feet.

You opened your eyes to see Gaz and Simon grabbing at your toes. They both sit down at your attention. You went to go move to see what they needed when Gaz gave you a goofy smile.

Smiling back, you swopped him up to your chest to rock him, almost thanking him for bringing a smile to your face. You heard the familiar little grunt from Simon as you looked at him.

His hand was just outstretched towards you with one of his little blocks, offering it to you. Laughing a little, you took it and noticed the letter on the block was your initial.

Your eyes went wide as you looked back at Simon. "You know...or do you?" The question was more for yourself than him. You knew Simon couldn't understand you, he was a baby, there's no way he could.

"Is this me?" You cooed, pointing to the block he gave you. He grunted in response. "There's no way." Was he actually coherent? Was your Simon in there, he just couldn't express properly? Or had little Simon heard your name enough times that he knew? You felt something wet on your neck and saw Gaz drooling, thanking the universe that two of the boys so far have gone down for a nap.

Setting him in the playpen, you return to Simon, wanting to see if there was any way you could find out if he was cognitively adult Simon. "Do you know what's going on?" Your voice was gentle and quiet. Watching adamantly, you waited for him to give you any reaction. "Simon?"

His wide eyes looked up at you, focused shifted from his toys. "Do you know?" He blinked a couple of times, then looked around the room. He grunted a couple of times before looking down at his blocks.

"Simon?" You said again sweetly. You watched as Simon's lip began to quiver as he looked over his blocks, he began to cry, grabbing at the blocks and then throwing one before beginning to cry. "Oh honey, I'm sorry."

He reached out for you and you picked him up, comforting him. "It's okay honey, I'm sorry." You could tell something had bothered him, but what?

He wasn't wailing or screaming, just a silent whine of a cry. Almost like he was sad or frustrated. "Are you mad at something?" You moved to where you could see his face, cradling him.

You watched his breathing catch in his chest at your question. You ran two of your fingers over his little chest, rubbing circles to calm him. "Breathe Simon, don't hold your breath on me. You're okay, work through the cry sweetheart."

Your touch immediately helped him take in a good sized breath. "That's it." You watched him slowly calm himself down as you shushed him and held him. "Did your blocks make you mad?"

He crawled out of your arms clumsily, the most movement you've seen from him. He threw another block, not aggressively or at anything, but at the ground. "Yeah? Do you not like your blocks?" You reached for another toy for him to play with but he grunted.

You snapped your attention back to him, "What's wrong? I wish you could tell me." You felt helpless. He clearly was distraught over something, and you had no way of knowing what was happening.

He stared down at his blocks again, breathing in huffs. He held one out to you after picking it out. It was a 'Y' block. "What does this mean? Does this mean you understand?" He grunts.

You feel tears sting your eyes. "You know..." He grunts again. "Oh my God!!" You pick him up and stare at him. You bring him to your chest in a small hug, teary eyed. "I'm gonna get you boys back to normal, I promise."

Some hours passed and you had attempted to get a sign out of Gaz or Soap to no avail. It seems as if Simon was the only one who was cognitive of what was going on, but you still were unsure of the extent of his knowledge and awareness.

It's been a week since you had seen the Captain, and as much as you told yourself you wanted to keep it that way, deep down you wanted the softness he had when the boys were were first found. At night, you'd catch yourself dreaming about the way he looked that evening he popped into your office to ask if you were hungry, or the way he speak quietly to you in the mornings knowing you were up late with one of the boys.

Laswell hasn't mention anything about him either but you didn't know if that was a personal choice, or if she actually had no information regarding him.

You wanted to know where he was. Not only did you miss the warmth he held when you two were handling this situation, but you missed his help. He would always let you sleep in or let you take a rest. He cooked and stepped up so you weren't overexerting yourself.

You missed the companionship.

You glanced over to the clock to see it was nearly midnight, but when you scanned the time stamp on your phone, you saw a message from your email.

It was from General Shephard. It was sent hours ago.

Dear Lieutenant L/N,

I am writing this to you to pass it on that the Private you sent to me regarding sexual harassment has been found innocent. There was no camera footage found after review and he has no background violations or any previous infarctions.

Best Regards,

General Shephard

You felt your heart sink in your chest. There's cameras all over the training room, how could they not see it? The familiar sting landed in your throat as your emotions took over you.

Innocent? After what he did? How could Shephard not see that?!

You felt like you were going to scream, the pain unbearable.

It made you think back to Dubai. The severity of that event would've landed that man in jail. The way you had bruises on your neck and hips from the harsh grip of his hands for weeks, the way you limped for days. You remember the cold stare of your Captain when you told him, the nonchalant "Brush it off."

You were crushed.

You had lost.

The sun shone through the windows of your room as you woke up, looking over to see Gaz and Ghost already up. You picked them up to change them and then situated them in holsters, one on your chest, one on your back.

You did the same with Soap and then placed him on your hip, taking them to the kitchen to feed them.

Taking a moment while the bottles warmed, you took in the sight of all three boys in their highchairs, drowsy. Their little eyelashes fluttering as they struggled to stay awake, babbling and cooing.

It made you take a step back and really breathe in the moment, this may be the only time in your life that you're able to have this motherly role, even if they aren't your kids.

The microwave beeped and you shook the bottles, handing each one to the littles, watching as the half-hazardly drank the bottles. You felt a joy spark in your chest, enjoying this time with them despite the trouble they cause.

And here you thought they were troublesome as adults. Jokes on you.

You sat down at the breakfast bar as you waited, your mind drifting to distant memories.

"Y/N!!!" You could hear Soap's voice as you fell to your knees clutching your shoulder in pain. Removing your hand, you saw the blood seeping into the cotton material of your uniform. The sounds of warfare around you felt muffled as the pain radiated through your body from the gunshot wound.

You leaned on your hand to steady yourself, trying to breathe through the pain as the sound of skidding sounded in your ears. Looking up, you saw Soap sliding over to you, firing to cover you. "Get on my back! We gotta get ya outta here lass!" You moved slowly, trying to stay off your right arm. You winced as you climbed onto his back, squeezing your legs to keep yourself up as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

He had carried you out of the fire into a safe house not too far away as he immediately performed first aid to your shoulder. You remember the way he remained calm when his face was in your eyeline, but you could watch his muscles tense as he worried about your state.

The memory made you smile. Soap was always there for you, like he had eyes in the back of his head. Anytime you got hurt out in the field, he was worrying himself sick. He cared so much, and had such a big heart of gold.

"How dare you?!" You laughed, slamming down your Uno cards.

Gaz taunted you as he celebrated his win. You two were in a tent on a mission trying to boost both of your morales. Uno was your favorite game, but he was too good at it for your own good. No matter how strategic you were, he would always win.

Gaz was like that at every game, the rest of the team dreading game nights. Once in awhile though, you'd catch him letting you win because he enjoyed seeing you rub it in everyone's faces. It brought him joy to see you smile, so if he had to take a loss, he would.

You heard a whine as Soap finished his bottle. The other two boys were still working on theirs, so you went to go wash out the empty one.

"Ghost! How copy?" Your voice was panicked as you frantically looked around Las Almas. You were completely separated from Soap and Ghost. Soap had ended up around two miles from you, but Ghost wouldn't come through the radio. It had you so anxious you were going to be sick.

"Soap, do you have visual on Ghost?"

"No," his voice was strained from his shot wound. "There's a church about halfway between us, let's meet there and regroup."

For the next hour and some, you and Soap worked together to find a church, and when you did, Soap was already there. You rushed to him, relief washing over you until you heard a familiar hum.

Turning around, you say Ghost. "Don't fucking scare me like that ever again!" You punched his chest. "I thought you were dead!" You were angry with him, trying to land a hard hit on him.

He grabbed his arms and wrapped them around his waist as he silently brought you into an embrace. You cried into his chest as he brushed his hand over your head, the other drawing shapes into your back. "You're not gonna get rid of me that easy." He let out.

"You scared me so bad, I thought I lost you." You said through sobs.

"You'll never lose me."

Once the boys were finished with their bottles, you washed everything out and put the boys in some fresh clothes. You had decided you were going to take them out as you needed more supplies.

Maybe you'd stop by a park on the far end of town so they could get some fresh air too.

And everything had gone according to plan while you were out.

You even stopped to get ice cream, giving the boys a bite or two each of your own cup.

The day was full of fun and laughter, the sun was bright and the boys were well-behaved.

When you arrived back to base, you opened your door and set your bags down and put the boys in their playpen when you heard someone clear their throat.

"Y/N..." You turned around to greet the person in your room.

"Laswell, what's wrong?" You saw the solemn look ridden on her face.

"It's John, we need to talk about him."

You had brought her into the kitchen of the compound, brewing some coffee as you both sat down. "I don't really wish to talk about him right now." You said as you scoot your chair in.

"I know what happened, he told me everything. But, there's something you need to know. I know where he is, and I'm worried about him." She looked at you, silently asking you to hear her out. "I know he's not your favorite person but-"

"He disregarded my sexual assault in Dubai and prevented me from reporting it and when I called him out, he walked out on me. On top on everything else he's done, of course he's not my favorite person, he never has been." You were already fired up.

"I know what he did. I found him yesterday in his office, passed out drunk. He had your file pulled up on his computer. When I finally got him up and had him sober up, he spilled everything. He was crying. John doesn't cry Y/N." Laswell was trying to get to you through your emotions. You weren't falling for that.

"Why would I give a shit?"

"I've never seen you this fired up over him, there's something you're not telling me." That motherly tone is back. Your mind went to his kind smile, the gentle look in his eyes.

"He let me in." Your voice was quiet.

"Excuse me?!"

"When I brought the boys to him, hoping to find some help or answers, he wasn't the man I've come to know through my time of service. He wasn't Captain Price anymore, I saw John. He was kind and warm and gentle. He was sweet to me and helped with the boys, always letting me rest. I saw his smile, and the look in his eyes was unlike anything I've seen before. I've had a glimpse and now I'll never see it again." You felt hot tears sting your cheeks.

"I wouldn't say that." Laswell shook her head. "There is so much you don't know about him dear, you should go talk to him."

"I can't even look at him after he walked out."

"Give him a chance to explain himself." Laswell put her hand on yours. "Let him tell you for himself."

Your eyes widened at the gesture. "Tell me what?"

"What's got him so in his head. Please." She begged you to go see your Captain in his office. After some convincing and more tears, you finally gave in, just to get her off of you.

Your footsteps were loud in your ears as you approached his door, knocking lightly. There was no response. You slowly turned the doorknob, entering the room, closing the door behind you.

You froze at the sight before you. There were files all over his desk, most of them with your name on it. Your Captain was sitting with his head in his hands. "Captain?" Your voice was meek.

His head shot up, wide eyes staring into you. You could see the bags under his eyes, his eyes red from crying. He had a bottle of bourbon on his desk, only a droplet or two left in it. "Laswell said you had something to tell me." You said, not wanting to make anymore eye contact.

He remained silent, the room thick with it. You heard him stand from his chair, but you remained with your gaze on your shoes. "I-" He began. "I won you the case."

That's when your head snapped up. "What?"

"The Dubai case. With that guy. I, uh, I filed everything together and he's being put in jail."

You were confused. "You're 3 years too late."

"It's taken me three years." His words cut you deep. "I went straight to Shephard and Laswell when we got back from the mission. I filed a case against him in your name."

You stood dumbfounded. "That doesn't explain the way you reacted, nor the way you walked out on me." You were still hurt. You couldn't forgive him.

"Understandable." He sniffled as he began to fiddle with the files on his desk. "There's no excuse for the way I reacted, but you do deserve an explanation." He cleared his throat and looked up at you. When you didn't say anything, he continued. "When you came to me about it, at first I didn't think anything of it. I had a lot of female soldiers doing that to me that trip just so they could get sent home early or get a fat check. I caught them lying and they'd immediately back down. My mind told me you were doing the same thing." He takes in a shaky breath. "That was until I came to find you one morning and caught you changing. You were putting your shirt on when I saw your bruising. It looked like you had been beaten, I watched your walls come up that day and I watched you cower into a shell of yourself. That's when I know you were telling the truth."

"Why didn't you say anything?" You spoke up.

He sighed and took a second to collect himself, on the verge of tears. "I knew the statistics of women winning these types of cases, especially with the lack of proof. I snuck pictures of you to document your marks, and I asked every soldier I could to find a witness. No one came forward. The case would've never won, and I knew that. That's why I never said anything to you, I couldn't stand to watch you feel the pain of not getting the justice you deserved. Shephard and Laswell told me how poor the evidence was, and the three of us spent years trying to dig up anything we could." He paused, pulling out a piece of paper. "6 months ago, a witness came forward. That put the case over the edge and we won. I found out this morning."

You scanned the paper, the woman was a victim of the same man, same situation. Reading over it, you related to every word. This woman won you the case. "So what's your reasoning behind you being an asshole the entire time I've worked with you? Even as a Lieutenant yourself, you were always an asshole to me."

Price sighs, then walks around his desk to face you. "I was angry. All these years, I've been angry. Before my promotion, when I met you, you were just a Sergeant. I watched you in the field and around the male soldiers and I felt angry. I knew you'd be a problem and I knew I'd have to deal with it."

"Then why did you invite me to join the 141?" You were confused.

"The anger only multiplied when your case came to be, I was angry at the thought you'd lose and the son of a bitch who hurt you would still be loose to hurt others. I've been angry with you all these years because I knew one of these days, I'd run the risk of losing my rank." Price took a step towards you. "I was angry at the thought of losing you."

You continued to stare at him in confusion. "What're you on about?"

"I would never be able to have you the way I want, it'd be frowned upon." Your eyes widened.

"What do you mean?" You took a step backwards as his hand cupped your face.

"You haunt me. Your smile, your eyes. The way you laugh from your chest. My dreams are littered with images of you, reminding me of what I can't have."

"Why can't you 'have me'? I'm on your squad?" You were oblivious to his insinuations, confused as could be.

"Because I could never ask you to love a man you hate."

His words shook you to your core. "I love you Y/N, I have since I found you out in that shack in the mountains abandoned by your unit. I love the way you effortlessly care for others, the way your perfume lingers in a room. As soon as I thought I had suppressed by feelings, you show up at my door with three children. Yes, they're our coworkers, but I couldn't help but see the big picture. I see the way you interact with them, the way you molded into this figure that had nothing but admiration and love. It was so different from the woman I know in the field, the woman behind the rank."

He was staring into your eyes when it all hit you.

The way you played images of him shirtless that one night you opened the door, his kind smile, his gentle eyes. The way you dreamed of him in the kitchen cooking for you.

You loved him too.

You glanced down to his lips and without another word, John pulled you into a kiss. Your lips molded into his, his kiss warm and passionate. He kissed you like he'd never get to again.

The kiss slowed down time, and all you could think of was his hands holding you tightly against him like you'd disappear if he let go.

"John..." You said as you backed away. "I love you too, I've missed you." He kissed you again before sliding his hand down to hold yours.

"Let's go home."

The ride was silent back to the compound, even as you both approached your room. Laswell left with a nod and a wink to you.

You thanked your lucky stars you listened to her.

All three boys looked up at John from the playpen, wide eyed. Gaz began to cry as John swooped him up and comforted him. "They missed you too. It was tough doing this alone."

"I'm so sorry I walked out, I should've told you then and there, stayed around."

"You're here now." You smiled up at him as he leaned in to plant yet another kiss to your lips. You giggled as you heard Gaz giggle and Soap and Ghost let out little babbles and flailed their arms in excitement. John chuckled too.

"Do you think they saw this coming?" He asked.

"Probably." You moved to go change into your pajamas, John doing the same. Coming out of his bathroom, you saw him shirtless and wearing his signature flannel pants. You took in a deep breath.

"Like the view? Cause, I'm loving mine. C'mere." John sat on the edge of his bed as his hands ran over your thighs. "Do you feel comfortable sleeping here? Or do you still want the couch?"

You thought for a moment. "Can I have one more night on the couch?"

"Whatever makes you feel at home." John smiled as he crawled back into bed, wishing you a goodnight.

You smiled back as you climbed under the blankets on the couch. As much as you wanted to sleep next to him, it was intimidating for you. You needed to muster up the courage to be that close to him like that.

For now, you were just happy you found your feelings for him and you learned how his behavior all these years was because he was fighting for your honor.

You had John back, and that's all you could ask for.

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