Fnaf headcanons you will have to pry from my burnt-and-come-back-twice corpse. Unless I come up with something else that I like more
* Moved to the U.S. in the hopes of furthering his Remnant research
* Began researching Remnant very early in his life as a way to become immortal
* Started Afton Robotics BEFORE he even met Henry.
* A perfectionist.
* Deliberately sabotaged his wife's dancing career so she would be a stay-at-home wife/mother
* Did NOT want to be a father, but wanted to keep his wife under his thumb, so he obliged
* Ended up really loving his kids
* Made the Funtime animatronics as gifts for his family:
* A ballerina for his wife, who never fulfilled her dream of dancing
* A fox for his oldest son's favorite animal
* A sweet clown baby doll for his beloved daughter
* A teddy bear w/a puppet for his youngest son, mirroring his favorite toys
* Wife threatened divorce and threatened to take Michael and their other son.
* William used his sons against his wife, and when he won custody of them, he killed her using Ballora.
* Left Circus Baby's behind and moved his family to the United States, where he met Henry.
* His obsession with Remnant renewed in an attempt to bring back his wife and daughter so the family could be put back together and perfect like they were before.
* William kills Charlie by accident (he fully intended to kill someone, he just didn't realize who he had killed until it was too late)
* William manipulates Michael into thinking everything bad is his fault
* He is genuinely distraught when his second son dies
* The Spring Bonnie suit will occasionally go off; eyes flashing, and saying pre-recorded sayings. When this happens, William has no control over the suit.
* He is 100% burning in hell
* Peepaw Afton from Security Breach is just code given life by Vanessa
* Made psychic friend fredbear to try and ease his son back to being comfortable around the animatronics
* Michael grew his hair out to both irritate his father and to look less like him
* Was a huge mama's boy. Was angry and resentful when she left, and felt guilty when she died.
* Blames himself for Elizabeth's death because he was supposed to be watching her.
* Got into soap operas because of his mom
* Was homeschooled until the Afton's moved to the states
* Didn't suspect a thing about his father's work until his brother was dead
* Was about 14-16 by the time William died in the suit (the first time)
* Post-Scoop, he wears a privacy mask to conceal his decaying face.
* The names he uses to get jobs at Freddy Fazbear's are: his mother's maiden name (Schmidt), and the names of his friends who "went missing" (Jeremy and Fritz).
* Was close with Charlie, like cousins.
* a total daddy's princess
* Looks more like mom
* She forgot both of her brothers after her death, only remembering her father because her last thought before she died was of him.
* She didn't die immediately upon getting scooped. William fought until his fingers were bloody and broken to get Circus Baby to open up. She died when he finally got the hatch open and Circus Baby's claw launched back out and snapped her neck in the process. If William had simply shut Circus Baby down first, she might've lived.
* She got voted out of the Ennard tribe due to wanting to find her father. The others wanted to kill him, but she refused to let them. So they kicked her out.
* Elizabeth looked up to both William and Michael, hence why she had a Mangle toy. It was an old hand-me-down of her brother's.
* the youngest Afton
* Was in the room when William pried Circus Baby open and saw his sister die.
* It traumatized him
* Was too young to really remember the details, but it still left an impact on his psyche.
* In death, he holds no ill will towards his brother (not his fault their dad made them killing machines)
* Was also close with Charlie. Saw her as an older sister (Which made William mad because he HAS an older sister already)
* His ex wife died.
* His son, Sammy (Charlie's twin brother) died when he was around the age Elizabeth was when she got scooped.
* Was a struggling single-father.
* Had gone to college for robotics but had to drop due to his wife being pregnant. Never went back to complete his degree
* Was considered "Uncle Henry" to the Afton boys. And he loved them dearly.
* Was at the Diner when the Crying Child got chomped. He and William broke Fredbear's jaw to get him out. Henry took care of Michael while William was in the hospital with his youngest son.
* knew exactly what William was up to from the first missing child's incident. Said nothing because of William's manipulation AND because he was finally successful doing something he loved.
* He built the Security Puppet to protect Charlie when he couldn't be with her
* Did his best to gather evidence against William on the down low, but wasn't quick enough.
* Finally turned over the security footage of William as revenge for killing Charlie.
* Did his damndest to get custody of Michael while William was awaiting trial. Lost contact with him after everything was said and done.
* Knew William was in the suit when he sealed up the safe room
* Reopened a lot of the restaurants as ways to lure Michael back and try to help him.
* Once he found out about Remnant and ghost possessions and William being alive, he got to work on figuring out a way to lire them all to one location.
* He made Lefty to be as gentle as possible when capturing The Puppet, since that is his daughter.
* Most definitely has tattoos. Full sleeves on both arms in his later years.
* A silver fox before he dies
the blaze of the sun ✧ ikaris
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request: Ikarus x reader (icarus?) idk I’m sorry: Him and reader having a domestic day and making brownies together and all that fluff then reader questions why and he has to tell the truth that the worlds ending in 5 days (but doesn’t say he murdered Ajak) and readers happy he spent time with her but he then kills her like ajak to not have a painful death then the ending happens and realises the reader could’ve been safe and alive if he hadn’t of killed her? Sorry for the long winded message. - anon
pairing: ikaris x fem!reader
summary: in which ikaris loved, and in which ikaris lost.
word count: 2,497
warnings?: a teensy bit of fluff, major angst, major character death, assisted suicide (not explicitly described), not proofread
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Ikaris once thought that he would never love again. After he and Sersi had separated, he never expected to find love again. And why would he? Of the Eternals, Sersi was the only one he would ever love. And of the humans...Well, he never cared for them the way that Sersi did. The only reason he was on Earth was for the mission. He was to fight the Deviants and to wait for Arishem’s orders to return home. He never developed an attachment to them like Sersi did.
And why should he? The human life was fleeting. He knew he would outlive them. He knew that he would remain the same as they got older. It was not worth the ache or the pain to become attached. And when Ajak told him that their true mission was to ensure the Emergence of the New Celestial? He knew better than to even think of caring about humans beyond his mission.
That is, until he met you. After he and Sersi separated, Ikaris spent a lot of time alone. He almost preferred being alone. If he couldn’t be with the woman he loved, why would he bother with anyone else? So, he traveled, explored all of the corners of the Earth. Eventually, he found himself a sleepy little town. There was nothing particularly exciting about it. Nothing that drew him in. But as he was beginning to leave, he saw you.
He didn’t like small towns, if he was being honest. Though, if he was truly being honest, he didn’t like anywhere on Earth. The sooner he could leave, the better. But he especially didn’t like small towns. Nobody gossiped quite like people in small towns with nothing else to do and, even if he tried to blend in, he still stuck out like a sore thumb. It was best he leave before people got too suspicious of him. So, when he was sure that no one was paying him any attention, he got ready to fly off and find somewhere else to go.
“Careful!” you said, grabbing him by the arm, tugging him out of the street just before a car he didn’t notice before came speeding by.
Ikaris looked over at you and froze. Was this what it felt like to be human? To look at someone and think of everything you could have with them?
“You could say thank you,” you said. Your voice, it was almost teasing. A soft smile, a sort of glint in your eye that made him want to stay and he wasn’t quite sure why.
“Thank you,” he said. “I, erm, can I take you out for coffee? To thank you?”
And when he saw you smile, he understood why all of the poets and the playwrights wrote about love. “I would like that. I’m Y/N, by the way.”
“Like the guy who flew too close to the sun?”
He chuckled, remembering the story Sprite had told when they lived in Athens. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Falling in love with you was as easy, as natural, as flying. You were a writer, he learned. Preferred the quieter things in life. You lived on the edge of town, didn’t come out that often. You had a good heart, though. So when you saw what you thought might have been his death (even though he knew he would be fine even if he was hit by that car), you didn’t hesitate to save him. Maybe that was the beauty of humans. Or maybe that was the beauty of you.
He couldn’t be alone anymore. Not when he knew someone as wonderful, as amazing as you. He fell hard, and he fell fast, and he was okay with that.
And when you loved him too...It felt like everything would be okay, even if he knew that he would outlive you. He didn’t care, though. For the first time in a long time, it felt like he was living. And he didn’t ever want to let you go.
But as time wore on, he knew he would have to say goodbye. He could only hope that that day came before the Emergence. That he wouldn’t have to lose you like that, knowing that succeeding his mission brought about your end. He wasn’t sure he could live with that. When Thanos snapped away half the universe, he was sure he wouldn’t have to see that day. Perhaps he could see you live a long, healthy life after all.
After the Avengers defeated Thanos, though, and half of the universe returned, he knew that the Emergence would soon happen. He went to visit Ajak, and he learned that she, like Sersi, had developed an affinity for the humans. And he understood it, in a way. Maybe he would feel different if he felt as strongly about the human race as he did towards you. But...he still couldn't give up his mission. He had to see it through to the end.
When he returned home, he decided that he would make your final days as comfortable he could manage. Make sure that you were happy. That you knew that you were loved. He couldn’t save you, but he could make sure you were at peace.
He woke you up to breakfast in bed, making sure that he had made all of your favorites. Even went out and got a pretty bouquet of your favorite flowers. Pressed soft kisses around your face, punctuating each kiss with a soft “I love you”.
As you ate, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at you. Every time you asked if there was something wrong, if you had something on your face, he would just say that he was admiring a work of art. He couldn’t tell you that he was trying to burn the image of you into his mind.
After you got ready, he asked if you would like to make brownies together. It had been so long, and he missed the days where you would make a mess in the kitchen. Well, when he would make a mess and you would gaze over fondly, saying that he was an absolute menace with all the tenderness you could afford.
He almost thought you didn’t suspect anything. But, as he fed you one of the brownies, you pulled away from him, saying just above a whisper, “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering?”
“Nothing is bothering me.” He didn’t want to worry you.
“I’m not stupid,” you said, frowning. “I know something’s on your mind. Did something happen when you visited Ajak? You’ve been acting different since you came back.”
And he couldn’t lie to you. Not when he was going to soon lose you.
“I’m an Eternal. I came to Earth seven thousand years ago with the other Eternals to protect humans from the Deviants. We killed them all five centuries ago and have been waiting.” He didn’t like lying to you, because they hadn’t killed all of the Deviants.
“Waiting for what?” In a world where there were super soldiers and wizards and aliens defending from the sky, it wasn’t a surprise to you that something like this would be real. But...You didn’t like the worried look it put on Ikaris’s face.
“The Emergence. A seed was planted in Earth. Soon, the seed will hatch and a Celestial will be born.”
Your brows furrowed together. “But, if the seed must hatch...The planet will be destroyed.”
“And everyone on it,” he said. He looked away. It hurt to look at you, to know that he would soon lose you. But, he also wanted to relish the few moments he had left with you, so he looked back at you once more. “The Emergence is going to happen in five days.”
“And that’s why you’ve been so kind the last few days. Because I’m going to die in five days.”
He nodded. “I can’t stop the Emergence. No one can. But, I wanted to make sure that your last moments were happy ones.”
You reached up, taking his face in your hands. His eyes fluttered shut, leaning into your touch. He wanted to remember this. He wanted to remember how soft your skin was, how you smelled so sweet, how you always looked at him with pure adoration in your eyes. If he could remember anything about his time on Earth, he wanted to remember this. “Thank you.”
Ikaris leaned down, his lips brushing over yours. “I don’t want to lose you. Not like that.” He pulled away, feelings tears prick at his eyes. “I’ve known the Emergence would happen, but I...I hoped it wouldn’t be in your lifetime. I thought I would get to see you grow old. I hoped you would. I don’t want you to die like this.”
You didn’t say anything for a moment. Then two. Then— “You don’t have to.”
“You don’t understand. Nothing can stop the Emergence. Earth has to be destroyed in order for life throughout the universe to flourish.”
“I understand that. But...I don’t know. I can...die before then. It’s inevitable, isn’t it? I’m...going to die soon, anyways. But at least I could, I don’t know, take my death into my own hands. Go peacefully, or at least as peacefully as a person can when they know the world is going to end.”
“Y/N—” He didn’t want to do this. It already felt like he’d died when he killed Ajak. If he played a part in your death...He wouldn’t know what to do with himself. But, if it could give you peace in your final moments...It might be worth it.
“It’ll be okay, Ikaris. It will.”
You laid together in bed, you nestled in his arms. He put on your favorite movie, but it was just noise in the background. You were looking up at him, a sleepy look in your eyes. You were going soon, he could tell. He couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away.
“Tell me a story,” you whispered.
“Once upon a time,” he said, “there was a man, who wasn’t quite a man. Not in the human sense, anyway. He was a very lonely man. For a long time, he only worked to complete a mission he was given. He didn’t for anything else. But one day, he met this amazing woman. She was everything he wasn’t. Kind, considerate, so full of love. And he knew that his life would never be the same. He fell for her, and for some reason, she fell for him, too. And, when he was with her, for the first time ever, he didn’t feel so lonely anymore.”
You had stopped listening, because you couldn’t listen anymore. As he heard your breathing slow, your heart coming to a stop, he knew that you were gone. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forward, a tear slipping out as he felt your skin already begin to grow cold.
“I will always love you,” he whispered.
Slowly, he unwound himself from you. But he couldn’t leave you just laying there. Though it didn’t do anything for you, he pulled the covers over top of you, tucking you in, pressing another kiss to your forehead. He gently closed your eyes, and he whispered his goodbyes.
But as he began to walk out of the house, something caught his eye. You had been working on your newest novel, and you had kept the story very close to your chest. You wouldn’t tell him anything about it, saying you wanted it to be a surprise. But there on your desk laid a printed copy of the manuscript. Swallowing thickly, he picked it up and choked out a sob.
Working Title: The Blaze of the Sun
He set the papers down. He couldn’t read them, knowing that you had poured your love for him into the pages. He almost felt like he didn’t deserve it. Not when it was his mission that killed you.
He had to leave.
Ikaris left for London to reunite with Sprite and Sersi. The Deviants were back, after all, and Ikaris had to make sure that all of the Eternals were ready for the Emergence to happen.
But, the strangest thing happened. When the others learned of the Emergence...They wanted to stop it. They grew attached to the humans. They wanted to find another way.
He couldn’t understand it. This was what they were made for. This was what their mission was. They all used to be so loyal to the mission, loyal to Arishem. What had changed in the thousand of years they had been separated? In the end, Sprite was the only one who stood by his side.
But, really, in the end...They did it. They managed to stop the Emergence. And he stood on the beach, looking at what they had done, it felt like his entire world was collapsing in on itself.
They had stopped it.
The world didn’t end.
Humanity was saved.
Humanity was saved, but you were gone.
You were gone and it was all his fault.
He had killed you. He had told you there was no other way. You decided to die, because you believed in him and what he said. You didn’t know that he would be proven wrong. That the Emergence would be stopped. And he killed you.
You could’ve been safe.
You could still be alive.
But he killed you.
His mouth felt dry as he thought about it, remembering the way you had looked at him, the way you had whispered to him that you loved him. You thought so highly of him and he was the reason you were gone.
Ikaris now knew that he could never love again. And he would never want to love again. Because he had loved and he lost it and there was no one left to blame but himself.
He thought back to what you had written—
There once was a boy who flew too close to the sun. Or, at least, that’s what everyone said. It was a cautionary tale parents told their children. Don’t fly too high, or else you might lose your wings and fall. But if you asked the boy, he would tell you that there was no better feeling than being enveloped by the blaze of the sun.
Maybe there was some truth there. Maybe there was some comfort still left to be found.
And maybe he just owed it to you, to be able to say there was no better feeling than being enveloped by the blaze of the sun. And, if he was being honest, there was nothing left for him on Earth. Not without you. So, without another word, he looked at his fellow Eternals before flying straight into the sun.
And so there he would stay until the ache of losing you dulled, if it ever would.
Title: What's Taking A Life or Two? (If It Means Getting to Keep You?)
Pairing: Hanma Shuji/Female Reader
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings: Drinking, guns as per usual, threats, jokes about gunplay, domestic Hanma (kinda), you guys cook together, minor character past death, there's a discussion about reader's grandma being Sicilian if that bugs anyone
A/N: This chapter is a lull in all the action.
Part 2 (prev) / Master Post / Part 3 (here)
It’s 12 o’clock on the dot and Hanma is still fast asleep. You don’t know when he’ll wake up, unsure of how many pills he took before you coaxed him to sleep with your mouth. Cautiously, you shake him awake, sweep aside his bangs and press your thumb to the pinched expression held between his brows.
“What is it?” He’s groggy, squinting at you without contacts or glasses to focus. “Is someone here?”
“No, but I have a meeting.”
Hanma’s eyes crack open further and he sits up. “With whom?”
“No,” he says with a trigger pull reaction. “Why?”
You’ve already got your coat on and purse in hand. It’s obvious you weren’t waking him up to ask for permission, but as a formality. Who could say no to Mikey, anyway?
“He wants to know what I saw that night.”
Hanma instinctively touches his shoulder. “You didn’t see anything.”
You nod. “He and Sanzu want to confirm that. Seems Takeomi wanted to let Mikey know about his suspicions about me.”
Sin slides across his face with a groan. “Of course, I should’ve known he would take things seriously.”
“Don’t you?” It’s a serious inquiry, one you probably shouldn’t ask with a smile on your face, but you do anyway. Hanma doesn’t hesitate and you think he shouldn’t with you, either. “What am I if not just another person who can betray you?”
He ignores you in favor of getting out of bed. “I’ll come with you.”
“You won’t.” You stop him with a hand to his chest and he snatches your wrist away, glaring at you. “Mikey specifically told me to come alone.”
“Call him then.” You rip your wrist out of his grip and turn to leave. “But I’m not waiting for you to get dressed.”
“You’re in a bitchy mood today.” He yawns, watching you leave. When you’ve already started your descent down the hall, he shouts. “Are you angry I didn’t eat you out yesterday?”
From down the hall, you yell back. “Fuck off!” And he cackles.
Sanzu picks up his call almost immediately. “Is this about your girl?”
“Oh,” Hanma purrs. “I love it when you know what I want.”
“Gross, what is it?”
“I’m coming with her to the meeting.”
“Nope,” Sanzu pops the ‘p’ and sighs. “If you walk through that door with her, I’ll put another bullet through you.”
Hanma whines, if only to make Sanzu even more uncomfortable. “I only like gunplay with consent. How dare you?”
“I’m hanging up, you fuckin’ perv.”
“Wait,” he laughs. “Hold on, seriously, what do you need from her that I can’t tag along?”
There’s shuffling on the other end and Hanma hears the front door close.
“Mikey wants to interrogate her a bit. Figure out what she knows.” It sounds like Sanzu’s going through paperwork, a file or something. “How much do you really know about her?”
“Enough,” he replies gruffly, sliding open his bedside table to find his gun. “She wouldn’t betray me.”
“Says whom?” Hanma can hear the mockery in his smirk. “Your dick?”
Hanma’s clenching his jaw so hard his teeth could squeak. “Fine, if you find something that says she’s anything but loyal, I’ll kill her myself.”
“Will you, now?”
“Yes.” He pulls the gun from the drawer and holds it loosely in his hand. “I’ll even carve her name on the bullet.”
Mikey’s drinking something out of a mug. You can’t tell if it’s coffee or something stronger from the distance you’re at. The window he’s staring at is the length of the wall; floor to ceiling and it’s bright, alive with the busy atmosphere of the city below.
“I don’t know how we’re going to pull this off without Hanma finding out.” You lean against the desk Kokonoi is sitting at, typing away on the laptop. “He lets me go places but, like Rindou has said, the leash is shorter than most people think.”
“We’re to keep him distracted.” Sanzu walks through the door, files in hand. “That’s the only way this’ll work, unfortunately.”
You roll your eyes. “He called you just because I was coming over here without him.”
“He’s attached.” He hands you the files and watches as you leaf through the papers. “It’s unsightly.”
“He’s attached to the feeling I give, not me.” The papers are profiles of men you’ve worked with before. “These files. Why did you compile them?”
Sanzu points to the one you’re currently looking through. “I filled this one with active members.” Then to the other you've had yet to open beneath it. “This has people and companies we’ve done business with, but aren’t affiliated with.”
“These men,” you start, pausing at one that catches your interest. “They’re all still alive?”
You turn around and place the open file on the desk, pulling out the different profiles so you can see them as a whole. Kokonoi lifts his laptop, allowing you the space to work and you mutter your thanks. Out of all the profiles in the folder, you lay out six across the desk.
“How do you know they’re still alive?” The urgency in your voice has Mikey turning around to look at you. “Have you seen them?”
Sanzu nods. “They’ve all been accounted for in the last forty-eight hours. We keep tabs on everyone in our ranks.”
“Then I was right about the warehouse.”
“What do you mean?”
You look at the men in the room before waving your hand over the six profiles. “These men were in the warehouse that night. They were all part of the operation I was in.”
“I understand missing one person, but six?” Sanzu shakes his head. “Hanma would have done a second round to make sure everyone was taken care of, anyway.”
“But he couldn’t,” you say. “By the time he got to me, the police were near.”
Kokonoi’s brow furrows, and he shuts his laptop. “Someone had to know he was going to be there, and they planned ahead.”
“But who else would have known?”
“Everyone,” Mikey says. All eyes are on him, watching as he sips from his mug. “Everyone in Bonten knew what we were going to do that night. We needed the manpower to wipe out an entire gun running faction.”
“So anyone could have leaked the information.”
You sigh heavily and dig the heel of your palm into your eye. “I’ll check them all.”
Mikey perks up. “Without an order?”
With a scoff, you drop your hand. “Like I had a fucking choice? One, if not all of them, is involved in wanting you and the rest of Bonten killed.”
Kokonoi pops his computer back open on top of the papers and begins searching up something. “We’ll have to keep Hanma preoccupied.” He looks over to Mikey. “Put him in charge of something that’ll keep him out of the house.”
“He’ll kill me when he finds out I’ve kept something from him.”
Sanzu snickers. “At least you’ll go out in one of your favorite ways.” You raise your eyebrow at him and he saunters up to you, sliding a finger across your throat. “Getting choked.”
Mikey turns back to the window with a revolted look on his face. “I dislike every person in this room.”
When you get back, Hanma’s in the kitchen making a meal big enough for a family of four. His glasses have been abandoned on the marbled kitchen island and his hair is disheveled.
“What are you doing here?” You look over his shoulder as he sauteed onions and garlic in a pot. Tomato paste, sauce, and the ingredients for homemade meatballs sit on the counter. “Are you trying to make my spaghetti?”
“I’m hungry.” He’s tired, for whatever reason, and you’d only been gone for a handful of hours. “It’s 4pm, and you weren’t here.”
You snicker. “What, you can’t eat without me feeding you?”
Hanma sneers, curling his lip. “I’ve seen you make this enough. I can manage without you.”
“Ah,” you turn to the sink to wash your hands. “That’s disappointing. I’d like for you to be codependent and entirely unable to do a thing without me around.” He narrows his eyes at you and you chuckle nervously. “Too much?”
“No,” he exhales. “Are you making the meatballs?”
An empty glass bowl sits on the island, waiting to be filled with ingredients. “Yes,” you say, unwrapping the ground beef. “I’d hate for my Sicilian grandmother to roll in her grave because I let you fuck ‘em up.”
“You think she isn’t already rolling in her grave over you being in bed with a member of the yakuza?”
Chuckling, you crack an egg into the bowl with the meat, adding in breadcrumbs, garlic powder, salt, and milk.
“It’s cute you think at one point she wasn’t in bed with a gang member herself.”
Hanma opens up the cans for the sauce, delicately adding each can exactly like he’s seen you do many times. Your own hands are kneading the meat, mixing things together until the cold milk chills your hands.
“You need more,” he observes, suddenly next to you, and it makes you smile when he picks it up himself to sprinkle it in. “More breadcrumbs.” After, he grabs the jug of milk and splashes some in, too. “Why are you smiling at me?”
“I don’t know.” With a laugh, you shrug and blend the extra things together. “We usually try it first, but I like how you know we’ll need more.”
Hanma scratches his head. “You made it a lot.”
You hum. “You said that.”
“And I know how you like them.” He’s facing the stove again, hearing the sauce bubble. It’s nearly ready for the meat. “Family recipe or whatever.”
“My Nana used to let me eat it raw.” Hanma turns to you with an expression of horror and the smile on your face grows wider. “She said it provided the most authentic taste, and it helped build a good immune system.”
“That’s nasty.” He says your name unpleasantly, judgingly. “How the fuck didn’t you get some sort of illness?”
“Like my Nana said, it builds a good immune system. I’ve never had food poisoning of any kind.” You hold out your meat covered hand to him, wiggling your fingers, and he recoils. “You wanna try?”
“I’d sooner die.” Hanma pulls out a plate, pulls the bits of meat off of your fingers and makes two tiny heaps on the plate. “We’ll cook the meat and taste it, like normal human beings.”
“I love that you draw the line at uncooked meat and not murder.”
“Shut up,” he nukes the meat for ten seconds and then blows on them so they cool faster. “It’s going to need more seasoning, I can already tell.”
You tell him out loud that he’s right, and he brightens softly. “Of course I am.”
Hanma has never cooked alongside you, much less done so of his own volition. It was always the easier route; what ingredients could he throw together quickly in order to feed himself? There were even times when he wouldn’t eat at all if something wasn’t prepared for him. Yet in the last couple of months, as the two of you got used to the push and pull of this… relationship, he grew comfortable. It felt domestic to a certain degree.
“Shuji,” you breathe. “Do you trust me now?”
You’re both rolling the meatballs into their desired shape and sizes. He’s watching how the meat molds in his hand before dropping them into the sauce.
“I suppose,” he says without looking up. “The look in your eyes when that bastard shot me was convincing enough.”
“I had a look?”
He tilts his head to you, eyelids heavy, as he watches your profile. You don’t want to look. A little too nervous about how heavy his gaze is.
“‘Fire’, by Nikita Gill.” You blink, surprised by the reference, and turn to him then. “Do you remember it?”
The first time you were allowed in his study, you discovered a book titled ‘Wild Embers.’ He’d found you later that day, sat on the couch, asleep and surrounded by different genres and subgenres, but that one poetry book was open and resting on your chest.
“‘You awaken every dragon, every wolf, every monster that sleeps inside you.’”
Hanma washes his hands of the remnants stuck on his palms and between his fingers as he finishes the end of the stanza. “‘And you remind them what hell looks like when it wears the skin of a gentle human.’”
“Sometimes I forget all those books in your study aren’t just for show.”
He gestures at his glasses. “Do those not scream intellectual?”
The roar of your laughter makes him smile. “They scream hipster when you aren’t in a three-piece suit!”
Following his earlier example, you wash your hands while he places the lid on the pot and allows it to simmer. Hanma disappears briefly into a smaller room and re-emerges with a bottle of wine and two long-stemmed glasses. Without asking, he pours you a glass.
“While we wait.” He says, sliding the glass towards you. “You’ve never spoken about your family, only your dad.”
“Ah, well,” you take the glass and delicately hold the stem, worried you’ll break it if you squeeze too harshly. “My mother died when I was a teenager. Otherwise, I’m sure things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.”
Hanma takes a sip of his wine and then places his hand on the back of your neck, a sharp, teasing smirk on his lips. “You wouldn’t have met me then. Life would’ve been boring.” You take his hand off your neck, holding it in yours with his palm facing up. The expression drops and for once, he takes the topic seriously. “Tell me about your mother.”
With eyes trained on his palm, you spoke. “She was lovely. Much too good for my father.” The tip of your finger traces along his heart line. “Hard-headed, forceful, independent, yet extremely kind and almost to a fault. She put up with a lot with my dad.” Your finger moves on to his head line, moving back and forth over it. “He was mean, never present, and always too busy to do anything with us when we were kids.”
“Unless it was of interest to him?”
Briefly, you glance up at him. Half of his wine is already gone. You determine he must be unaware of how quickly he’s drinking it, and before the sauce is even done. Maybe you’re the distraction. A giddy feeling stirs around inside of you at the thought.
“Yes,” you sigh. “Then, you know, my mom died, and I was suddenly at the helm of his bullshit.”
“Even when I was a kid, I hadn’t held a gun.” When you trace over his lifeline, his hand twitches. “And I was in some messed up shit, too.”
He shakes his head, closing his hand around your finger when your nail grazes his fate line. “I always preferred my fists.”
The hand you’d been tracing over is the one you’d wrapped weeks before. His knuckles are slightly scarred, light pink blemishes of healed skin stare back at you when you turn it over. Absently, you press a kiss to each.
“I think I prefer fists to guns, too.”
“I’ve seen you shoot someone,” he breathes. “I wonder what it would look like to see you angry enough to punch someone.”
With a grin, you say. “I guess they just have to shoot you to get a rise out of me.”
Hanma hums. “I was trying to keep getting shot to a minimum.”
“Good,” you chuckle. “I like you in one piece.”
When you glance at his glass again, the wine is gone, and he’s looking at you with a kind of simmering ferocity you’ve only seen before a fight. A flame ignites in your chest, and you wonder what would happen if you kissed him now. If the act would shift you both towards something more level grounded. If he didn’t hold you at arm's length during the day, but impossibly close at night when the walls closed in on him.
“What did it feel like when you killed him?” He asks, disrupting your thoughts. “After everything settled, when you had time to think, how did it feel?”
“It didn’t feel like anything.” His expression is falling, morphing into something colder than you’re used to. You let go of his hand and bring the rim of the glass to your lips. “I laid in bed and felt absolutely nothing.”
“No guilt?” You shake your head. “No excitement?”
You take a long drink. “Maybe relief.” Without thought, you knock back the rest of the glass and reach for the bottle to pour yourself another. “Yes,” you nod, feeling comfort in the word. “I felt relieved.”
The pot bubbles again, and Hanma leaves to retrieve the pasta. The look in his eye was odd when you answered, like he had hoped for something different in the response. You couldn’t tell if he’d rather you have been distraught by your actions or have felt the same exhilaration he did when taking a life. Relief was somewhere in the middle, and maybe he couldn’t relate to its calmness.
Hanma places a large pot of water on the stove to boil. He stares at it, seemingly no longer interested in the conversation.
“Shuji,” you say to his back, brow pinched. “Is that not what you wanted to hear?”
For a couple of long seconds, he does not answer and you stand there, staring into the dark liquid in your glass with heavy silence hanging in the air, and then, like the bursting of a bubble, he sighs.
“No,” he admits. “That’s the last thing I wanted to hear.”
Part four (next)
@kentimestwo @chickentendieboi @omiishii @rosesandtoshi @heroineofcolor @hanayanetwork
“Blood For Blood”
Pairings: ABO!Ot.7 x Omega!Reader
Warnings: smut, porn WITH plot!, bit of angst, dry humping if you squint, lots of breast and nipple play, lots of oral (f receiving), unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it), multiple instances of squirting, threesome, orgasm denial, overstimulation, size play(is that the correct term?), creampie(s).
Word count: 9.4k
Synopsis: You are better off alone. That’s what you’ve told yourself for the past 13 years, living off a food source that has dwindled with each passing season. But when you hunt down a buck on someone else’s territory, you invite the attention and compassion—however unwanted both of them may be—of a rising Alpha. Determined to remind you what it is to have a family, he makes a decision that could very well end his position as Alpha no sooner than it’s begun. The funny thing about staying in one place, though, is that now you’re forced to relive the nightmares you spent so long running from. And along with them come the memories of a debt that demands to be paid in blood.
This is my original content! Please do not repost or modify in anyway!
This banner was made for me by @mysticarcana and I cannot explain what it means to me that she took the time to create this for me. I love you so much, THANK YOU🖤 This chapter took a little longer than expected but I still like it despite the absolute BEATING it was giving me during the editing process. Let me know what you guys think of it! Previous parts are linked below! Enjoy!
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
The blood along your skin seemed to burn like acid, scorched you as if it had no recollection of ever being that which once gave you life. A dull throbbing radiated from your leg where he had broken it–you were too well restrained to look, but you had a feeling it was bent at the wrong angle and severely discolored. With each breath, blood trickled from the several gaping gashes along your thighs, abdomen, and arms where he had tried to cut Lorelai out of you like some sickly babe. She’d screamed at you to free her, to let her rid this world of him. But to let her out would be to give him exactly what he wanted; an opening to enslave her to his will. He wouldn’t have gone this far if he hadn’t found a way to do it.
Yet even in that blurry agony that made you teeter between conscious and unconscious, your eyes shot open at the unnaturally warm breeze rolling uphill, the scent it carried. You would always know who it belonged to, though now it made you so terrified you could retch.
“______,” came his voice, hurried and hushed. “______, darling. We have to go.”
“I can’t move,” you whispered, tears already collecting down your cheeks.
“Then I will carry you.”
“You won’t get far with me on your back. He’ll find us and kill you. I can’t–I can’t bear that again, please. Don’t make me.”
Nearby, torches began to light, flaring up out of nothing and your stomach turned violently. His eyes were wild with fury and remorse as he took in your body, tried to find the best places to apply pressure, to stop the bleeding.
“Leave me here.” his fingers fumbled with the restraints, a single claw ripping from his knuckle to cut the ropes. “Please, he’ll kill you! Leave, and I’ll have peace knowing that you’re all safe and far from here. Just leave me!”
He shook his head violently, jaw clenched to keep the rawness from his voice. But it escaped anyway. “I can’t.”
“Go,” you sobbed, blinking away the tears, trying to memorize as much of his face as you could. His thumb swiped them away from your cheeks, his smile still beautiful even as your heart splintered in your ribcage.
“I would rather have your company in death than your absence in life.”
Another torch flared, voices carried on the wind. Terror clawed its way up your throat.
“Go, please! Please, please, please.”
He shushed you, resting his forehead against yours.
“I won’t leave you here. I won’t watch him kill you.”
“Then don’t watch, you idiot, run!”
His gaze lifted to something in the distance and you could see the resolve settling across his features. “I’m not going to be the one running.”
Jin blinked awake from a dreamless sleep, finding Jungkook’s face inches from his own.
“What is it?”
“She’s having another nightmare.”
As soon as he says it, Jin can hear you in your room, thrashing around the bed, whimpering.
“I tried to calm her down but it only works for a little while before she starts crying again.”
Jin turns over onto his other side, burying his face into the crook of his elbow. The cabin was only meant for Namjoon, and yet he had squeezed seven people in here and expected it to be fine. Yoongi and Hoseok were keeping watch down the hall, but seeing as you were the guest of honor, you got the bed all to yourself. Which left four men laid out on the floor. Jin only got the couch because of seniority and he wasn’t ashamed at all to use it–his knee had been acting up.
“What do you want me to do?”
“She needs comfort. And not just mine, I think…I think she needs all of us.”
Jin huffed, rolling his eyes. You were turning out to be quite spoiled.
“The Princess requires her guards for a slumber party. Everybody up.”
Hoseok and Yoongi rose first, powerful muscles shifting beneath their fur, teeth glistening in the moonlight as they yawned.
“Fine, but it’s someone else’s turn to keep watch.”
Jungkook volunteered, shifting as he made his way to the front door.
The rest of them left their makeshift beds and wandered into your room, climbing onto the mattress and cradling your form. Jin took the spot behind you, Jimin and Taehyung curling up at your feet while Hoseok slipped beneath your head, Yoongi scooting close, tangling his legs with yours.
He murmured soft words of comfort, running his hands through your hair. Eventually you quieted, your lips falling open as you fell back into a deep sleep.
“Well, if that was all it took, the rest of us surely didn’t need to squeeze into the bed.”
Yoongi laughed once, eyes already closing.
“Words are nice, sure, but the real comfort is knowing you’re not alone. If she wakes up again, she won’t remember what I said, but she’ll feel all of us here and that will keep her from feeling scared.”
Jin’s eyes fall on your sleeping form. “I didn't know hellcat’s felt fear.”
Despite his vague annoyance, he wipes away the tears still clinging to your damp cheeks. Before he falls back asleep, he throws an arm over your waist and listens to your heartbeat slow.
Watery gray light spills into the room, giving it a strange, hazy look in the early morning.
It’s the second thing you notice when your eyes open, the first being Yoongi’s face, pink lips parted and his features calm as he sleeps. It’s almost sweet until your nose is assaulted by the cornucopia of smells. Gardenia and sage from Yoongi, powdered soap beneath your head where Hoseok is still fast asleep, limbs haphazardly spread across the top of the bed. At your feet, Taehyung and Jimin are curled up, sap and cinnamon mixed with chamomile and fresh linen. And behind you, a strong citrus aroma that can only belong to Jin.
You are suddenly hyper aware of the places on your body where they are touching you–Yoongi’s hand cupping your jaw where you’re sure he’d been soothingly stroking your cheek; Jin’s arm slung across your waist, fingers dipped just a ways beneath the shirt you now happened to be wearing. The desire to push them both off, find a corner to bury yourself in was strong, but it’s kind of… comfortable, warm. You nearly fall back asleep when Jungkook pads into the room, licks at your face.
He’s pressing at your mental shields, and you know he just wants to check on you, but you can't bring yourself to lower them. Not after the lagoon.
“I’m fine,” you affirm, voice hoarse from the early morning or from the evening’s activities, you weren’t sure.
He nods towards the door and at that same moment, the thread seems to materialize and tugs from your center, followed immediately by seabreeze and salt.
He huffs once, nosing around your hair.
“Alright, I’m coming.”
It’s a difficult thing to maneuver; escaping Jin’s grip, moving without stirring Hoseok. But you manage it somehow, having to lock your arms around Jungkook’s neck so he can lift you off the bed and onto the floor without kicking Taehyung in the face–though you are tempted to do so anyway. Even asleep he looks smug.
The cabin is awash in that pale, gray light but both the kitchen and living area are empty. You don’t smell any food either.
“Where is he?”
Jungkook noses at the small of your back, ushering you out back to the bench Namjoon is sprawled across, taking in the ravine, the canyons beyond.
“What, am I eating leaves today?” you ask as Jungkook makes his way back into the house.
“Already hooked on my cooking?”
His mother made it, Lorelai divulges, her grin almost vulpine.
“Your mother made it.”
He turns so quickly you think he’ll sprain a muscle in his neck.
“How did you know that?”
You tap a finger to your skull. “I’m not the only one up here, remember? And she doesn’t need permission to go snooping.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“Well, just be glad you don’t have to live with her.”
It’s colder out today, but the drop in temperature seems to be helping keep your own temperature balanced. Maybe you have to tuck your hands between your thighs for warmth, but it isn’t unpleasant; especially with a view like this.
His mouth opened, but no other sound came out, so he shut it.
“I was wondering if I could…Um…”
You nodded, as if to encourage him to finish the sentence. When it became apparent that he couldn’t, you finished it for him.
“You have more questions.”
“Yes, but they aren’t within your parameters.”
“Namjoon,” you begin, and he raises a hand in defense.
“I know we agreed on ten questions the other night but we only asked seven. I was hoping you’d let me have the last three.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
The rising sun fills the silence between you, the grays fading away like smoke, leaving a powder blue canvas for daylight to splatter its buttery rays on.
“I want you to trust me, ______. I want you to feel like you can depend on me. I feel like we don’t understand each other and that’s what makes this,” he gestures between the two of you, “feel so fragile and volatile.”
That thread tugs again, and you want to ask, to clarify what it is he thinks this thing between the two of you is, but he continues before you find the words.
“Beneath it, though, I think we share a lot. And not just me–them, too,” he says with a nod toward the cabin and you remember Hoseok’s story. “What I’m trying to say, ______, is that I don’t want to be the villain in your story. I was wrong for keeping you here against your will. In doing so, I presumed my intentions were better than your reasons for wanting to leave. I disrespected your right to choose and in doing so, put you in quite a few uncomfortable situations. I can’t imagine how terrified you must have been to be thrown into all of this at random and with complete strangers, law or not, and…I’m sorry.”
He was clearly nervous, staring so hard at his hands you half expected them to burst into flame. And to him, that would be better–more fitting– than having to meet your gaze and see how his decisions had affected you.
It wasn’t necessarily a decision. More like a shift in perception–one that eased a weight off your shoulders before you even mumbled the words into the brisk, morning air.
“I think…it’s been a long time since anyone did anything for me solely out of good intentions. I couldn’t see why you would want to save me just to save me…” You spared him a sideways glance only to find his eyes locked on yours. “To have a heart like yours–to care so deeply even when it's unwanted–it's a difficult thing to carry. Especially in your position when you know your choices don’t just affect you.” A shrug. “But when other people saw someone wild, feral, you saw someone worthy of…” you sucked in a breath, trying to find the words. “...whatever bliss you seem to have found here. You wanted that for me even if I couldn’t remember how to want it for myself so… I suppose I should thank you.”
His smile was so heartbreakingly genuine you had to look away lest an equally bright version tug at your own lips.
“So this means…”
“It means I won’t kill you in your sleep.”
“Oh, thank the gods,” he exaggerated, a hand flying to his chest, “I haven't had a full night’s rest since you got here.”
You leveled a glare his way, but he could see it in the curve of your cheeks–you were amused. Probably against your will.
“The questions…If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t press. We can just-”
“No. Just–get it out of the way.”
“Alright…You said you spent fifteen years in that pack.”
He doesn’t want to ask, but you hear the question in the following silence. How did you survive?
“ I didn’t know when he would kill me. I think he enjoyed the torture too much to commit to it but I could feel that he wanted to, if only to watch the life leave my eyes, to watch that fear distort me. Sometimes…I felt so full of darkness. Just this thick, inescapable dread that snuffed out any reason I had to live. Each time he called me to his tent, it suffocated me a little more. Occasionally, though, he would tire of me or have business elsewhere. Thomas and I would steal a few moments for ourselves and that darkness would lift and I could breathe again. But I would be so busy choking down air, I wouldn’t think about how to keep the darkness from descending, the pressure from reapplying. And before I knew it, that was my life–living between gulps of air.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes taking on a lethal glint, “that no one protected you.”
You shrug. “It was better that way. Forming attachments just gave him something to use against me. And the second he found out I’d made one, I knew how foolish I had been to think I could get away with it.”
“Being happy.” A breeze brushes against your cheek and you make a dismissive gesture, as if banishing the vulnerability you’d just offered up. “Even before Thomas, it didn’t take long for me to stop feeling things when he had me dispose of the other omegas’ corpses. And not too long after that I started to just feel relieved it had been them instead of me,” you finish quietly, shame making your throat a little too tight.
“There’s nothing broken about you that can’t be healed, ______.”
You don’t dare meet his gaze, though you can feel it focused on the side of your face. “When you saw him in the lagoon, you wanted us to let you go.”
“Because I don’t want him to find me.”
“Of course, but you told Jin that if he found you here, he would kill everyone in this village. I know you were terrified, but you still thought about them.”
“That’s a big stretch for such a small consolation, Namjoon.”
“I’ll take it, though. It’s a start. And speaking of which, if this is going to be your home, at least for the duration of the trial period, I hope you’ll allow me to show you how beautiful it is here–all the things we have to offer.”
“The trial application was accepted?”
For a fraction of a second, you allow yourself to see what it would be like, living in your own cabin, having the time to paint the river as the ice melts in winter, the canopy come summertime, the patches of wildflowers in spring. Eating in the hall, dancing on solstice, having a life spent with others, full to the brim with light and warmth.
“I’ll think about it.”
His smile widens with pleased surprise, dimples deepening on both cheeks. “Nice getup, by the way. Is that Jungkook’s?” he asks, gesturing to the black tee shirt with white skulls around the collar.
“The shirt is. The shorts are Hoseok’s.”
His eyes fall to the blue, cotton fleece shorts with smiley faces patched on haphazardly.
“I can tell,” he laughs, then, “We will still need to keep up with your lessons, though-”
Your groan interrupts him, head falling back against the back of the bench with a thud.
“I don’t want to listen to you talk about duties or regulations or hunting. I’m so tired, Namjoon, can’t we just sit?”
He chooses not to press at the implication that you still haven’t been sleeping well and schools his features into neutrality.
“How about a game then? If I win, we do the lesson. If you win, we just sit and eat breakfast.”
Your eyes narrow. “What kind of game?”
He ruffles through his bag and pulls out two pieces of parchment wrapped around small pencils.
“A drawing game?”
“Whoever has the best drawing wins.”
You can’t tell if he’s serious or not, but he looks confident that he’ll win. And that’s enough for you to snatch one of the pieces of parchment from him and scooch to the far end of the bench.
He scoffs once but turns his body, a fool’s grin plastered onto his mouth.
A calm, full silence envelopes you both, filled only with the scribbling of pencil across paper, the calling of birds above you, the wind bending trees to its whim. You had been a different person the last time you dared to think like this–creation in lieu of destruction, death. For years you only allowed a mere cataloging of colors, of shape and light. But perhaps you could ease back into it…
Some of the charcoal began to gather along the parchment, and you smeared it for shadowing effect, only allowing yourself quick glances of the scenery for accuracy before going back to work.
The cedar trees were almost bare now, but the branches still held stragglers, still held onto some of their majesty despite the approaching winter. And the ravine, the canyon…perhaps, after this, you might even paint it, the lilac giving way to marigold, azalea, the sun’s golden fingers reaching above the horizon as if it had crawled through the earth.
When you were finished, the pencil was little more than a nub and he had to clear his throat to remind you he was still there.
“Alright, Picasso, let me see.”
You held it out to him and watched for his reaction. He poured his gaze over each detail as if he were a critic, though you could tell he was impressed by the steady climb of his eyebrows.
“You’re quite good, you know?”
“I do. Now, let’s see yours.”
He laughed awkwardly, tucking his paper back into his bag.
“No need. You definitely won.”
“Oh, I know. And what’s my reward?”
“Oatmeal. And toast with jam.”
You eyed the slimy texture with mild distaste, but caught the hints of brown sugar and cinnamon, spotted the cubed apples and happily accepted your portion.
“How are you feeling? The…the heat.”
“It comes and goes. I feel almost normal now.” The dream pushed its way to the edge of your consciousness and you shoved against it.
“I can imagine it must be difficult,”
You fixed him with a half-hearted glare that said he really couldn’t imagine it, no matter how hard he tried.
“Right. Well, I apologize for my part in it.”
“Which part? How far back are we going?”
He snorts, blowing on his steaming spoon.
“You know, I’m not a baby. I can feed myself.”
“Who said this was for you?” he boasts, taking the whole thing into his mouth, moaning dramatically. “Wow…You can really taste the cinnamon. And the tart from the apples just really makes it pop.”
A muscle in your jaw feathers. “That’s mine.”
“Some of it, sure. But not all of it.”
“What do you mean not all of it? Give it-”
He moves it just out of your reach, his gaze challenging.
“Namjoon,” you warn, enunciating each syllable of his name.
His smile goes lupine and he shoots from the bench with you hot on his trail.
“Give it to me!”
“Not a chance!” he scoffs, winding between the trees, emerging with another spoonful in his mouth.
“Gods, it's so good.”
He jets off again, dodging your advances with a sort of elegance that makes your frustration sharpen. You spew curses at him under your breath and immediately regret the waste of air when you find you’re already winded, struggling to keep oxygen in your lungs.
Just how long had it been since you’d done any activity, built any muscle or stamina? You wouldn’t be able to shift until after the ceremony but still. You made a mental note to start going on walks with Nina just as you spotted him leaning against another tree.
“At this rate, ______, there won’t be much left for you to eat. Maybe the toast-”
“Don’t you dare!” You shriek, the fury giving you just enough speed to latch onto his jacket and shove with all your strength, sending him toppling amongst the fallen leaves. What you don’t notice, though, is his hand wrapping around your waist at the last second, pulling you along with him.
The oatmeal goes flying, landing empty just beyond your reach.
You’re already hissing, prepared to beat him or curse him for wasting food when you notice it.
And no matter how tightly you press your lips together, your breath comes out in barely contained snorts, puffing around your lips in clouds of white
There’s oatmeal all over him.
In his hair, along his brows and cheeks, his neck, even on the shell of one of his ears. He just looks at you, dumbfounded as your laughing becomes a long, drawn out wheeze. Until your lungs burn from the lack of air, and on the next inhale, your head tips back and you laugh, loud and unrestrained.
Your hand finds its way to your chest, eyes watering as it fills you, shattering some forgotten wall of ice around your heart.
“What’s so funny?”
“You-” a giggle. “You have..you-you-” you trail off into a fit of snorts, doubling over, not even noticing how close your face is to his, how intently he’s watching you.
“There’s oatmeal…it’s-” you gesture to his face with another laugh that’s more wheeze, more guffaw than anything else and then he’s laughing with you, wiping it from his cheeks.
“Where-” he starts, “Where is it?”
You do your best to pick it from his hair, from his brows, not even registering that you are still on top of him, still feeling the warmth of his hand on your waist until he’s clean. Until you feel his heartbeat falter. Until his eyes dart to your lips, briefly–so briefly–and then snap back to your eyes.
Somewhere between the bated breath and the feel of his body heat melting into you, that spark gets reignited. He senses it instantly and rises to his feet, helping you up. You watch his throat bob as he picks the leaves from your hair, so gentle, so careful.
“We’ll have to toast the bread inside so…let’s get out of the cold.”
You follow him in with the echoes of his touch still branding your skin, his scent drowning your senses like a thick smoke. You hardly register stepping back inside or following him to the kitchen.
“I said, do you want butter?”
How can he be thinking of food right now?
You know what I would do?
“No, Lorelai. And I don’t want to know.”
“Your answer to everything is murder or seduction. You’d seduce wet wood if you could.”
You roll your eyes, mentally ignoring her as you step into the kitchen.
“Maurice will be back by tomorrow night. He’ll have your contraceptives and suppressants ready so you can finish your heat with…um–”
“A little more decorum?”
“I was going to say a little more comfort but…I suppose both are acceptable answers. Until then, though, you’ll have to be extremely responsible and cautious.”
“In other words I shouldn’t let your good friends stuff me full of their–”
“I don’t– need descriptives, please. Thank you.”
You snort. “Don’t you want to know how well they’re taking care of me?”
“No. I mean, I trust that you’re being taken care of but I don’t need the details.”
“Fine. Where’s my toast?”
The tension in his shoulders eases, happy to have a change in subject. “Almost ready.”
You watch him spread the butter over the hot bread, watch the way it melts, and the aroma makes your mouth water. He’s reaching for a handful of berries to accompany it when your arms encircle him like before, nose buried in his cotton tee shirt. He doesn’t say anything this time though, just continues as if he’d gotten used to it.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I spoke with Hoseok.”
“Why would I mind that you spoke to your friend?”
“He told me about your art. Or rather, your affinity for it. If you want, I can set up a room for you in the cottage. Just for you and your painting. I mean clearly, we’re both artists, but I could let you have your own space I guess.”
“Oh, so we’re both artists? Because this–” you say, holding up your wrist so he can see the cartoonish symbol of the bond you made. “--doesn't look like an artist's work.”
He laughs a bit, tracing over it with his thumb. “I was in a rush. When I take my time I’m actually pretty good.”
“Then what was that outside?”
He fumbles for his words. “Bad lighting.”
You scoff but say nothing more as he hands you the small plate of toast with berries along the rim. He leans against the countertops, watching you inhale the smell deep into your lungs. He’s about to start on his own toast when you invade his space, eyes downcast as your head meets his chest, an arm encircling his waist.
You mumble something about being sorry, about not being able to help it, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“I can’t stay very long today.” He swallows hard when your fingers dip beneath his shirt, tracing the outline of his spine. “I need to prepare for tomorrow.”
“Ah, the induction ceremony,” you mumble over a bite of the sweet bread. “What exactly should I be expecting?”
“I’m afraid I can’t reveal too many of the details. It’s a ceremony for me, too, so I haven’t been told much. I remember my father’s, though. The hunt.”
“Like what you were doing the night we met?”
He smiles, as if the memory is now fond to him.
“No. This is a little different. You’ll have to wait and see. But the night will end with my mother; she will attempt to see your gifts, where you’ll fit in most here.”
“What do you mean, ‘see’?”
“She has the sight.”
“Then she definitely won’t want to meet me.”
“Oh, she has her reservations for sure.”
“You mean your mother already doesn’t like me?”
“You say that like we all adored you the second we met you.”
His scent was filling the room, like a window had been left open in a seaside shack. Your fingers climbed higher, exploring his skin with feather light touches.
He takes in a sharp breath through his nose when he feels your body press against his.
“______,” he says, a little more stern.
“You smell good.”
“I know,” he says with a sort of half smile that makes arousal spark low in your stomach. “Did you think you were the only one who liked how I smelled?”
It’s incredibly brief, the image of another woman burying her face into his neck, but it's enough to make you tense. He’d told you he didn’t have a mate but it wasn’t like you needed one to have sex. And he was past the presenting age so he had to have had his rut quite a few times. Your thoughts snagged on the beds he must have filled, warmed and before you knew it, you were pulling away from him and storming towards the other side of the kitchen.
“What?” he laughs, looking a little too at ease for your tastes. “Don’t be jealous.”
“Why in the fuck would I be jealous?” His brows go skyward. It’s not his first time hearing you curse, but it jolts him a little that this pushed you there. “You’re the one who's jealous. You can’t even hear about your friends fucking me.”
His jaw clenches tight as he turns back to the countertop, slicing the bread a little more roughly than necessary. He’s nearly done when you finish your own, sticky sweet jam coating your fingers. He holds up a corner of it to his mouth when you interrupt.
“I’m still hungry. You spilled my oatmeal so you owe me more toast.”
He thinks about refusing you but at the sound of your growling stomach, he concedes with a long suffering sigh..
“You’re getting crumbs all over the floor,” he gestures vaguely to the bay window. “Go sit down.”
“And if I don’t?” you challenge, expecting him to compel you, but he doesn’t. In the next breath he’s lifting you into his arms and stalking towards the bay window.
“Hey! I can walk!”
“Apparently not,” he scoffed, plopping you down next to him, offering you another plate
You take it.
And then crawl into his lap, your knees sinking into the soft cushions on either side of his thighs.
“Is this necessary?” he asks, tone reprimanding, but he doesn’t fight the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Yes. Now, feed me.”
He laughs once, incredulously. “I thought you weren’t a baby. Besides, you’ve got hands. Use them.”
It’s at that exact moment, your hands busy themselves under his shirt again, and his breath hitches.
He loses a drawn out breath and offers you a corner of it; at the last moment though, he pulls it out of reach. “Behave, or I’ll put you on the floor.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Didn’t mean he had to tell you so.
You scooch closer, not wanting an inch of space between your bodies. In doing so, though, your core drags against him and that heat engulfes your body all at once. His scent rises tenfold and all you can do is breathe him in, suddenly feeling slick between your thighs.
He watches as you finish the last corner of toast, your lips sticky with the sweet jam and he’s tempted–so very tempted– to lick it off that he doesn't notice your fingers rising to his mouth, tracing his bottom lip.
“______,” he grits out, “I should go.”
“Not yet,” you breathe, winding your hips in small tight circles over him.
You can feel his body responding to you, tensing, tightening, anything to avoid having his way with you. Something wicked takes over and you lean closer, lips hovering over his neck.
“You want me. I can feel it.”
He chuckles but it comes out breathy, and he presses a kiss to the hollow of your shoulder.
“Darling, I’m not the only one who wants this. I can smell how wet you are.”
His eyes dart down to where the two of you are touching, pressed together so tightly he can feel every jolt of your pulse. “So messy,” he chided, clicking his tongue.
And yet with each jump of your pulse, he seems to respond, hardening beneath you. It makes you press against him harder, as if you can bypass the layers of clothes and sink onto him. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as the image paints itself at the forefront of your mind. His tongue darts out to taste the skin of your collarbones and you go molten.
“Is that what you want?”
Your brow creases through the haze until you scan your shields and find that door open to him again. You don’t even bother closing it, instead pouring every filthy thought down the bond.
Namjoon shudders beneath your fingertips, eyes squeezing tight as he examines each image carefully. His teeth digging into the flesh of your neck as he claims you, his fingers stuffing themselves inside you to keep his release from spilling out, a particularly enticing image of him fucking you into the floor that makes his hips jut upwards, rubbing against you with enough pressure that you stop thinking about your fear and your future and any other woman who might have touched him like this.
Years–you had spent years alone and cold and no different than any other wild animal, starving in more ways than one. But with him… your body nearly wept for that touch, if only because it made you feel alive.
The hand that had been resting along the small of your back made its way round to your abdomen, splaying across your skin. It rises higher until it's met with the underside of your breast and you feel your nipples harden through Jungkook’s shirt. Your hips settle into a steady rhythm, rocking against him, half torn between placing his mouth directly onto your breasts or letting him explore them freely with his hands.
He brushes a thumb over your nipple and a small gasp escapes your lips. His eyes finally flutter open, pupils blown wide and impossibly darker, even outlined with that signature ring of gold. His gaze is searing your skin, and it may be the first time you understand how it feels to be set on fire. It’s then he gets to a certain image of you swollen with his pups and he growls–actually growls. You only show him to get a rise out of him but it works a little too well, his resolve hardening to the point of pain.
“You know the words I want to hear.”
You meet his gaze through lowered lashes but he doesn't budge.
“Being in heat makes you want things without thinking about the consequences. I told you my reasons for… resisting. I will continue to do so until you are a little more clear headed. Until you use your words and tell me what you want.”
He knows exactly what you want; the evidence is smeared over the tent in his pants and completely damning. But even despite this tenuous understanding you now have, a small part of you still hesitates, still wonders what it would mean to cross this line. Not just because of what you’d endured at the hands of another Alpha, but because of this godsdamned tug that seems to be connected to the very core of your being. Perhaps sex with him wouldn’t just be sex. Perhaps you aren’t fully ready for that.
He untangles your limbs from his and you don’t stop him, standing on wobbly feet, ignoring the scent of you clinging to his pants where you’d been rubbing against him.
You don’t know what you’re going to say as your mouth opens, but then the bedroom door opens and Jimin stumbles out, rubbing at his eyes.
“Sorry for getting her all worked up…guess you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
As he walks past you, though, you have the impression of knuckles brushing against the back on your hand.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You don’t know which gods to thank when Jimin’s lips seal onto yours, not an ounce of timidity in his actions. There was such a growing ache between your thighs that you would have done anything for relief; but you didn’t want him to be gentle, you didn’t want him to be tender. And he acted accordingly without hesitation.
Through clashing teeth and hot presses of tongue he maneuvered you onto the couch, removing his clothes with a speed and grace you had to appreciate.
His teeth scraped along the column of your neck and your breasts seemed to ache for his touch. An omega he might be, but his urges were still animalistic; and when your back arched, drawing attention to your pebbled nipples, you felt that predatory focus shift to them.
The ring around his eyes began to glow, a crystalline amethyst color that reminded you of the caves you used to stay in along the sea. And with each inhale of your scent it glowed a little brighter, vanilla and jasmine settling over him like a second skin.Your breath sawed out of you as he pulled one into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth, the pain making your thighs squeeze together tightly.
And then his tongue became occupied with other things besides talking and your hands went flying to his hair, deep brown strands slipping between your fingers like silk.
“Would you like an audience or another participant?” he murmured into your skin and it took you several seconds to remember how to speak.
Luckly, he predicted your answer and moments later, Taehyung staggered out of the bedroom, his face still puffy with sleep. But he quickly blinks it away when his eyes land on you, on the lewd look on your face.
He blushed furiously and your eyebrows rose.
Jimin released your nipple with a pop. “He’s a little shy with this stuff at the beginning, ______, so we’ll have to be extra accommodating. Give him time to warm up to it.”
His gaze shifts to his friend and he smirks around your breast.
“Taehyung? Shy? Sounds debatable.”
His shade deepens at his words thrown back in his face. But he doesn’t look away this time, watching as Jimin’s hand disappears beneath the waistband of your jeans, watching as your mouth falls open in a soft oh.
He swears at the wetness he finds waiting for him, his fingers teasing your opening. You try to move your hips, to get his fingers to slip inside you but he continues his tantalizing strokes, his hair falling in front of his eyes.
Taehyung shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, waiting to be told what to do with himself. And then he hears it–actually hears Jimin’s fingers slip inside you and his blood begins to boil. The wet sounds of him pleasuring you is staining his cheeks a deep crimson color, but he can’t help the way his breath hitches, the way his shorts begin to feel too restrictive.
Heat flooded you, and yet you watched him– so different from the confidence he walked around with in the light of day.
It made you want to ruin him.
“Come here, Taehyung.”
Your eyes trail him as he makes himself comfortable on the coffee table, an arms length from you just as Jimin is helping you out of your shorts, out of the undergarments stained with your slick.
“Doesn’t she smell good?”
He nods, eyes dropping to your cunt, glistening with your juices.
“Why don’t you have a taste, Taehyung? I think these,” a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, “could use a little more of my attention.”
Jimin helps you into a sitting position and then immediately places you on his lap, spreading your legs. The image of Taehyung falling to his knees before you brands itself into your mind.
“Can I?” his breath is hot against your inner thighs.
His tongue swipes through your folds and you both curse simultaneously. He swipes his tongue through a second time, a third time, slower, savoring your taste. As if he has all the time in the world to find out what you like best, what makes you squirm, what makes you needy.
Jimin’s hands ghost along your body, his clean chamomile scent so thick you could drink it down. His full mouth is hot on your skin as he peppers kisses down your neck, his tongue darting out to taste you, to mark you. And all the while his hands trace the slope of your breasts, pinching your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger until your head falls back onto his shoulder. He murmurs something about them being perfect and the praise makes you shudder. More, more, more.
If all the attention on your breasts had been his plan to make you rock your hips against Taehyung’s face, he had done an excellent job–your hips undulated, following each movement of his tongue, desperate for the release that was building, carrying you along like a current.
And you knew what it was pushing you towards.
He pulls your clit into his mouth with a groan, the friction so delicious you stop caring about how you sound and how you look. There’s only this, only his tongue flicking against you, circling you, your nipples hardened to the point of sweet pain. Your breath shudders out of you as that wave reaches its peak and crashes. He let’s your legs shut around his face, but his tongue does not cease–if anything, it delves deeper, hungry for every drop you will give him.
It’s only as you realize he means to make you come undo a second time that your body register’s Jimin’s fingers, slowly circling your nipples. You bow into the touch, silently begging him.
“You look so pretty like this, ______.”
Without warning, you slipped into that empty space that exists just before tipping off the edge–the place where you are nothing and no one–just a body whose sole purpose is to receive pleasure, to let it burn through you until you are raw and aching. And you would do anything to tip the scale, to be sent free falling into bliss as many times as you could take it. Desire thrummed through you like a live wire, wrapped its way around you and squeezed–until the only sounds coming out of your were wet and insatiable. You didn’t know whose name to moan, but as soon as Taehyung’s tongue dipped inside you, your hands flying to his hair to keep him in place, all coherent thought eddied from your mind.
“Gods,” he groaned into you, steadying your hips with a hand pressed just below your navel and stars exploded behind your eyelids.
Jimin’s fingers clamped down on you as a scream ripped its way from your throat. Try as you might, they kept you in place, giving you no choice but to ride it out in all its intensity.
Jimin cooed his praises into your ear like honey, rubbing his hands along your arms.
“How does she taste?”
It was then your eyes finally pried themselves open–and found Tehyung’s face dripping with your release. It didn't deter him from smirking, though, as he licked the excess from your inner thigh. “Sweet.”
“The fruit, perhaps?” he asks, with a glance toward the kitchen where Namjoon had left strawberries, black berries, and blueberries along the counter.
They continued their back and forth and you were content to let them, needing a moment to real yourself back in, flex the numb parts of your body. If Jimin was uncomfortable with you propped up in his lap, no doubt making a mess of his thighs, he didn’t say, only traced lazy patterns on your hip.
You thought perhaps you were done for when that hand began hitching a little lower and your breath caught in your throat.
“She’s still leaking, isn’t she?” he asks, the smile evident in his voice.
Taehyng lowers his gaze back to what is inches away from his mouth, looking inclined to feast on you again.
“One of you better fuck me and you better do it now.”
Taehyung smirks at Jimin in what you can only guess is a response to whatever discussion is going on inside their heads.
“Lift your hips for me, ______.”
You do as he says, giving him room to free his cock from his boxers. All thought goes to the feeling of him pressing inside you, that relentless itch desperate for relief.
It’s a massive effort to turn your gaze away from his cock– half buried inside you–and look into his eyes.
“If at any point you start to feel uncomfortable, I want you to tell me right away. Do you understand?”
That was all the confirmation he needed to pull you the rest of the way onto him.
If he noticed you clenching around him almost immediately, his only indicator was the tightening of his grip on your waist as you began to move. Just as you began to fall into a rhythm, his finger curled beneath your chin, turning it to face him, the space between you filled with shared breath.
“I want to watch you,” he purred, and you could have moaned at the look on his face, his pupils dark and dilated, his lips raw and pink from his incessant kisses.
Even though you’d nodded, he kept his grip firm on your chin, his hips rising to meet you with every upward thrust. It was intimate in a way you’d never been before. In a way you weren’t sure you liked it if only because it was impossible to hide how good it felt, to keep each facial expression neutral, to keep each sound locked away in your throat.
“Gods, you feel so good,” he mumbled, eyes briefly fluttering closed.
He had you so distracted with his lips and his eyes and his godsdamned breathing, you hadn’t noticed the hand on your hip traveling towards your center until his middle finger was outlining your clit in torturously slow movements.
You bit down on a whimper but he’d heard it. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any wetter,” he says, clicking his tongue.
He’s starting to hit the right spots, starting to slip into his groove between teasing and torture when the knot suddenly snaps and your knees knock together in an attempt to dull the intensity of it.
Taehyung groans at the sight, mouth hanging open as it he’s already starving for another taste of you, perhaps even as Jimin fucks you. The idea isn’t unpleasant.
You’re still shaking, still waiting for the edges of your vision to clear when he says, “Open your legs, ______. I’m not done with you yet.”
The implication alone stokes that fire inside you higher, hotter, and you’re almost embarrassed by how badly you need him to move again.
He’s no longer tentative with his movements, his thrusts stronger and more accurate, the onslaught of pleasure making your eyes water, making you gasp a little each time he re-enters you.
You're not sure when your eyes fall closed but they snap open as soon as you feel a wet heat at your center, and you’re greeted with the sight of Taehyung’s lips wrapped around your clit.
His hand is warm on your hip, doing his best to steady you, even as Jimin fucks into you at a steadily increasing pace.
The tears come in full force now, Taehyung pulling your clit into his mouth and swirling around it until you’re shaking again, near begging for him to stop or never stop while Jimin plunges in and out of you. Your very existence narrows to the feel of him, to the tightness threatening to snap. Your heartbeat spikes and you tumble over that edge, the force of it spreading to your fingertips. Release barreled down your spine andTaehyung gripped you in place, despite your wailed curses.
“Oh, gods,” you cry out, nails digging into Jimin’s hand wrapped around your stomach as he fucks you through it, sloppily, sporadically.
And just as your wave peaks, he tumbles after you, pressing as much of himself inside you as he cums, teeth digging into the skin of your shoulder.Taehyung focused on the apex of your thighs, and didn’t complain at the taste of his dark haired friend mixed in with yours as he worked you through the last throes of it.
Your body feels both filled with air and cement, so light you could float through the ceiling, but at the same time it’s the only way you’d be able to move.
Taehyung somehow has a washcloth in his hand and is wiping you down, providing light, soothing touches that make you helpless toward the oncoming rush of exhaustion.
“How do you feel?”
“Good. So good. Great.”
One of them laughs.
And then there are arms beneath your knees, lifting you off of Jimin, spilling his release out of you in streams. You have to fight the whine lodging itself in your throat, even as you’re placed gently back onto the couch.
“Well? I gave you a show. It’s only fair that you return the favor.”
There are gentle fingers on your chin, turning you to meet Taehyung’s gaze as that cinnamon and sap becomes so tangible you can nearly taste it on your tongue.
“Do you still need more?” he asks, and you can tell he wants nothing more than to sink into you. But it was your choice–it would always be your choice with them.
Perhaps you may have had the energy to give him some sort of affirmation, but then you feel his lower body press into your stomach and all ability to speak is lost.
Hard–he was so hard.
So instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him within an inch of your face, needing him closer.
His breathing is strained but he takes a moment to smear your juices and Jimin’s cum around your opening, getting you used to the feel of him, making you desperate for it. He dips himself inside you and the stretch needed to accommodate just the head of him makes your back arch off of the couch, pulling him flush against you, chest to chest.
Inch at a time, he presses in further and it's a considerable effort not to whimper his name. So you sink your teeth into the juncture between his neck and shoulder; not quite piercing his skin but the sudden flash of pain makes him hiss. When he finally does bottom out, you’re both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, panting.
“I bet you could make her cum just like that,” Jimin says from his seat on the coffee table.
Something wicked flashed across Taehyung’s face before his thumb at your clit, making you spasm around his cock until you can’t keep the moans down, can’t keep still or quiet.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there!”
He doesn’t stop you when your hips begin to wind, fucking yourself on his cock while he watches. It doesn’t take long to get you to that edge, to get you clawing at his shoulders before that knot snaps and something like ecstasy pulses through you, shatters you until your body locks up. It takes maybe fifteen or twenty seconds for that tension to ease, for your body to slack.
“I didn’t cum,” he breathes, strained. “I didn’t, I held out. Aren’t I a good boy?”
You feel half delirious as you nodd. “So good.”
He swallows once, his throat bobbing.
“Can I fuck you now? Please?”
You hum in response and you swear you hear a whispered thank the fucking gods.
You’ve lost track of how many times you reached release already but the simmering heat of him dragging against your walls as he removes himself…Gods, you shouldn’t be this close again already.
Especially because he wants to be gentle–you can tell by how slow he starts off. But then he’s pushing your knees to your chest, a string of curses leaving his lips, and you know he’s lost that last bit of control.
With one wide hand he holds your knees in place, keeping them squeezed together and pressed tightly against your chest. But the other is balancing him on the arm of the sofa and his thrusts become deeper, harder. You don’t know how your hands manage to cover his in each position but you hold on for dear life as he pounds into you, no longer shy about the sounds that leave him or the sounds that leave you.
“Can you feel me?”
You nodded frantically, heat staining your cheeks as your slick leaks out of you, probably forever staining the cushions. But it’s not enough, not even close and so he lowers himself to a hairsbreadth from your face, and his thrusts become torturously slow. “I said, can you feel me?” he asks, accentuated with a particularly deep thrust you know would be visible from your stomach.
“I can–shit–I can feel you,” you murmur, bottom lip trembling.
His hair frames his face, nearly covering his eyes but the flash of green keeps them within your view, pins you as his thrust picks up speed. Jimin’s gaze is a physical thing along your skin, heat trailing wherever his eyes look, and you already know where they’re snagged.
You would never have guessed he'd be this big, so thick that there wasn’t a place inside you he wasn’t touching, wasn’t stimulating with each angled thrust. And when he found your g spot you cried out, tears biting at the corner of your eyes.
He did not slow, even going so far as to laugh when the salty tears fell from your eyes, wetting your cheeks.
“She cries so pretty, Jimin, look at her.”
“Aw, does it feel that good, ______? You like it that much?”
Your voice is caught in your throat, tight with strain as you try to weather it, try to grip his shoulders and wait for him to finish.
Until you feel his cock slip out of you and your eyes shoot open.
“Holy gods,” he breathes. “Look at her pussy, Jimin.”
“Fuck, that’s so hot.”
“Taehyung,” you whine, unintentionally clenching around nothing.
“What, baby, you wanna cum again?”
He slips inside you and you gasp…then he pulls all the way out again, a serpentine grin splitting his face.
“You didn't answer my question.”
“Oh, don’t tease her, Tae,” Jimin quips, sarcasm dripping from each word.
“Tease?” he answers, seating himself fully inside you once more before retreating, covered in your slick.
“I would never do such a thing.”
“When you go into your rut I’m gonna remember this.”
His eyes flash dangerously. “When I go into my rut, you won’t be able to walk without feeling me inside you.”
Before you can return the statement with your own venom, he’s pushing back into you, grinding his hips in slow circular motions that make all other thoughts focus onto him, onto how perfect he feels inside you, onto the fire building in your veins.
He isn’t playing around anymore, angling his thrusts so they hit just the right spot each time he re-enters you, eyeing the creamy rings beginning to form at the base of his cock with a soft kind of awe.
His thumb returns with lazy circles on your clit, and heat strikes you like lightning as you come undone, writhing in his grasp, clenching tight.
“Holy shit,” he moans, your release squirting out of you, drenching his thighs. Your cheeks are wet with tears as you whimper his name, convulsing with each incessant wave of bliss.
His thrusts may have slowed but they don’t stop. And as soon as you can open your eyes again, he picks up speed and your mouth falls open.
“Taehyung,” you manage, eyes rolling back.
He lowers your knees and they wrap around his waist like second nature, locking him into place as he pistons in and out of you. His thrusts turn sporadic, his breath hot against your skin as his head falls to the hollow of your shoulder.
“Gods, you’re getting tighter.”
You hadn’t noticed. It was as if your body knew he was close and was doing everything in its power to milk him dry. He began shuddering on top of you, murmuring your name.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum.”
The needy sound of your name on his lips is your undoing.
Your body tightened around him like a viper and ecstasy claimed you once again as he filled you, fucked it into you until your ankles locked him in place. You went limp, trembling in his arms, but content. He didn’t bother to pull out, even as some of the excess spilled out of you in ropes, even as he began to soften.
“Gods above,” he swore, deflating against you entirely.
Perhaps it was the hormones but you wrapped him in your arms, nestled his face into the crook of your neck while you both tried to catch your breath.
Your smile was so wide your cheeks hurt. “Good…I feel so full.”
“Yeah, I’ve been a little pent up the last few weeks. I suppose you were lucky.”
The lack of sleep the previous night was starting to weigh on you, so you don’t bother with a witty reply, instead running your fingers through his deep brown waves, savoring the feel of him pressed against you, still inside you.
“We’re definitely going to have to trash this sofa now,” Jimin pipes up from the coffee table, leaning back onto his hands.
“Yeah, well...Namjoon will have to get over it.”
That’s it for chapter 7! I hope you guys liked it!
@jinssexytoe @scandal-in-bohemia @ot7nem @toughbook @jammydogers @noonas-magicshop @xoxoclara @daydreambrliever @dramionerex @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @childfmoonn @tinyoonsblog @mrcleanheichou @scuzmunkie @fullmindlady @taradevonne @gardengnomelife
If I missed anybody or if you would like to be added to this tag list, please just let me know💫
Snowbaz or Wolfstar?
(((This fic is inspired by a game on discord last night. I actually don't know much of anything about Wolfstar, but the resemblance to Snowbaz is striking. )))
We're standing in line at the London Comic Con, when someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around, and a man is standing there, smiling. "Hey guys, you're looking great. Nice sweater, by the way."
I look down. Huh? It's just a ratty old sweater I borrowed from my uncle Jamie this morning. Baz and I were staying the night at my grandmother's house, and planning to go to this event the next day. I had forgotten to pack a change of clothes, and the only shirt I had with me was too tight--I mean, you could see all the folds of my wings against my back. Not so good for blending into a crowd. I needed something bulkier, so I nicked this sweater from Jamie's room on our way out the door. It's pretty plain. Just green with some horizontal gray stripes. I look like a proper dork, if you want the truth. Not my style at all.
Baz is dressed to kill, of course. He has on one of his flashiest suits, and he just got some new piercings in his ears. He's always fit, but those piercings--Merlin!
People have been staring at us, and nodding appreciatively, and occasionally giving a thumbs-up. I figured it's just the usual admiring throng who need to get an eyeful of Baz, but they seem to be eyeing me, too. I can't imagine why. I'm just a regular bloke, and I even nicked myself shaving this morning, so I have sort of a raggedy scar down one cheek. It's fucking embarassing, but still, I wasn't going to miss this Comic Con. Andrew Garfield is here, and I want him to sign my Spiderman posters and comic books. (Baz thinks I'm ridiculous, but I think he just prefers Tobey Maguire. Baz is a traditionalist, after all.)
Anyhow, all this positive attention has been right nice for a change. We've been holding hands ever since we arrived, and getting only smiles. Apparently, Comic Cons are another place where two blokes can be gay at will. (Sorta reminds me of that Ren Faire in Omaha--the one where we met Shep. I guess some good did come out of that trip, after all.)
Baz can't decide if he likes the attention, or doesn't like it. He's been going back and forth between preening and looking tetchy. He's adorable either way. I squeeze his hand.
The man who tapped my shoulder is still standing there, and now he holds up his mobile phone. "Mind if I get your photograph? Will you be in the competition later? Look cute, you two!"
I have no idea what's going on here, but he seems nice enough, and I'm prepared to go along with it, but Baz steps in and stops him.
"What on earth do you think you're up to? Why are you so keen on taking our photograph?"
"No harm meant, mate. I promised my girlfriend I would get some photos. She couldn't come today because of work--you know how it is."
"Understood. But why do you want a photograph of us?"
"My girlfriend was a real shipper, back in the day."
Huh? What's he on about?
"Explain," says Baz.
"I thought...aren't you WolfStar? I mean--your hair, that outfit," he gestures toward Baz. "And he even cut a real scar on his cheek--that's dedication." He now points at me. I finger my scratched cheek in embarassment. "Wait--you're not telling me that you two just look this way?"
To my surprise, Baz is now chuckling. "Ok, yes, we will pose for you. Tell your girlfriend we say hello." He puts his arm around my waist, and the man takes a photo as Baz kisses my cheek.
As soon as the man thanks us and leaves, I hiss "Baz--what the fuck is WolfStar?"
"Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, as a couple, Snow. I used to ship them, too." He sighs, and colors a little at this. "When I was younger."
"Yes, Snow, Harry Potter."
"I don't remember any gay couples in Harry Potter. And I thought JK Rowling is going around saying transphobic shit on Twitter."
"She is. But WolfStar isn't really about her. It's about subverting her intentions and writing our own representation into the narrative."
"Our representation--like, you and me? As Remus and Sirius?"
"Well, I suppose we do look the parts."
"Okay, then, mate. Let's join that cosplay competition. I bet we'll win."
"Are you sure, Snow? We don't have to. We can just get that silly autograph and enjoy the rest of the convention."
"Come on, Baz, let's try. Do it for younger you. Maybe there's another closeted teen vampire out there who needs a role model." I nudge his elbow and give him the look that always makes him cave. "Do it for us."
"Okay, Snow," he agrees. "Why not? Let's go sign up." (I knew he'd agree. He's a fucking pushover.) And together, we make our way to the booth to register for the contest.
17 and 20 for the soft dialogue 💕
“I’m fine, honest.” “Let me see.” + “C’mere, sweetheart.” Ok, I'm cheating a little with the second one since I already used it once but I think you'll forgive me. Also, is it bodyguard au again? Of course. 💁🏻♀️
"Hey, Julie! Over here, baby, give me a smile!"
Julie cringed and ducked her head, hastening her footsteps in an effort to cross the distance between the door and the waiting car in record time.
She wasn't sure how the waiting crowd had managed to figure out that she was inside doing an interview but she wasn't exactly surprised. This wasn't the 90s after all, everyone had a phone in their pocket, and all it took was one tweet for the news to spread like wildfire.
She usually didn't mind that much, the lack of privacy wearing on her but also serving as proof that she had touched people's lives with her music. But since the man had broken into her apartment and especially since the stalker had managed to drag her out of a venue and almost successfully kidnap her...
The crowds that followed her could sometimes feel a little ominous.
"Julie! Come on, don't ignore me!"
Julie ducked her head even more.
Especially when it was older men who felt the need to shout at her.
A hand landed gently yet firmly on her lower back, guiding her forward and Julie took a deep breath as an instant feeling of comfort washed over her.
Since the attempted kidnapping she hadn't been able to argue with her label when they insisted that she needed more than one bodyguard most of the time so there was a man she didn't know well a step in front of her, clearing her path.
But Luke was still there, hovering at her side, his presence appreciated both as the only bodyguard she truly trusted and as the friend she just might have more than friendly feelings for.
"Hey, Julie! C'mere, sweetheart!"
Julie barely had the time to register the man's words before a human shaped blur was leaping at her from the side.
She let out a gasp of surprise and threw her hands up instinctively as though that would save her from whatever attack was coming. Of course in reality it was Luke's quick reactions and strong muscle tone that got her out of harm's way, one of his arms shoving her behind him at the same time that the other came up to stop the man in his tracks.
Julie hadn't even realized that she had closed her eyes until she blinked them open, taking in the sight of her nameless bodyguard pushing the man aside as Luke ushered her towards the car. Once they were inside and Luke had slammed the door behind them, his attention turned to her immediately, his eyes sweeping over her clearly searching for injuries.
"Did he...was he trying to hurt me?" Julie asked, her voice steady even though her mind was still racing.
"He had a pen and paper," Luke informed her, still eying her worriedly. "Seems like he wanted an autograph but we're not taking any chances."
She couldn't blame him for that and in fact she was grateful for it even though the necessity of it made her a little sad.
She didn't want to focus on that though.
So she chanced a joke.
"Yeah, but I mean do you know how many ways someone can kill you with a pen?" Julie asked mock seriously. "Spoiler alert, it's a lot."
Luke didn't seem distracted by her teasingly quoting him at all.
"Is your arm ok?"
"Well, you did grab me pretty hard," Julie tried again for humor but only earned herself a deep frown from Luke. "I'm joking. I'm fine, honest."
"Let me see," Luke insisted, pulling her arm gently toward him.
Julie fully expected herself to jump right back into teasing him for his overprotective nature even after she was objectively out of danger but something about the way his thumb was tracing a gentle pattern over her skin that stopped her in her tracks.
She wasn't sure what she had been about to say, and his eyes shooting up to meet hers, warm and concerned and Luke only left her feeling more out of control and at risk of saying something that could bring their fragile friendship crashing to the ground.
Luckily...or unluckily...she was saved from her own emotions by the front door of the car opening and her other bodyguard sinking into the seat, her driver talking this as confirmation that it was time to leave and pulling away from the curb.
Julie glanced down at where she and Luke were still connected, his hand reluctantly pulling back from her arm only when a bump in the road made it entirely obvious that he had held on a little too long.
"I better um, call Alex," Julie said quickly, withdrawing to her side of the backseat. "Let him know we'll be a few minutes late."
Luke nodded, but moved towards her not away, reaching over her shoulder and pulling her seatbelt down to click into place.
Julie gaped at him, completely unprepared for his sudden proximity, but Luke seemed to have recovered from their odd moment and was back to his usual self.
"Safety first," He told her with a grin, tapping her seatbelt before finally retreating and pulling on his own seatbelt.
"Yeah, safety first," Julie mumbled, fumbling for her phone in an attempt to look busy.
Being with Luke constantly was simultaneously the safest and the most in danger she had ever felt in her life and eventually she was going to have to deal with that contradiction.
Possibly the cutest happy dance ever filmed.
synopsis you’ve long since known that you would mean nothing more to gojo satoru than just another lay, but this time, you’ve had enough.
genre smut, angst, modern au | gojo x reader, sukuna x reader
content warning explicit smut (mdni), name-calling, female reader, unprotected sex, unrequited love, more angst than smut really, not proofread
word count 1.5k
notes idk how this came about but i needed to try to get out of a slump, sorry if i’m a little rusty <3 likes & rbs always appreciated.
You’d rather be a little something, than nothing at all.
The party outside drones on, but it’s nothing more than mere background noise for the both of you. You’re sure Getou is going to kill the both of you for ruining his sheets, but right now, neither of you could care less.
His quick hands shoot up to clamp over your mouth, grip impossibly firm around your cheeks, beautiful cerulean eyes emerge from behind his white tresses, looking down at you with a hint of a warning behind their unrelenting glare.
Yes, a simple warning you know all too well: Shut up, you’re about to ruin the illusion.
Your own hands struggle to pry his wrist away—it hurts. It hurts; the way his thumb is crushing the side of your cheek. It hurts; the way he’s pounding into your poor abused cunt so hard and fast without gifting you any sort of foreplay beforehand. What hurts the most though, is that he doesn’t see you when he fucks you dumb.
All Gojo sees is the imagination of an old flame—who, you know nothing about. In spite of that, you’ve reached new heights of jealousy. Gojo had always been private when it came to her, but never secretive. Everyone knew Gojo had something going on with someone, and that she was beautiful, and gorgeous—on an entirely different level than you could ever dream of reaching. (He tells you so himself.)
And he made sure you knew that. The endless ways he’d sing her praises after he’s done using what he always uses you for. All the while telling you that nobody compares to her—by definition, that includes you. Sometimes you wonder; is he really just oblivious to your feelings or does he just simply not care?
Sure, you were nothing compared to the beautiful bombshell that is whoever has captured his full attention, that you are quite certain, but after being friends for at least the last decade of your life—surely your feelings deserved his tiny amount of care?
The sting in your heart grows more by the second, no matter how intimately the two of you are intertwined in this moment. It grows because you already know the answer. After all, the man who currently has your heart in his grasp and deigns to acknowledge any speck of it is the Gojo Satoru. Heart rarely enraptured and love seldom given (if ever).
The way he shifts his grip down from the apple of your cheeks to the base of your neck distracts you from your thoughts momentarily, the restriction in your airways the sort of pain you at least find pleasure in, though you wonder why.
His other hand snakes its way down your body—a momentary squeeze on your tits, his soft lips a hard contrast to his harsh tongue, flicking against your perky buds while his fingers finally find their destination against your clit, pinching it harshly before he bites down on your nipple as punishment for mewling too loudly.
“Wanna cum, hm, you little slut?” Gojo mocks you, stilling his hips the moment he feels your cunt tightening harder around his length. He’s fucked you enough times to know when you’re about to absolutely lose it; and most times, he’s been nice enough to fuck you through it, but this time, he denies you of it just as you feel like you’re about to reach your high.
You nod profusely, opening your mouth to beg him to move but he sticks two fingers in your mouth, failing to stifle a moan as you lick his digits, and you’re glad to feel his cock twitching inside your pussy—that must mean you’re doing your job, because he moves his hips, each slap of skin against skin rougher and harsher than the previous.
“Such a good—fucking whore for me,” he growls under his breath, the validation making your pussy flutter.
In your head, you know what your friends would think about you letting yourself be used like this by Gojo over and over: pathetic. But you’ve long since made peace with the fact that maybe you’re as useful as you’d ever be to him by being nothing but his little fucktoy; just a fleshlight for him to pound into as and when he liked. You’ve never had the will to say no anyway.
Sometimes you think the same of yourself—weak, hopeless, pitiful. But when you feel his length drag across your gummy walls like this, when the rough pads of his fingers play along your puffy folds—you forget. You forget that he doesn’t love you, you forget that you’re helplessly in love with someone who would never want you. You forget all of the everyday misery for just a fraction of mutual gratification.
And every night with Gojo ends the same—he stuffs you full of his cum, smirking down at you as he slowly pulls out, admiring the way it drools out of your pretty little cunt before leaving you to clean up after yourself; he’s made it pretty clear where he draws the line. He’s only ever there to help you get off, but never the one to give aftercare. Apparently, that was something too intimate for him, you guess.
But after you come out of the bathroom, you find Gojo surprisingly still on the bed, idly scrolling through his phone. He’s been like this lately, staying after the sex more often. Be it at your place, or his, or now at some random party.
As far as Gojo goes, it’s strange. Usually, all he does is cum and run. You wonder why he stays nowadays—that little hopeful optimistic in you glittering slightly as you ponder on what could be. So maybe this is what possesses you to ask him the question you’ve always feared.
“Satoru?” You call out meekly as you settle beside him on the bed.
“Mm,” he acknowledges, eyes glued onto his phone screen at god knows what.
“Do you think you would ever give us a shot?”
Gojo’s fingers freeze in motion, and his straight face downturns into a frown, which has you regretting your decision straight away. But whatever you plan on saying to save your ass, Gojo doesn’t let you.
He gets up off the bed, fingers fumbling against the nightstand for his wallet and car keys before staring you dead in the eyes. “We’re done. Don’t call me again.”
Simple. Cold. Like frostbite. And just like the way he entered your life, he leaves just as easily. You’re only left humiliated and dumbfounded on Getou’s bed—wondering if your question really warranted such a cold reception.
A part of you is in shambles, in despair. That part of you wants to curl up in a ball and cry. But there’s another part of you that’s absolutely furious, a part of you that is screaming for you to know your worth, for you not to succumb to the former. The tear that rolls down your cheek betrays the latter—a sign that somehow Gojo has sunk his hooks in you too deep without even trying.
“You alright there?”
What an utter embarrassment. To be caught like this by a total stranger. But as you look up, you find a familiar face, a face that Gojo actually despises. For what reasons, he’s never told you. But to hell with that. You’re heartbroken, and absolutely scorned. You could make better decisions than this, but all you want to do now is prove to Gojo that you’re able to do just fine without him.
So maybe indulging in a complete stranger wouldn’t be so bad after all, would it?
The next time Gojo ever sees you is a year later, by chance at a party hosted by a mutual friend of both of yours; Utahime Iori.
While almost everyone has eyes on him, his cerulean hues fall on only you—your hair done up into a braided bun, the tight black dress hugging every inch of your body just right, the low neckline making Gojo struggle to decide just what part of you to look at.
Every single inch of you, from head to toe, is a sight worth marveling at. It’s like you haven’t changed at all, still one of the most beautiful people he’s ever laid eyes on. You’re smiling, brimming from ear to ear, and Gojo can’t help but wonder what’s gotten you so happy?
Beside him, Getou whistles at your appearance, commenting offhandedly about how good you clean up, though it happens to fall on deaf ears. Why? Because there is actually one thing he has a problem with.
The guy whose arms you’re latching on to.
Gojo is sure he’s told you how much he detests that head of pink hair. So why—
But Getou asks the question for him.
“What the fuck is Y/N doing with Ryomen Sukuna?”
And Gojo sure as hell would like to find out.
Hera would initially chase the baby reader because she thinks she is Zeus's "bastard" daughter or does she know her when she is already with Hades AND Persephone?
She would think that you're her husband's bastard after she saw him chasing after you for months and then fighting with his brothers to kidnap you. So she decides what better way to hurt Zeus than hurting you. But homegirl never gets the chance, because you're always surrounded by gods. One time she got close and sent a snake your way to hurt you, but then Ares came out of nowhere and then yeeted the snake away (and then had to spend the next fee hours consoling you and apologising because he stopped you from befriending it)
Then one day, when Hera was thinking of a way to get rid of you without anyone interfering, she heard someone crying. When the loud noise didn't stop, a very annoyed Hera followed the noise to shut it down. Only when she found the source, it was you, crying in your sleep in Zeus's bed(tucked under the snuggly the soft gold covers of course). Seeing as this the perfect opportunity to kill you, she raised a hand over your head. But all of her thoughts ceased when you opened your eyes, and stared at her with fear and worry.
"M-mom?" You whimpered softly.
Hera's mouth parted. What did you call her?
"Hm?" The goddess asked.
Your eyes filled with tears, and your lips wobbled as you repeated the one word that suddenly brought such warmth to Hera's chest, she didn't understand.
"Yes?" Hera asked, lowering her hand, before hesitantly reaching over to caress your face, her breath hitching when you lean into her touch. You slowly start crying, and it's almost comical how quickly Hera swoops you into her arms, pushing your head to her chest as she pats your back. "Oh sweetie- oh, honey, what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?" She asked, eyes widening a bit when you clutched onto her clothes with your tiny hands and nodded, still crying.
"Yeah? What was it about?" She asked, watching you with gentle eyes (as if she wasn't about to wipe you from existence 5 minutes ago) as you pulled your head away from her and thought.
You furrowed your brows and looked at her. "I- I forgot." Hera cracked a grin, gosh, you are adorable, aren't you?
She nodded her head. "Well that's okay. This means you don't have to cry anymore now, hm?" She said as she wiped the remaining tears from your cheeks with her thumb.
"Yeah." You hiccuped. "But I don't wanna go to sleep now."
"Oh, you don't have to then."
You shook your head, distress evident on your face. "No, Zoo said that I must nap or- or he won't let me play with Fluffy!"
You nodded your head. "Yeah, Zoo! He's the guy that has a beard and- and leaves in his hair and and, he gives me little clouds to float on! And he had a bird! Fluffy!"
Hera realised who you were talking about after your description. "Oh, you mean Zeus." You nodded. "You know him?" Hera sighed. "I do. He's my husband." Your eyes widened. "Really?! You're married to Zoo? He is so cool! He must make you clouds all the time, doesnt he?"
He barely looks at me, let alone talk to me. Hera thought. She changed the topic quickly. "How about we go and get you a cup of warm milk? That'll help you go back to sleep."
"Will you sleep with me?" Hera looked at your hopeful eyes, something she could easily resist-
As Hera laid in bed with you, humming a lullaby as you slept, she tried to figure out how she ended up from wanting to kill you, to now wanting to keep you as hers for eternity.
For some reason, Hera's maternal instincts were kicking in full force. And she was accepting them with open arms. Perhaps she had missed the feeling, of caring for another, since Zeus didn't want her and her children were gods, so they were quick to become independent.
One thing that kept her up all night was the moment you called her "mom". Hera had somehow come to believe that perhaps she was special because you saw her as a mother figure. What she didn't know was that you often called everyone else "mom" too, just for fun. Just last week you were running away giggling as Ares chased after you because you called him "mom". At least, Dionysus was drunk nice enough to quickly put a hand on his hip and act like a suburban mom for you, freaking out Persephone when she saw him use his spit to comb back your hair.
"Mama." You mumbled in your sleep, catching her attention.
Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to care for you.
I'm here | Tony Stark
Sumarry → Tony Stark realizes that his daughter has been very different and distant lately.
Pairing → Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader | Request → Here
Word Count → 1.198
A/N → Forgive me it took me so long to write this baby I really hope it's not so bad lol. ♡ English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes.
| Masterlist | Open request! |
Tony had many successes in his life and Y/n was definitely the biggest one.
Tony is completely fascinated by his daughter, and everyone could see that, she was the greatest treasure of his life, and he would do anything for her.
But for some time now, Tony realized how different his daughter was, he noticed how much she tried to hide from him and everyone, but luckily, he had noticed.
Y / n was always very close to him, and the whole team, she was always laughing and talking, but lately, Y / n is quieter, and spends most of her day in her room, always making the same excuses
"I'm just tired, don't worry.”
“I just got a headache, don't worry.”
But that smile doesn't fool Tony Stark, his daughter wasn't okay, and he'd do everything he could to help her.
One day, Tony went to his daughter's room to talk to her, he decided he wouldn't leave until he found out what was going on with her.
"Alright, tell me who hurt you so I can kill him and we can get back to normal." Tony said entering Y/n's room as soon as she opened the door.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm fin-"
"If you tell me you're fine one more time, I'm going to freak out." Tony interrupts Y/n and sighs, he sits on her bed and pats the bed, signaling Y/n to sit beside him.
As soon as she does, Tony runs a hand through her hair, and hugs her shoulders.
"Please my daughter, tell me what's going on, has someone hurt you?" Tony says this, and Y/n sighs loudly.
"No dad, nobody did anything to me." She says it so softly, making Tony lean in to hear it.
"What's going on my love? Please trust me."
Y/n sighs, and closes his eyes feeling that the tears were about to come out like a dam.
"Dad I... I don't know what's wrong with me, I just... I don't feel like doing anything anymore." Y/n says with eyes closed.
"I don't feel like seeing anyone, I don't even feel like looking in the mirror, because I hate what I see." Y/n says starting to sob, and Tony feels his heart sink as he sees his daughter's condition.
"Dad I feel so useless, I don't know what else to do." Y/n is crying and sobbing, and Tony pulls her into a tight hug.
Y/n is hugging Tony with her head on his chest and when she cries with her eyes closed, Tony is doing his best not to cry along with his daughter.
"I'm sorry dad, I wanted to be a better daughter, I swear I try, but I can't, forgive me I'll never be good enough." Y/n says, she is still crying and Tony can't hold back the tears upon hearing this from his daughter.
"How can you say that my love? You are everything to me my daughter, you are my most precious treasure." Tony says hugging Y/n tighter, afraid she would disappear, because at that moment, he felt like he was losing her.
Tony and Y/n were crying and holding each other for a while, until Y/n quieted the sobs, and slowly let go of Tony.
"I'm sorry about the shirt daddy." She says walking away and trying to clean Tony's shirt with her hands.
"Hey." Tony says holding his daughter's hands to get her attention.
"Why didn't you tell me you were feeling this way before, dear?"
"I don't know, I didn't want to let you down dad, I'm sorry." Y/n says, sniffling.
"I'm the one who has to apologize, forgive me for not having noticed before dear." Tony says taking Y/n's face and wiping her tears with his thumb.
"You're not a failure, you're not worthless, you're the best thing that's happened in my life." Tony says this, and gives Y/n a tender kiss on the forehead.
"Without you I wouldn't even be here anymore dear, you're my sunshine, and my reason to get up in the morning." He keeps talking and wiping the new tears that fall from Y/n's eyes.
"I know sometimes things get rough, and the voices in your head keep telling you you're not enough, but believe me honey, you're already perfect, and it's so much more than I deserve." Tony says quietly in a soft voice, pulling Y/n to his chest again.
"I love you very, and if you saw yourself as I see you, you would no longer wonder why you're here."
Y/n goes back to crying into Tony's chest, but this time no sobs, only tears fall from his eyes.
"Please don't stop trying to fight this, let me help you, let's get through this together." Tony says stroking Y/n's hair, feeling her nod.
After they spend some time holding each other, Tony kisses Y/n on the head.
"Hey, where did you get that let down? Honey, you could never let me down, ever." Tony says, as soon as he notices that Y/n is no longer crying.
"Well you know, you are Tony Stark." Y/n says, and Tony looks at her in disbelief.
"You're Y/n Stark, you can't imagine the pride you give me, and nothing could change that honey, nothing."
"You can't know that." Y/n says looking at her feet.
"Of course I can, I'm Tony Stark remember?" Tony says, and winks at his daughter, who chuckles softly.
Tony gets up from Y/n's bed, and walks to a picture that he had on the wall, it was a photo with her and Tony in his lab, the two of them smiling brightly at the camera while Tony hugged Y/n by the shoulders.
"You know, this is for sure the most beautiful photo I've ever seen in my life." Tony says smiling, looking at Y/n's smile in the photo, the smile he loved so much, the smile that made his day a thousand times better.
Y/n smiles softly, and Tony looks at his daughter with the proudest, most loving gaze ever.
Tony opens his arms signaling for his daughter to give him a hug, Y/n got up from her bed, and walked over to her father snuggling into her arms in a tight hug.
"No matter your age, you will always be my baby and I will always be by your side, it's you and me against the world remember?" Tony says and kisses his daughter's head with his eyes closed.
Y/n hugs Tony tighter, and there she realizes that she doesn't have to go through this alone anymore, Tony is here, and doesn't intend to leave anytime soon.
Kink Master (Rick Flag x Fem!Reader)
Requested by @myownworldsstuff: Hello may i ask a rick flag x reader where the reader has the same skill set as black widow and he loves when she chokes people with her thighs? 👉👈 sorry to bother you.
@h-hxgirl @artemis-cr0ck @himbovillain-anon
Warnings: Langauge, Choking kink, smut, unprotected sex, thigh kink, sub/dom (Rick being sub), Face sitting, oral sex (Female receiving), hand jobs, titty fuck, body cum shots, cock ring, (Ma’am) kink, I think that’s all
Sparring had to be your absolute favorite pastime at the prison. Not only did it allow you to prove to misogynistic men that you were, in fact, a total badass, but it also allowed you to throw around a couple of the inmates to make sure they know who is boss. Knocking Digger to the ground, you laughed as you held out your hand for him to take, but he just got up by himself and grumbled that you took him down and that it was unfair. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rick sparring with Floyd, helping with some hand to hand combat before your vision was obscured by a white face with pigtails.
“Hiya sweetums,” her voice rang in your ears as you gave her a smile.
“Hey Harley, do you need something?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if you could show me how to do your little leg twisty thing,” she grinned with mischief as you raised an eyebrow at her.
“Harls, you already know how to do that. You don’t need me to show you,” you replied as she continued to grin at you before placing an arm around your shoulders.
“Come on, please,” she begged as you let out a sigh in exasperation before nodding, causing her to shriek with happiness.
“Alright, just calm down,” you chuckled as she slyly gave Floyd a thumbs up who then shot up an “ok” sign, turning his attention to Flag who didn’t notice the little exchange.
“You know what’s fine as hell?”
“What,” came Rick’s gruff reply as he watched you pull Digger back over.
“When (Y/N) does that thigh thing, you know, when she wraps her thighs around the poor fool's neck and suffocates them.”
“Oh I know,” he mumbled, admitting it to Floyd who just smiled.
“Alright Harkness, just stand here. Harley make sure you’re watching since this is what you want,” you commanded as she rapidly nodded her head and when your back was turned, she looked over her shoulder to see that you had Floyd and Flag’s attention.
“Ok, so you’re going to charge at the person, place your left arm on their left arm before grabbing their right shoulder and you’re going to bring your legs up and wrap them around the person’s neck. Then, you just follow through with your weight,” you instructed as you did the moves slowly to emphasize each point before you got off Harkness’s shoulders and ran at him with full speed. Locking your legs around his neck, you threw your body around, sending him flying to the floor as you constricted your legs until he tapped out.
“Fuck woman, trynna kill me?” He asked as he tried to regain his breathing while you didn’t break a sweat.
“Nah, well maybe,” Harley laughed with you as you turned your gaze to Flag and Floyd who were standing there watching. Suddenly, an idea popped in Harley’s head.
“Hey Flag! Wanna swap partners? She needs someone compatible with her,” Harley explained as you shot her a look before grabbing her harshly and whispering in her ear.
“Fuck you think you’re doing Quinn?”
“I’m doing you a favor, hun,” she whispered back as your head sunk to her shoulder. Despite being an insane criminal, she had actually become one of your closest friends in the prison, knowing all too well about your little crush on your co-commander.
“What (Y/L/N), you afraid to fight me?” Flag questioned as your head shot up and smiled sweetly at him.
“Please, we both know you’d go down, Colonel,” you flirted back, and this was how it always was. Meaningless flirty comments from him and meaningful flirty comments from you.
“Try me, sweetheart,” he teased, knowing you hated it when he called you that, though you secretly loved it.
“You’re on,” both of you were trained in Martial Arts and respected that from one another. After the two of you bowed to each other, you got into a fighting stance as he threw a punch at you. Easily blocking it, you continued to block each blow that he tried to deliver.
“You know, for a special ops guy, you suck at this,” you yawned as he growled, tackling you to the ground, ignoring the whoops of the inmates around the two of you. He easily dominated you with pure strength but you had agility. Squirming slightly, you threw up one of your legs and struck him in the back, causing him to loosen his grip on you which allowed for more movement. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you put all your body strength into flipping him over, pinning him to the ground.
“Give up yet?” You smirked, hands wrapped around his wrists and legs around his waist. His cock twitched at the position.
“Fuck no,” he replied, breaking out of your grasp and pushing you backwards so you were on your back, legs still around his waist. His arms caged around your face, his breath on your lips, and he realized this. Slightly letting up on his weight, you smirked at him before bringing your legs up from around his waist to around his throat. Twisting over, you ended up on top with his throat between your thighs. His hands went up to try to break the grip of your thighs, but you only tightened it more, not noticing the way Floyd and Harley giggled to each other and pointed to you and Rick. More so Rick than you, and behind you where his legs were flailing around. He brought his legs up so that they were propped against your back and that's when you realized what the pair was laughing at. Gasping, you quickly let go of the man’s throat and scrambled to stand up.
“Alright, the demonstration is over,” you stated, looking over to Harley before running out of the courtyard and to your small little bedroom.
“The hell is her issue?” Rick asked, wondering why you all the sudden got up and ran away as Floyd helped him up.
“Your Flag pole,” he stopped suddenly, laughing at the name he came up with, stirring a laugh from Harley as well, “your Flag pole is at half-mast,” Floyd managed to get out before bending over his knees and laughing as Rick’s face went red.
“Oh shit,” he stated, running after you but not before telling the guards to take the task force back to their cells.
Rick made his way through the halls before he found your door. Pausing for a minute, he let out a nervous breath before knocking on the door. Opening it immediately, you looked at Rick with a light flush to your face.
“Lt. (Y/L/N), I would like to offer my sincerest apologies. That was unprofessional and will never happen again,” he stated with his military voice, standing up as straight as a line and avoiding eye contact with you. Smiling softly, you walked toward him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down gently to your height to where his face was just centimeters above yours. Leaning up, you pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss, waiting for his reaction.
“Shut up Flag,” you whispered as his eyes grew lustful. Crashing his lips down to yours, his strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist as his foot slammed the door shut before leading you to the bed in the back corner. Pushing you down, Rick crawled on top of you, placing kisses all along your neck as your hands moved up to his hair, tugging at the strands that were growing out. You had convinced him to grow out his hair and not keep it military cadet. Rolling your hips against his, earning a throaty moan from him as your heat grazed his hard on.
“Fuck baby, you gonna be good for me?” You asked with a new found courage as he gazed up into your eyes.
“Yes ma’am,” he replied as you smirked, undressing yourself in front of him. You quickly stepped out of your pants and top as you topped him. Leaning down, you placed hot, wet kisses along his jaw as they moved down to his collarbone, before pulling away with mischief in your eyes.
“You’re gonna do as I say, or else you won’t get rewarded,” you mentioned with innocence as he nodded his head rapidly, “uh uh, use your words big boy.”
“Yes ma’am,” he struggled to get out as his hips thrusted up against yours, trying to get some of the tension removed.
“A little birdie told me that you have a thing for my thighs. Is that true, Colonel?” You asked sweetly as your hand reached behind you and softly traced the outline of his bulge as he slightly whimpered.
“Yes Lt. (Y/L/N).”
“Do you want my legs wrapped around your face as you eat me out? Is that what my baby boy wants?”
“Fuck, (Y/N),” a sharp slapped echoed through the small room as his hand immediately went up to his face, “yes ma’am.”
“Good boy,” you rubbed soothing circles into the red mark on his face as you placed your legs on either side of his face, “I’m going to fuck your face,” you stated as he smiled up to you before wrapping his arms around your thighs and burying his face beneath your heat. Licking a long path between your folds caused you to jolt forward as his tongue buried inside of you. Lapping up your juices, Rick groaned against your mound, vibrations sending through you as your hips bucked up into his face, nose gliding over your clit as you let out a soft moan.
“Fuck Rick, just like that,” you whispered as you grabbed onto his hair, slightly rocking your hips as his mouth kept steady on your cunt. You looked down as his fingers dug into the soft skin of your thighs, holding you in place as he began slurping the juices. Moving one hand away, he brought it down lower to your hold before sticking one finger in your warm body as his tongue started its attack on your small bundle of nerves. Moaning, you closed your eyes and threw your head back as the muscles around your lower abdomen began tightening and an urgent need for release grew.
“Rick, I’m close,” you whimpered, gripping his hair tighter as he nodded his head, adding another digit to your core as he rapidly pumped them in and out while his tongue swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Rutting into his face, you let go of his hair as your hands went to your nipples, tweaking and pulling on them as it sent you over the edge.
“Fuck,” Rick continued to pump his fingers in and out of your as his tongue lightly grazed over your nub, helping you come down from your high, “did you like that pretty boy?”
“Yes ma’am,” he smiled up at you as you got off of his face.
“Since you were such a good boy for me, it’s time for your reward,” you smiled wickedly as you reached over into the drawer, pulling out a small rubber ring as he glanced at it curiously.
“What’s that for?” He asked as you pulled down his pants and boxers allowing for his erection to spring free.
“You’ll see,” you replied, lightly grazing over his cock with your hand and collecting the precum on the tip before putting your finger in your mouth, sucking the salty substance off as you looked at Rick with lush in your eyes. Moving your hand back down, you slowly stroked his cock, loving the way he whimpered for your touch. With the other hand, you moved to place the ring around the base of his shaft and tightened it, preventing blood flow as he let out a loud moan that he would probably deny as soon as your activities were over. Looking down, you spit a little on the tip before massaging it into the skin, your grip tight as you continued to move up and down his length.
“You’re being such a good boy. Behaving so well,” you stated nonchalantly as your movements quickened, his hips bucking up into your hand. Noticing the way his abdomen muscles were starting to constrict, you removed your hand from his shaft before leaning back as he growled at you.
“That’s unfair,” he complained as you smiled sweetly at him.
“Life’s unfair Colonel,” you replied, slinking down to where your upper body was above his lower. Grasping your breasts in your hands, you spit in between them allowing for some lubrication before slipping his dick in between. Squishing your boobs more closely, you moved them along his cock as his eyes fluttered shut.
“Watch or you won’t get to cum,” you demanded as his eyes shot to yours before trailing down to where your breasts wrapped around his cocked and bounced up and down. Continuing bouncing your breasts, you removed one of your hands and placed a warm hand on his sac, rolling them in your palm as Rick violently jerked his hips upwards.
“Fuck baby, please don’t stop,” he begged as you smirked, one hand tugging on his sac while the other held your tits in place as they continued to jerk him off. A shiver ran through Rick’s spine as he noticed your eyes locking onto his with such determination and lust and it went right to his cock. Groaning, his hips began stuttering as sweat dripped down his abdomen, highlighting his built body with a sheen glare.
“Cum for me baby, cum on my tits. Making me your dirty little whore,” you whispered and with one final thrust and loud groan, his seed landed on your chest and chin as you continued to jerk him off, coaxing him through his orgasm. Pulling away, you collected some of his cum on your finger before you crawled up to him.
“Suck,” you commanded as he put your finger in his mouth, mind too fucked out to really think about what he was doing, “good job. You were so good for me baby,” you whispered softly as you placed a soft but loving kiss on his lips as his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you flush against him.
“That was fucking hot,” he commented into the hot air filled with the smell of sex.
“You have no clue how long I’ve wanted to do that for,” you mentioned, looking up at him and memorizing his blissful face and how relaxed he looked.
“What took you so long?”
“I guess I never knew you liked me like that and I didn’t wanna bring it up,” you shrugged as your hand went to loosen the ring around his softening cock, causing him to slightly whimper.
“Well, we should probably thank Harley and Floyd,” he remarked as you heard giggling from the outside.
“Damn right you should,” Floyd shouted as Harley’s laugh echoed through the hall causing you and Rick to quickly sit up and get dressed. Popping your head out of your office, you saw Floyd and Harley being escorted away.
“Fuck you guys!”
“Not us, Flag,” Harley retorted with a final laugh before you went back inside only for a pair of lips to be placed on yours.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” Rick threatened against your lips as his hands dug into your waist.
“I’m counting on it, Colonel.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: HEHEHHEHEHHEHEHEHE prolly one of the longest one shots I've written so please enjoy
Pairing: PowerBottom!Natasha Romanoff x Top!Reader (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)
+ sorority!Nat and minor sorority!Wanda
AN: Wow, look I finished this in one sitting! Maybe I will have time for that christmas smut then...
Summary: Playing Spin the Bottle seemed like a good idea at that time. Who knew Natasha would get so possessive?
Warnings: 18+, Smut, jealous Nat, fingering, oral, bathroom sex (let me know if I need to add more)
The rules of the game were simple.
1) You spin the bottle
2) The bottle lands on someone in the circle
3) You kiss that person
Those were the rules.
You hadn't made them up. You had no control over them.
Yet, as the bottle you had spun just moments before began slowing itself down to a stop, you felt the penetrating intensity of Natasha's glare on you increase tenfold.
...the bottle stopped
"WoOoOoO! Looks like the bottle of fate has landed on Wanda!" Tony loudly decreed, his drunken state making his words slur thickly together, "You know what that means..." You looked up to see a stoic Natasha staring at you.
"Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!" Tony began chanting by himself.
Natasha clenched her jaw together tightly.
"Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!" The rest of the group started joining in with Tony.
You swallowed hard as challenge rose in Natasha's green eyes.
"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" All of sorority girls around you began as well.
Wanda slowly crawled her way over to you from her spot across the circle, shy smile playing on her lips, "I guess the bottle has spoken." She playfully teased, soft fingers reaching for your cheek. Gently, but purposefully, she guided your gaze away from Natasha, "And the people have too." Her thumb ghosted over your bottom lip, making the goosebumps on your arms instantly rise, "So what do you say, (Y/N), let's give them what they want?"
Your mind raced in thought.
You did want kiss Wanda … but Natasha was going to kill you.
But then again it was just the rules of the game … but Natasha would still kill you.
To be fair it hadn't even been your idea to join in the first place … but Natasha was still going to kil-
Wanda's soft lips pressed onto yours.
All the worries dissapeared from your mind.
Sensing your compliance, Wanda moved a hand to the back of your neck, pulling your face closer and deepening the kiss. Her tongue swiped against the bottom of your lips, asking for permission, and you eagerly obliged. Losing yourself in the rush, your hands instinctively moved to her waist and the brunette took it as a sign to properly saddle your lap.
The distant sounds of your friends screaming in the background was muffled in the heat of the moment.
Wanda tasted like strawberries and cream.
Suddenly, a tug on your collar pulled you abruptly away.
"Let's go." Someone demanded from above you.
You looked up in a daze, sight fuzzily landing on a very pissed off Natasha towering over you.
"Let's go." The redhead repeated, lips pursed in absolute command.
Wanda scoffed aloud from in front of you, "Come on, Nat, it was just a game. No need to get so possessive."
Natasha's stone cold eyes flicked over to her second in command, and if looks could kill... "Thank you, Wanda, for that unasked for input. Now watch me pretend to care." The bite in her words were something to behold. Gaze settling back onto you, Natasha raised her brows expectantly, almost in surprise at you still on the ground, "Come on!" She urged, more insistently than before.
Deciding that an angry Natasha was easier to deal with one on one than in a group setting, you moved to stand up, "Alright. Alright."
Wanda rolled her eyes exasperatedly, shifting off of you, "She never shares." The Sokovian muttered under her breath.
Not hearing what Wanda had said, you quickly got to your feet, and the second you did so, Natasha started pulling you away.
"Ouch, Tasha, you could loosen your hold a little." You protested as the Russian dragged you through the crowds of people at the party.
A happy Pietro spotted you from the drinks table, "Hey, (Y/N)! Whatcha do-" The man quickly trailed off upon seeing the furious Natasha, "Nevermind. You look busy." He finished, practically running away from the glowering redhead.
"Look what you're doing, you're scaring away all the guest!" You reprimanded, trying to lighten the mood up a little.
Natasha's face remained unchanged.
Reaching a room at the end of the hallway, she roughly pushed you inside.
The bright lights of the Xi Kappa bathroom greeted you, "Umm, what are we doing here Na-"
Natasha's lips smashed onto yours.
Reacting quickly from the shock, you returned the kiss.
Unlike Wanda's slow and gentle one from before, Natasha's kiss was infinitely more domineering. She was confident in her actions, easily coaxing your mouth open and slipping her tongue in, exploring every inch as if claiming it as her own. Her nails dug into your neck as she held you close.
Then, just as suddenly as she had started, she pulled away, "Ugh." She groaned in disgust.
You frowned at her reaction, trying not to get offended at her discontent noise, "Ouch?"
Piercing green eyes met yours, "You taste like her." She spat out, words dripping with venom. You furrowed your brows in confusion, not following, "You taste like her - Wanda." She clarified, dissatisfaction written all over her face.
Blinking in shock, you remained silent.
A dark look passed over Natasha's, "You shouldn't have kissed her, (Y/N)."
You tried to study her face, watching her every reaction, "I'm sorry?"
Natasha studied you right back, eyes not leaving yours, "Are you really?" She challenged, pupils wide and blown under the intense light of the room.
You suddenly realized that anger may not have been the only thing the redhead was feeling at that moment. Having seen this side of Natasha before, you immediately knew what she wanted - what she needed. Moving her to the bathroom sink, you guided her atop the counter.
"Yeah, I am." You insisted.
Luckily for you, Natasha chose to wore an easily accessible outfit to the party today- the short plaid skirt she had chosen perfectly open for your ministrations. Running your hands up the soft flesh of her legs, you stared intently back at the redhead, massaging the inner of her thighs. Reaching the apex, you let one of your hands travel to her clothed core, running a knuckle against her panties. Pressing upward and into her clit, you felt the fabric start to dampen.
"I'm sorry for kissing her." You whispered, leaning into the redhead. Latching onto her neck, you sucked harshly, biting down ever so slightly. A soft moan rewarded you. At the same time, your knuckles pressed harder onto Natasha's heats, increasing the pressure on her core.
Her underwear quickly became soaked.
"You know you're the only one for me, right?" You continued, kissing down Natasha's neck and onto her shoulders. Leaning back, she gave your more access to her chest. With one free hand you slid up her shirt, palming her through her bra. With the other, you pushed aside the thin fabric of her panties and entered a long finger inside, quickly thrusting in and out without a warning. With each thrust, your palmed grazed the redhead's already enlarged clit.
"Oh, fuck." Natasha moaned, bucking her hips into you.
"The only one for me." You repeated, lost in the feeling of her tightening around you.
The redhead’s eyes had lost some of their own intensity and began becoming fuzzy. You took her reaction as an motivator, pushing another finger into her needy hole. The feeling of her stretching against you made you hum in intense satisfaction, especially when the inside of her walls fluttered at the intrusion as well.
Grinding in time to your wrist, the redhead met your every thrust.
Her bra now pushed up to reveal her perky breast, you leaned down to take one in your mouth. Sucking lightly, you increased the speed of your movements into her, using your thumb to circle her clit as well.
"God, you're so beautiful." You praised, watching red blossom on her cheeks, "Especially when you look like this. How could I want anyone else?”
A small shake started trembling through Natasha, and you knew she was getting close. Increasing your speed, you scissored your fingers into her, curling up in just the right places.
Pornographic moans filled your ears and you wondered if people could hear her from outside the door.
“Right there, yes, please- ” The Russian moaned, encouraging you on, telling you to go faster. Harder.
Her movements grew more and more sloppy with each passing minute until, without any warning, Natasha’s head threw itself back and the first wave of orgasm ripped through her entire body.
You watched in amazement at the beauty in front of you came undone.
"Lay down." Natasha breathlessly said between gasps as she began to recover from her high.
Pulling your fingers out, you tilted your head in question at the sudden instruction.
Natasha straightened her back and tried to recompose herself, "Lay down." She said again, patiently waiting for you to understand.
Still you didn't.
The hardness returned into Natasha's eyes, "Lay down." She repeated, and you gulped at the return of bossy Natasha.
Hesitantly, you obliged, settling down onto the floor. Simply watching you for a moment, the redhead bit down on her lips seductively, as if in thought. Then, jumping off the bathroom sink, she moved to hover above your face.
Your eyes widened in immediate realization.
"You can say all the pretty words you want, (Y/N), but I think your mouth has some better uses." The purr in her voice and the sight of her exposed pussy right above you made your mouth water hungrily, "You say you're sorry, but I'm still not fully convince.” The glint in her eyes was so damning.
Licking your lips you grinned up at the woman. Her subtle smile back was all that you needed before you hooked your hands around her thighs and lowered her the rest of the way down onto you.
Flattening your tongue out, you ran it along her slit, slowly and purposefully, moaning at the first taste of the Russian. Using your hands to hold her open, you kissed her folds, testing her entrance carefully with the tip of your tongue.
She was so addicting, and you wanted nothing more than to take your time with the fest before you.
Natasha, though, seemed to have already gotten enough of you being in control from the first round. And as if she could sense your ill intentions, tangled her hands into your hair, and jerked your teasing to a stop.
From above you, she frowned disapprovingly down at you, “Enough with the teasing already. Maybe instead of having you prove your loyalty to me, I should just remind of why you should stay loyal myself.”
You might just find that prospect even hotter than taking your time with her.
Not really waiting for an answer anyways, Natasha began rolling her hips, setting a steady rhythm as she started riding your face. Accommodating her movements you maneuvered your tongue skillfully, making sure your lapped up all of her juices as she moved.
“I’ll show you who this mouth belongs to.” She moaned from above you, guiding your mouth to where she wanted.
With Natasha taking the lead, your hands were free to hold firmly onto her butt, gripping it for leverage as she began to get rougher with her riding.
Your nose hitting her clit with each roll and her pussy still sensitive from her first orgasm, it didn’t take long before Natasha came undone again, your name falling off her lips like a prayer.
A loud knock sounded at the door.
“Would you two stop fucking in there? Some of us actually need the bathroom for it’s intended use!” Someone shouted from outside.
There was a clamor of agreement as well.
Chuckling from under Natasha, you realized that the two of you may have overstayed your welcome in bathroom, “We should probably continue the rest of this in our room.” You advised, letting Natasha up from your face.
By the look on the redhead’s face, it would seem that she wasn’t done for the night either, “Let’s go to my room this time, then, it’s closer.” She suggested, fixing her skirt, but choosing to not put back on her panties.
You nodded in agreement, getting off the floor as well. Cleaning up yourself a bit, you smoothed out your appearance to make it less obvious that you just had sex on the floor of a bathroom.
Natasha only watched with amusement.
“Hey,” She suddenly started, making you look over to her in answer. Leaning in, she captured your lips into a heated kiss, “That’s better.” She announced with satisfaction when she finally pulled away.
You quirked a brow in question, “What?”
Smiling, Natasha swung opened the bathroom door, tongue swiping over her bottom lip mischievously, “Oh nothing, it’s just now, you taste like me.”
AN: Just a random question, what are our thoughts on a potential wandanat smut? I was playing around with the idea earlier.
If You Flinched Away From Their Touch
Dream SMP x Fem! Reader
Here’s some more angst lol
I’m definitely doing more Dream SMP stuff now that it’s ‘ended’ so if you have any requests just comment or message me! ^^
I’ll do prefrences, imagines, oneshots, fluff, SFW, angst and NSFW (not for The Dream SMP tho, only for other fandoms lol. NSFW in the MCYT community is genuinely weird-).
Clay stared down at you with trembling green eyes, his hand that was about to cup your cheek was still held up and shaking a little.
His mask was pushed to the side of his head so he would be able to kiss you, but you had actually flinched away from him. Like, properly flinched away like you were afraid of him. The more he looked into your nervous eyes, he finally realised.
Eyes darkening, he gritted his teeth and brought his hand to his side,” Who was it.” It was more of a demand than a question.
You panicked at his angered tone and how his hands clenched,” N-no! It’s fine! You just surprised me--”
His tone shut you up, your eyes burning a little. He looked hurt and most of all, concerned,”... Just tell me who. Please...”
You gulped and told him, his dark eyes lighting up ever so slightly at your cooperation.” Thank you...” He then reached down and gripped your hand tightly within his own, squeezing it reassuringly.
His eyes wide with concern, George instantly took his hand from your cheek when he saw you flinch. It hurt him... Where you scared of him?
“ [Y/N]... A-are you alright? Are you-....” He paused, gulping down the tight lump in his throat,”... Are you afraid of me?” He whispered, it was barely audible but you heard him clearly.
You instantly denied his claim, grabbing both of his hands within your own,” George you could never scare me... It’s just... The last relationship I had wasn’t.. the best, lets just say.” You explained it horribly but your boyfriend seemed to get the gist of it.
The brunette’s hand moved from holding your hand to holding your waist, pulling you into his chest and then wrapping them around you safely and securely, you froze at his warm embrace but found yourself melting in it,” I get it...” He whispered next to your ear,”... I’m sorry. I love you.” He muttered.
You couldn’t stop the loving smile from crossing over your lips,” Yeah... Same here.”
“...babe?” Nick muttered out with a confused look,” Why’d you flinch away? Is everything good?” He was worried now.
You smiled up at him quickly and nodded your head,” Y-yeah! Sorry, you just surprised me a little. I didn’t think you were just gonna hug me outta nowhere!” You laughed out to make it more convincing that you weren’t lying.
Nick knew better than that.
Sighing, he settled his head in the crook of of your neck, holding your arms gently and securely. You looked at him in confusion and you were about to question him, but he interrupted you,” I’m not gonna push anything out of you... but if you need to talk about it, then just talk. Okay?” He whispered to you reassuringly, burrying his face deeper into your neck.
You visibly relaxed and took your arms from his hold gently, moving them around his neck and playing with the back of his hair,”... Okay...”
The brunette looked terrified for a moment, afraid he had hurt you whenever he cupped your cheek but then a wave of realisation crossed over his expression. A solemn and monotone look passed over his worried expression, biting his lip due to habit.
“ Who was it, [Y/N]?” He asked calmly, but there was an angered undertone to his voice.” Who hurt you?”
You were silent for a long while, staring deeply into his chocolate-brown eyes that were dangerously dark. Those eyes that you had fallen for the first time you ever saw them. Sighing, your brought a hand up to his cheek and cupped it gently. Standing on your toes, you pressed a light kiss to the tip of his nose with a kind smile.” Who cares who hurt me before? I’m with you, and I could never be more safer than I am when I am in your arms.”
He was surprised for a moment before his tense shoulders relaxed, and a smile twitched onto his lips.” Fair enough.” He muttered, giving into you.
Pulling you into a deep kiss, Eret’s eyebrows furrowed in concern and anxiousness. You had just flinched away from him when he tried to hug you. You were afraid of something.
He pulled away, staring down at you with stern eyes,”... Who was it and did they hurt you.” He demanded a response, he was just being a concerned significant other but his deep voice cracked a little when he spoke those words, he was silently panicking on the inside.
Shaking your head a little,” I don’t... please, can we not talk about it?... I didn’t mean to flinch away, I just need to get used to it. Give me some time.” You pulled him down a little and pecked his lips lovingly,” Just give me some time...”
Silent for a moment, he nodded.” I’ll wait.”
“ Who the hell was it.”
His words were like venom as his red eyes glowed with malice and killing intent. Whoever had hurt you, he was going to find them and torture them until they wished they had never even met you before him-
His thoughts stopped spiraling as soon as he felt arms wrap around his waist, watching as you buried your face into his chest, shaking your head a little.” I-I’m sorry for flinching away, but please, when I tell you who it was... You need to promise me that you won’t go and hurt them.” The girl mumbled into his chest, her voice muffled by his clothing.
His lip twitched a little but he brushed it off,” Yes.”
“ Yes what?”
“ I promise.”
You looked up at him with narrowed eyes, watching as his eyes narrowed in return. ”Lair.”
“HEH? I’m not lying!! All I was gonna do is introduce them to my axe of peace, that’s all-”
“This is why I’m not gonna tell you, Techno.”
“ Eh, I’ll find out sooner or later anyways.”
Schlatt breathed in a little, closing his eyes to calm himself down.’ Why the fuck did she flinch away from me, I swear to fuck if someone hurt her I’ll fuck em up-’
“ Sch-schlatt?” You stuttered out, concerned at the fact he was staying silent.” What’s up?...”
He coughed a little and opened his eyes, narrowing them a little as he looked down at you,” Look- I love you [Y/N] but who the fuck hurt you.” He spat like an angered snake.
You gulped a little,” Hey now- whatever your thinking...” You trailed off, not even able to defend yourself.
Scoffing, Schlatt settled a strong yet reassuring hand on your shoulder, squeezing it as a way to reassure you. He was never one for comforting others face-to-face even though he was so good at it.
Breathing a little before he spoke with a softer tone than before,” [Y/N].... Tell me who the fuck hurt you.” Although his words were threatening, his calm voice made [Y/N] give into him. He could only smile a little at her submissive nature and bring her into a tight hug.
There was a long silence.
”I’m getting my glock 17.”
“ Schlatt, nO-”
He gritted his teeth a little as thoughts ran through his head, different scenarios of what you had to go through consuming his mind. The panic in his eyes were clear, the darker they got.
You stepped closer to him and cupped his face in both of your hands, bringing his face closer to yours. He was surprised for a moment before you pressed your forehead against his. Looking into your serene and calm orbs, he felt at peace again, his thoughts moving to the back of his mind.
“You need to stop thinking for a bit, okay?” You whispered to him reassuringly, he was silent as he just listened to you speak, feeling his anxiety slowly disappear,” I’m safe now. I’m safe and I’m with you... So calm the fuck down.”
Laughing at how out-of-character the last sentence you said was, Alex shook his head a little,” Alright, alright...” He muttered, a slight grin on his lips,” Whatever happened to you... if you wanna talk about it at all, come to me.” He reassured her, placing his hands on hers.
Snorting at his sentence, you gave him a cheeky grin,” Who else would I go to?? Sapnap?”
“ Yeah, no me gusta-”
As soon as you flinched from her hug, she instantly pulled away with a conflicted look. Her eyes full of hurt before realisation washed over them.”... What happened?” She whispered with a concerned expression.
You panicked and settled your hands on her shoulders quickly, a nervous grin on your lips,” D-don’t worry about it, Niki! You just caught me off guard-” You stopped talking as soon as her soft hand settled upon your cheek, caressing it gently with her thumb.
A soft smile crossed over her lips as she shook her head lightly,” You don’t need to hide things from me, [Y/N]... Just talk to me, I can help you.” She reassured, her smile widening further.
You stared at her for a long moment before sighing and leaning into her touch, nodding ever so slightly,” Yeah... yeah, okay...”
Not from this reality
Peter Parker (T.H) x Reader
Warning: SPOILER!! Don't press 'keep reading' if you don't want any spoilers.
Please don't copy, translate, repost my work without permission. Reblogs are welcome!
If you want to be added to my taglist <3
Request status: Open
I stood in front of May's grave, my eyes puffy and swollen with tears. Continuous muffled apologies could be heard from me. Wiping my tears and sniffling every now and then.
Now I really didn’t have anyone. I can’t save everyone.
I didn't really mean for all of this to happen– I swear. If I had listened to Strange, none of this would have happened. May would be OK, and she would be waiting for me at Happy's condo after we send the lizard, Electro, Dr. Octavius, Flint, and, most importantly the one I loathed– the one I so badly wanted to kill– Norman Osborn.
I didn’t kill him, because I’m Peter Parker and that’s not who I am. Son of a bitch had the audacity to stab Peter 2 in the back after stopping me from killing his goblin ass.
I couldn’t fully say I regretted not listening to Dr. Strange about just letting all of them go home– to their reality and suffer their fates. If I listened I wouldn’t have met the other me’s– my brothers.
Even just for a moment, I felt like everything was normal even though May was gone. For a moment I thought I was going to be okay.
And I was okay, but just for a moment. I knew they had to go and when they do I’d feel as empty as I felt when Norman killed my Aunt May.
I do feel empty. I felt empty then and I feel even more empty now.
Neither Y/N, Ned, or MJ remembers me. It's as though I never existed.
I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn't notice someone approaching me.
‘Peter?’ She called out.
‘Yeah?’ I reacted instinctively– for someone with the ‘Peter-tingle’ I sure as hell am quite dense sometimes. It took me a moment to realise what she had said before my eyes widened and I turned my head towards her.
‘How do you know who I am?’ I asked. She remembers me, I couldn’t be any happier, but… How does she remember me?
‘Listen. I remember everything, Peter. I– I need to tell you something and– and I’m not quite sure how you’re going to like it– It’s going to sound crazy but I suppose not too crazy for you ever since all this Dr. Strange magic and stuff happen–’ Before she could finish her sentence, I threw my arms around her and nestled my head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, which gave me a sense of security– one that made me weak in the knees.
I missed her.
As I tightened my grip on her as if she was going to disappear any moment, she stiffened for a moment but relaxing after and reciprocating my actions. Wrapping her hands around my neck and giving it a peck, letting her lips linger on it for a bit before peppering it with tiny little kisses. Her actions caused me to let out a sob that had been contained in me and was just waiting to be let out.
'Oh, Peter, it's all right,’ She cooed.
‘You remember me. You remember me.’
She drew away from me, putting her palms to my cheek and gently caressing it. She looks at me for a second before stretching out her thumb and wiping my tears.
She gazed at me again, this time taking her time before her gaze averted to my lips. My cheeks turned scarlet as I felt her gaze on my lips, my heart racing ten times faster than it did when I heard her say my name– my heart did beat quickly before, but it's just a bit quicker now.
Grinning widely she leaned in, her face simply a centimeter closer to my face, 'Hi,' she murmured before, at last, leaning all the way in and pressing her lips against mine.
Part 2 (Coming soon)
“Good news! The tavern keep has given me leave to exercise my craft in her glorious establishment. No, don’t say it!” Jaskier held his hand up to Geralt’s mouth, might have pressed his fingertips to Geralt’s lips if Geralt hadn’t grabbed his wrist.
A pair of barmaids in the corner tittered. Strange. They had tensed up and gone quiet when Geralt and Jaskier had come in, as people usually did when they encountered a Witcher.
“Performers are superstitious about being wished good luck,” Jaskier explained, seeming unbothered by Geralt’s thumb pressing against the soft skin and the delicate tendons beneath his palm, by Geralt’s callused fingers curving tightly around his carpals.
Geralt could break Jaskier’s wrist with an easy change of an angle, the kind of mathematics that didn’t get taught at Oxenfurt. He lowered his hand. “Wasn’t going to,” he said.
Jaskier’s eyes narrowed. “Because you are absolutely confident in my success, as a friend should be, of course, and you know that I have no need of luck. Right? Right, Geralt?”
It was his third time hearing Jaskier sing. Jaskier currently had a fifty-fifty rate of being told to abort himself on stage, he was idiot enough to call a Witcher his friend, and he was delusional enough to think that they’d be traveling together for much longer. “Hmm,” Geralt said.
“Are you skeptical? Was that a sound of disbelief I hear? Surely a Witcher who has the ears and eyes of a wolf can appreciate,” Jaskier gestured to himself, “all of this?”
The opening was too good to remain silent. “All of what?” Geralt asked, deadpan.
The barmaids laughed a little more openly now, and Geralt even caught some grins from other patrons in his peripheral vision.
Jaskier winked at him. “I’ll show you all of what, never fear!” he said, and he bounced to an empty table and strummed his lute.
He sang songs, starting with “Toss a Coin.” He flattered specific patrons in the audience. And when the tavern-goers started to flag, he made his way over to Geralt with a line that was easy to reply to.
“Now you have heard me, friend White Wolf! Which do you think I sound more like, the lark or the nightingale?”
“Dying wyvern,” Geralt said, hating the attention and wishing he could paralyze Jaskier with the power of his eyes. He earned himself a roomful of snickers and even a bark of laughter from a man in his cups.
“Alas, I shall have to work harder to convince people that I have the song of a siren instead,” Jaskier said. He then sang an incredibly inaccurate song about sirens, popular when Geralt had first gone hunting, and had the people in the tavern chorusing with him.
“She’ll fuck him in the air / She’ll fuck him in the sea / and she’ll always pluck his guts out / Afore he can fuck himself freeeee.”
“A monster song for our monster hunter, the White Wolf! Can I hope that I was more of a siren than a wyvern, this time?” Jaskier asked afterward.
“Definitely sounded like someone was plucking his guts out,” Geralt said, his eyes on Jaskier’s lute, which had begun to sound well-used.
This time he got actual laughs from the crowd.
Jaskier clutched dramatically at his throat. “The White Wolf’s words have almost slain your siren bard, dear audience, but fear not, I still have one or two songs more left in me!” He hopped in place as if to demonstrate his energy.
“Oi, Witcher, not a very efficient kill!” the laughing man from earlier shouted, his face red.
Geralt shrugged. “No contract for peacocks,” he said.
Jaskier whipped out a ridiculous feathered hat from under his doublet and preened self-importantly, to general amusement.
“He may not slay peacocks, but you are free to hire him for devils and other beasts, if you so choose!” Jaskier said. He led the room through “Toss A Coin” again, this time passing the hat around for pay in the age-old style of musicians.
They left soon afterward, before people had time to regret giving them any money.
“What was that?” Geralt asked once they were out of town, interrupting Jaskier’s self-congratulatory exposition.
“Now, I know you’ve heard music before, I’m not going to fall for that ‘Witchers are raised in monastic silence’ bullshit again---”
“No,” Geralt said. “The...” He gestured and Roach flicked her ears at him.
Jaskier smiled. “The technical term is a double act. I thought it would be more fun for you than yesterday, when I was singing and you didn’t get a chance to insult me.”
It...had been. “Hmm,” Geralt said, suspicious as always about being given something he liked.
“It wouldn’t work all the time, of course,” Jaskier said. “But sometimes, when the mood is right, the audience wants a little roasted peacock for supper.”
“Roasted wyvern,” Geralt corrected, suppressing his smirk at Jaskier’s outrage.
“We’re not double-acting now!”
“Roach always needs a good laugh.”
It wasn’t the next tavern, or the one afterward, but in the aftermath of a long and tiring contract, Jaskier---still, ridiculously, traveling with him---bounced towards Geralt again before his performance. “Don’t say it!” His fingers landed on Geralt’s lips this time.
Geralt gripped Jaskier’s wrist.
“Wishing performers good luck makes for ill fortune!” Jaskier said loudly, his eyebrows raised in a silent question.
Geralt had been planning to eat quickly and then recuperate with Roach, but a meal of roasted peacock might be energizing. His lips quirked up just a little, in a way that Jaskier must have felt on his fingertips, before Geralt tugged Jaskier’s hand away. “Not luck,” Geralt said. “Singing lessons. Surely I can wish you had those.”
Behind them, someone choked on their drink.
Jaskier’s eyes widened. “You---! Calumny! I shall prove to everyone that the White Wolf’s expertise lies in monsters rather than music!” He bounded towards an empty space at the front of the room.
Jaskier was high-strung, ignorant, and obnoxious, but he fed Geralt lines to rebuff the same way Eskel might use a Sign to drive a griffin towards Geralt’s sword, like he and Geralt were on the same team. Like he cared if Geralt had fun.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad, being part of a double act sometimes.
jean kirstein x reader
18+ (minors dni)
warnings: lactation, semi-public sex, mommy kink
“I’ll stay here, you two go ahead and have fun.” Jean’s mother had been all too eager when you got the group text from Sasha. Niccolo had just proposed, and they wanted everyone to come out to the cocktail bar they were at and celebrate with them. You had sighed wistfully, realizing how much you missed your friends. Your social life had been mostly put on hold for the past month since your daughter was born—justifiably so. You and Jean were both completely smitten with her, plus getting the hang of this ‘new parent’ thing had been pretty intense. You’d never been away from your baby since she was born, never more than a few paces away whenever she needed you, so the possibility of going somewhere without her hadn’t even crossed your mind.
It was already past her usual bedtime, not to mention cold outside. It was a spur of the moment invitation, something you hadn’t planned ahead for. But in spite of all the reasons not to go, Jean’s mother was already over for dinner and more than willing to stay with your daughter while you went out for the first time since she was born. You’d glanced at your husband hesitantly, but he left the decision up to you. “We’ll do whatever you want to do, babe.”
After chewing your lip for a while and some light nudging from Jean’s mother—”You deserve a little break, don’t worry about a thing, I’ll put her to bed and stay as long as you need…”—you agree.
It takes a while for you to find something decent to wear, as the cross section of what’s nice enough to wear to this swanky bar and what actually fits you right now doesn’t leave you with many options. Ultimately, you find the nicest dress you have that also conceals the thick straps of your nursing bra and toss a cardigan over top. All that’s left is to grab the essentials out of the diaper bag and toss them in one of your nicer purses, and the next thing you know, you and Jean are sitting side by side on barstools, chatting with your friends as soft jazz music pumps out of the speakers.
A few of them, namely Sasha and Mikasa, are disappointed that your little girl is nowhere to be seen, though they’ve met her before. You and Jean are the first of the group to have a kid, which is fascinating to some of your friends while others could not be less interested. Still, every time someone asks about her, your stomach flips. It’s not that you don’t trust Jean’s mother; quite the contrary. You know your baby’s in capable hands, it’s just that you’re worried that she misses you. That she needs you. You stare straight ahead into the mirror behind the bar, fretting over what’s happening at home.
Jean puts a finger to your chin and points your eyes toward his; he must sense you worrying. “You ok? We can go home whenever you want to.” He gives you a sweet smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s missing his little princess too, but he’s doing his best not to show it, for your sake. Even when Marco claps a hand on his shoulder and asks if he wants to do shots, he doesn’t look away, waiting for your answer before he gives his.
You shake the nervousness off. This is your next big test as a new mom, and you’re gonna do your best to make it through the night without rushing home because of a little separation anxiety. Sooner or later, you’ll need to get used to this. “No, we can stay a while.”
Jean leans in for a quick kiss, petting your hair softly before he pulls back. “Just keep me posted.” He pecks your forehead once more before turning around to throw back that shot.
You’re playing designated driver tonight, but you don’t mind. You’re mostly staying away from alcohol until you’re done breastfeeding anyway. Getting the timing right is just too difficult, so it’s easier to just stay mostly sober for at least a few more months. And since Jean’s mom will be around to lend a hand later tonight if you need it, you don’t mind if he gets a little drunk. He’s been a fantastic partner through all this, so he deserves a little break too.
You’re chuckling at the guys fighting over who gets to buy Niccolo’s next drink when a twinge and then a dull pain steals your attention. As discreetly as you can, you reach under your left arm with your right hand to rub at the side of your breast. Shit. The invitation had come so suddenly that you left the house without thinking to pump your milk. There were bottles in the fridge, plenty ready if your girl got hungry while you were away. You hadn’t felt particularly full before you left the house, but you were starting to get a little tight.
But you just said you wanted to stay, and it’s not too bad yet. You try and forget as Sasha slides into Jean’s abandoned seat to show you her ring again. You’ll stay a little longer, you think, as you fawn over her gorgeous pearl set in diamonds.
‘A little longer’ turns into an hour, a move from the bar to a booth, and a few more rounds of drinks for Jean and the gang. You sip on a Shirley Temple, shifting uncomfortably every few minutes. You can tell Jean is having a good time, catching up with everyone and telling stories about his little princess that make you beam with pride. You’re fine, you assure yourself. You’ll pump as soon as you get home.
While the booth is more comfortable than the bar, especially since you’re situated on the end seat, it is warmer down here. When you feel yourself starting to sweat, you slink out of your cardigan, folding it in your lap. You feel cooler yet more exposed. This dress showed a lot of cleavage before your breasts swelled in pregnancy, still plump and almost spilling over the low neckline. You’re not the only one who notices; when Jean leans over to ask you something, you catch his eyes flicking down and back up again. He sucks in a sharp breath, and his hand finds its way to your thigh under the table, thumb rubbing little circles into your leg as he licks his lips, not subtle enough.
Under his hand, your knee bounces. You should say something, just tell him you need to go home, but it feels too late now, somehow. Your breasts are almost unbearably tight, under pressure that you wish you could just will away. You find yourself holding your breath until you feel a sudden tension squeeze your left breast. You hiss as you feel your nipple leak, and though you thank your stars that you wore one of your special absorbent bras, the pressure is too much.
You grit your teeth and hiss again as the pain pulses, forcing you to stand from the table. You have to get to somewhere private right now: a bathroom, anything. You curse yourself, stupid, stupid, as you grab your purse and cardigan.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” Jean asks. He’s flushed but not wasted, soft but not slurring, and obviously concerned. You can’t stand around here and explain, not in front of your friends and especially not when your tits are killing you. Instead, you grab him by the wrist and pull him away too quickly to judge if anyone notices your urgency.
You walk with purpose, weaving through people standing at the bar or congregating around cocktail tables, conversation at a dull roar over the music tinkling from the sound system. Jean tries repeatedly to ask what’s going on, but you’re working with one track mind, desperate for relief. In a back hallway, you find a single-occupancy bathroom and drag Jean inside and lock the door, hardly caring who sees and what they think.
It’s a nice bar, so the bathroom is clean and decently well-decorated, if a little small. You toss your purse and sweater on the countertop and bend forward over the sink. Jean puts a hand to the middle of your back. “Please, tell me what’s happening. You’re freaking me out.”
The pain ebbs and flows, sharper one moment and duller the next. Once you can finally get a breath in, you turn to him. “My tits hurt so bad. They’re too full.”
The look on his face is a bit dumbfounded, like maybe he hadn’t considered that such a thing was possible. “Did you bring the pump?”
You hold up your miniature handbag, agitated but only at yourself. “I left it in the diaper bag. Wouldn’t have fit in here anyway.” You hiss again, and Jean lunges for you, his hands rubbing your hips.
“Baby, you should have said something sooner.” His voice is soft, laced with concern and pity.
You shake your head. “I know, I know, but I have to do something about this. Like right now. Fuck.” You’re not really thinking about anything but the straining in your chest as you push down the straps of your dress. The entire top falls around your waist, and you don’t waste any time unclipping the strap of your nursing bra from the cup.
The tiniest wave of relief washes over you as the cup falls forward your breast bounces free. You do the same with the other cup before pushing down the band of your bra, bunching it around your waist with your dress. You swear you can feel the milk sloshing inside you, almost too full to move. When you lift one tit in your hand, your nipple leaks again. Without something to absorb it, a dribble of breast milk runs down to the underside of your breast. You’re practically dripping.
“Oh, baby,” Jean breathes, concerned and mesmerized all at once. Carefully not to press against your tits with his chest, he slides his hands around you, his chin pointed down as he watches your full breasts jiggle at the slightest motion. When the pain stabs you again and your back arches away from it, you can’t stop the little groan that slips out.
Twitchy hands move from your hips to your face. “Let me help,” Jean says a little too desperately. “If I suck on your tits a little, will that make it hurt less?”
You’re not in a position to turn him down. “Please, I’ll try anything.” Jean helps you up to sit on the edge of the counter, and you open your legs for him to stand between. You lean back on the heels of your hands as his lips drag down your neck, over your collarbone and down to your swollen breast. When his tongue swipes over the peak of your nipple, you gasp.
He pulls back. “Did it hurt?”
“No,” you pant, pleasantly surprised. “No, it felt good. Don’t stop.” You lean back farther so your tree of a husband doesn’t have to couch over so far to reach your chest. Jean’s eyes widen before he breaks your gaze, leaning down mouth-first to capture your nipple gently between his lips.
He moves slowly at first, like he’s unsure and wary of hurting you. He licks over your nipple with the tip of his tongue, shuddering when he tastes your leaking milk before flicking his tongue out for more. Feather light, he wraps his lips around your enlarged breast and sucks very hesitantly. When you hum instead of gasp, he continues.
A thigh and ass man through and through, Jean doesn’t always give your tits this kind of attention. While he’s sucked plenty of hickies into the soft skin of them and played with your nipples to stimulate you, it’s never been quite like this. But admittedly, your breasts have never looked like this, never felt like this either.
So when Jean lifts his head to meet your eyes, eyebrows furrowed as if he’s overwhelmed, and sighs, “Oh god,” you know you’ve stumbled into something much bigger than just dulling your pain.
Jean kisses at your nipple again, pressing his stomach against yours as he sucks, harder this time. You tilt your head fully back, neck exposed to the ceiling, and moan quietly as he takes care of you.
Jean doesn’t just taste you; he gulps, sucking down the milk that starts to flow freely from your pebbled nipple. He breathes hard through his nose, little sounds dampened against the mound of your breast as he presses his face in harder. His nose brushes in your cleavage, the stubble on his chin tickling just above your rib cage. When he lifts his hand to palm under the curve of your tit and squeeze, the liquid pours out faster and he slurps obscenely around you.
“Oh fuck,” he curses when he finally breaks for air. “Shit, oh my god. Is it helping?”
“Yeah,” you pant desperately, reaching to stroke his long, pushed back hair. A drop of your milk runs from the corner of Jean’s mouth, leaving a wet track down his chin that makes you moan and spread your legs further apart.
“Fuck,” he curses again. “Fuck, mommy.” The word barely leaves his lips before he’s attached to you again, but it spurs a burning urge that drips between your legs. He’s never called you that before, not in a sexual context, and you never expected it would make you this wet.
Your legs wrap around Jean’s waist, knees pressing into his ribcage and ankles locked against his lower back. He tugs on your thigh with his free hand, pulling it tight against him as he continues to suck and squeeze at your tit. You breathe hard, grinding your core against his stomach for a little bit of friction so you don’t cry out. Jean, on the contrary, only gets louder the more he drinks you in, moaning and begging for you as his mouth gets sloppier.
“Oh god, mommy. I love you so much. Just let me take care of you, mommy, please. So good.” The louder he whines, the more you start to wonder if the walls are thin enough to hear through. This isn’t some dive bar, after all.
You grasp Jean by the jaw, pulling him off your chest. His chin is soaked, his eyes glazed. He stares at you, pleading and needy as he tongue darts out to lick at his bottom lip. You let out a heavy exhale because damn does he look sexy like this, but you have to hold it together.
“Do the other one, but you have to be quieter. Or else I’ll make you stop.”
Jean nods his head and whimpers. You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, stroking the back of his head as you do. You pucker your lips for a kiss, tasting yourself on him as his mouth lands on yours. “Good boy,” you sigh when he pulls back.
A groan hitches in Jean’s throat, but he’s able to keep it down, earning his praise. You shift under him, twisting just a bit to offer up your other breast, and Jean indulges. His tongue swirls around your nipple first, and though you feel a jolt when he closes his lips and slurps, you squirm in pleasure as you feel the pressure in your chest begin to dissipate. You watch as his eyes close and his brows crease, lost in the taste and feel of your heavy breast in his mouth and his hand. He moans quietly in his throat, the vibrations thrumming your pert nipple.
Jean opens his mouth to pant around you before squeezing your tit in his hand, practically squirting your milk down his throat. You twitch and moan softly, your legs clamped around his waist like a vice. His cock is hard against your ass, incredibly so, and you’re turned on because he’s turned on.
“Mommy, oh fuck, yes,” he whines in a whisper. He pulls back to lick his lips only to let them slide, wet and sloppy, over your tit again, pressing hard kisses to the underside of the mound that make your eyes roll back in your head. “Do you feel better?” he pants hard against your side.
You grab frantically at his hair, his shoulders, wanting him closer, desperate to be filled now that you’re so empty. “Yes, baby,” you sigh, reaching down to palm his erection. “Do you want me to help you with this now?”
“Oh god,” is all the answer you get, but you hear it loud and clear. Jean unzips his pants while you wiggle and hike your skirt up around your hips. Your legs dangle loosely around him until he pulls his stiff cock above his waistband and moves forward to rub it against you. The hard ridges of his shaft feel heavenly against your cunt, even through your panties. He ruts against you, dry humping as his lips find your neck, impossibly hungry for more of you. Your toes curl as you pull your panties to the side. You’d be embarrassed about how wet you are if your husband hadn’t just been sucking your tits like a man starved.
With your thighs anchored at his waist, Jean eases forward, swirling his tip around your hole to lube up. He hisses and groans, the sounds growing louder again, but this time you don’t care. You’ve been gone long enough already; your friends will suspect you’re up to something, but it doesn’t matter. All that you care about is the glorious stretch when Jean pushes into you, you realize, for the first time since your daughter was born.
You feel ready for this; you want it more than anything, missing the feeling of being filled completely by him. Every muscle in his body is tight as he rocks slowly into you, holding you firmly against his chest as he does. “You ok?” he asks breathlessly.
“God, yes.” You swear you can feel him inside, outside, all over you at once, and you’re ready to give your body over and succumb almost as soon as you’ve begun. “I’m not going to last long.”
“Me neither,” he says through gritted teeth as he grinds into you, thrusting in and massaging deep inside your walls, sending a flurry of butterflies to your stomach. Your legs and feet clench behind him as your gut tightens around his throbbing cock, dizzy and close to your breaking point. Jean gasps for air, moaning with his mouth wide open as he snaps his hips against you. A particular shuddering groan sends you over the edge, your cunt squeezing down hard around him as you silently scream in release.
Jean moves faster, hurtling toward his own end in your pussy’s vicelike grip, murmuring mommy with every breath until he shatters. His cum spills inside you, hot and thick, sliding out of you when he pulls out. He slides your panties back into place, pressing over your hole with two long fingers, to hold in what’s trying to seep out. He leans forward, one hand on the mirror behind your head as his forehead comes to rest on your shoulder. You pet at his hair, smoothing it down as best you can as he catches his breath.
“That was,” he pants, “not what I expected was going to happen tonight.” He chuckles lightly, and you can’t help but do the same. It’s absurd, in a way, but you can’t say you regret it, even considering how uncomfortable you were for a minute there. Now that you’ve discovered his mommy kink, you don’t plan on letting him forget it, either.
Once Jean has collected himself, he helps you get dressed again, slightly sore but no longer throbbing breasts tucked back into your bra and dress. You opt to put your cardigan back on when you spy the hickies dotted across your chest and neck in the mirror. Your absence together is suspicious enough. You hurry out of the bathroom, feeling flushed and sweaty, with slick and cum dampening your panties, but what else are you going to do?
The party has broken up a bit when you return, your friends spread out across the bar and different booths from where you left them. You and Jean lean close together against the wall, waiting to say goodbye to the happy new couple before you head out to the car. Jean’s hand remains around your waist, holding you against his side as he plays with a ruffle on your dress.
Low enough for only you to hear, he says, “Your body is amazing, you know that?”
Your chest flutters, a smile blooming on your lips. “Thanks.”
He chuckles. “I mean it. It’s done and changed so much, it’s beautiful.” He nudges you, knows he’s being silly now but also somehow sincere at the same time. It’s the kind of easy ribbing you’re used to from him. “I swear, since you got pregnant, it’s just the gift that keeps on giving.”
You lace your fingers clumsily with his. “Maybe you should try knocking me up again sometime.”
Jean pulls you in for a kiss. “Oh, I plan on it,” he mumbles against your lips.
the morning after – gojo satoru ver!
warnings: slight dirty talk and suggestive content, like the yuuji one, nothing too explicit! Oh and a teasing, cheeky gojo :>
masterlist ! (photo not mine)
It doesn’t hit you until you’re whacked by an arm in the face. Literally.
You whine and push the foreign weight away that smushed your nose at the impact, less than pleased because you’re having the best of your life, but someone had to ruin it. Nevertheless, you refuse to open your eyes and settle into the warmth that encases you in that moment. It reminds you of your precious unicorn plushie you left back at your apartment; cuddly, precious, keeps the nightmares away, but the best part about this human teddy bear is that he’s all firm muscles and body heat instead of fur cotton.
Wait, what? Human?
It’s when you hear the man stirring above you with a husky groan that you freeze in your spot, eyes snapping wide open your vision blurs for a split second. The first thing you see is smooth skin and firm pecs, followed by a slender, strong neck and a sharp jawline – oh god.
So last night wasn’t a dream.
Clenching your teeth and even biting the inside of your cheeks to stop squealing – more out of embarrassment and shame than happiness, really – you slowly reach up between your squished bodies to pinch your cheeks, bringing blood and feeling back into them. No wonder you’ve slept so well last night, and as someone who prefers pulling an all-nighter until you pass out in the middle of an anime series, it’s quite rare to find a good eight hour sleep.
It’s not like you had much...activities performed that would take up too much energy. Until Gojo Satoru came, the teacher from the Tokyo school, and also the notoriously infamous “strongest jujutsu sorcerer.”
You’ve had a crush on him the moment you’ve started working as a teacher in the Kyoto school. Utahime, who was closer to him, was incredibly appalled when you told her one day about your raging crush on the white-haired man who looked absolutely breathtaking with his blindfold, but without them?
Just the thought of having seen them last night, when he was between your legs, no less, has you inwardly groaning and cringing so hard you feel so shameful that you can’t even look him in the eye. Satoru is fast asleep above you, one of his strong arms lazily draped over the curve of your waist and his fingers brushing against your bum. When you shift a little to give you both space, his fingers begin to hover dangerously close to a sensitive area and you let out a tiny squeak, muffling it with the back of your fist before he awakens.
This man had the Six Eyes – the last thing you wanted was for him to sense and notice the little things and wake up. No, you had to leave before he even gets the chance to move.
The chances of not waking him up was pretty slim, but you’ve always been proud of your sneaky movements that you try anyway. Fortunately, Satoru doesn’t seem to be a hardcore cuddler because he doesn’t pull you back when you finally slip past the sheets.
You freeze for a moment at the edge of the bed, still in disbelief that you actually slept with him. No, no, that’s wrong, you’d have slept with him anytime if he allowed it but – he actually slept with you. It’s not that you’re looking down on yourself because you’re also a special grade sorcerer and could stand your own ground confidently, but your powers when it comes to exorcising and your social skills are two different things that don’t even come close together.
You’re not worried that a special grade curse would kill you and take away your privilege of finishing that new manga you bought in your day off because you know you could handle it easily, but as a person, there’s a stark difference between you and Satoru.
True, he wasn’t exactly liked by everyone because he refused to be limited by rules and regulations, always claiming that one should not be hindered by the narrow-mindedness of the others, but it was something you really admired about him because you’re not like that. You’re old school, sticking by the book, much like his co-worker Nanami Kento who equally hates overtime, and while Gojo Satoru was loud and confident, you’re more of the person who stays by a corner during a party.
Which is exactly what happened last night at Utahime’s birthday party – aka the old wrinkly principal isn’t here so let’s get wasted type of party.
You’re not surprised that Gojo Satoru walked in, but when he did, you had to clutch your spirit water and drink it in haste because he’s got you feeling thirstier than you did last night – and you drink your water plenty. But how could you remain sane when he looked so gorgeous in just his uniform and his laughter has butterflies erupting in your stomach?
Truth was, you’re satisfied watching him from afar. It’s not like you ever plan on asking him out or being his friend because you’re sure Satoru has better things to do and prettier people to talk to, so when he sits next to you in the desolate leather couch, legs crossed over one another and his arm right behind you (although not touching, he respects your space) you nearly pass out.
One thing leads to another, and you find yourself writhing under his arms, shamelessly crying his name over and over again until the dead hours of the night that has his ego inflating.
You don’t remember how or exactly why it happened, but definitely, alcohol had to be involved. There’s no way Gojo Satoru would actually notice you, much less sleep with you, when he’s completely sober, which is why you scramble around the room with the blanket covering your bare body as you look for your discarded clothes.
If he wakes up and sees you, he’ll probably regret everything that happened last night, if he remembers any of it, anyway.
But you’re most definitely mostly sober through the whole thing, so you remember how good he was in making you feel like a goddess. The way he sucked on your neck, licking a stripe at your burning skin while his large hands groped your breasts possessively, all the while rutting in that perfect spot that has your eyes rolling at the back of your head with your nails running down his back – you shiver just thinking about it.
Gojo Satoru really has that effect on people.
You hide your flustered state and quickly pull on your undergarments, about to slip the sweater over your head, only to die on the inside because you realize you’re wearing those full cotton panties instead of sexy lingerie. With a groan, you fight back the urge to cry. But then again, who could blame yourself for not dressing sexily? It’s not like you had any idea that this would happen.
You’re halfway through your jeans when Gojo’s husky morning voice breaks through the silence. “Leaving already?” you hear him smile, although your back is turned to him, face completely morphed into terror. “Such a shame. I was actually thinking shower sex sounds nice – if you’re into that, of course.”
“Satoru,” you greet lamely with a bow, avoiding the way his stunning eyes raked over your form with an unreadable dark expression. “Uh, you’re awake, and...good morning, I guess.”
Gojo smirks at your flushed cheeks, and it takes everything not to stare at the way his biceps strain from the way he supports his head, hair sticking in every direction and looking absolutely sexy in the morning light. “Good morning to you too, Y/N,” your breath stifles, because he knows your name? “Although it would be an ever better morning if you weren’t such in a rush to leave,” he chuckles, “It makes me feel like maybe you regret what happened last night.”
Your head snaps up at his words as you shakily wiggle your arms, “No, that’s not true, I loved every second of it! It was...it was the best night of my life,” your cheeks tinge a shade darker when Gojo beams at your words, chest almost puffing out proudly. Shyly, you turn away from him and fiddle with the hem of your sweatshirt. “I just...I didn’t think you’d still want me here around, because you were drunk last night and all and I thought maybe you’ll regret it, which I don’t want to happen so yeah, I just thought I’d leave before I get to...” you clear your throat awkwardly, “...be rejected like that.”
“Y/N,” his voice falls an octave lower, the thoughts in your head growing so loud you don’t even hear that he’s already left the bed, and now he’s cradling your chin until you’re forced to witness the galaxies burning in his eyes. “You thought I was drunk last night and did it because I was just horny? That I would regret it and forget all about it?”
His proximity has your breath stuttering, your eyelashes slapping your cheeks as you blink rapidly. “Well, uhm, I’m not really your type, so I think it was safe to assume that.”
Gojo hums at your words, his calloused thumb running over your lips. A small smile flits across his face when he remembers how much of a good girl you were for him last night, obediently opening those lips up and letting him bask in the warmth of your wet cavern before swallowing all he has to give. Funnily enough, Gojo isn’t the best with his words, so he just tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before sighing.
“I wasn’t drunk,” he finally admits. The confession has you slipping from his grasp, but Gojo snakes his arm around the small of your back to pull you to him, the warmth of his bare skin seeping into your clothes. However, it’s nothing compared to the lust and adoration burning in his eyes – one you can’t properly fathom in this clouded state. “Tipsy, sure, but I assure you I was aware and sober for every little part,” his lips hover at your ear, one of his hands coming at the back of your neck to tilt your head to the side, granting him access to the hickeys he’d purposely left.
Just the sight of his markings on your perfect body has a tent growing in his pants. You feel his erection rub at the pad of your jeans, eliciting a small whine from you, and this makes Gojo resist the urge to bend you over right then and there. But he doesn’t do that, because he knows your body is too tired from his ministrations, and he’s nice enough to give you a break – even if that’s not exactly what your burning core wants at that moment.
“Like the way you clenched around my cock when I hit that sensitive spot of yours,” he laughs when you shiver at the way his breath tickles you, “Or how pretty you look when you cream around my cock, begging me to go harder because you can take it, and baby, I promise you, I loved it just as much as you did.”
Finally, Gojo pulls back, and he’s extremely satisfied when he sees how small and innocent you look just like that, as if he hadn’t just folded you in half to watch the way your pretty pussy welcome him and take him better than anyone else just hours ago.
“But,” he continues, “I think I enjoyed it a lot more, considering I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time now,” at his words, you furrow your brows, and that’s when he realizes his mistake. Gojo reverts back to his usual lighthearted self and fans his hand out almost comically with his hands on his hips. “I mean, not just the sex, though it is amazing, but having you close is what I meant. Like holding your hand or getting to kiss you,” he sighs dreamily as if you’re not in the same room as him.
“Uh,” you awkwardly begin, unsure of what to say. “Are you saying you like me?”
“Yeah,” he smirks, which shouldn’t have been such a sexy look on him, but because he’s Gojo, it was. “But Utahime said she’d cut my balls off if I even get near you. Thank goodness she was too drunk last night to ever see it, but I’m glad I talked to you. I’m just ashamed I’m only saying this after the sex but...would you like to go out with me?”
Thanks to his Six Eyes ability, Gojo is blessed with the privilege of seeing you malfunction before him as you try to find your words.
Summary: dom!harry and reader have a quickie in the dressing while Jenny is performing, plus a little aftercare at the end.
Warnings: unprotected sex, degradation, humiliations, hints of exhibitionism.
Word count: 2.2k
A/N: I re-wroto this blurb, it was only 800 words and now it's 2k!!
Jenny was on the stage finishing her show.
Harry and Y/n were just chilling backstage in the dressing room, unlike other nights they were alone. The band was rehearsing, but this time without Harry. He had spent all day at the arena, away from Y/n, and the girl happened to have arrived from their hotel at the last minute, so he was enjoying the moment to talk to her, but oh God he was distracted
Y/n was wearing the tiniest dress he had ever seen, it reached just above the middle of her thigh, clutching to her ass perfectly. Harry was the one who bought the dress as a birthday gift last time they were in France, during one of their late-night walks around Rue St. Honoré.
That’s why he didn’t know the reason he was acting surprised when she first stepped into the room with the outfit on. The only thing he was sure of was that he needed to fuck her, the boner inside his pants indicated was killing him, it also wasn’t unnoticed by Y/n, who was taking glimpses at the budge shamelessly.
They were sitting on the couch, Harry’s hand resting on her thigh, as he slowly made his way up, sneaking his cold hand under her dress. He widened his eyes when he met her bare cunt, he turned his head to her, a grin on his face.
“It looks like someone is ready, huh?” he said, placing his thumb right above her clit.” Why aren’t you wearing your underwear? You know I don’t like the thought of others seeing the cunt that belongs to me.”
“I knew that you would want a quickie, you’ve been all over me since we woke up, but then you–” his thumb started to massage her nub, making her breathing uneven, she welcomed the pleasurable feeling as she continued speaking. "–you had to leave earlier and we didn’t have time to do anything, so I thought we could fuck now.”
He tilted her chin in his direction, kissing Y/n’s mouth hungrily, drinking her in as if she was his favorite thing in the world. Harry sucked her lower lip, his hand on her neck, keeping her in place.
“Oh, you knew that I would want a quickie? It looks like you are the one so desperate for my cock, walking around bare like that.” He went south, kissing her jaw and neck, picking up the pace of his finger on her clit. “The door is unlocked, anyone could come in at any time and watch me taking your pretty body, but you would like that, such a little whore for attention.”
“If you want a fuck, you get a fuck, spoiled brat. get me out, c’mon,” he ordered. The girl didn’t lose any time, she undid his suspenders and pulled the zipper of his pants down, being met by his black boxers, the shape of his cock very prominent.
The girl did what he asked, tugging his boxers down and freeing his cock, which hit against his clothes belly, the red head begging to be sucked by her. When she lowered her head to taste his cock Harry pulled her hair. “When did I say you were allowed to give me head? Get on your knees on the couch.”
With his hands on her hips, he helped put her in the position he wanted. Y/n was facing the wall, her hand palms spread on the concrete material of the walls, trying to have some steadiness since her knees weren't doing much in this situation.
Harry was very close behind her, he lifted her dress, resting the fabric above her ass. He squeezed her ass cheek and with the other hand, he grabbed her hips, pulling her body harshly against him, rubbing his cock on her hole, but not pushing it in.
"Is that what you want? Having me bending you at random times of the day and giving you my cock until you’re crying?” He asked, letting his breath tickle her ear, which made goosebumps erupt through her skin.
"We need to be quick, though, I have a job, can't keep fucking you any time you want, needy little thing." he continued, slapping her ass once, and then a second time.
Y/n whined, looking back at him with her beautiful Bambi eyes. “I want you now, please? I swear I’m gonna be quiet.” She begged
“My little whore, always crying to have my cock.” He positioned his cock with her pussy, pushing it in, in one go, moaning as her snug walls embraced his shaft. “You don’t need to be quiet, let me hear your sweet noises, wanna make sure the crew knows who fucks your pretty cunt every day.”
The little radio he had placed on the vanity beep two times, indicating Jenny only had two songs left before Harry. “Love having you on tour, love having a quick fuck whatever I want, but you like that too, such a greedy pussy.”
“I love it, I want to be fucked all the time,” she told him, now holding onto the couch’s backrest since it was better for. “I’m always ready for you.”
"Fuck, such a good pussy ya' have," he said, slamming himseld in and out of her, it always amazed him how she could take all of him. No shit she was his best girl, always doing everything to please him. Even if she could let the brattiness take the best of her sometimes, she would always shut it down if Harry gave her a stern look.
Y/n was crying due to the pleasurable feeling growing on her body, she loved being fucked fast and raw. She loved how Harry knew what he wanted from her, so he just took it. The girl adored how his lips were on her neck, giving the skin hickeys visible enough for the whole crew to know exactly what they were doing.
"Don't stop, please," she said, bringing her hand to her clit and rubbing it, bringing herself close to her climax. "You are so big, filling me up so good."
"Yeah? Treating my pup right?" He asked, his thrusts getting sloppier. "When we get to the hotel I'm gonna fuck you again, gonna take you on the balcony so everybody can see who owns you."
He spanked her ass, his ringless fingers feeling weird on her skin. She enjoyed the feeling of the cold metals against the burning marks. Y/n moved her finger faster, knowing that Harry was also close to his orgasm.
Harry harshly took her hand away, replacing her fingers with his while picking his pace. He liked to be the one who made her orgasm, not her pathetic fingers, he rubbed her clit on the places he knew got her cumming in seconds.
His balls were ready to release all of him inside her cunt. He worked himself in and out until he felt his lower belly burn with a well-known feeling. Ropes of his cum left the tip of his cocky, coating the wall of her pussy, filling her up until his cum was dripping down her leg. Harry rested his head on her shoulder, giving shallow thrust as he finished cumming.
Y/n was also riding her high, feeling dizzy by the amazing orgasm she had just experienced. Sex with Harry was always something out of this world, after this time she was still amazed by what their bodies could do together.
“That was so fucking good” Harry murmured, out of breath. He carefully pulled out of her, watching more of his cum slipping out of her, the man kissed her cheeks and fixed her dress. “Gonna turn you around, alright?”
Y/n just nodded, feeling Harry holding her by the waist until they were face to face with each other, he pecked her lips. He seemed way more collected than she was, she could tell her reflection on the vanity mirror, her hair was all over the place, her face, of course, had the semblance of someone who just got fucked.
The girl quickly turned her gaze from the mirror, choosing to focus on Harry’s green eyes instead, she wrapped her arms around Harry, breathing him in. Y/n was aware she needed to let him go, they needed to clean up and Harry had to be on stage, but she wished he could stay with her forever.
Harry placed a comforting hand on her lower back, bringing her closer. “Did I make you feel good? Are you in any pain, my baby?” He asked, resting his chin on her head.
She was squeezing him very tightly, but he didn’t want to tell her that, she needed some skin contact now, and he was willing to offer her that even though it meant his lungs collapsing (ok, maybe he was being a bit dramatic, but the pretty thing he called girlfriend sure had a lot of strength on her body.)
“You could stay with me, right?” Y/n asked in a small voice, looking up to him, her cheek pressed against his clothes chest.
“I absolutely would if I didn’t have the show.” His thumb softly cleaned the top of her cheeks, stained with small tears. “But I’m sure it will be no problem if I’m late for a couple of minutes, you always come first.”
He carefully took her arms, putting them beside her body, Y/n was looking at him confused, not sure why he undid her hug. "Stay here, I'll go to the bathroom," Harry told her, using his soft voice.
"Why? Stay with me." Y/n furrowing her eyebrows, not liking the conversation. "Or else I–"
She shut up when Harry's fingers were placed on her lips, indicating for her to keep quiet. "Or else what? Huh?" He asked, patronizingly, finding amusing the beginning of her threat.
The girl looked down. "That's what I thought, sometimes you forget who is in charge here, but it's ok, I'm always here to remind you." He stroked the back of her neck, showing her he wasn't mad.
Without saying another word Harry left to the bathroom across the room, Y/n couldn’t see him, but he was cleaning himself and washing his hands, he came back moments later with a piece of toilet paper in hand. "Let me clean you, spread your legs, please." He asked, already getting on his knees in front of the couch where she was sitting.
"Can I keep it inside, please?" She asked in a shy voice.
"That's not really good for your body, you know that."
"But I like the feeling, please? When we get to the hotel I'll take a shower, just wanna feel full, H."
If she didn’t sound at the edge of crying Harry wouldn't let her get her way, but he felt guilty enough for having to go and leaving her alone, so he just gave in. "Ok, but you better not get a UTI." He got up from the floor, watching as the girl put her underwear in the right place.
Harry still cleaned her thighs and couch, he made a mental note to ask Jeff to hire a cleaning staff to deep clean the room when they were done with the concert, if Harry didn't have another show the next day he would clean it himself, but it was not possible with his schedule, he hoped the toilet paper would be enough for now.
"Would you be mad at me if I get a UTI?" She asked, lying on the couch, observing as Harry went to the mirror.
"You know I wouldn't be mad, just upset."
"How long do you have until the concert?"
"5 minutes probably," he said, turning to her. "I really need to go, or else Jeff will be knocking here, and I don't feel like explaining to him why I'm not getting inside the box"
She laughed shyly, which made Harry smile. "Feeling ok? Can I go?" He asked, getting closer to the girl.
"I think I'm ok, just a bit tired." She answered. "Can I take a nap?"
"Of course you can, I'll wake you up when it's time to come back to the hotel, we have to leave very earlier tomorrow, so take all the sleep you can." He kissed her forehead, watching as her eyes were closing.
"Ok, can we order room service too? I saw they had pasta on the menu."
"We can order whatever you want, but right now focus on your nap." Harry took his mask, which was in his pocket, and put it on his face.
"If you need anything, just get Jeff, he is in the private pit, he always has his phone on too, be careful, please." He stroked her cheek for the last time, trying to memorize all aspects of her face.
"You don't need to worry about me."
"Yes I do, you are way too precious to get hurt, now I gotta go, I love you."
"I love you too, have a good concert."
He winked at her. "I always do when you are here backstage."
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Dark Yelena killing someone for you then proceeding to fuck you besides said killed person.
Tysm looking forward for more Dark Yelena!
Pleasure Of Death
Pairing: Dark!Yelena Belova x reader
Warnings: Death, Murder, blood, smut, oral, strap-on
This is 18+ so minors stay away!
Yelena sighs as she looks at the blood all over the basement floor. She didn’t mean for it to get this messy. She put the gun back on the table. She had planned on being done a long time ago but the man was annoying so she wanted to make him suffer first. What she didn’t realise though is that she took too long and you would be home any second. With a huff she wipes her hands off and grabs her phone.
When she sees the time she smiles. Honestly Yelena didn’t care if you saw what she did. She did it for you. If you tried to leave her or turn her in she would simply knock you out and take you somewhere far away and make sure you couldn’t leave her. Yelena would do anything for you, anything to keep you.
Yelena’s smile widens when she hears the front door open and her name being called.
“Yelena? Honey, where are you?” She could hear you setting down your keys and taking your shoes off.
“In the basement.” You stood shocked for a moment as you stood upstairs. You knew that there was a basement in your home but you have never actually been down there. Yelena told you there was no point in going down there because there wasn’t anything. Once you had even tried to convince her to turn it into an office but she quickly denied saying that you could just use one of the spare rooms. The next day you came home and the room you had been using as a guest room was turned into your own office. Anytime you had mentioned the basement afterwards she ignored you and told you that it wasn’t of any use.
One day while Yelena was at work you had tried to go down there and see how big it was because her friends came over a lot. You were planning on making it into a little gaming room for her but when you got to the door it had many locks on them. You looked all over the house for keys but couldn’t find any.
Slowly you made your way into the basement. When you got down there you staired in horror at the scene. Your girlfriend stood over the guy who had hit on you at the bar the other night, covered in blood. He was tied to a chair with many deep cuts and bruises all over him. Looking back to his face you saw the bullet hole right between his eyes. You looked over to the table and saw the many different knives and tools. Finally you looked at your girlfriend, her clothes were stained with blood. Her eyes had an evil look in them as she simply smirked at you waiting for your reaction.
“Y-Yelena.. What did you do. I-why?” Slowly she walked towards you. You backed away slightly but found yourself against another table. Once she approached you she reached at and cupped your face running her thumb across your lips.
“What does it look like, угол(angle). I killed him because he looked at what's mine. He touched what’s mine. He tried to take what’s mine. You are mine.” She pushed her thumb roughly into your mouth. Without thinking you immediately sucked, making her chuckle. “Such an obedient little, котенок(kitten). I beat your soaking.” Yelena reached her hands into your pants and immediately started rubbing your clit. You bucked against her hand and whined around the thumb in your mouth. Pulling her thumb out of your mouth she leaned in and kissed you roughly, not waiting for permission she roughly shoved her tongue in your mouth letting it dance with yours.
Pulling away she quickly pulled your shirt and bra over your head and chuckled at your following whimper. Lifting you up she sat you on the table and pushed you down. Soon your pants and panties were removed and thrown carelessly with your shirt. Kissing down your neck, Yelena left love bites all over you. When she reached your breasts she licked between them then took a nipple into her mouth. You moaned as she roughly bit down. Letting go she moved to the other one before roughly shoving you onto your back. Taking her clothes off revealed the strap you didn't know she was packing. Leaning down she gave you a soft peck on the lips as she slowly entered you causing you to cry out. This was one of her bigger straps. She rarely used it on you because it always stretched you out more than you could take.
“Too much. Too much.” You cried as she continued entering you. She ignored your cries and looked at you so lovingly that it made you want to take more of it for her.
“So good, baby. Almost in. Just a little more.” Pulling out she roughly thrusts the entire length inside you and you moan loudly. Without giving you time to adjust she began roughly thrusting in and out. All that could be heard throughout the basement was the sound of skin hitting skin and both your moans. Burying your face into her neck you came with a cry.
She pulled out of you then bent down. You could feel her breath hitting your sensitive pussy making you whimper. WIthout warning she dove in, licking from your clit to your entrance and back. You looked down at her with hooded eyes and she stared back.
Bringing her fingers to your cunt she circled them around your dripping entrance coating them with your slick then pushed her two middle most fingers inside you. You bucked desperately against her hand causing her to cuckle around your clit.
“So fucking tight and warm. You’re Mine. My котенок(kitten). My girl. Only mine.” She thrusts her fingers faster and you mewel loudly.
“Say it. Say you’re mine.” She curled her fingers inside you then stopped them. Taking her mouth away from your clit she looked at you expectantly. You couldn’t understand any of what she was saying. Let alone form a sentence.
Getting impatient she wrapped her free hand around your throat and moved her fingers slowly. She gripped your throat tightly, barely cutting off your air.
“Come on baby girl. Tell me your mine and I'll let you cum. Say it Honey. Say it” You whined as she stopped her fingers and pulled them out of you.
Taking a deep breath you spoke,”I-im yours Lena. All yours. Only Yours. You own me.” With a satisfied smile she entered her fingers again and started pounding against your g-spot. You continued to moan loudly as she chuckled.
“That's my good girl. Now come for me, malyshka.” With a cry of her name you cummed all over her hand. She continued to pump her fingers until you came down from your high.
Softly she pulled her fingers out and licked them clean with a groan.
“Tastes so good.” She kissed you gently before picking you up and carrying you to your shared bedroom.
“I’ll be right back. I have to lock the basement.” As she left the room you started thinking about what you saw down there. You were scared, yes but you wouldn’t leave Yelena. She was your whole world. You couldn’t imagine being without her. You knew even if you did leave her that she would find you. And maybe her killing someone turned you on slightly.
To Be Alone
VAGUE SPOILER WARNING FOR SHADOW AND BONE BOOK SERIES-- I try hard not to mention why the Darkling/General Kirigan is the bad guy so that I don’t spoil anything,, but the reader finds out that he lies about his identity and that he’s super sketchy/not a good guy (again,, I avoided as many specifics as possible to keep it from being spoiler-y)
Warnings: lowkey manipulation, kissing/makeout, slight fingering
A/n y’all drove me to this lol,, pls be nice!! This is the closest to full on smut I’ve ever written!! Ahh I’m lowkey scared to post
Summary: the reader finds out something about the Darkling/General Kirigan, he finds a way to convince her to stay
No amount of evidence will ever be enough to convince me fully. A part of me will always hold onto unjustifiable doubt because a part of me hopes that if I hold onto the lies tight enough they’ll turn into the truth. But that’s not how the world works.
General Kirigan. Ravka put its faith in him. I put my faith in him. I did more than that. I pushed aside my reservations and doubt in order to try and comfort him when he spoke of loneliness. Was all that a lie as well?
No. I can’t afford to think of the emotional side of it all, because if I do I may find myself incapable of moving from this spot. I don’t have time to reflect on it all, to try and unravel hopeful lies and manipulative truths. That can be done when I’m not here. If I stay here, he’ll know I know and he’ll stop me from...what? What am I supposed to do next? I could find someone with some level of power to warn.
“There you are.” Kirigan. I’m turned towards the window, not facing him, but there is no weariness or malice in his voice. He has no reason to suspect my suspicion. “Are you unwell?”
Calm. I need to pass as calm. Not turning, I force myself to ignore the endearing hint of concern in his voice. “No.” I can hear his measured footsteps. “Why would you think that?”
“I haven’t seen you all day,” he’s directly behind me now. If I turn, I’ll practically be against his chest. “And you didn’t come see me last night.”
Oh. I knew it was a mistake to begin to pull on such a small thread so close to when he expected to see me, but it kept gnawing on me. That doubt. That tiny thing I couldn’t ever let go off. “I fell asleep.” No--I cringe at my impulsive response. He knows how difficult it is for me to fall asleep. “Yesterday was just really...draining.”
In an easy movement, he places his hand on my shoulder. It’s a silent request for me to turn. Exhaling, I obey. Why? I could lie to myself and say that I’m listening to him in order to kill his suspicions, but the effect he has on me is undeniable. Even before touching each other became a casual thing on his part, my body wanted to react to him.
He’s quick to cup my face, tilting my chin up slightly so that I can’t avoid his gaze. “What troubles you, little dove?” A nickname for when he’s feeling particularly gentle. Thoughts of the evil he has to be twist my stomach as my face flushes. Kirigan’s thumb brushes over the corner of my bottom lip, stalling as I fight the urge to melt into the contact. I meet his tense gaze cautiously. “You said nothing could make you look at me differently.” No. There’s no way he figured out my change with one look alone. I’ll deny it. I’ll do what I need to do to be convincing, and then I’ll manage to escape. His grip on my shoulder tightens. “Don’t you dare lie to me again.”
The urge to snap and point out the sick irony of him telling me not to lie at him almost forces me to break. His gaze starts to shift away from me--towards the half packed escape bag I’d been in the middle of constructing. I stretch my arms forward, desperate to keep his gaze on me and away from what I can’t explain.
Kirigan’s free hand moves to pull my hand off of his cheek, but he pauses, eyes shutting in peaceful contentment. “What do you know?”
I expected his words to be angry, to border on violent...but he just sounds tired. Please, Saints, let me be wrong. “Is there anything to know?” The only reaction I get is the slightest stall of his breathing. “You said you didn’t want to be alone anymo--”
“I don’t.” The harshness of his words almost coax a small flinch from me.
Swallowing back the knot in my stomach, I exhale slowly. “A part of not being alone is being honest.”
His eyes finally open. I don’t dare move as he moves my hand off of his cheek so that he can brush his lips against my knuckles. I suppress an embarrassing shudder. “You wouldn’t have stayed--if you knew you wouldn’t ha--”
No denial. I can’t--I can’t do this. “You know what the worst part is?” I can’t believe I’m about to say this. I can’t believe it’s true. “I might have.” Those words break something in me as I force myself away from him. The lack of contact leaves me more frozen than ever. “I might have! I might have been able to bear all the monstrous things you’ve done if you had just--”
“What?!” He meets my outburst with one of equal power. “You might have stayed regardless?” The way he scoffs leaves me feeling like a wandering child. “You might have still looked at me like I hung the stars in the sky instead of like I’m the darkness they fight against?” I stay silent as he steps forward, quick to hold my chin in place with his long fingers. “I couldn’t risk you on possibility.” Kirigan’s gaze is so intense, a part of me is surprised that shadows don’t come at me--drowning me in darkness and him. “And don’t think me foolish enough to believe that someone like you would understand that I have to do what I’m doing--”
“Have to?” No--how did I almost let him lure me back in so easily. I pull myself away, approaching my open wardrobe. “That’s not past tense.” He’s still--he’s still actively hurting people. Why had I been so stupidly naive to think that maybe this was all history? “I--I can’t do this.”
Each step towards the exit of the room chips away at a piece of my soul. “You’re not walking away from me,” his strong grip is on my arm in a sharp instinct, “I won’t--I can’t be alone again.”
I swallow back the lump of emotion in my throat. “You already are.”
His eyes are pleading, pools of frightened adoration. “No--no,” he steps towards me, not releasing his grip on my arm, “You’re hurt that I lied, but now I’ll never have to lie to you again.” I push against his grip. Kirigan doesn’t release me. “Y/n,” my name is a lament from his lips, “Please.”
My eyes round out as my heart leaps into my chest. “I used to think that you were only touched by the darkness, but now I’m not sure you can tell where the darkness ends and you begin.” His grip just barely falters. Maybe it’s acceptance.
I shift weakly, a softer attempt to escape. His grip tightens even more than before as he tugs me forward. The reminder of his physical strength leaves me frozen in shock. I can’t read his expression, but something about him has darkened. When I don’t pull away again, his thumb brushes up and down my forearm. The silkiness of his touch is warm temptation. I inhale slowly as he moves his other arm in order to touch my shoulder. The contact is almost shy.
“Kirigan,” my voice betrays me, breaking as his fingers trace down my collar, “What--what are you doing?”
He tilts his head, taking in the way his touch rids my body of fight. “Nothing, really.” His voice is low, supple in its assuredness. “You’re the only person who has ever seen me--and for you to leave me after that.”
“No,” I try to step back, but my body freezes as he toys with the collar of my dress, “What I saw--what I found out--that wasn’t you.”
“It’s who I have to make myself be,” he whispers, “I’m doing what needs to be done.”
“That logic can earn you a lot,” my words are careful, “But it cannot earn you me.”
His hand brushes past my neck, finding the root of my hair. Kirigan pulls on it slightly, forcing me to expose my lower jaw and neck. I’m still as he leans forward, warm breath fanning across my skin. I fight against a shiver in vain as his lips brush down my skin, only stopping as he nips the base of my neck. I can’t help the small sound of surprise that escapes me.
“Are you sure about that?” Blood rushes to my face, motivated by both embarrassment and something else. “Little dove, don’t ruin us.” His touch is warm, but his words leave me with an uncomfortable chill. In an attempt to escape the coldness, I half-press myself into the trail of soft and desperate kisses he’s leaving down my neck.
Kirigan pauses, exhaling slowly, and I feel some mental strength return to me. “There can’t be an us--not like this.”
“Y/n.” He never uses my name. “You are the only light I know.” His words steal something from me as he pulls away enough to look me in the eyes. “I can’t handle the weight of solitude anymore--it’s worse than the dark.”
I am unflinching, watching him with a markman’s care. Kirigan takes my silence as a positive. I don’t move as his gaze drops to my lips before he presses his own together. I don’t move as he destroys the distance between us like it’s some type of unbearable weight. His lips meet mine with enough force to bruise my face. The surprise of it gives him the chance to coax my lips into parting as his hands move to either side of my face. My body reacts without my permission, letting him deepen the kiss. Every time I find some kind of free will, Kirigan pushes it away with some kind of tactful lull of his tongue. Keeping his control, Kirigan ends the kiss by grazing sharp teeth against my bottom lip.
I’m left panting. “You’re--you lied, Kirigan--I--”
“You told me once you could never see me as a monster.”
“I said that to a version of you that technically doesn’t exist.”
The grief in my chest and desire in my stomach twist in a nauseating way. Kirigan’s eyes watch me patiently, a pain similar to my own reflected in them. “Who I am when I’m with you is less fictitious than any identity I’ve ever given myself.”
The vulnerability in his voice is as alluring and distracting as the kiss. I find myself thinking of the warmth of his mouth against my skin. He had kissed me like the cure for ancient solitude could come from me. I think he had a point, because now that he’s not touching me in that way I feel the familiar tugs of cold emptiness.
“I don’t understa--” My words are cut off by his lips brushing against mine.
His touch is soft, but it’s far from shy as he draws out the kiss. It’s an attempt to keep me on edge, to keep me wanting him enough to push past my doubts. “Y/n,” there’s a reverent quality to his voice, “I--” Kirigan grabs the collar of my dress, pulling me to him sharply. His kiss conveys things that neither of us truly understand. “Don’t go.”
I don’t want to. The realization is a cruel wave crashing against my chest. “You lie to everyone, you lie to me--you--you hurt and destroy and I--” One of his hands brushes against the hem of my dress. “What are you,” the words are supposed to be sharp, but my resolve melts as his hand presses firmly against my thigh, “Doing?”
“You know me,” he draws out each word as his fingers graze towards the inside of my thighs. The cool metal of his rings are practically ice against my flushed skin. “Little dove, trust me.”
My nails dig into my palms as I try to ignore what he’s doing. “I did and you betrayed me.”
“I couldn’t lose you,” he whispers, thumb inching up my inner thigh.
I press my lips together, fighting against a natural reaction. “You did lose me.”
Kirigan’s eyes darken as his grip on my thigh tightens. “We’ll move past this.” He’s both pleading and assured. “I think I know how to make it up to you.” He trails his hand up my thigh swiftly, stopping with his hand on my lower hip. Shamelessly, he toys with the hem of my underwear. “The only thing that’s really changed is that now I’m touching you like this.”
The only thing I can do is gape at him. He’s a villain, his hands are coated in unnecessarily spilled blood, and I am helpless against his slightest touch. I should try pushing him away or at the very least resist his blatant advantages. His fingers brush down my underwear, stopping at a growing wet spot. The knowing look he gives me burns my core. I try to keep my expression hard in a final form of protest, but when he presses his pointer finger against me all the resolve in me is shattered.
My eyebrows draw together as a small sound escapes me, “Kirigan.” I can’t tell if it’s praise or a warning.
He pauses, hand retracting slightly at my whining. “Y/n,” his other hand cups my cheek. I lean into the contact without permission from my body. “There is only one name that I have not given myself and only one name I want to hear you breathe like that.” His thumb traces my lips softly. I don’t move as he leans forward, turning his lips towards my ear.
“Aleksander.” His name is nothing more than a breath, a stolen heartbeat on his lips.
He presses his fingers against where I’m the weakest again. My hips grind forward instinctually, desperate for more contact as he kisses the top of my jaw.
“Aleksander.” The name escapes me in the form of a broken moan. Speaking it feels more intimate than the way he’s touching me.
There’s the slightest pause in his consuming actions. “Again,” he breathes, “Say my name again.” His request is so soft it feels like he’s more at my mercy than I am at his.
My eyes shut as his teeth graze my neck. “Aleksander.” At the sound of his name, his teeth brush against my skin harder than ever.
When he starts to pull away, I reach out desperately, grabbing his kefta. “I thought you wanted to leave, little dove.”
No. No. He is not going to get me to agree to stay by giving me something as intimate as his original name and by denying me his touch. “Please.”
He reaches for my hand, pulling it off of him cruelly. “Do you want to stay with me?”
I know which answer will get me what I really want, but I’m not sure which answer is true. Do I want to stay with him? Even after knowing what he’s done? “I don’t want to leave you.” The vulnerability of the statement cracks at my heart. He turns away from me in order to face the wall. I take a tentative step towards. “But I’m not sure what I want matters.”
In one quick motion, he’s yanking more forward and pressing me into the wall. “Of course desire matters,” his body is pressed against mine almost entirely, “It means something.” He brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “It means you could choose me.”
What could I say to that? I part my lips to speak but he silences me by pressing his lips against my jaw. I offer no protest as he starts touching me the way he did earlier. I’m more desperate now, more needy and okay with that. His fingers slip past my underwear testingly, hesitating before finally entering me slowly.
“Aleksander,” my voice is so needy I’m not sure it’s my own.
“I want you to say my name like that again,” he whispers, kissing down my collarbone as he begins to press his fingers in and out of me faster, “And I want you to say my name casually,” his pace doesn’t slow, even when I begin to let out indistinguishable whines, “And I want you to say my name while you’re falling asleep,” his touch becomes more aggressive as his words become more sincere, “And I want you to say my name every other way there is to say it.”
The bundle of nerves in the pit of my stomach grows until there’s nothing else for me to hold onto. I finish with a sharp gasp. The feeling of euphoria is only intensified as Aleksander begins to kiss up my jaw before finally pressing our lips together.
I break the kiss first, desperate to breathe. Have my legs been so shaky this entire time? Aleksander lets me recover, resting his head against my forehead. “I’m tired of being alone.”
I imagine all the foul acts he’s committed and all the bad he wants to bring. I picture all the innocent blood he’s spilled. I see all of it--every horror and dark deed he’s ever committed. But I cannot see me leaving him. Maybe that makes me a monster, maybe that makes me an idiot...but I can’t do it.
Slowly, I move to drape my arms over his back in a loose hug. “You’re not alone, Aleksander.” I’m not sure what that signifies, but I know it’s true. There has to be good in him. No one capable of such warmth can be pure evil. “I choose you.”