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yxami · 10 months

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Aaaaa I’ve been having too many ideas for nsfw stuff, I didn’t mean to write so much with this one but oh well

Imagine you’re at a party with your best friend, he’s always been there through thick and thin, maybe you do have feelings for him but you’ve never once spoken up about them or even hinted at it other than a few goofy smiles on your face every-time he complimented on how you looked.

It’s impossible to even try to speak up! Especially with his bitchy girlfriend who seemed to have it out for you since day one, even though you’ve never given her any reason to worry.

That’s why you tried distancing yourself, well, tried to.

Here he was, bringing you to a party and insisting the two of you had to go and hang! You haven’t accepted any of his offers in weeks..! He was practically dying to just pop up in your house and force a hangout. The two of you were always so close after all!

So you caved, following him around in a party, it wasn’t even your environment but you decided that you weren’t going to be grumpy. You shouldn’t have completely shut him out anyways.

You held onto his hand as he led you through the busy crowds of young adults, many with red cups that must be containing strong alcohol, that would be the only reason why so many pairs of strangers were shamelessly making out.

He took you to an empty room, wanting privacy to have a chat even though a house party was hardly appropriate for a serious conversation. He just wanted to see if you were doing okay before getting drunk.

“So? Why have you been ignoring my calls and texts?” He pouted, closing and locking the door, you were glad the house had many rooms to hide in but now this didn’t seem like a thing to be glad about.

“cause.. y’know?” You looked up at him as you sat on the bed, hoping he wouldn’t make you verbally say it, his disapproving look just made you mirror his slight frown before sighing. “Cause, your girlfriend. She doesn’t like me y’know? I dunno why..” You declared your innocence.

Even though your guilty conscious told you that she had reason even if she had no proof or sights of it. You liked him. You had a big fat crush on him.

“What? Is she being a bitch to you? I’ll break up with her if she is” He let out a sigh of relief, he thought he did something majorly wrong, he was glad that it wasn’t something bad. He could get rid of his girlfriend in the matter of seconds if you so asked.

Only reason he got with her was because he needed to distract himself from his growing obsession with you. It was to the point where he wanted to be with you, every moment in each day. He couldn’t get enough of the time the two of you spent together. He became greedier and greedier with each week passing.

It started around 2 years ago and it was probably unhealthy, but he couldn’t stop himself so he decided on distracting himself instead of addressing his feelings.

“Nono, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to get in-between the two of you” You had a worried look on your face, you didn’t want him to ruin his happiness just for yours. He was a devoted best-friend but to do that to himself and his relationship was being too loyal.

His blissful personality and morals was probably what made you like him so much in the first place.

“You’re not getting in between anything, honestly she’s been such a jealous bitch with everybody, I should’ve known she would try something with you” His fists clenched then relaxed, leaning in to reach for your face.

“I really care about you..” He held the side of your face, speaking like a lovesick boyfriend, it caused your face to heat up, he obviously didn’t mean it that way! Stop blushing stop blushing! Please stop!

He smiled when he saw how flustered you looked, finding some amusement out of such a serious talk.

“Why are you so red? Are you gonna finally confess your feelings for me?” He giggled, his teasing tone dancing around like nothing mattered other than you.

“Shut up!” You practically whined out.

“I just.. didn’t expect you to say that” You pushed his face from being so close to yours, turning to deflect the increasing tension. You really didn’t predict him to catch you off guard enough to tease even further.

“Awe, cmon lemme see that face of yours” He cooed, leaning towards you to see how you looked. You slightly pushed him with a playful laugh escaping your lips but he was determined to see the beautiful look on your face. The two of you pushed and pulled until a slip of the arm cause you to fall back with him on top of you.

Your chest rose up quickly and then slowly back down. He almost mimicked your quick breathing. He grinned at how you looked under him, needing no words to fluster you any further.

“Stop teasing me so much, you know it works everytime” You mumbled, looking away. He softly turned your face to view his, practically begging with his eyes for something you knew you wanted as well.

The way your eyes darted to scan his face before closing your eyes and pulling him towards you only excited him to greater lengths. He cupped the side of your face while he pushed his lips against yours, the heat between the two of you growing more and more.

Until the two of you gasped for air between each deep kiss shared. He put you in his lap, sitting on the edge of the bed. You leaned towards him, working your tongue inside of his mouth as he did to yours. His arm sneaked around your waist, bringing you close when he needed it. You arched with his touch on you, almost instinctively.

As you fumbled with his belt, he stood up, bringing you to the soft carpet as he helped undo his belt, you sat on your heels before shifting your weight on your knees, looking up at him with nervous eyes at his boxers showing his obvious erection.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, I don’t want to do anything you wouldn’t be okay with” He pat your head, soothing the nerves you had, it practically seemed impossible not to. You loved him way too much to stop.

“I want to” You mumbled, feeling a little shy but slid down his boxers to reveal his cock. “I want to do this with you” You clarified, his cock pressing against your cheek as you rubbed it up and down with your hand.

He wanted to melt at the sight of how cute you looked, looking up at him, your puppy dog eyes filled with love and anticipation. He could die happy if he saw this view everyday.

You continued the forward and back movement as you tightened your grip, gaining the courage to lick his tip, he seemed to relish the feeling but the sensitivity made him look away with lustful blush on his face. He covered his heated face with the back of his hand, looking down at you with a shaky smile.

You knocked the breath out of his lungs when you put him inside your mouth, whimpering against the size that almost suffocated you for a second before you relaxed and started sucking him. He felt like his self control was slipping through his hands like sand. There was no way he could survive tonight without fucking you until all you could say was his name, and his only.

“Please don’t make that face” He whimpered out, trying to stop himself from thrusting forward into that sweet warm mouth of yours. “It’s too much, you’re gonna make me lose it” His large veiny hand brushed through the hair on the top of your head.

A muffled giggle escaped your mouth, your lips still wrapped around his cock as you sucked and licked every area you could. Even though it just started he could feel his thighs become jello already. He softly thrusted himself inside, trying to be as gentle as he could with his patience. He's had enough trouble over the years trying to keep himself from obsessing over you like the last drop of water in a desert.

“Fuck I love you, I can’t get enough of you” He groaned under his breath, feeling your throat tighten around his cock, he can’t even imagine the feeling of your hole doing the exact thing but suffocate him even more than now. He could feel himself losing it as your tongue still moved around to lick every spot you could reach.

His grip on your hair tightened, thrusting becoming more insistent. You pressed your hands against his thighs as you tried focusing on taking every inch available. He cooed sweet compliments as you moaned with his cock sliding against your cute little pink tongue.

“You look so pretty, so good, can you feel my dick twitching against your tongue? How I grasp onto your hair while I fuck your mouth. God.. you’re so good” He rambled, trying to praise you while the pleasure overwhelmed him.

He attempted to shove his cock as deep as possible, letting you salivate over the feeling of him using your mouth until his cock trembled for the last time against your tongue just to fill your senses of his cum. You could taste it, smell it, feel it. It was addicting how bittersweet it tasted.

You coughed once he slipped out of your mouth, swallowing his seed before he brought you up into his lap, sitting on the soft bed draped with blue sheets.

“You’re amazing baby, I’d do more with you but I don’t want your first time be here. When we get home I’ll fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk tomorrow” He was already hard thinking about all the positions he could put you in.

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my-plastic-life · 1 year

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Behind the Scenes: Olivier Mira Armstrong

WARNING: VERY LONG POST AHEAD!

This was definitely a journey for me! This project was completely new territory for me because A) this is a character/series I’m not familiar with, and B) I’d be attempting a FULL reroot all by myself. I’d wanted to practice, and my friend and I both decided it would be a good opportunity to do so. If I failed, I did have a rerooter friend who I knew could fix my mistakes.

But the first step was making sure the outfits could be made. Without them, this entire project would be in vain. I’d need an outfit for both dolls, though Alex will be posed wearing only his pants with his shirt and jacket suspended in the air like in this scene:

So anyway, that was the first step. I contacted my favorite seamstress, Elenpriv, and asked if this was something she could do. The doll I’d planned to use was a Made to Move petite Barbie, and the guy has slightly different measurements than a traditional Ken, but since the pants were all that really mattered, it should be okay. Anyway, Elenpriv said the outfits were totally doable!!! YES!

So the next step was finding the doll to use. I knew what body I wanted - the petite Made to Move Barbie because Olivier is pretty short compared to her brother. My friend informed me that Olivier’s typical face is a “resting bitch face” LOL. Unlike my Inuyasha dolls, this series of characters has noses and mouths that are more pronounced than just lines. That actually made finding a candidate easier.

Out of total coincidence, the doll I ended up using had the petite Made to Move body AND the perfect face! She wasn’t smiling and had short hair that could easily be removed for a reroot:

For the record, I’m not a fan of the flocked doll hair. LOL Anyway, that’s beside the point. Her face sculpt looked perfect, so I knew we had our candidate! And the outfits were a go!

So next up was choosing the proper hair color. I got my hair and the rerooting kit (I’d had some in the past but I got more just in case lol) from TheDollPlanetHair on Etsy. My friend helped me choose the color, and we went with Lemon Blonde. Or was it Lemon Drop? I got both because screens make it hard to tell colors, but in person they look almost identical LOL.

So then I got to work! I’ll spare the details of the rerooting process, except for the fact that, this being my first time doing it, it was certainly a learning curve. I’d watched several videos of people doing reroots, and no one ever plugged every single factory-made hole. So I didn’t, either. I also had to make my own holes (glad I had that extra tool to help with that!) because the flocked areas didn’t have any underneath.

Well, I got that part done, and after the boil wash, it looked way too thin. And because I was afraid the hair could come out during that boil wash, I’d already glued it inside the head. So then I had to go back and add more hair because there were totally bald spots. I did that about two more times in total before (and yes, I added glue inside each time prior to a boil wash) before I was satisfied with the thickness. I was worried it would look completely uneven, but fortunately it seemed to be okay!

Once that was done, I pulled the hair back into a ponytail so I could begin working on the face. I didn’t want to do the face first only to realize I majorly messed up the reroot lol. For the face, the only thing that needed altered was the eyes. I wanted to just paint over the original factory paint, but the eyes were too small for that. Anime eyes, you know? I also wanted to try to use watercolor pencils like I’ve seen so many customizers do. I bought some Mr. Super Clear, a protective breathing mask, and Prismatic watercolor pencils. I started with a practice doll to make sure I knew what I was doing. I sprayed her face with the MSC, then began using the pencils... and the colors just didn’t shine through. At least, not over the original factory paint. I didn’t want to remove that because I can’t draw to save my life. I need a base to trace over. But alas, it wasn’t working. I’m guessing because I didn’t use acetone to remove the original factory paint, which everyone else does prior to spraying the MSC. But no way was I going to take off the original factory paint and start from scratch. So I used my Miroku method and just extended the eyes how they needed to be. I did discover that the watercolor pencils will draw over the top of acrylic paint, so that helped. I had more control with them than a paint brush. I was also able to use a regular pencil for light drawing that I could go over later with paint.

This took some time, and of course there are two eyes, and it never failed - they would never look even lol. Something was always wacky in at least one of them, and I, being a perfectionist with a hint of OCD, was going nuts. But then I remembered that one eye is always covered. So if it’s a little off, it won’t matter too much. Hopefully. So I did the best I could, getting the shapes to match as closely as possible, adding in the two different shades of blue to the iris, then that tiny black dot in the middle and the white light dot, eyelashes, and the unique eyebrows, and I was finally satisfied enough to begin the next step.

That next step was cutting and styling the hair. Olivier has a relatively simple hairstyle. It kind of ends in a curled point, and there is one batch that’s always covering her right eye and draped across her chest. There is an even smaller strand next to her left eye ending at pretty much the same length as the batch. So I sprayed the hair and got it completely soaked, then took my curling iron to the back side to give it a little curl, then curled the batch and strand just a little bit. I think it works!

Once that was finished, it was time for the tops of the boots. I used the same Barbie boots I used for Sango and painted them black, but Olivier’s boots have tongues on the tops of them.

I had the outfits already at this point, and I’d already put Olivier’s on her so I could make sure everything fit okay. Of course, it was perfect! And the details are absolutely incredible. Elenpriv is truly the best!!! Just look at this detail!

The gold rope, the stars on the shoulder pads, the buttons - everything is there, and perfect!!! Her services are worth every penny!

Back to the boots. I’m a fan of nothing being permanent with doll stuff in case A) I change my mind later and B) a better method comes along later so I can easily modify an already existing design. So, remembering how I made Sango’s armor completely out of cardstock, bias tape, and paint, I used that trusty method once again. I sketched out a design on black cardstock, cut and glued a few layers together, then covered them with bias tape and painted the whole thing black. I left a little triangular shaped wedge at the bottom to slide in between the boot and the pant legs. Not perfect, but no way am I gluing anything to that uniform!!!

After that came the medals! I forgot to even mention them to Elenpriv, so that was on me. But I had some ideas on how I could pull them off. My first thought was to attempt to use my new Cricut I’d gotten for Christmas to do it, but I didn’t even know where to begin. And I wanted to make sure to have this project done because in a week or two I’d be dropping it off to my friend’s neighbor, who was staying at her second home in Kansas temporarily, and she would take it back to her. So I took some measurements of the area the medals would go based on this picture:

That’s also a nice picture with a straight-forward view of the medals. So I made them in a few different sizes in Photoshop, printed them out, and then held them against the doll to determine the best candidate. After choosing one, I literally measured every centimeter tick of each piece of those medals I’d printed, determining the length/height/width of each individual color, plus the coin part. I sketched the design out on bias tape, and then I used acrylic paint to bring the colors to life.

Why didn’t I just use what I’d printed? Because A) it was on cardstock, so the details weren’t nearly as sharp, and B) if I’d used photo paper, the entire thing would be way too shiny/unrealistic. So this had to be done by hand.

For the coins, I immediately thought of a hole punch. At least that way I’d get perfect circles! So I took my gold paint and covered a spare area of cardstock in it, then used two different hole punch sizes to create the medals (yes, one is bigger than the other). To add thickness, I stacked and glued two of each size together, then painted the edges gold since that part was white after cutting them out. Then I used a pencil to sketch out the cross design, then lightly went over it with black paint. I love my tiny paint brushes!!!

To attach them to the ribbons, I glued a mini strip to the back of them, then glued that to the back of the cardstock behind the ribbons. I felt that would be easier than trying to glue those tiny edges of the coins and ribbons together. I’m really proud of how these medals turned out.

To attach them to the uniform, I just used some double-sided tape. Because, again, NO glue on that uniform!!!

And with that, the doll was DONE! It was definitely quite a process, especially since I’m not familiar with this show or character, but I’m pleased with how it all turned out! My friend informed me not to share this until after the intended recipient had the dolls in her possession, and now she does. And she approves! YES!!!

#My Plastic Life #Barbie #Barbie photography #doll photography #Barbie doll photography #OOAK Barbie #OOAK doll #custom doll #custom Barbie #anime doll #OOAK anime doll #custom anime doll #FMA Brotherhood #Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood #Olivier Mira Armstrong #one sixth scale #TenderWolf

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bouquet-of-clumsy-words · 8 months

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Top 5 things you love about your girlfriend v top 5 things you love about cats. GO

OH GOD. oKAY

She honestly puts up with me, through thick n thin, we've been through some shit but at the end of the day we both know we're there for eachother.

SHE'S EMO N WEARS EYELINER

We have quite a bit in common, music, hobbies, tv taste, humour so it's like, it's just a good pal really? like anything I'd wanna do, she'd wanna do too (defo a bad influence of my bank acc though having to buy 2 x of everything concert)

She cares? like similar to point 1 but like, genuinely cares and puts me first if she needs to (apart from quitting smoking, whata bitch)

so so patience with me (I am damaged goods) and it took me like a year to even be like "yo wanna be bf/gf" and it took many a tears. Like ofc I loved her but like, allowing ya self to be vunerable again is TOUGH but she understood like, it was quite literally a, it's not you it's me thing CATS?!

PURRS, THE BEES, THE BEEEEEEEEEEEEES

TOE BEANS

They sense when you need em most? yknow? like, they're all just, it's okay im here if u need and I'll provide you with bees and knead some cookies into your leg

the UNCONDITIONAL LOVE, maybe it's the food, maybe it's not. but like, they'll just up to you, go brrrrp then headbutt you, like who the FUCK doesn't like cats? im throw hands

idk what to put, but like i couldn't imagine being alive without my cats ngl, like we had some ROUGH TIMES and they've always been there for me like it's not even a joke like, it's like I stayed for them

#about me #cats

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evilsillyputty · 1 year

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Review

Yankee Jk Kuzuhana-Chan

Or: Delinquent High School Girl Kuzuhana-Chan

Genre: Harem-Comedy

Summary/plot: An all girl school that teaches fashion, business, and cooking opens its doors to boys and our MC is the only one to join. He does actually go there for the fashion curriculum as his family owns a tailor shop. Unfortunately all the girls there are delinquents and they all teas and bully him for being a guy. One day while getting bullied he is saved by the first main girl, Kuzuhana-Chan. This snowballs into him slowly making friends with other girls, no tsundere though. Unless you count a once-bullier to friend as tsundere. Harem stuff happens. Girls like boy, boy thinks it’s all just teasing him, you know the drill. But it does have some unique qualities to it.

Art Style: It uses stock backgrounds, but they don’t look bad. The characters have a round shojo look. I would say it is a more unique style, but not non-manga style. The artist draws the girls with thickness in mind. No thin as a stick people they all got some curve and chonk on them.

Personal thoughts: Comparing it to other harem manga, I think this one is a breath of fresh air so to say. Mostly in how the characters act and how the plots work out. You’ll find yourself saying “Oh that’s a bit different than normal harem” here and there. They don’t rely on misunderstanding plot points too much. Really, it’s only used for the MC to assume that the girls are just teasing him rather than actually liking him. Which I will say he has good reasons to think this, being that most of them have teased him with flirtatious behaviors. There are a few points were a typical harem plot starts up but then quickly gets resolved. Some of the girls are also more malicious in personality. Something else that is different, is that the characters actually communicate about their problems. It may take a chapter or two to build up the courage or get a good time, but they do in fact have growth moments. The only thing they don’t confess is their love (because we gotta keep the manga going) but if they are feeling left out, or they want to clear the air about something, or if they feel like someone is mad at them, they tend to eventually talk it out. In the recent chapters they’ve been working on the MC getting out of the keeping things to himself and not recognizing the other’s feelings. They have gotten to the point where they have introduced so many girls that the original main ones are being left behind. The OG main girl Kuzuhana-Chan has been getting less and less chapters, and her name is in the title of the manga. Like really the others I can understand but give or main girl her spotlight back. Also, its heavy on the panty shots and about equally so with the boobs. There is a decent amount of falling on top of each other in perverted positions too.

Characters:

Saotome: Our MC and only boy in the manga. A fashion manic or at least he really likes designing clothes. Will do perverted stuff without noticing because he’s too engrossed with clothes (this is not overused). Pretty typical for a harem protagonist but maybe a bit smarter and more aware. Easy bulling target but will also try to protect others even though he probably needs it more.

Kuzuhana: The first main girl. She is the “big scary” of the school. Once beat up a shit ton of people and got the reputation for it. She a sweetheart under a tough shell. There’s a “dere” term for this but I don’t know it. She solves problems with violence and or intimidation and where she can’t do those any kind of sport-like competition will work, except for swimming. A bit of a ditz and pushover when it comes to romance though.

Takae: Bitch, ok now that’s out of the way she is the most cunning evil one of the harem. Her first appearance was her attempting to extort money out of Saotome via black mail. Though she joined the harem and has become less of a problem now. She is probably the smartest one of the group. She’s good at identifying threats and formulating plans around them. 2 faced is a good description of her. She does improve though the story.

Usigome: The big-titty ditz. You know the type. She pretty loose with shoving herself on Saotome and acts all airheaded. To her credit she can be smart and tactical. Generally nice and supportive to others.

Kodera: The cool calm one. She is kind of disconnected from the harem but still a part of it. She has 2 other friends she always hangs around, who after getting over the fact she like a guy, helps her out with it. She isn’t too aggressive but has problems with interacting with men.

Madoka: The childhood friend. She is in the cooking class. For some reason she never checked in on her childhood friend whenever she heard that he happened to be the only boy in their school, but whatever. She isn’t featured much. She has the typical “childhood friend you haven’t seen in a while and is in love with you” personality, and thus has the “I like him but how do I get him to see me more than friends” deal.

And of course more girls come in down the line.

Other info: As of 2/23/23 there are 142 chapters. They are of typical length so it may take a bit to get through. No anime I’ve heard of for it but wouldn’t be surprised to hear one is coming.

All in all: I’d recommend this one. It’s different from most other harem manga so it will keep you engaged. If you like harem and can get over the panty shots, you’ll like this one.

#Yankee Jk Kuzuhana-Chan #Delinquent High School Girl Kuzuhana-Chan #review #anime review #manga review #manga

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noroifish · 1 year

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in here it could have been different

(let me tell you a story where it could have been different. i am here, telling the story, where it could have been different.)

HE THAT IS KNOWN NOW AS RYOMEN SUKUNA 両面宿儺 is itadori sukuna 虎杖宿儺 under the mirror, whose brother is famous for inadvisable stunts of physical prowess and who himself is famous on the jujutsu college campus for being A Grade A Asshole.

sukuna follows his pissant twin under the subdued lights of the jazz club "because this club doesn't suck! it's got that stupid fucking PIZZAZZ JAZZ or whatever you like! ALSO YOU NEED TO FIND SOMEONE TO FUCK SO YOU STOP THAT BITCH-ASS MOOD, SUKUNA. get good." in sukuna's opinion, this club does suck, even if the low thrum of the plucked contrabass and the seductive howling of the horn and the trill of the sax is putting his mind at ease.

yuuji abandons him the second he sees his girlfriend, though, the soft, worn leather of her deceased mother's leather jacket curling across her shoulders as she turns her head, blowing her bangs out of the way to greet her boyfriend. junpei is the best thing to ever happen to yuuji, even grumpy ass sukuna can admit that.

but it makes his fucking stomach twist to see yuuji so happy.

sukuna has never been, and may never be, that happy.

he sits down, ordering a club soda and propping his head up at his lone seat at the bar, glaring away any woman that gets too friendly with him and snarling at any man. he doesn't want to pick up, he doesn't want another one night stand (YUUJI: more like one HOUR with your bitch ass), where he has to, to...

do what's expected of me. as someone that cuts up past six feet tall and fucking, looks like he knows how to throw an uppercut, with the hard thighs and hard ass that come from fucking, trying to keep, trying to keep up and outpunch any thought that just, any thought.

sukuna inside himself is very small.

"hey," someone says from beside him, with a soft, silken voice like iron.

sukuna shivers. he's about to pull his tongue out to say, "get the fuck away from me," but then he takes a look at her and forgets to close his mouth.

she's really beautiful. the slightest eyeliner cutting the edges of her eyes, her thick, full lashes all natural, though, her half-lidded gaze easily seductive, taking his breath away, stilling it sharp and prickly in his throat, his chest hurts looking at her, with her pursed, haughty lips glossed in sticky, pale pink, and her thin, linen jacket cutting a delicate silhouette. her clothes are all the same shade of deep, dark night blue, down to the pointed tips of her shoes, and the way she smiles at him, just the barest deigning of a twitch of the lips, revealing her sharp teeth...

sukuna didn't really think he was stupid. but he's looking at her and he's instantly forgotten every word he has ever known, including his own name, his brother's name, the name of his brother's sole happiness, and the first dog he ever had.

"hello?" she says.

"H," sukuna manages.

she laughs, meanly, definitely at him, his expense, and he smiles stupidly at her, halfway in love, just waiting for her to laugh at him some more...to do something...her sea urchin hair is so beautiful, royal, and mermaid-fair...

sukuna blurts, "have you heard of the legend where you eat the flesh of a mermaid you become immortal."

the sea-urchin princess smiles indulgently at him. "no, tell me more."

"that's all i really know. i, you're, uh. it's because i, you. FUCK, i'm not. uhh."

"mm-hmm, and?"

"I...my. I'M SUKUNA."

"my name is megumi. here, give me your phone. i'll show you the kanji. "

sukuna hands her his phone in a daze. he almost hands her his wallet, but she gives it back to him and tucks it back in his pants pocket. he thinks he may be drooling. she's so beautiful. her eyes are glittering in the low light with amusement at his expense, definitely at his expense, but she moves so gently and she's so lovely, he wants her to say more.

"here, take a look. i texted myself with your phone so i have your number. i wouldn't want to miss out on seeing you again."

"yeah...huh? oh. megumi." sukuna remembers how to read.

she put a little heart next to her name.

she's so........................

"for godsend, or blessing. my dad didn't care about the gender of his child when he had one. so, megumi."

"hmm?"

"are you listening?"

"Yeah."

"really?"

"mm-hmm."

"what did i just say?"

sukuna tilts his head. she laughs behind her hand.

"uhhh. wait. you said that your dad didn't care about the gender of his kid. isn't, like, isn't megumi a normal name? for a girl to have?"

"oh? you don't think i'm a man? even if i look like this?"

sukuna blinks slowly, watching her beautiful mouth as it moves. he doesn't like kissing but he thinks maybe he'd reconsider if it meant he could touch that mouth with his mouth.

"you, uhh, aren't a woman?"

"no, i am. but i don't look like one. at all, really."

sukuna doesn't really understand and frowns a little.

"hmm...interesting. are you?"

"am i?" sukuna says, leaning in to the softness of her voice and her beckoning fingers.

she touches his cheek, the side of his neck, sliding her hand into his hair, her long, long fingers stroking up against the soft stubble of his undercut. he closes his eyes. she pulls his head in until he's curled over her, pressing his forehead into the side of her neck, which smells SO good, unspeakably good, inarticulately good. she smells warm and gentle and clean, with a faint herbal fragrance like sleepy ancient medicine and tall, wild flowers.

he sighs, reaching out for her willowy waist, and clumsily puts his big ugly paws on the dip of her side.

"mm, good girl," she whispers, hot into his ear.

he gasps at the frisson of heat it sends through him, down through his spine and curling around his cock.

"anyone waiting for you?" she says.

he shakes his head, panting lightly into her neck, her voice is so breathy, just barely tipping deep and warm and so, so gentle.

"i assume you're not seeing anyone?"

sukuna nuzzles into her neck, panting.

"what are you doing to me," he slurs. "GOD, whatever you're doing, don't stop..."

"sukuna, are you seeing anyone?" she says firmly.

"no, im single. haven't, haven't fucked for, i have my, i'm clean. so i. i'm tested, im clean."

"you're in luck, so am i. but i'm not going to fuck you. tonight."

sukuna whines.

"come home with me anyway. we'll sit together, get to know each other."

sukuna feels hurt, and a little unwanted, and he fidgets, biting his lip, fractious.

"shh. let's do this right. i want to do right by you. let me tell you a secret..."

sukuna realizes he needs to respond. "yeah?"

"i want to keep you. so i want to do this right."

"come home with you?"

"mm-hmm. let's go."

megumi finishes his club soda in one gulp and he watches her throat bob, the knot of it going up and down, and he wants to suck on it, right there.

megumi nips his ear with his teeth, and he feels himself full body flush, gasping at the jolt of pain and the line of heat to his cock.

"let's go."

#sukufushi #fushisuku #experimental writing #jjk fic

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quindolyn · 3 years

Note

subby Jamie fluffy (Smut?) where he wakes up in the middle of the night and sucks on the readers titties to drink from her tits because she's lactating after giving birth to their daughter. I don't know if this makes sense but I hope it does!

Lactation Kink || James Potter

A/N: I'm not even sure if I should include "kink" but I will admit that there are some very smutty overtones so read at your own discretion. I tweaked the request a little bit in terms of the circumstances but the bones are still there. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: lactation kink, light sub!James and Dom!reader, not much I don't think, all acts are completely consensual and if they needed a safe word they'd have one

Word Count: 1851

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were life savers. They could only watch their two closest friends creep closer and closer to death for so long before doing something about it.

After giving birth to a beautiful baby boy seven months ago you and James had come to understand a new definition of the word exhaustion. You were absolutely enamoured with your baby boy, James the same way if not worse, always keeping him cradled in his arms, Harry’s little head nestled into the crook of James’ arm.

Regardless, there is no amount of parental love to counteract the complete lack of sleep the two of you have endured. “Sleep when the baby sleeps” they all say, it's excellent in theory if only the baby would actually sleep.

No, instead you and James were subject to months of newborn induced insomnia,

You’d barely understood what Remus and Sirius were saying when they offered to watch your son for a few days, give you and James some time alone. Even though every part of your being screamed for you to take them up on their offer there was that small, annoyingly persistent, voice in the back of your head. The voice of maternal guilt.

Your friends wouldn’t hear any of your arguments, listening as you insisted that Harry was still far too young for you to leave him, you could barely stand a few hours, how were you supposed to survive days?

Despite your insistence that it was far too early to leave Harry with his godfathers for an extended weekend when the following Thursday rolled around you and James were rather unceremoniously kicked out of your own house, told that reservations had been made for you at an expensive spa and resort and that you were not to return home until the following Monday.

They’d even packed your bags for you.

You and James had successfully made it through the first night away from your baby, your quality of your sleep however was not up to par as you tossed and turned, worrying about the little boy you’d left at home.

Even cuddled up to Jamie’s chest your sleep was more like a light sheet over your consciousness giving you a shallow, unsatisfactory, reprieve.

What you needed was for sleep to hit you over the head with a baseball bat, knock you unconscious for hours and give your body time to recover.

After a long, exhausting day of taking advantage of the resort's numerous spa treatments, your wish of deep, meaningful sleep seemed as though it might actually just come true.

Minutes after laying your head down on the pillow, James slipping into bed behind you, you were out cold. Pulling you closer so that he could bury his face in the crook of your neck James was close behind you.

Finally, sleep.

-----

Your tits hurt, they fucking hurt. You were finally getting some quality sleep but the discomfort in your chest became intolerable and you were lulled back into a dreaded state of consciousness.

You’d been so ready for sleep and the peace that it would bring that you’d forgotten to pump your milk before getting into bed. You find yourself regretting that decision now, you shift slightly in James’ hold, just as tight as it had been when you’d fallen asleep. The clock on the bedside table reads three in the morning.

Fuck me, you think, your thoughts still blurry from sleep, carrying a weight in your temples that lures your head back down to the pillow as you fall back into your spot in James’ arms. You’re going to have to get up eventually, that much you understand, but the prospect of getting up and finding the pump, hooking it up, then actually sitting there while you pump sounds nothing short of absolutely dreadful.

You can only lay there for so long, on your back so as not to apply any pressure to your breasts, staring up at the ceiling before your tits go from hurting to feeling like they’re about to explode.

Eventually you’re forced to begin to fuss in James’ arms, trying to find the seal that will let you get up hopefully without waking your husband.

Even asleep James’ grip is insistent, he’s like quick sand, the more you try to maneuver your way out of his arms the tighter his hold gets, the closer he pulls you to him.

“Jamie, you gotta let go,” You murmur, hoping to appeal to the half asleep man.

“Where you going, angel?” His voice is the crashing of a wave against the shore in your ears, low, rumbling, calming. That voice alone is enough to have you considering just climbing back into bed with him, exploding tits be damned.

“Forgot to pump Jamie, m’tits feel like they’re ready to explode.”

He flickers his eyes open, worry etched into his irises, already blanketed in sleep, “Hurting?” Raising his head his eyes drop to your tits, like maybe he’ll be able to see your affliction.

“A little bit,” You nod, your hands combing through his unruly curls before making another attempt to rise from the mattress, “Gonna pump and then I’ll feel all better. I’ll be quick.”

“No,” He whines, god you miss the sound of his whine. His arms are like steel as he pulls you firmly back onto the bed, “M’thirsty anyways.”

Confusion heightens in you before James turns you so you’re fully on your back before slipping under your arm, resting his head on your chest.

Nimble fingers find the neckline of the silk camisole you’d found in the luggage Remus and Sirius had packed for you, sons of bitches also packed every single pair of lacy panties you own.

With little difficulty he slips the thin strap down your shoulder allowing him to tuck the soft material of the top under your breast.

“Miss my girls,” He whispers as he bares your breasts, they’re swollen with milk but the way he’s looking at you you’d think they were something far more precious.

“I’ll be gentle,” His promise comes just as he latches onto your pert nipple, carefully guarding his teeth with his lips, the last thing he would wanna do is hurt you.

It bears little resemblance to the way he used to suck your tits, fervently like they were the only things keeping him grounded, sometimes they had been. Now he proceeds with a new sense of caution but that doesn’t mean it’s any less pleasurable.

“Jamesie, ‘s for Harry, you can’t drink the baby’s milk,” You regrettably push him off your tit, he looks anything but pleased.

“They were mine first,” He whines, throwing you a dirty glance that falls completely flat given the immense adoration that lies just behind it, “And I told you (Y/N), ‘m thirsty, want your milk. Wanna make you feel good.”

Giving you his most convincing puppy dog eyes he leans back in, he latches on efficiently and sucking with an increased vigor you feel a feeling of fullness swell in your breast as your nipple tingles. It’s a feeling you’ve gotten used to but so rarely has it ever turned you on as when James is the cause of it.

He hums in satisfaction as the warm milk seeps into his mouth, it encourages him in his efforts causing him to latch on tighter. A little too tight.

“Easy there baby,” You hiss, “M’tits are sensitive.”’

He complies immediately, loosening his lips around your nipple the sensation becomes pleasurable once more. The pleasure helps distract from the discomfort which, at least in the tit James it latched onto, seems to be dwindling. The other breast is left aching until you feel a similar sensation coming from your nipple.

“You’re leaking.”

Casting your eyes downward you see that he’s right, you’re leaking slightly out of your unattended nipple. It's not unusual for it to happen but usually you just brush it away with a warm washcloth, not wanting to have a sticky mess on your chest.

Carefully, he brushes the pad of his thumb over the over sensitive bud.

“Can’t let it go to waste,” He brings his thumb to his mouth to suck it clean, the visual is almost enough to make your head spin.

You can’t remember the last time you saw James subby, ever since you’ve had Harry it's been sleepy handjobs and once you fully recovered, him pushing you up anywhere he could and taking you right there. It’s like parenthood awoke something far more dominant inside of him but as he latches back onto your tit you’re reminded how beautiful he is when he submits to you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting your fingers dance along the nape of his neck as you feel yourself unwinding with every second he sucks at your tit, bringing you relief.

“You full yet?”

He gently lets your tit slide from his mouth before responding, “Does it still hurt?”

The genuine concern in his voice has butterflies erupting in your stomach, you learned a long time ago just how sweet and caring James is but sometimes it hits you harder than you were expecting and you’re left feeling just as giddy as you did in the beginning of your relationship.

James seems to have sucked you dry, or at least to a point where your tit no longer burns with the feeling of an impending explosion.

“No s’all better baby, did such a good job,” You guide his face up towards yours, “Got a little milk on your lips,” You lean in, kissing the milk off his swollen lips.

It’s sweeter than you expected but maybe everything was sweeter coming off his lips.

You take your time admiring his face, hazel eyes that look a little more brown than they did yesterday, lips an impossible pink. Thick, long lashes you remember envying for as long as you’ve known each other cast their shadows along his cheekbones. He’s perfect.

You run the pad of your thumb along his bottom lip before letting him suck it into his mouth, when he couldn’t get to your tits sucking on your fingers always used to help James calm down. For the life of you you can’t remember the last time he’d sucked on your fingers. If it’d been in the last seven months you’d probably just been too tired to remember.

Letting your digit slide from his mouth James hauls himself over you, careful not to brush against your breasts, to lay on your other side. He moves with a surprising grace considering just minutes ago he’d been in the throws of sleep, you’d forgotten how well he moved.

“Other one now,” He murmurs, eyes glued to your tit as his hands move to cup it, giving him better access to your nipple.

“You sure baby? I can just pump this one and you can go back to bed, s’okay.”

“No,” His brows furrow with his empathic response, if he wasn’t already on top of you you’re sure he’d pull you closer in fear that you might escape, “Mine.”

taglist: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @thatvenusbabe @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @Greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb @marauderswhore07 @st0nesnglitter @miraclesoflove @shadesofvelma @drachoesimp @ashlovesthemarauders @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @Ohwowimlonley @padfootswife @roonilwazlibswhore @swearingsolemnly @Teenwolfbitches28 @lilypad-55449 @jamespotterslover @lilytheally @mo-jean @jeannelupinblack @wh0reforthemarauders @myalupinblack @ashesandstars @daisyyy2516 @siriusmydeer @remugoodgirl @itzstacie @planet-wolfstar @steveharringtonswhore @saintlike78 @thatdummymarie @cedricisnotdead @pretty-pop-princess-hs @saggyb1lls

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Rusted Remnants

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x mutant!Reader

Warnings: past noncon, smut, dirty talk, Stockholm syndrome, violence, mention of human experiments, swearing.

Words: 1924.

Summary: You felt better knowing he wouldn't have to leave for quite some time now, staring at the man as he leaned back against the pillow, watching the smoke slowly disappear in the air - Heisenberg wasn't your darling, but he's the only one who kept you sane in that fucking hole where human life mattered so little. Among other Lords he's the only one who had the resolve to fight that heartless bitch hiding behind the façade of a holy mother.

____________________

When a bearded man in sunglasses opened the door with a grinding, abrasive sound, you felt both fear and relief - Heisenberg was a mean son of a bitch who couldn’t stand people crossing him on anything, and you learned that the hard way. However, thanks to that insanely strong bastard who could smash in a Lycan’s skull with one swing of his hammer, you were still safe in his hideout, not having to worry about mutilated monsters this place was swarming with.

Besides, even though Heisenberg was as rotten and disgusting as any other Lord, he still had more human in him than Dimitrescu, Beneviento and Moreau altogether.

“Did you miss me, little monster?” He smirked, watching you laying in bed with some cheap romance novel you traded for bullets with the Duke: you had little hobbies since you barely left Heisenberg’s factory.

You rolled your eyes, knowing he hadn’t been home for a couple of days and now needed to get under your skin, feeding off your emotions like Alcina fed off her victims’ blood. It was something like a routine to him: he needed to know you had something human in you, too.

“Who else do you expect me to miss?” you snorted, leaving a worn book with a dirty yellow cover on the bed. “You know I don’t like when you leave for so long.”

“It’s not like I like it either.”

Leaving his monstrous hammer on the table full of blueprints, drawings, nails and all other things you were forbidden to touch, he took his glasses off, and you saw his weary eyes, the blood vessels widened in their white. It didn't happen often, but from time to time Heisenberg would abandon his façade of a smug, careless bastard, and then you could catch a glimpse of a deadly tired man who had long lost any hope to ever free himself from Miranda’s death grip. Something had happened in those couple of days when he had been wandering the woods and catacombs filled with Lycans, Samcăs, and Vârcolacs, and it certainly wasn’t good news if it stripped Heisenberg of his endless complacency.

Quietly slipping away from the bed, you put your shoes on while the man in front of you left his coat hanging on a chair and stilled, his dirty hands on the desk as he stared at it blankly. While he stood there, motionless, you turned on the large faucet in an improvised shower cabin - everything there had been old and rusty, and you needed time to adjust the temperature of water from icy cold to bearable cool or even hot if you were lucky enough. Thankfully, Karl never protested against showering, washing away dry blood, machine oil, muck and filth.

Saying nothing, you carefully lifted his hat, unclasped the belt on his chest and started unbuttoning his dirty shirt - nobody would believe it had been white once. Finally, Heisenberg came back to his senses, smirking and letting you strip him of his clothes, leaving his pants and huge heavy boots on the floor. As he stepped into the shower, he dragged you with him behind the old plastic curtains full of holes, and your nightgown got drenched within a couple of seconds, water pouring over your head. You didn’t protest anymore, knowing the man wouldn’t let you go until he blew off some steam, pushing you into a wet stone wall and wrecking you ass till you started sobbing - he loved when you squeezed his fat cock with your pussy, but Heisenberg couldn’t risk getting you pregnant, leaving his child to be endlessly tortured by that holy bitch until she turned his baby into some fucking monster doll. Sometimes he could buy some condoms from the Duke, but it was still a rare occasion, so most of the time Heisenberg spent using your other holes, filling you to the brim with his cum until he felt satisfied.

"Wearing that white nightgown like some noble slut from Alcina's castle." he growled into your ear from behind, grinding against your ass, his callous fingers gripping your hips as he forced you spread your legs for him. "Did you do it on purpose, baby? Did you want to bounce on my cock so bad?"

Turning your head to him, you didn't get a chance to speak up when the man crashed his mouth into yours, his arm lifting up the drenched fabric of your nightgown and baring your flesh. Landing a loud smack to your ass, he grinned through the kiss: he loved it when you behaved well around him, taking whatever he was giving you like a good girl you were.

You didn’t mind. At first the thought of him touching you had been giving you panic attacks and nausea, but as years flew by, nothing changing in this Hell of a place where sanity was a privilege, you clung to Heisenberg in a desperate attempt to feel human again - even if it was something as primitive as grinding your bodies against each other.

As he rubbed his cock in between your shaking thighs pressed together, you moaned, the water cascading down your bodies while Heisenberg fondled your breasts, biting and nipping his way down your neck.

"You're going nowhere until I fuck the shit out of you."

_________

Breathing in the smell of his Cuban cigars, you watched Heisenberg smoke as he laid close to you, his naked body barely covered by a blanket: his skin was littered with nasty scars, and it seemed like every centimeter of it had once been burned, cut or bitten. Some of them were so old you could barely see them, others relatively knew where the scar tissue was still angry red and thick: most of the time he got them while working on his personal army down there, but with his regenerative abilities they were like a kitten bite to him. Of course, even of they weren't, Heisenberg would still pretend like it was nothing, wearing his shit-eating grin.

"The holy whore is up to something," he says after long minutes of silence, ash falling to the floor from his cigar, "and I don't like that I know fucking nothing of her plans."

You felt better knowing he wouldn't have to leave for quite some time now, staring at the man as he leaned back against the pillow, watching the smoke slowly disappear in the air - Heisenberg wasn't your darling, but he's the only one who kept you sane in that fucking hole where human life mattered so little. Among other Lords he's the only one who had the resolve to fight that heartless bitch hiding behind the façade of a holy mother. You couldn't call him sane, but he had enough sanity to remember what Miranda did to all of you and how fucking twisted was her desire to have a family. You weren't her children, regardless how many times Moreau was going to call her his mother. Whatever she did to you or those miserable villagers, her cannon fodder, she did only to revive her real daughter, and the thought had been making you sick since the times Heisenberg told you about Miranda's past.

"You think it's something big?"

"Yeah. She keeps disappearing into thin air, and I can't find a trace of her anywhere at all."

You grew silent, staring at the blanket with empty eyes: it certainly wasn't a good sign. Where was she going if even Heisenberg couldn't locate her? Was she crossing the forest to get to the outer world? The last time it happened she brought to the world one more horrifying monster with a face of a little girl. The only thing you knew about her was that she was destroyed a couple of years ago, just a failed experiment like all those Miranda had been involved in.

"I think she partners up with someone, some organization that can give her what she wants like, you knew, she did before." You muttered, and Heisenberg stared at you, narrowing his frightening light eyes.

"With whom could the old bitch partner?"

"I don't know, but I know she brought someone with her, willingly or not."

Now you had his full attention as he turned to you, his eyes burning a hole in your face. "Who did she bring here? How the fuck do you know?"

Rolling over to your stomach and hugging a pillow - a real pillow you got from the Duke a month ago, not that pile of garbage the man had been sleeping on for ages - you let out a loud sigh. You weren’t eager to go exploring the factory even though you knew where his soldiers were, but you couldn't just stay in his room for the rest of your days, and sometimes you would get out for a couple of hours, wandering empty corridors with rusted doors.

At first it was subtle. You knew this place well, but you couldn't sense monsters or people getting in the way Miranda did even after Cadou implantation. You just wandered the same places over and over, collecting semi-precious stones, bullets and other things you could trade for something with a merchant. As the time flew by, the feeling of uneasiness was washing over you as you stepped into certain rooms, got into certain places. There was nothing peculiar there, nothing that would catch your attention, but something was still eating you up as if you knew something wasn't right.

At one point you realized that what disturbed you were things moving from their original places - changes were small, barely noticeable for someone who didn't spend hundreds of hours walking around here, but you could know put your finger on what was wrong. Who was it? You knew it weren't the Lords who had no business here. Besides, the Master of Metal could always feel their presence. Obviously, it weren't humans from the village for whom the factory was sacred, and monsters possessed too little intelligence to put things on their places in the very same order. You thought it could be Mother Miranda, but she wouldn't be sneaky if she really wanted to show Heisenberg his place.

Now it all made sense. You knew the outer world would learn about this place sooner or later, especially after that monster girl incident, and it only proved the idea Miranda brought someone with her.

"I think it's someone smart, Karl. Someone who will either destroy Miranda or try to take control of her - and us, maybe." You said after telling him about your little adventures, and the man smirked, stroking your back. Of course, after her little Eveline had been released into the world, he had thoughts about other organizations having their fair share of Megamycete,

“Someone we can use against her, then.” He whispered, his eyes dark and perceptive as he leant closer, dropping a kiss to your shoulder, his complacency getting back as he sent you a smug grin, slapping your ass loudly. “Good job, little monster. Good job.”

Rolling you over on your back, he got on top of you, pushing your legs apart and licking his lips at the sight of your naked pussy right in front of him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

“I’ve forgot to tell you baby," he grinned at you when you squirmed from his touch, his thumb already tracing tiny little circles against your clit. “I’ve got a rubber, so you better milk me dry with that sweet little cunt of yours.”

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil

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bonniebird · 2 years

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Natasha x Reader

Requested by Anon

Masterpost

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Valentine Event

“Mail is on the side.” Tony called. Clint flicked through the mail. Most of it was for mail ins that the Maximoff’s had ordered. There was a copy of an old magazine for Steve. Clint handed you a thick envelope and left to give Wanda her mail.

“What’ve you got?” Natasha asked curiously as you opened the letter and frowned at it.

“I got a letter inviting me to Amsterdam. I don’t know anyone there and I’ve never been but I might go.” You muttered.

“You’re going to go when you don’t know the person who invited you?” Sam asked. He’d been eating cereal with Bucky, it was his current mission to introduce all the good cereal to Bucky in their down time.

“Well… it’s a free trip and it says they’re a distant relative.” You explained. Natasha looked at the letter as you showed it to her.

“This seems like a scam. What could they want?” She asked you. She sighed when you shrugged and said that she would go with you. Tony was updated and insisted on covering the cost of the trip, just in case it was a family member reaching out. Before you left Natasha insisted on at least teaching you how to hide in a crowd. How to change your appearance with just a hair bobble or a baseball cap and some glasses. When the day finally came you travelled together.

“Have you noticed the people that got on the train a few stops back?” You asked her.

“The ones watching us?” She asked. You nodded and tried not to look directly at the people who had taken seats on the opposite row. “This stop is ours. We’re supposed to get to the gates. There’s a car that will pick us up.” Natasha muttered. You followed her as she got off the train.

You were still followed. Though Natasha didn’t seem too worried she walked you through the crowd and ducked behind one of the ticket machines. The station cleared and the only people left were the two of you and the people that had been tailing you.

“We lost the Avengers. We know. We’ll get them to you. It looked like the Black Widow was sent with them… understood.” One of them said into a phone they pulled from their pocket. They hung up and turned to their partner. “We need to find the Avenger or the boss will lose it. Apparently their powers will make his machine work. He’s going nuts.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” You whispered to Natasha.

“We have an evacuation plan. We just need to wait for them to leave.” She whispered back. Once they moved on Natasha led you down a side alley near the station. Then round several back roads until she found a campervan. The keys were inside.

“Let’s go. Once we start driving they’ll get a signal. We should hit our check in point in a few hours and we’ll be able to let the others know what we heard. Then we find a way to figure out who their boss is.” Natasha explained. You got in the passenger seat, glancing back you could see the small campervan was equipped so that you and Natasha could be on the road for a few days without checking in with anyone. She handed you a thin mesh, helping you put it on so you could disguise your face, she put one on and did the same. The cameras on the road wouldn’t be able to pick up on who you were.

“I was hoping it would be… someone from my family.” You admitted as Natasha started driving.

“We’ll find them. Eventually. Even if I have to take you to sketchy meet ups every time until we do find them.” She joked. You laughed a little and smiled, looking out at the road.

Natasha tags:

@daughterofthenight117 @phasma-trash @bluebear142077 @boardstomymood @multi-fandom5 @justice-for-the-kaldorei @favmeyou @kaylantus @skinny-bitch-juice @yougottalovefandoms @devilslilbabysblog @sentimentalweasley @why-am-i-here-01

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #bonniebird #Valentine2022

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danniburgh · 3 years

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Evergreen Intrusion (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x f!reader

Summary: You never knew what happened or why it did; at nights, when you wrapped yourself around his body and he held you in place so you wouldn’t slip away from him, you talked about it, always coming to the same conclusion right before falling asleep. It was real.

Word count: +8.2k

Warnings: angst, hints of grief, smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), this is my attempt at magical realism, bear with me.

A/N: okay guys, this took me over 2 months to finish, i left it incomplete bc sex with frankie intimidated me but i sat today and said "youre gonna get done bitch" and it did, with major changes, but it did. anyway, thanks <3 and i wanna thank @mouthymandalorian because since the start i ranted everything to her and she read it in april and said “its good bitch” and wow, i love her so much i wanna cry

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // playlist // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

moodboard by me // gifs: @pajamasecrets and @conveniently-available

Many years later, when Frankie thought of the smell of the thick fog making contact with the grass, petrichor, is called, he would recall the time he spent with you on that place, in that time, and he would remember the eerie aura that you had carried with you during your stay, you glowed. It wasn’t like the feeling the rain gave him when he heard it. It was something else, something he couldn’t name, even decades after it happened.

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” you sighed out, looking around you and seeing nothing but thick high pine trees.

Your feet ached because of how long you two had been walking together; Frankie decided the previous day that as you both had your weekend off, maybe some hiking would do you good. He had found a location he liked three and a half hours away from the racket and hustle of the city; he had driven you both in and guided you both inside. The air inside the forest was chilly, the ambient was silent, and at the height you were currently in, a thin layer of fog was roaming and settling right above your heads.

The view was breathtaking, though. The trees made a shelter high above your bodies, the leaves and tweaks and small bushes under your feet were soft, almost mushy, the moss around the tree trunks adorned them in different, formless patterns that you could make out if you were close enough to them, and if you touched them, they whispered the secrets of their host.

It was a weird time in your relationship with Frankie, he had just finished his therapy sessions and he had just recovered his pilot’s license, but he could still get lost into himself at times, he could still sit silent in a room full of people, thinking and thinking and thinking.

He had changed, the Frankie you knew and loved had changed since Santiago had practically dragged him to Colombia for a job. And when they came back, Santiago sent to you pieces of a man, poorly glued together.

Helping Frankie re-build himself was a challenge in itself, first you had to help him find himself among the mess that he was when he came back home. And slowly you had to help cleanse himself from the metaphorical dirt he had carried with him, dirt that was so embedded into his skin; under his nails, behind his ears, entangled in his hair, between his fingers, under his feet, that you had found yourself taking off time from work, and basically life to help him scrub it all off.

All to aid him become himself again. Not lost time. Completely worth it. Because when you had finished helping him, he had looked at you, deep in the eyes, and he had thanked you in the best way he knew how.

But he could still get lost into himself at times.

“No, we are not lost, babe,” Frankie’s voice was low, he was trying to get the map on his hand in some other direction to locate himself.

“Frankie, we are lost,” your hand dropped to his shoulder and he raised his eyes to you, his gaze glistening with the soft light that shone through the pine branches that hovered feet above you, making them look like fine pieces of dried amber, almost hypnotizing.

“Okay yeah, I have no idea where we are,” he sounded resigned to admit it, his shoulders dropped as his head moved so he could take your surroundings in, taking his cap off, brushing his curls back and putting it back on. His eyes for a second got fixated on something far away and you tried to follow the direction his gaze was going, finding nothing but trees, dirt and bushes. His head turned slowly back to you and he left out a sigh when he saw you smile at him.

“What?” Frankie muttered, you bit your lip as you saw his preoccupied quirk, his eyes were trying to find some reassurance in yours, as if he thought you had an answer to a question he had yet to ask.

“We can always walk back from where we came, don’t we?” you suggested, shrugging lightly, trying to get Frankie to loosen up a bit. If he started to freak out, then you knew everything had gone to shit. And you didn’t want that.

Frankie looked at you and he looked behind you at the path you had come from, considering the suggestion.

“I mean, yeah,” his eyes fixated again on something or somewhere and then his brow furrowed, you followed his eyes and yet again, you found nothing but trees, “I jus–what the fuck?” you widened your eyes.

“Frankie?” your voice was as thin and disperse as the fog above you and it seemingly didn’t reach Frankie’s ears, because you had to find your air and put it all in your diaphragm to almost shout at him “Frankie!”

He looked around him slowly, his brown eyes were roaming around trying to locate something, anything and his worried stance and his shocked face made your stomach churn in something closer to fear than expectation.

“I can’t find the way we came from,” he whispered, and you saw the fog slowly turn into a transparent arm and reach to his mouth, eating his voiced words. Delightful, the fog said.

“Don’t play with me,” you pleaded, shivering as you felt as well the fog’s arm feel out the confines of your mouth, tasting your words, not liking them and spitting them on the floor.

Frankie looked at you, his eyes telling you he wasn’t lying, his brows were almost touching each other and his mouth was open in bewilderment, he shook his head slowly a few times and you felt your legs flutter and a heavy weight fall onto your shoulders.

“Look for it,” you mouthed, Frankie saw you breathing heavily and he rushed to you, he dropped his backpack to the floor. His hands on your body felt electrifying. His touch was heavy with preoccupation, his face was quirked in confusion as he guided your breaths in and out, in and out, in and out.

Once the air entered your lungs and exited them as food for the trees around you he tried again to look for the narrowed path you two had walked into the forest.

“C’mon, I think is this way,” he pointed in a random direction and you whined. The fog’s arm rejected it as well, and it fell in front of your feet; you looked at it and found out why the fog didn’t like it, it was stale, incorporeal, bland.

“Are you sure?” your question felt like a prayer and a plea and a beg. Frankie nodded. He wasn’t but he nodded.

Frankie took your hand and turned around to put on his backpack. But the backpack was gone and the ground where it was thrown onto before was ruffling about it.

“Fuck,” he swore and brushed a hand on his forehead to wipe the thin layer of fog that was clinging to his skin, mimicking sweat. “let’s go,” you nodded and gripped his hand as hard as you could, your other hand gripped the shoulder strap of your own backpack and for a second you glanced at the space on the ground that had eaten Frankie’s and it growled softly.

You and Frankie walked for what it felt like hours upon hours upon hours. And you got nowhere.

At that point the forest looked like a carbon copy of itself, the moss was showing the same secrets and you started to be sad, and angry, and scared, and Frankie noticed and the forest noticed.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Frankie muttered to you, you felt an ever so known and unwelcomed sting in your throat, “I’m so sorry,” his arms found you and he held you close to his chest, he kept muttering apologies. For getting you two lost, for choosing that place, for wanting to hike, for not giving you the time you needed, for making you lose a piece of yourself in the works of putting him together. He was sorry. And you felt it. And the forest felt it too.

You cried, as everything felt like you weren’t going home anytime soon.

And Frankie held you, because he was the only piece of home you had left, and you were the only piece of home he had left.

Your tears escaped your eyes and the fog’s arm feasted on them, and you let it. It was the only delicious thing you could offer to it, anyway.

You didn’t know for how long he had been embracing you and letting you damp his shirt with the tears that the fog’s arm didn’t choose to eat when you heard it.

But you didn’t hear it, you felt it entering your head, roaming around your ears and getting itself settled in your mind.

A whisper from the forest. It sounded like a tree’s secret, but sadder, needier, stronger, bigger, heavier, darker and lighter.

“I wanna go home,” you whispered out, to him. To Frankie.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he broke the embrace and his hands slid to cup your face, he brought you to him slowly and took your lips in his.

He kissed you with gentle desperation. His mouth moved at the rhythm of an unheard, newly made up song, chordless, lyricless, soundless; his grasp on your head felt like the silk of the sheets you never lied on, the sound of his tongue sliding into your mouth was lewd and warm and happy and there. You grasped his wrists and held onto him as if he were your home. Not letting you go. Not letting him go. No one was going anywhere.

You kissed for what it felt like hours upon hours upon hours and when he stopped kissing you; you chased his mouth and kissed him again and the songless song began again, and the never owned softness stayed in there, and the ever so present warmness became warmer.

When the air of your lungs faded into the leaves and the pinecones screamed at you and the moss stopped whispering their host’s secrets at the surprise of you kissing for so long, you stopped.

And Frankie’s big, warm, brown eyes felt ever more present, as if they had been there for years and years.

He smiled at you. And you were sure the thin fog that invaded the space faded away because of it.

“You wanna try again?” he asked softly, and you nodded, replying to his smile with one of yours.

So Frankie grabbed your hand again, and you two started walking in whatever direction you two felt like walking.

Soon enough you would be home.

“Oh” Frankie let out, tightening the grip on your hand, you looked at him with anticipation and question in your eyes. His gaze seemed to be fixated on something and you, yet again, followed his eyes, not really expecting to find anything. But you were surprised at what your gaze encountered.

“Wow,” you sighed out. You felt Frankie's eyes on your face and you turned to see him. His eyes bewildered, his smile giddy, contagious, child-like. His. It was him.

“Shall we?” he asked. You nodded enthusiastically, giving him the brightest smile he thought he had ever seen in all his years on the earthly plane.

You had found a house.

A small, old-looking house.

The outside was battered, the pass of the life’s years had darkened its wooden walls, made them look like wrinkles in an old person’s face, the small, squared windows on the front were foggy and covered with white, fine dust and an even thinner layer of mist, it had a small rot-wooden deck, moss and mold and a bright green vine covered the steps. From the spot you were standing at, you could see the way the climbing plants and the secret teller moss adorned the single slope roof.

Tiny droplets of water that had grasped and clung tenaciously onto the roof edge from the fog that had faded into the sky were succumbing to the gravity and fell onto the floor, sounding like some form of a song you were sure you knew but never heard.

As you two walked hand in hand, you noticed the open door. The house felt old; it felt weak; it felt blight, yet so warm, so bright, so inviting, so welcoming.

So you entered.

Frankie let out a soft gasp at the sight.

The inside was even more tainted.

The walls were partially covered with the remains of a rotten, tattered, poorly kept wallpaper, the color had faded and the only noticeable feature of it was the flower print that seemed to adorn it after years and years of exposure to everything around you.

The wooden floors looked long-lived; some of the wood tiles were cracking, some of them looked sturdy, some others were rotten and there were a few places around where there were no tiles and it was just wet, dark dirt.

You looked at Frankie with a smile adorning your face and he was looking at the ceiling; you looked up as well and saw the wooden beams above you, angled and darkened, some weathered and damp, some robust and dry. They looked relaxed, yet hefty. Soft yet firm. Some of the climbing plants you had seen creeping on the roof had crawled and slithered and found themselves at home in the beams.

It was beautiful.

“C’mon,” you tugged at Frankie's hand and pulled him further inside. He followed close. The first room, the biggest, had on one side a worn out, misted loveseat in the middle of the space and a stone fireplace that the time and the weather and the forest and the fog had taken care of turning green. On the other side there was a small table, topped with fallen leaves from the climbing plants, a wood stove right below a window and a legged stained sink with a copper faucet.

You bit your lip and narrowed your eyes, thinking.

“What?” Frankie asked when he saw your face, you smiled and walked towards the sink, with him following you, with your free hand you reached the faucet handle and twisted it. The pipes started moaning in protest after being awakened so rudely and without notice and then, clear water started pouring from it.

Frankie barked out a laugh. And you smiled at him, your eyes bright and shiny as if the moon was stationed inside them.

You got rid of your backpack and left it on the floor while Frankie washed his hands and cupped them to gather water and drink it, after he finished he left them under the faucet and nodded his chin to them. You leaned down and drank from his hands. The water tasted sweet; it tasted like rain; it tasted like a summer night breeze, and the early days of winter before a snowstorm. It tasted like home.

Frankie’s skin was warm at the touch, despite the outside's brisk temperature. When you finished drinking, your throat happy and satiated, you smiled at him as he twisted the handle to stop the stream of water. You wiped your mouth dry with the sleeve of your shirt and your eyes meandered around the space, taking in the colors of the wood, the small crevices of the teared wallpaper, the way the window adorned herself with tiny specks of dust that formed a thin yet thick white cover all over the glass, and the way Frankie seemed to fit like a puzzle piece in the middle of the room. As if he was part of it. As if he was meant to stand in the middle of the rotten wooden floor, among the fallen leaves of the climbing plants that never seemed to die.

“You’re really pretty,” Frankie muttered, his brown yet amber eyes glistened with the anticipation of what was about to come but you didn’t know yet. The great something-about-to-happen. You smiled at him and his chest fluttered, swollen with the extensive, deep love he had for you.

“Let’s go see the rest,” you suggested, Frankie nodded as he saw your voice eagerly come out of your lips in crescent waves of light, and smiled back at you when you took his hand again, intertwining his fingers with yours, sending his spine a few shocks of loving electricity.

You walked to the center of the big room that functioned as both an impressively functioning kitchen and a rotten living room and at the end, on the wall, there were two doors, both medium tall, dark, mahogany doors, one of them closed, the other halfway open.

Frankie followed you as you tugged gently at his hand, you walked first to the one closed and the doorknob felt like room temperature butter when you twisted it open, it was a plain and simple bathroom, the three essentials, a misty, foggy, dusty mirror on the wall and a misty, foggy, dusty window in front of you, you smiled to yourself when you saw the way the climbing plant was creeping its way inside the room from a little crack on the upper left corner of the window.

Walking back you stepped towards the halfway open door and you pushed it open with two fingers. The hinges howled softly as the door moved to the side and let you enter through it. You scoffed as you saw a double, tubular bed in the middle of the room, the green bedding seemed plush and cozy, it looked like a giant sheet of that secret telling moss that gave you the warm welcome when you were walking towards the house.

Directly next to the bed there was a bigger window, still covered and hidden by the dust and the fog and the white mist that apparently covered every single glass surface around the house, as if it was its job, but it still let the light come through to the room, illuminating it with the smiles of the little sunlight that the trees allowed to enter their space.

In front of the bed there was a dusty mirror, the frame of it was bigger than the glass but fitting, and it reflected the tiny, thin, imperceptible sun rays that the window happily let through.

The room felt colder than the bigger space outside and you didn’t like it.

“Let’s take that outside, it feels like a freezer here,” Frankie said and you nodded. Both of you walked and each one grabbed an edge of the bedding. You looked at Frankie with your eyebrows raised and asked without asking if he was feeling the same thing around your hands.

The sheet felt like velvet and moss and the single petal of a rose that fell on a table when you put its owner on a small vase, it felt soft as the whispers of love you would give Frankie when he slipped inside of you, soft as the whispers of the forest you had heard earlier, but happier, relaxed, lovelier.

Frankie then looked through the window and he narrowed his eyes a bit.

“I think the sun is about to set, baby,” he mumbled, you agreed with him without looking at the window “come on, we have to rest.”

You two walked outside the room with the thick sheet on your hands and let it fall carelessly on the floor of the rotten living room, between the tattered loveseat and the green stone fireplace.

You felt Frankie’s hand leave yours and find its place on your waist, soothing you even when you didn’t need to be soothed. Caressing you, knowing you always wanted to be caressed.

You turned your head to see him and he reached in to grab your lips in his, his mouth tasted sweet and earthy, his lips told you what he was thinking without saying it and you turned around so your bodies could talk to each other.

“I love you,” he inserted in your mouth the words without having to break the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the curls that escaped eagerly from his cap and your skin felt like it was melting and mixing with his, your scents got to know each other again and for a brief, brief moment, it felt like you were floating several inches from the floor.

A soft crack above you interrupted your kiss and you and Frankie turned your heads up to follow the sound, one of the ceiling beams was moving, slowly. Frankie moved you gently, pushing your waist and you stood there, watching how the middle of it cracked itself open from two different points. The soft noises the wood made as it opened itself sounded like an egg hatching, you narrowed your eyes when the cracking stopped and then, a single, almost perfectly squared piece of the ceiling beam fell to the floor, landing next to your feet with a soft thud.

Frankie let go of your waist and leaned down to pick the piece of wood up with curious eyes.

“Oh, shit,” he whispered to himself and to you.

“What?” you questioned, narrowing your eyes in amusement at his soft expression and his small smile.

Frankie then reached inside the beam and slowly pulled out a thin, small purple flower.

“Oh,” you gasped, covering your mouth with one hand, Frankie, ever so delicately finished taking out the flower from the wood with everything and roots and admired it closer, smiled to himself and then gave it to you.

“Una flor para otra flor,” (a flower for another) he whispered and you both chuckled, taking the small flower from his fingers.

“So fucking cheesy,” you teased, reaching to his cheek to cup his face with your other hand, brushing softly over his patchy beard with your thumb, taking in the sight of your boyfriend’s face, the dimmed light that the windows allowed to get through them gave him an aura of safety and his skin seemed like it was sparkling.

You looked down to the small flower, still cupping his face, and you smiled at the way the purple petals danced on the stem, stirring as if the wey stretching after a long while dormant and encapsulated inside the wood of the beam. You brought it to your nose and the petals brushed the tip of it as you inhaled softly the scent of its core.

The flower smelled like the garden of your childhood home, like the perfume that your grandma used. It smelled like the mixed berries Frankie liked to munch standing in front of the open fridge in the middle of the night, it smelled like the dream you had the night Frankie came home after Colombia and that you couldn’t wipe out from your head.

You looked back at Frankie; he was grinning at the way the flower seemed to hug your nose as you smelled it.

“What?” you asked him, reciprocating his smile. He shook his head. Nothing. He inserted in your mind without parting his lips. You slid your hand to his neck and pulled him softly to you, he reached out, knowing what you wanted. Frankie always knew what you wanted.

When his lips brushed yours, you lifted your other hand and pushed the small flower between your mouths.

Frankie let out a chuckle at the action and sighed into your mouth when the flower opened up its petals to kiss you both back.

You let the flower fall to the floor when Frankie’s hands found their home on your waist again and pulled you to him, bringing you flush to his broad chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

Frankie’s lips tasted like the flower’s pollen and a faint hint of the fog that had tasted his words

His lips stole a moan from your throat as he used his tongue to open yours and you both heard the way the flower imitated your moan on her newfound place on the floor, making you both smile at the soft, almost imperceptible sound.

The air became warmer, thicker with all the love that exuded from your bodies. You both heard the secret teller moss yell at the way he was kissing you so the forest found out and it made you incredibly proud to have a man like him devouring your lips ever so softly.

“Make love to me, Frankie,” you whispered on his lips, carefully reaching into his throat and pulling out a soft groan out of it with your words. He just nodded in response and slowly guided your body to kneel on the sheet and kept kissing you.

Your mind reeled at the way Frankie used his lips to make you feel safe, protected, loved, cared for. By the way he, with a few movements of his lips, could make you feel like you had been kissing him and kissing him and kissing him for years and years and years.

Frankie’s hands roamed around your waist and the small of your back, without hurry they got under your shirt and you sighed at the warmness, soft roughness of his touch on your skin, you took his cap off and let it fall on the floor, next to the flower.

The flower crawled towards the cap as you continued praying against Frankie’s lips and snuggled next to the brim.

He broke the kiss, and you felt a gentle, faint breeze cover your body when Frankie took off your shirt, it felt as if it was caressing you softly, and it made the hairs on your skin rise.

Frankie stole your kiss again and hands trailed to cup your tits over the fabric of your bra and you let out a low whimper when he teased your nipples over it. You slid your hands from his neck to his chest and worked slowly to unbutton his plaid shirt. Your feathery touch on his warm, sun kissed skin made him moan softly, and the flower mimicked the sound again.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured on your lips when you made him take off the shirt. You smiled on his kiss, with him on you, on any part of you, you always believed him.

His lips traveled down to your chin, where he left a soft bite and ripped another soft moan out of you.

As you helped him to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans, Frankie liked a stripe of skin from your chin to your neck and you smiled, your eyes were closed when his plush lips started nibbling at your tender, fog tasted flesh and once his belt was unbuckled and his pants were unbuttoned, he slid them down.

“Take off yours, baby,” he whispered, you bit your lip and did it; you undressed as he did and once you were completely naked, bared and vulnerable in front of him, he stopped his own movements to admire your body, “gorgeous.” the word slipped from his lips like thick, raw honey and fell onto the blanket, smearing on it, the fabric sensed it and absorbed the word and your eyes, as he reached for your naked waist, saw it disappear inside it.

Frankie brought you to him once again and his kisses fell on your skin like soft, summer rain; warm and light and all over you; your hands found themselves caressing any part of his body they could reach, making him drop little moans and whimpers on your skin, marking it, leaving it tainted with the soft noises that he produced as you enjoyed the softness of his body.

He laid you down on the sheet and it made itself cushioned under you, it was fresh, comfortable, soft and stirred ever so slightly under your body; it made you shiver softly.

Frankie’s lips went down your neck, his warm, soft tongue played with your nipples as his hands roamed up and down your torso, you buried your fingers inside his curls; scratched his scalp gently with your nails, making him grunt against your breast.

“Frankie,” you whispered out, his name floating all the way up like an inflated balloon and crashing onto the wooden beams with an unhearable thud, Frankie hummed in response with his mouth worshipping your other breast, his beard making the most gentle burns onto your skin “eat me.” you begged, closing your eyes when he smirked against the tender, already sensitive flesh of your chest.

Without saying more words his kissed trailed down your body, several of them on your lower abdomen, you chuckled and opened your eyes, lifting your head to look at him; Frankie was already looking at you; his deep, brown and amber looking eyes telling you without hesitance what he wanted, what he had been asking for months and months and months. You threw your head back on the sheet with a smile adorning your face as he took your thighs and gently opened them up for him; his face buried inside you and he inhaled the scent of your deepest corner.

With kitten licks, Frankie started tasting you; making you moan when his tongue went deeper, he opened you further and buried his tongue inside you, prompting a groan out of you; guttural, soft. Frankie smiled against your folds, proud and enamoured of the sounds he was making you produce.

Your hand pushed him further deeper inside you, Frankie eagerly opened his mouth around your core and started sucking and licking and nibbling and tasting. You threw your head to the side and your heavy lids opened just enough for you to look at the small purple flower that was snuggled right next to the seam of Frankie’s cap. It was lying on the floor almost lazily, its roots were stirring and stretching and you smiled at it; it was feeling it too.

Frankie’s fingers found your entrance and pushed inside, starting to curl and press and push to the sides and upwards, making you lift your back off the sheet and hatch your hips on his face, you moaned as he pulled his fingers out and in again at a tantalizing rhythm he knew you loved; his lips nibbled at your clit and his tongue teased at it in synchrony with his fingers, you let out a long moan and Frankie groaned against your core. The vibrations of his voice against your tender, swollen pussy made you stiffen and hold your breath, you gasped when he sucked at your clit rather hoarsely and the air that left your lungs through your lips traveled like a feather falling through the air and fell directly on the purple flower.

Frankie sucked and curled his fingers inside you and you rolled your hips against his face, he had built a coil inside you that was getting warmer and warmer with each wet lick on you; your hand fisted his hair and as the coil snapped in half, you pulled it, making Frankie grunt against you. He helped you ride your orgasm and as you came down from one of the highest climaxes he had made you feel in what it felt like years and years and years, he crawled slowly upwards between your legs, covering you with his body.

“Hey,” he whispered above your face, you opened your eyes and smiled when you saw his eyes, those beautiful eyes of his inches from you “you okay?” he asked. You nodded and cupped his slick covered face with both your hands, closing the distance between your mouths and tasting yourself in the process of devouring his lips.

Frankie whimpered at the depth of your kiss and when he broke it, you heard the slightest of sounds; a yelp that sounded both from afar and up close. You turned to the side at the same time and you let out a soft chuckle when you saw the purple flower standing. Its roots well planted into the wood tiles of the floor. An almost imperceptible coat of transparent slick covered its petals.

You turned to Frankie and he smiled at you, falling onto your lips once more.

Your hands wrapped themselves around his neck and your legs opened up for him to brush the underside of his duck against your wet folds; you shivered, feeling the way he was throbbing for you.

“I love you.” he whispered without whispering and you rolled your hips closer to him. He slid inside of you with any other intervention than the sole need you had for each other; he moaned softly against your mouth as his hips started thrusting inside you at a gentle pace you didn’t know he was capable of going at.

You stopped kissing him and pulled his body to rest on yours; one of his hands rested on your hip as the other moved to frame your head and he ground into you slowly; deeply; harder while his rhythm wasn’t strong.

Frankie hid his face in the crook of your neck and you wrapped your legs around his waist, changing the angle for both, you moaned when his cock started grazing a soft spot inside you that made you close your eyes and see the stars up close.

“More.” you heard a voice that wasn’t yours but sounded like you, and Frankie whined against your skin, licking you. He picked up the rhythm and went faster enough so you gushed around him and the noise of him pumping inside you inundated the room; as he drove into you and your throat made the most sweet and soft noises he swore he had ever heard you make, you heard the fog creeping into the house; it slithered in through the small openings the creeping plants were watching you make love from. You felt the weight of the fog falling on top of you and when it covered you whole, Frankie started pounding into you.

“Oh, god.” you moaned out. Frankie held you in place with a hand on your head and another on your waist and went impossibly faster, the noises that your skins made when they clashed together were being muffled by the fog, whose arm formed once more and caressed you both in places you wouldn’t let anyone else touch.

You heard another yelp from afar and your eyes looked for it in the purple flower, but it had turned its back to you and you noticed how, from the seams of the wood tiles on the floor, little purple nubs and buds started growing.

You gasped when Frankie changed the angle, sliding in and out faster than before, hitting your g-spot with more strength, and your breath hitched when he started grunting inside your neck. You turned your head to the other side and saw more of the purple buds. Some of them were opening already, and you felt your eyes water when you saw several small, slick covered purple flowers stretching their petals to the ceiling.

A deep, particular thrust of Frankie into you made your legs tremble. He started kissing your neck and your jaw and your chin, still driving into you at that murdering pace of his you had never felt before. You felt his beard tickling your skin, and you grew aware of every inch of sweaty, fog covered skin you owned; when he kissed your lips and ate the small moans you didn’t realize you were letting out, you grew aware of everything that rested inside your body, and you felt it move, grow, swell and deflate at the same time.

“Frankie,” you whispered against his lips, his cock driving into you and making you squirm beneath him “Frankie.” you gasped, his mouth trapped yours and you felt him throb inside your cunt.

“You’re here.” he muttered against your lips. The sudden, overwhelming emotion of being wrapped around him made you cum almost immediately with your eyes closed shut and your mouth opened at the fog’s mercy, that ate your moans with fervency.

Frankie slid in and out of you for more time than he had ever done before after your orgasms, he was whispering to you words you didn’t understand; you felt your eyes shed the tears they had held as you came at the sight of all the nubs and buds opening as Frankie thrusted into you. All of them opened as beautiful, small, slick covered purple flowers; carbon copies of the one he had found inside the piece of beam and gifted to you.

“They’re ours,” you gasped, Frankie hummed in affirmation, his brow furrowed in concentration, his mouth agape, his breath hitting your face, you cupped his face. “let go,” you whispered to him, caressing the flush skin of his face. “it’s enough, let go.”

Frankie moaned out and grunted, locking his hips with his cock fully inside you as he filled you with himself as deep as he could. He opened his eyes once the last drop of his seed was poured into you and gazed at you.

“How are they?” he asked, panting and trying to recover from his orgasm.

“They’re beautiful.” you replied with a teary smile, Frankie kissed you softly and turned his head to the sides, still inside you, looking at all the precious, tiny purple flowers that surrounded you.

“They’re ours.” he said with a smile adorning his face.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” the scream Santiago let out made you flinch, and you fisted and gripped Frankie's dampened clothes. His hold on your body tightened, and you felt another errant tear escape from your eyes.

“Pope.” Frankie could only let out that sole word, his throat was closed shut and the only thing that was keeping him from falling knees first onto the floor was your body and your need to be supported so you didn’t fall to the floor as well.

“Fish, what the fuck, man?” Santiago frowned at the look you two were carrying; your clothes were soaked wet and dirty, your hair was dripping muddy water. Frankie had wet knots on his hair and for Santiago it was odd looking at him without his cap on. You were shaking and almost climbing onto Frankie’s body.

Frankie didn’t answer. Santi looked at your feet and neither of you were wearing shoes.

“C’mon, c’mon in,” he stepped to the side and Frankie whispered in your ear to move, but he ended up almost carrying you inside. “you need a shower,” Santiago muttered when the both of you got inside and the swampy smell that clung to you brushed his nose. Frankie nodded and slowly walked inside Sant’s home towards the bathroom “Fish,” he heard the voice of his best friend behind him and stopped walking, not bothering to turn around “man, it’s been a year, where were you?”

You sobbed into Frankie’s shoulder and lifted your head to look at Santiago, who frowned when he looked into your bloodshot eyes.

“Living.” you whispered out, missing the fog’s arm, that was not there to eat at your words.

After a thirty-minute shower; in which both of you sat on the shower’s floor and Frankie attempted to unknot your hair as gently as he could while you shared furtive glances, feathery touches, kisses of understanding and heavy; painful tears, you were sitting on Santiago’s dining table wrapped in his clothes and a blanket, gripping each other’s hands as hard as you could.

“Where were you?” Santi asked, his voice soft, his eyes on you and the way Frankie didn’t seem to separate an inch from you.

“The forest.” Frankie muttered. Santiago sighed and tried to look away from you.

“For a year?” he let out in an incredulous whisper.

“It didn’t feel like a year.” you murmured, your voice thin as a thread, your eyes on Frankie’s side, you leaned to rest your head on his shoulder.

“What do you mean it didn’t feel like a year?” Santiago raised his voice and immediately caught himself and tried to calm down “we were about to pronounce you dead,” he tightened his jaw and his finger pressed on the wood of the table, you smirked at the parallels; his finger almost looked like Soleil, the first flower that you and Frankie gave birth to “both of you.”

“You wouldn’t get it, Santi.” you whispered, looking at him from Frankie’s shoulder.

“Explain it to me, then.” he said, crossing his arms on his chest, Frankie let out a huff.

“No.” Frankie said.

“We got lost,” you started. Frankie stiffened next to you and turned to the side to face you; he looked at your pleading face and with his eyes asked you if you were sure. You cupped his face, scratched his short beard and nodded ever so slightly; missing the way he would slip his words inside your mind when he didn’t feel like talking, “we got lost in the forest.” you said, still looking at Frankie.

Santiago stirred in his chair. He had never seen you do that, look into each other’s eyes so profoundly it felt like you two were sharing not only the same air, but the same brain; the same heart.

“And we found a house,” you turned to see him, teary-eyed and a soft smile adorning your face. Frankie hid his face inside the crook of your neck and breathed in deeply, your hand caressing his nearly knot-free hair. “and we stayed there.”

“For a year?” Santiago deepened his frown, you huffed and shook your head gently.

“For a week.” you whispered.

Santiago stood up from the chair and closed his eyes, he scratched his beard for a few seconds and turned to you.

“How?” you shrugged.

“We tried to make sense of it as we walked home,” you muttered. Santiago noticed how your eyes got lost in the space between you and him. “we don’t look like a year has passed, right?” you blinked a few times and focused on him. He shook his head “we were supposed to stay there until the sunrise, we just got lost.”

“What made you stay a week?” he asked, hesitantly.

You choked down a sob and felt Frankie’s hand slip out of your entanglement. He wrapped his arms around you.

“The babies.” he let out, his voice deep, his tone hurt. Santiago closed his eyes and rubbed them with his thumb and index.

“What babies?” he whispered out. Frankie scoffed at his friend’s reaction.

“Ours.” you let out.

Santiago sat down again and you felt yourself stiffen with the memory of them.

Frankie started talking, but his voice sounded far off and distorted.

Your mind could only focus on the hundred little flowers that were born out of you and Frankie, on how they would make space for you and him to walk around them, on how, if you stopped, they would wrap themselves around your feet, burying them with their soft petals and bathing you in their pollen.

You felt your throat clench at the memory of them waking you up in the mornings as your limbs were wrapped around Frankie’s body, of their smallest voices laughing at his bad jokes or at them bathing in the sheer sunlight that entered through the windows.

They were yours.

They were yours and Frankie’s.

“They died.” Frankie let out with a shaky breath. You felt your face wet with the tears your memories had brought to your eyes and Santiago looked at you; his face quirked in worry, his eyes wet with sympathy.

“How?” Santi dared to ask.

“A storm.” Frankie let out.

You buried your face in his shoulder and cried.

Frankie looked to the seamless ceiling of Santiago’s home and felt his chest turn and burn at the sound of your sobs.

The morning they died, Frankie woke up by the sound of a loud thunder that shook the house; he gripped your body absentmindedly, the memory of the hard rain burning inside his mind made him reach to you, he didn’t like the sound of pounding rain. He loathed it, but you were sleeping next to him and your body was giving him the warmth he didn’t have before.

You were woken up by the second thunder that made the flowers shake their pollen off in fear.

The two of you were naked and the dreadful sound of big drops of water made you sit on the blanket. You turned to look at each other just as the rumbling of another thunder made the misty, foggy, dusty windows shackle on their frames.

At the fourth roar of another thunder several windows broke and the sharp curl of sturdy wind came through the windows, you screamed to him and you dressed quickly and went to look for anything to cover the broken windows.

You tore the blanket apart in several pieces to cover some of the now opened windows, rushing to stop the ferocious wind from coming inside the house, but the storm was strong and gripped at the pieces, snatching them away from your hands every time you tried to use them as a barrier.

Frankie yelled at you to try to use the parts of the loveseat that you had moved to the middle of the kitchen space, and when you tried the deafening, thunderous sound of a sky-tearing thunder made the front door fly open and the rain to flood in.

You were soaked to the bone and you looked down at your feet; the flowers were trying to climb up to your calves but failed each time. The water started streaming into the house from invisible tears on the ceiling and the water level was rising quicker than either of you would’ve liked.

“They’re drowning!” you gasped, covering your mouth with your eyes to prevent from scaring them more than they already were; the tears you knew you were shedding had mixed with the rowdy water that came from each broken window. Frankie acted out of his own fears, he frowned and kneeled on the floor, trying to pick them up, but each time he picked up some, they fainted on his hand. “stop!” you yelled at him. He did it again, not listening to your pleas. You rushed to him and pulled him back “you’re killing them!”

“They’re already dying!” he yelled back at you, his eyes reddened and his jaw tensed in pain. You pulled him back again when he tried to pick up more. “stop!” he yelled, pushing you away from him “let me save them!”

“You can’t!” you screamed at him under another thunder that made the ceiling crack, both of you looked at the beams trying to hold together but they swell with water and were about to give in “Frankie!” you called him, he stood up and took your hand in his.

“Let’s go!” you nodded and let out a sob when you saw the purple petals of the flowers floating on the muddy water, lifeless. Frankie pulled you towards the open door and forced you to run out.

Your feet landed on puddles of swampy water that were ankle deep and you gripped Frankie’s hand as he pulled you away from the house; he tried to regulate his own breathing, the feeling of mud burying his bare feet reminded him too much of another time in his life he didn't want or liked to remember, the rain fell on your bodies like needles and stuck to your clothes, tainting them with a green, dirt color that made you feel disgusting.

You walked together for what felt like hours upon hours upon hours; the secret telling moss was dead as well; the floor that had eaten Frankie’s backpack was flooded with the sharp water that fell from the sky. Corpses of bushes and moss and bugs and birds floating around your legs. It smelled like life. It reminded Frankie of war.

“And then we got out of the forest.” Frankie sniffed out.

Santiago was looking at the both of you with sympathy and pain in his eyes. He stood up from his chair and walked around the table. He stood behind you and wrapped his arms around the both of you.

“I’m so sorry.”

You sobbed out louder.

Many years later, when Frankie thought of the smell of the thick fog making contact with the grass, petrichor, is called, he would recall the time he spent with you on that place, in that time, and he would remember the eerie aura that you had carried with you during your stay; that aura that wrapped your naked body and that followed you wherever you walked to, you glowed.

Whenever you played with the flowers, or their tiny petals wrapped themselves around his fingers and you let out the lightest, freest, most liberating of laughs; you shimmered.

You never knew what happened or why it did; at nights, when you wrapped yourself around his body and he held you in place so you wouldn’t slip away from him, you talked about it, always coming to the same conclusion right before falling asleep. It was real.

And the love you had for each other grew because of it. And the love you felt for your babies existed. And the feeling of peace that it made you feel was still there.

It wasn’t like the feeling the hard rain gave him when he heard it. It was something else, something he couldn’t name, even decades after it happened.

let me know if you wanna be removed :)

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#Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #francisco morales fanfic #francisco 'catfish' morales #Triple Frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic #Santiago Garcia #evergreen intrusion #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters

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texanredrose · 3 years

Text

Prep and Goth

Day 1: Enemies to Lovers/Secret Library Time

---

Weiss stared at the clock, mentally urging the second hand to move faster. The transition between this period and the next always took the longest- or at least it felt like time slowed down around this point in the day. She hated how the end of the period never caught her off guard; she was always keenly aware of the clock, with her work done and backpack already packed and ready for her to leave the classroom. She was usually the first one out the door.

“Hey, if I give you five lien, could you get me a redbull?”

“No, Ruby; for the last time, I don’t have a release period next, I’m a library aide.”

“Oh, come on, everyone knows you just show up, sign in, and disappear!” Her fellow senior slumped in her seat. “It’s not like you’re going to get in trouble! Ms. Goodwitch knows you ditch and she doesn’t say anything!”

How she’d become friends- perhaps even best friends- with the school’s most energetic track star was beyond her; it involved an ill fated chemistry lab and the fire department but, honestly, she couldn’t remember specific details beyond that. While Weiss would love to say she merely put up with and tolerated Ruby, the truth was that she still hadn’t entirely adjusted to the concept of having someone who would be with her through thick and thin. She was being… persuaded to open up to the young woman but she still kept more secrets than she probably should from her best friend.

“I swear, Ruby Rose, if you keep spreading such slander about my character, I’ll be forced to take drastic action!” She tore her gaze away from the clock to glare at the woman. “I do not skip class!”

Rolling her silver eyes, Ruby rested her head on her desk and groaned. “Just because you’re the Valedictorian doesn’t mean you have to be perfect, Weiss. No one’s going to care if you ditch one period.”

“I care!” The bell rang a moment later and she forgot about the argument entirely as she quickly grabbed her pack and fast walked to the door.

The walk from her class to the library was a blessedly short one, made slightly longer by classmates and underclassmen getting in her way as other students emerged into the hallway for the passing period. A cold glare managed to persuade some of them to move but not all of them- those blessedly ignorant few she stepped around or nearly barreled through if she could get away with it. It probably contributed to her reputation of being a vicious, cut throat type of person like her sister but her patience had worn too thin and she needed to get to the library.

A few steps from her goal, a hand suddenly landed on her shoulder and spun her around, and only two people in the whole school would dare put their hands on her like that, and only one of them for no good reason. “YANG-”

“Calm down, Princess, this’ll be quick, promise!” With hands on Weiss’ shoulders, she guided them away from the throng of students to a small alcove next to the library doors. “Just got something I need to say real quick.”

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” Weiss scowled at the blonde, annoyed that she seemed to get taller every time they talked, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Last I checked, I didn’t have anything to do with the girls’ basketball team. Or the weightlifting team. Or the boxing team. Or-”

Yang clapped her hands together in front of Weiss’ face, smiling that do-you-really-think-they’ll-expel-me smile of hers. “Hey, do me a favor? Drop the frigid bitch act for, like, five minutes, okay? Because I really don’t have the time for it; if you wanna go toe-to-toe in the bitch-out-lypmics, we can schedule that another time, but right now, I need to have a serious talk with you. It’s about Blake.”

At the namedrop, her blood ran cold and her heart lodged in her throat, eyes growing wide as a genuine tendril of fear began taking root in her chest. “Is she okay?”

“Well, that depends,” Yang replied, looking around at their classmates walking past without paying them any mind. “Look. I don’t get it, okay, the whole secret girlfriends thing, I don’t even know how you two got together… but what I do know is that Blake deserves better than someone who’s ashamed of her-”

“Don’t you dare put words in my mouth,” she hissed, worry turning to fury in the blink of an eye. “I’m not ashamed to be dating Blake. If it was safe, everyone would know!”

“Yeah, can you define ‘safe’ for me in this context? Because I’m having a real hard time convincing Blake you’re being sincere when you don’t want anyone knowing the two of you are dating.”

“You know we’re dating!”

“Because I refuse to let things go and I knew she was acting weird!” Yang growled in frustration, fingers flexing as if she was seriously debating throttling Weiss. “Listen, I figured it out and I bullied her into telling me weeks ago, but not even Ruby knows beyond that. Not a fan of keeping secrets but I’ll do it for a friend. Now, answer my question, please, because with the rest of the school convinced you two hate each other, this whole ‘don’t tell anyone we’re dating thing’ is clear as mud, and it’s really starting to get to her.”

Weiss’ shoulders fell as she looked away, her anger abating in the face of the situation presented to her. “It’s… complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it for me.” Yang made a gesture with one hand. “Just give me a straight answer!”

“I can’t!” She stamped her foot, speaking before she could think about her word choice. “I can only give you a gay answer!”

Yang stared at her for a long moment. “So, that’s what Blake meant when she said you have the worst sense of humor.”

“I’m done with this conversation-”

Yang grabbed her arm and stopped her, expression turning serious. “Listen, you don’t wanna talk to me? Fine. But talk to Blake. If you really care about her, she deserves to hear that.”

As the blonde stepped away, the bell rang, making both of them late- not that it would matter. Ms. Goodwitch wouldn’t count her late and even if she did, a single tardy wouldn’t be much of a blemish on her record. There was a time when it would’ve bothered her but she’d grown past that a few years ago; perfection was, in some sense, in the eye of the beholder. Blake would notice, though, and she hurried to the library to keep her ‘secret girlfriend’ from worrying.

When she got to the library, she dropped her bag behind the counter and signed in, highly aware that Blake was somewhere among the rows reshelving books.

The librarian gave her a small nod. “I presume you have good reason for being late but don’t make a habit of it.”

“Of course, Ms. Goodwitch.” With that, she grabbed a few leftover books that needed reshelving and went into the stacks to reshelve them. As soon as she was far enough away from the front desk, she spoke in a soft voice that Blake would be able to hear regardless. “Blake? I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Is everything alright?” She’d long ago grown accustomed to the faunus’ silent steps, which really shouldn’t be possible given the amount of glistening chains and bits of metal hung from her ensemble but it was one of those things Weiss had accepted about Blake at first and had grown to admire. “It’s not like you to be late.”

“I… got pulled into a conversation.” She debated, briefly, if she should mention who the conversation was with but ultimately decided against it. Yang would likely bring it up herself at some point but she didn’t want the distraction at present. “Blake… you know I care about you, right?”

“Yes, Weiss, and I care about you, too,” she replied, her voice holding that special lilt that Weiss used to think was snideness. Now, she recognized it as a gentle sort of teasing and, sometimes, a deflection. “What brought this on?”

“I’ve been thinking about some things… and I find myself curious about some… other things.”

“Truly, you have a way with words.”

“I’m trying to be serious!” Weiss whined, putting a hand to her head as she tried to think of a way to word what she wanted to say. In the next moment, Blake stepped up and wrapped her arms around her waist, resting her chin on Weiss’ shoulder in a silent show of support. This was, partly, where they differed, because even when words escaped Blake, the faunus could somehow find a way to convey what she needed; Weiss, in contrast, simply clammed up entirely if she didn’t begin insulting whoever was nearest. “You know the only reason we’re not dating publicly is because of my family, right? That, the moment I turn eighteen and gain access to my funds, I’ll shout it from the rooftops… right?”

Blake took a step back but one hand lingered on Weiss’ hip, a soft assurance that she wasn’t leaving but that they should probably have a conversation like this face-to-face. When she turned around, she searched shining amber eyes and found a touch of disbelief hiding there. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think it was the only reason.”

“It really is…” Weiss sighed, running a hand through her bangs in frustration. “I… I don’t know how to prove it, I don’t know if there’s anything I could say or do that would, but… I don’t want you thinking that I’m ashamed of dating you… that’s… that’s the furthest from the truth.”

Feline ears flicked towards one end of the row and both of them quickly focused on shelving the few books that remained as a group of students went back to one of the study rooms. Once the coast was clear, Blake sighed heavily. “I told Yang to drop it.”

“She’s trying to help.” Begrudgingly, she continued. “Ruby’s the same way. They meddle when they can but they have the best of intentions.”

“Still… she wasn’t too… forceful, was she?”

“She only threatened to throttle me, so no, she wasn’t too forceful.” Weiss tilted her head. “And, arguably, she has a salient point. I… I perhaps took it for granted that you would… that I made my feelings about you clear to you.”

Blake ducked her head, her ears flicking back briefly to blending into midnight black hair. As per her usual, the faunus was bedecked in all black save for the silver of the chains hanging from her pants and the snake bite piercings on her bottom lip. Whenever they were making out, Weiss found that flicking either of the piercings with her tongue would always result in a soft groan from Blake.

“So… when you turn eighteen…basically, when we graduate?” Blake took a step forward. “That’s… a long time to be a secret from everyone.”

“Well… not from everyone. Yang knows.”

“Uh huh.”

“And Ruby will know… when I tell her…”

“Right.” Blake came a bit closer. “I guess that means we won’t be going to prom together.”

Weiss raised a brow, then caught onto what her girlfriend was doing, a smile tugging at her lips. “You? Go to prom?” A soft chuckle. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be caught dead at… what was it you called it? A useless party for empty headed idiots?”

“And a waste of money. I said that, too.” Blake stopped just a hair’s breadth away and very nonchalantly shelved a book just behind Weiss’ shoulder. “But you’ve got a crown to win, right? Prom Queen to go with your other honors?”

“There’s only one crown that I care to claim,” she replied, reaching up to bury her hand in midnight locks between the faunus’ ears and pulling her down into a kiss. Normally, they didn’t indulge in such outside of Ms. Goodwitch’s office, which the librarian granted them access to once they’d reshelved all the books. If she suspected what they did in there, she remained silent, probably because while reshelving the books they would also fix what other aides did incorrectly and she appreciated the help more than she cared to curtail PDAs.

The kiss didn’t last too long- just long enough to drive her point home- but the look in amber eyes almost made her too weak to move.

Weiss gathered her courage. “I do love you, Blake.”

Not ‘care about’, not ‘fond of’, not any other arrangement of words she’d used over the past year to describe how she felt. Fear that caring too much would make her careless had prevented her from saying the words before. Now, though, she couldn’t go another moment without Blake understanding exactly how much she cared.

After the shock passed, Blake smiled softly, ears canting forward. “I love you too, Weiss.”

It took a moment for them to part but they returned to the counter and finished reshelving the books.

“Blake?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I’d look good in black?”

---

Hi, yes, please join me in picturing Blake as a late 90′s/early 00′s goth girl.

#Monochrome #Monochrome Week 2021 #checkmatingweek2021

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e-jaegerenthusiast · 3 years

Text

how mikasa uses the red scarf on eren

nsfw eremika drabble <3 (part 2)

part 1 here

warnings/tw; smut, unprotected sex, teasing, edging, overstimulation, choking, slight bondage?, some fluff

•••••••••••••••••••••••

eren jaeger was always in control. almost.

mikasa had great strength, she always stood up for herself. never listening to others, she didn’t need anyone. except for eren.

she had devoted herself completely to him. mind, body, and soul. she loved him to bits and pieces. she would do anything for him, die for him, kill for him, live for him.

she would devote all of herself to him whenever he wanted. letting him fuck her until she was shaking, thighs sore and stomach slightly aching from where eren had been deep inside her.

it’s not like she wouldn’t like it. she loved the kind of pain eren inflicted on her. she knew he would never hurt her, could never bring himself to.

however, sometimes eren could be a bitch.

he would tease and edge her for hours.

abusing her so-called ackerman strength and patience.

mikasa knew he could go on for hours, even if she tried to touch him, he wouldn’t let her.

sometimes he wouldn’t tie her up, he would love looking down on her as she struggles to keep her hands above her head like he had instructed her to. would love to see her be at war with herself as she absentmindedly tries to decide between her never ending devotion to eren or her own pleasure.

he secretly wanted her to snap, wanted her to just growl and pounce on him. he wouldn’t ask, eren jaeger never asked for anything. he never asked her to pleasure him. she already knew all his desires, all his weak spots and all his breaking points.

well one time her patience did snap, it was when he was away from her for a week. a week was a lot for two people who can’t stop fucking every other night. he came back after a week of being away from her, and mikasa almost screamed when he demanded she don’t touch him.

he didn’t even let her hug him when he walked through the door. her brows furrowed and her eyes started tearing up. he merely had a small smirk on his face, standing infront of her and telling her it’ll be worth it, that he will pleasure her to no avail later on.

well eren was an asshole. he had prolonged all his activities in the day, taking too long to shower, eat, and just fucking about really.

only when mikasa stopped following him around the house like a lost puppy, sitting on their shared bed, arms crossed with a scowl on her features. only then, he started to move towards her. bastard didn’t even have a shirt on the whole day as he tried to hide his smirk when mikasa practically drooled over him.

he walked towards the bed, sweatpants hanging low on his waistline, hair in a messy bun with multiple strands fanning around his neck and his forhead. he looked godly.

he sat on the bed next to her, putting his large palm on her cheek. she shivered beneath his touch. she close her eyes, took a deep breath, and leaned into his palm. she thought he would finally give her what she wants. finally touch her, let her have him after a whole week and a day of not being able to touch him, to feel his touch.

she was wrong, he continued the torture, just this time on their bed, as he spread her legs wide open, demanding she keep her hands above her head. she squirmed and writhed beneath him, whining and begging. hiding her red cheeks in her scarf.

eren would chuckle menacingly. “look at you, love.”

he would lightly glide his fingers down her stomach, making her arch her back towards him. “got you so desperate, yeah?” she would whine at his deep voice, looking up at his lust-filled eyes, attempting a puppy-eyed look as eren had an amused expression on his face, “‘ren, please, please, let me touch you. I’ve missed you. I wanna touch you!” she would kick her legs like a child, as if she was deprived from sweet candy. she wanted him. she wanted him so bad it hurt, it hurt her insides. her hands hurt, aching to touch him. her lips and tongue hurt, wanting to be on his. her cunt hurt, clenching around nothing as eren’s hand would stop right above her clit.

but most of all, her head hurt. it ached. it was deafening. it was numbing all her other aches, everything fading away except eren’s teal eyes.

she looked up at him, his eyes filled with lust, as if a flick was switched in her, she grunted and pounced on him. pushing him into the bed, she straddled his lap, her wetness spreading on his own already-damp sweatpants as her legs were on either side of him.

he looked up at her with a shit-eating grin, he wanted this. he would let her control him, do anything she wants. it was turning him on more and more by the second. the feral look in the ackerman’s eyes alone could make him cum undone, her eyes glowing with determination. determined to pleasure herself.

she started unwrapping her scarf around herself, throwing it around eren’s neck, god he looked good in it. it had been years since she saw the red fabric around his slender neck.

she tugged on both ends, bringing eren’s face impossibly closer, making him clench his jaw and grunt as she looked down at him, the tip of their noses touching, his teal eyes switching between glancing at her eyes and her lips.

she planted a slow lick on his lips, with that, he groaned and smashed his lips against hers. mikasa’s grip on the scarf around his neck tightening as they swallowed eachother whole. their tongues sloppily playing with eachother, eren biting mikasa’s lower lip as she moans into his mouth.

mikasa held both ends of the scarf with one hand, her other hand going to tangle with the loose hairs around his neck as she started grinding on him. eren started meeting her thrusts, both of them dry humping eachother like some high school kids.

when they both ran out of breath and parted their lips from eachother, a string of saliva connecting them. mikasa’s hand in eren’s hair went to tug at the waistband of his grey sweatpants, his breaths coming out his swollen lips as pants.

she managed to bring down his sweats, now pooling around his knees, his cock finally being freed, smacking against his abs, too red and glistening with precum, begging to be touched as eren never would. eren sighed loudly, slightly thrusting upwards as mikasa’s folds glided against the side of his length.

they were both panting messes, at this point just teasing themselves. mikasa grabbed a hold of his shoulders as she buried her head into the scarf around his neck, lifting her hips, waiting for him to finally fill her up.

eren chuckled lowly, one hand around mikasa’s waist as the other grabbed a hold of his own cock, so hard he could swear he would explode. yet the bastard still went on about his teasing, hitting the tip of his dick on her cunt one, two, three times before she whined, he brought his other hand down to her ass, giving it a sharp slap. she moaned loudly into his neck, trying to calm herself with his smell.

eren’s patience ran thin, finally shoving his thick cock into her hole with a groan as he held her waist with both hands. mikasa moaned, eren’s cock wasn’t even halfway in, her wet cunt tightened around his tip, screaming as her legs shook, her head forced back as she came around his tip.

eren looked up at her, amused look on his face as he held himself back from cumming, being too good at that by now. as mikasa opened her eyes, she was met with eren smirking hazily, “you just came around my head, baby?” he questioned in a teasing tone, already knowing the answer.

mikasa furrowed her brows, grabbing both ends of the scarf as she lowered herself onto him in a flash, all of his length buried inside her to a hilt, his tip hitting her cervix, threatening to rip up her insides. she held back a wince, tears welling around her eyes but she swallowed the lump in her throat, she was determined. determined to wipe that shit-eating grin off his handsome face.

eren’s face scrunched up, his eyes shutting without his will, lips parted as he threw his head back with a growl. mikasa could feel thick, white ropes fill her up. her thighs slightly shaking around him from the overstimulating texture of his cum deep inside of her.

eren was a moaning mess beneath her, still cumming, he opened his eyes lazily, feeling mikasa wrap other end of the scarf around his neck and tug at the ends, the scarf cutting eren’s blood flow in the now prominent vein in his neck.

he gasped, holding a tight grip on mikasa’s waist as his slender fingers would most probably leave purple marks there for the next few days. he held her waist as he started thrusting up into her, cock still hard even though he just came.

his breaths came out ragged, turning into moans and groans halfway as mikasa had her mouth open, no noise leaving her mouth as she had a deathly grip on the scarf around his neck. eren’s previous cum was oozing out of her with each of his brain-damaging thrusts, leaking back down onto his dick and his thighs. it was messy, sloppy, hard. just like eren likes it.

eren groaned as mikasa kept clenching around his cock, more cum sliding in and out of her, his thrusts hard and bruising, “harder,” he choked out. mikasa has a confused look on her face as she looked down at him, “choke me,” he said between pants, mikasa clenching around him with his words, “choke me, mikasa. harder.”

he was demanding something from her. for once, asking her to do it, she moaned as she tightened her grip around the scarf, adding one of her hands into the mix as she pressed her fingers around his neck and onto his popping veins.

he whined. eren jaeger fucking whined.

it was too much, mikasa clenched harder around his cock if that was even possible, her thighs shaking and her holds on his neck and the scarf tightening involuntarily.

he grunted and moaned, throwing his had back as he kept thrusting in her, “fuck— fuck— m-mikasa, i love you, i love you, love yo-“ cumming inside her with a loud groan, as she panted his name like a prayer.

they stilled, both of them spent as they had each came twice, mikasa could feel another patch of cum oozing out of her and onto eren’s still-hard dick.

they both opened their eyes at the same time, looking at eachother as mikasa’s grip on the scarf loosened, eren smiled, turning into a chuckle as mikasa snorted.

both of them breaking down into laughs as they were high on eachother.

••••••••••••••••••••••

there we go! as i promised, the other one got 30 likes so :p

hope you guys enjoyed oml- this was a whole ass ride. literally.

i absolutely wanted to write sum where eren is a teasing mf, laughing at mikasa for coming too soon- but mikasa being the badass she is— shows him he ain’t shit either 🥴

not me tearing up at the end tho-

#eren jaeger #eren x mikasa #eren smut #aot #eremika smut #eremika #mikasa ackerman #mikasa smut

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Joke’s on You

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky’s fuckboy tendencies get the better of him. But you show him you’re not gonna be tossed around like a toy. This time, he gets the shit end of the stick.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut, Fighting, Angst,

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: Okay fellas. Here she is. The third instalment of Gangsta. Now, this one can be read in the series or as a standalone. Based on Charlotte Lawerence’s ‘Joke’s on You’ (Both regular and acoustic.) and also on Love the Way you Lie obvi cause angst and toxic relationships hehe. I’ve got the next part almost fully written and lemme warn y’all, it’s a tearjerker. So good luck!

Gangsta

I see Red

Jokes On You

Habits (Coming soon)

~*~

“Hey, Steve.” He nods at you, arm resting on the back of the seat just behind your shoulders. “Waitin’ for him?” You nod, lips pursed as you cross your arms on the table.

The club is loud, music thumping under your feet and people chattering all around you. Your eyes scour the club, looking for James.

You feel Steve stiffen a moment before you find him, and then you realize why Steve reacted the way he did.

Bucky’s standing at the bar, flirting and chatting up a busty brunette waitress. You grind your teeth together, watching the way he looks her up and down.

“I’m sure he’s just being friendly?” Steve offers, cringing when you turn your glare on him.

“That’s the problem. If I ever get that friendly with a guy I’ll never hear the end of it. I fucking hate that this is such a double standard. I’m not gonna just sit around and watch him get with random bitches. Not anymore.” You make to stand up, halting when Steve grabs your hand.

“At least dance with me. Not someone that he’s gonna kill for no reason.” You ponder this, glancing over to your boyfriend once more and making your mind up quickly. The brunette is leaning in, her lips almost touching his face.

You grab Steve’s hand and haul him towards the dance floor, ignoring the way you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. You spin around in Steve’s arms, pressing your back against his front and moving your hips against him.

He grips your waist, his head resting over your shoulder, lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear.

You slowly open your eyes, looking over to where Bucky’s sitting, his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on you.

The waitress is gone for the moment, but two glasses sit on the counter beside him, one of them stained with red lipstick.

He raises his eyebrows at you and you cock your head to the side before reaching over your shoulder and grabbing a handful of Steve’s hair. Bucky’s eyes flash a warning at him and you only roll your eyes in return, before tugging Steve’s head down and craning your neck back to smash your lips against his.

He’s stunned for a minute, before kissing you back with passion, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip. His hands trail up your body, cupping your breasts through the thin material of your dress and groping them roughly.

You pull away after a moment, panting hard. When you open your eye they immediately flicker to Bucky, a frown crossing your face when you see him once again talking to the brunette.

Huffing a frustrated breath, you tug out of Steve’s arms and strut over to the bar, smiling sweetly at your boyfriend.

He hardly glances at you, only giving you attention when you clear your throat.

“I uh... I should get back to my table,” the waitress says, smiling at Bucky before walking away. His eyes stay on her backside and you scoff.

“Really, James?” He shrugs, playing it cool when all he wants to do is bend you over the counter and fuck you until the only thing you remember is his name.

“Yeah. Maybe don’t come home tonight. She and I are really hitting it off. She’s got a tongue stud and said she’d let me see her nipple rings.”

You scoff again, shaking your head at him.

“Yeah, whatever. When you’re done being a prick let me know. I’m staying with Steve tonight. Maybe when you grow up a bit and can talk about whatever doubts you’re having about our relationship, then I’ll come home. But not before then.”

He watches you walk away, his heart aching and his mind racing. He doesn’t want to let you get away, but he has no choice. He can’t need you. He doesn’t want to need you. And yet here he is, needing you.

You walk up to Steve, your anger evident on your face.

“He being a dick again?” He asks, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Of fucking course he is! When is he not? God, sometimes I forget why we got together.” Steve chuckles, his hands holding your waist. “Because you guys are a match made in heaven? C’mon. I’ll take you home. I’m sure he’s just gonna get shitfaced then bum a ride from some poor defenceless college kid.” You nod, taking a deep breath but deciding that Steve’s probably right.

As you’re turning to the door, you see none other than your boyfriend leaving, one hand on the ass of the waitress as the two of them leave the club together.

“Jesus Christ he’s leaving with her,” you hiss, turning to glare at Steve.

“He’s an idiot. I’ll take you home.” You shake your head, determined to make a point.

“No. Take me to your place. He gets to go with a random bitch, fine. I’m going home with someone else too.” Steve sighs, knowing better than to argue with you when you’re in a mood like this.

The ride to his house is silent, the tension thick in the car as you stew in your anger.

Too many times has Bucky done this, pushed you away and fucked other girls, only to get mad at you whenever you attempt to do the same.

Fucking random guys would only get them killed, exactly how Steve said, however, Bucky cares too much about his best friend to kill him. Beat him to a pulp? Sure. But Bucky could never kill Steve.

As soon as you’re in Steve’s apartment you’re on him, mouth pressed tightly against his and hands pushing his jacket off of his shoulders. He pauses for a moment, pulling away to look at you carefully.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? You know he’s gonna find out.” You roll your eyes and step out of your dress, kicking it aside and standing bare in front of the blond.

“He can go fuck himself after fucking that waitress. If he does. And if he doesn't then he’ll finally know how I’ve felt all those times when he’s come home smelling like another woman.” Steve ponders this for a moment longer before grabbing you by the waist and pulling you tight against his body.

His kisses are fierce, all teeth and tongue and power and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling. All thoughts of Bucky are shoved aside. He’s not a priority to you tonight.

No. The only thing on your mind is revenge.

And by God does Steve make it taste sweet.

~*~

Your head is pounding and you swear you feel like you’ve swallowed sand.

The sound of a door opening makes you pry your lids open, glancing over to the sound. Steve offers you a smile, a glass of water and a couple of pills in his hands.

You sit up and rub your face before grabbing the water and painkillers, downing them both quickly then groaning.

“Where’s my phone?” You croak, holding your hand out expectantly.

Steve hesitates and you feel the atmosphere change. You lift your head and look at him, brows drawn together.

“Give it to me now.” He sighs and pulls your phone out of his back pocket, tossing it over to you.

You catch it effortlessly, turning it on while your heart beats in your throat.

Your world crumbles slightly at the sight of your lock screen.

Zero notifications from him.

Not a text.

Not one single phone call.

Nothing.

You grind your teeth together and toss the blankets off of yourself, marching over to Steve’s dresser and grabbing a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt that’s at least two sizes too small for him.

“Give me your keys,” you demand, marching out of the room with murder on your mind.

Steve grabs your arm but you yank out of his grip.

“Think about what you’re doing before you do it, (Y/n). Please.” You take a few deep breaths then shake your head.

“I’m just gonna go talk to him. If he’s not serious about us then neither am I. I just want to see...” You trail off and Steve sighs, handing you the keys to his Ferrari.

“If you so much as scratch the paint I’ll-” “Yeah, yeah you’ll kill me I know. It’s fine I’ll just buy you a new one.”

You’re out the door before he can say anything else, keys jammed in the car’s ignition.

Steve would have a heart attack if he saw the way you were treating his baby.

And he would die on the spot if he saw the way you drove.

By the time you’re outside the apartment you and Bucky share, you’ve had some time to cool down.

That doesn't stop you from grabbing a knife out of the glove box though.

You hold it loosely in your dominant hand as you walk into the building then up through the elevator, the trip taking far more time than usual.

But then you’re outside of your apartment, ready to have a serious conversation about where the two of you stand with regards to your relationship.

You unlock the door and push your way into the apartment, stopping right in the doorway when you see not one but two people in your home.

A piece of your heart shatters and any semblance of composure is left a step behind you.

Bucky looks like a deer in headlights, his mind foggy, but yours is working just as well as it usually does, if not better.

The waitress from the night before stands before you in your boyfriend’s shirt, a confused look on her face.

You hold the knife tighter in your grasp and pounce, the blade just nicking her throat before Bucky yanks her out of the way.

She lets out a terrified scream, stumbling to the ground and scrambling away from you.

Before you can get her again Bucky’s got your arms pinned to your sides, his metal arm holding tightly to the arm that has the knife.

“Grace, you should probably leave,” He says softly, his eyes focused on the look of pure betrayal on your face.

The waitress gets up and gathers her things quickly, her eyes on you.

You eye her with nothing but pure hatred in your gaze, straining against his hold.

He doesn’t loosen his grip until she’s safely out the door, only then does he let you go.

But what a mistake.

Your anger is now directed at him and you swipe your blade up at him, catching the apple of his cheek and leaving an angry red slice across his pretty face.

“Fuck!” He jumps back, one hand coming up to the wound while the other extends defensively in front of himself.

You don’t follow him like he thought you would. No, instead you toss the knife aside and turn away from him.

He’s utterly confused at your behaviour. It’s not like anything you’ve ever done before.

He was prepared for anger, for wrath like no other. But this? This is new territory and he hates that.

You pour yourself a glass of whiskey and bring it over to the couch, plopping down and grabbing your phone out of your pocket. Bucky approaches you slowly as if you’re an animal ready to lash out at any moment. But you don’t.

“Baby?” He asks softly, waiting for the anger.

But he gets nothing in reply.

“I’d be using my time more wisely if I were you,” you say stoically, eyes on your phone as you fight tears.

“W-what do you mean?” He’s never felt genuine fear for his life before now.

“You have twenty-eight minutes left to get your shit and get out. Whatever’s left after that is getting burned. If you’re still here then you will also be on that list of things that will be getting burned.”

He’s shocked.

“What do you mean?” He repeats, taking a few hesitant steps closer to your figure. The way that you stay so unbothered, eyes on your phone as if he means nothing to you, it’s beyond concerning.

“I’m not going to repeat myself. It’s up to you if you want to take me seriously or not.” He’s not sure what to do, but he knows that he pushed you too far, if only from the way that you don’t give a single fuck about him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he tries, voice low and hands raised in surrender and fear, hoping to appeal to your human side.

Unfortunately for him, your human side is long gone.

“Mhm,” is all you say in reply, taking another sip of your drink and trying to remember where you keep the propane.

He starts moving then, packing up a bag that’s enough to last him a few days. He’s not sure if he should believe that you’ll actually burn his things, but he grabs all his valuables just in case.

The remaining twenty-five minutes go by far too quickly, and then he’s standing at the door, watching you rise to your feet with the utmost grace.

He watches as you start gathering up little knickknacks, stray socks and books of his, a bunch of pictures, a set of ridiculously expensive champagne glasses, and the necklace he got you for your last birthday. You toss it all into a cardboard box then head into the next room to gather more things.

His curiosity and want to preserve what little he can of the relationship gets the better of him and he hesitantly creeps his way over to the box, grabbing the pictures and the necklace.

A bullet narrowly misses his hand and he almost drops his belongings in his haste to get out of the line of fire, but you’ve got the barrel pointed directly at him again, finger hovering dangerously over the trigger.

“I told you: half an hour. You’re done. Get out. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” He says nothing. Instead, he grabs his belongings and leaves without so much as a second glance.

~*~

“Have you tried talking to her? She seemed pretty pissed when she left my place.” Bucky glares at his friend, “You fucking asshole, don’t even try to give me advice, you’re the one who ruined this in the first place.”

Steve raises his brows and downs his scotch then actually laughs at his friend, the sound getting slightly drowned out by the noises in the bar

“Do I need to remind you who left the club first? You took that waitress home before (Y/n) and I even left. That’s the only reason I took her home. She would’ve fucked anybody in that club and then you would’ve gone and made a mess that I would’ve had to clean up. I took her home cause you and I both know I’ll take good care of her and won’t treat her like shit. She deserves the world, Buck, and you treat her like a piece of garbage.”

The brunet is silent as his friend tells him what he knows is true but really just doesn’t want to accept.

“That woman loves you, Buck. To the moon and back. With her whole fucking heart and soul and you stomp on it every damn chance you get. If she wasn’t so damn in love with you, I’d take her out. Wine and dine her real nice, just how she deserves. I’d show her what it’s like to be loved.”

The glass shatters in the brunet’s hand as he listens to his best friend talk about the way he’d treat the woman he loves.

“I get it! I’m a fucking idiot. I’ll go talk to her.” He drops a couple of bills on the table then marches out of the bar, trying to keep his composure and his confidence on the drive to the apartment.

He’s not sure what he’s going to say, but he knows he needs to apologize. He needs to tell you that he loves you and that you’re the only one he wants.

Hesitant knuckles knock against the door and he feels stupid. It’s his place too.

When he gets no reply he pushes the door open, his stomach dropping and his heart clenching tight in his chest.

It’s empty.

No furniture, no decorations, and not one single sign of you.

“(Y/n)?!” He calls, hand darting to the gun tucked into his pants as he explores the empty penthouse.

“(Y/n)?” His voice is softer but more desperate, the reality of the situation hitting him like a punch in the gut.

You’re gone.

He lost you. And he’s not sure if he’s gonna be able to get you back.

~*~

You shoulder your way into the tiny shithole that you’re calling home, brows drawn together and shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

“Love the new place.” You’ve got a gun raised and aimed at the voice, heart racing in your chest at the fact that you didn’t even realize they were here.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You demand, not lowering your weapon as you walk into the living room.

He’s seated on the couch, eyes staring straight through the window across from him.

“You left,” is all he says.

You want to scoff.

Scratch that; you want to shout. To yell and scream and beat him to a bloody pulp. You want to ask him why. Why he hurt you so badly and why he acts like he did nothing.

Instead, you walk past him and set your gun on the table.

“Why did you leave?” His voice is closer than before, his feet silent as they carry him towards you. You’re in your bedroom, raking your hands through your hair as you try to handle the situation.

“Why?” He asks again, two metal fingers just hardly brushing against your bicep. You yank yourself away from him, eyes full of rage and betrayal as you glare at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me! You have no fucking right!” He takes a moment to look you over, a frown on his face as he sees how upset you are.

This isn’t how this usually goes. Usually, the two of you shout and scream at each other, then fuck all the anger out.

But not this time.

No, this time it’s different. Because there’s more than just anger on your face.

The look of pain, of absolute agony on your face, has his heart shattering in his chest.

“Doll... I’ll never be able to apologize for what I did. I just...” “You just what, Bucky?” You never call him that. Exhaustion laces your voice and your shoulders slump forward.

“You just what? You wanted to hurt me again? Well congrats, you did a great job. Now please leave. I don't want to see you. Not now and not ever fucking again.” He shakes his head as you turn away from him again.

“No, no you don’t mean that. We’re good together. We’re so fucking good together. You’re the Lois Lane to my Superman. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

His words are dripping with desperation and truth. He’s scared, terrified that this is the end. But he’s talked you back before, he can do it again.

“I’ve been hurt before, Buck. And when I saw... that... it felt like there was a knife in my fucking throat. Like someone was stabbing me in the chest and in the back all at the same time. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t fight. And you know what? I’m done fighting. I’m done fighting you, I’m done fighting for you and, I’m so fucking done fighting for us. It’s not worth it anymore.”

He shakes his head but you continue, not giving him a moment to speak.

“We’re not good together. We’re toxic. We’re so fucking toxic but you love it. You love that I hate you because I always come crawling back. You never let me leave, you’ve never ever told me you loved me. It’s always been me. I was the only one who ever tried to salvage our relationship and I’m done doing that.”

He shakes his head, swallowing the sorrow and bile in his throat at the way your voice breaks, the way you crack and splinter and shatter right before his very own eyes.

And it’s his fault. He caused this. He's the one who hurt you.

“Doll I love you. So fucking much. I feel so fucking ashamed for everything I’ve done and the way that I’ve acted.” You scoff, shaking your head at him, “as you fucking should. I’m not going to comfort you. You see me crumbling, see me in pain, and all you've ever done is stand by and watch the show. I won’t let you. Not anymore.”

You sniffle and scrub a tear off of your cheek, your voice shaking as you start speaking again.

“I love you. So much that I can fucking hardly breathe when I’m with you. And when I fell in love with you... it hit me out of the blue. Out of fucking nowhere. I never wanted t-to hurt you or to make you upset. Now I can’t even look at you. You said you’d be my ride or die but you have never been there when I’ve needed you.”

His eyes are red-rimmed and his heart is in his stomach. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

“B-But I can change. Just give me another chance, please, doll. I swear things will be different this time.”

You shake your head angrily, furious that you’re having to have this conversation with him.

“No! You don’t get it! You don’t get another chance, this isn’t a game! You lied again and now you’re going to fucking watch me walk out of your life and I’m not going to fucking look back!”

“Baby, please. Just... I just... I need you so much. I know I wasn’t there for you and I know it wasn’t you and it was me but your temper’s just as bad as mine is and we’re both stubborn as hell and so fucking crazy. Our relationship isn’t as bad as it seems and I love you too much for you to walk away. Come home, we can try again.”

You’re crying now, arms crossed tightly over your chest in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself

“You’re a broken record, Bucky. Playing the same damn thing over and over again. You don’t mean a word you’re saying.”

He winds up and his fist slams into the wall, a large hole gaping in the drywall.

There goes your damage deposit.

Tears are streaking down his face and his chest is heaving as emotions wrack through his body, tearing him limb from limb and setting him on fire.

“You’re not even listening to me! Don't you hear the sincerity in my voice! I told you this was my fault! I know it’s all my fault! Next time-”

“Next time?!” You actually laugh, though the two of you know there’s no humour behind it. “You don’t get a ‘next time’! We’re done! We’re fucking done!”

“No! You’re not listening to me! All I want is to have you back home! I’m tired of these fucking games! Come home!”

He reaches for you, hands grasping your waist, and you shimmy out of his grip and back up in the bedroom, absolutely fuming at the audacity this man has.

“This isn’t a fucking game, James! If you ever come near me again I will tie you to that fucking bed and set this place on fire! I will show you exactly how you’ve made me felt and by the end of it you’ll be begging me to kill you!”

The two of you stand facing off with each other, tears falling and eyes narrowed, but you won’t give in.

Not this time.

After a few very long minutes his shoulders sag and his entire demeanour changes as he accepts defeat. As he realizes that you’re not giving in this time.

He lost.

He lost you.

“Alright. If that’s what you want, fine.” He turns around and walks towards the front door, each step sending a sharp fiery pain through his chest.

He hesitates when he gets to the door, eyes squeezed shut as he waits, hopes, and prays for you to stop him.

But you say nothing. You only watch him, wait for him to leave and take all his lies and deceit away.

He pulls the door open, steps through, and turns around, red eyes focused solely on you.

You muster up your courage and take calculated steps through the apartment towards the front door.

His heart jumps up into his throat, lips parting to apologize and to thank you for giving him another chance, but he doesn’t get a word out.

No, you close the door in his face and leave him standing alone on the other side, your decision having been made.

His movements are mechanical as he makes his way to his car, keys in the ignition and foot on the gas.

It can’t be real.

It can’t be.

He finds himself back in your old apartment, eyes on the absolute nothingness, a perfect representation of your relationship.

A strangled sob leaves his lips, and then another one. And another until they’re consuming him and he’s on the floor, unable to breathe or move.

No, he curls up in the fetal position, hunched in on himself, and screams your name. He curses himself, his friends, his stupidity.

He deserves this. He knows that.

He’s a lost cause.

Loving him was a mistake on your part.

But that doesn’t make the hurt go away.

Fuck, he wants the hurt to go away.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader dark fic #bucky x reader dark au #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky/reader #bucky/you #dark au #dark fic #bucky smut #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #Bucky Barnes angst #Steve Rogers x reader smut #Steve Rogers x reader angst #Bucky Barnes fanfiction

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sp00kworm · 3 years

Text

Who needs lights?

Pairing: Durzub (Goth Male Orc) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warning: Suggestive Themes

This wonderful piece is based off a very lovely OC by @of-devils-and-drawings. Durzub belongs to her and I adored him too much not to make this for him. I’m a sucker for anything scary and/or orc.... and/or metal....and/or goth.

---

You’d always found a little bit of comfort being in the alternative scene, even when others stared and watched in the street as you went past, going about your business, bundled in black layers or flares and platforms. It was something unique and different and it was very much a part of your life. The bars were always better places too. You laughed at the bar at your friend as the bar tender tied his platinum, lilac streaked hair back and started to mix the cocktail for the jug. It was easier to order in large pitchers and watch the band playing from the platform the bar was on. You watched the alcohol mix as the Fae grinned at you, revealing incredibly dangerous, sharp teeth and placed two straws into the jug before sliding it closer to the two of you.

You paid for it before laughing and turning a straw to the Faun, “To our health! Well, and my new job!” You cheered.

“Oh, for sure, finally you’re not broke and can pay for drinks!” She jeered as she pursed her lips and leaned down to take a few long sips, “Jesus Christ, Flix!” She coughed, “You trying to get us drunk and make us easy, or something?”

Flix rolled his eyes as he flipped a cocktail shaker over and caught it, “You wish Pip. You two haven’t ever been my type.” He snorted as his lilac, gossamer wings fluttered behind his back in irritation. He laid his burning black eyes on a group in the corner, “Though, I like the look of those troublemakers.” A claw raised to point at the group of Orcs who were gathered in the corner.

Pip’s brown ears flicked before her hooves clicked against the black floor, the sparkly tiles reflecting the strobes from the stage. She grinned and flicked at the ring in her nose, her shaggy black hair flopping back over her dark eyes, “Oh,” She purred, “I didn’t know you were into the rowdy muscle-head sort.”

Flix flipped the cocktail again before giving her the middle finger and moving to serve the cocktail to a woman who had just come out of the crowd watching the band.

“Who are they?” You asked after taking a long drink of the cocktail, “I haven’t seen them here before?” You looked over at the group again before realising how perfectly they fit in here in the bar. All were dressed in a variety of fashion, from heavy leather, to chains, to netting. Others donned fancier items with flowing sleeves and long, tailored skirts and trousers. The majority were green in skin tone, but you looked at a few lighter coloured, grey toned orcs with interest as they were from the mountainous regions of the old country.

Pip clicked her tongue, “Muscle heads and trouble, the lot of them.” She took another few drinks before hopping back onto her bar stool and adjusting her net top over her ripped shirt. Around her waist was a thick leather belt, the studs dripping with thin metal chains that hung around her furry hips, “They come to shows like this and usually start fights.” She commented off-handedly.

With a frown, you looked from her, to the group again, “They just seem to be drinking and watching?” You commented.

Pip snorted a short bleat again, “Yeah, wait until this gig really kicks off, then you’ll see what I mean. Last time I was here with them one of them decided it would be a great idea to upturn tables, and by that, I mean, upturn my drinks over my new dress.” She hissed venomously, “They’re assholes, the lot of them.”

“They don’t look like it…” You uttered as one of the Orcs stood from the group and dragged his friend up with him to get drinks. The rest of them hollered their orders before some of the group split off to join the crowd watching the band.

“Oh great. Here they come!” Pip cheered before moving two seats down and dragging you along with her.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Pip.” Flix commented with a hiss and flutter of his wings, “They’re all lookers, I don’t see why you can’t look past that.” He shrugged his shoulders before smiling at the two male orcs at the bar, “What can I do for you two handsome fellas?” His eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings at them and you snickered at the scent of lilac flowers that drifted from him like a thick perfume.

“Come on, Flix. Lay off it for one night will ya!” One of the orcs laughed before he elbowed his friend, “This guy’s new here. Don’t go scaring him off already. You lot need our custom.” The orc leaned back and scrubbed at his mohawk, adjusting his heavy cargo trousers. Fabric belts hung between the legs and down them and he wore a heavy half tartan kilt over the top. His face was littered with piercings and you could see why he looked like the sort to be causing problems.

“You know I love you all equally, Xurek.” Flix laughed, “But I was more excited for your lady friend over there. She’s new too huh?”

“Jesus, you never give up! Anyway,” Xurek took the other orc around the neck, “This is Durzub. He’s new in town. Just moved in from out from the sticks. He might look like a foul piece of work, but you’ve met Rakuh, so he’s not as scary.” Xurek laughed before he let the darker skinned orc go. The other male reached up to brush his black hair from his eyes. Most of his long black hair was braided in tight long threads, the braids sequenced with small beads along them with the rest straight and hanging over his shoulder beneath the wide brim of a black hat, emblazoned with a silver trim around the base. He turned, dressed in a black long shirt and coat, the end trailing behind him as he ducked out of Xurek’s grasp, brown eyes angry.

Durzub snorted and tossed his head, the braids sliding back out of his way over his shoulder before he reached up to move his tangled chains from the ends of his hair, the necklaces hanging with silver teeth, “Will you stop dragging me around like a child, Xurek!” He snorted as he dragged his arm out of Xurek’s grasp and adjusted his hat again before sighing and taking it off, “Any way I could get you to store this behind the bar for me? Its new and these lot have a habit of throwing beer the later it gets.”

Flix fluttered his eyelashes again, “Sure thing, sweetheart.” He took the hat and turned around to hang it near the aprons, “Just grab me before closing and I’ll get it you.”

“Thank you.” Durzub rumbled before pulling his hair back again, tucking the straight length on his left side behind his ear, revealing rings of silver and studs of obsidian, which matched the rings, linked by a chain, on each of his short tusks.

“Don’t be nice to him, Durzub, he’ll eat you alive given the opportunity.” Xurek snickered behind his hand as he flapped his band shirt, trying to cool himself down, “His family ate children back in the day.”

“That was five hundred years ago!” Flix scoffed as he slammed two, pint glasses down on the bar, “So, was it two ales or two lagers?”

“We were thinking mead actually.” Xurek stuck his pierced tongue out before he played with the bar, “And not that piss water Weldrick buys for the goblins!” Flix ignored him and turned for the taps down the other end of the bar.

Pip scoffed at the exchange, but you found your mouth opening at the sight of the long-haired orc and his scowl. He watched Flix’s wings before he turned away from Xurek’s chattering and pushed his hand over his mouth. You watched the exchange as Xurek stuck his tongue between the other’s fingers and couldn’t help but laugh loudly as Durzub cringed and recoiled.

“You’re fuckin’ disgusting.” Durzub rolled his eye and took a napkin from the holder to wipe the spit from his fingers and the skull rings which sat above his knuckles.

“Mmm, you taste like fresh meat.” Xurek hissed like a comically bad vampire, and you laughed again, but this time louder. It was loud enough that the two orcs looked down the bar to where you and Pip were sat with your cocktail jug.

“Well done! Now we have their attention.” Pip hissed in your ear before she kicked at your chair with one shoed hoof, clanking the metal with a vicious bang.

Xurek’s smile made you regret everything, as you watched his gaze shift from your face to the larger orc stood next to him, “Looks like we have an audience, Durzub.”

The other male turned slightly on one heel, looking at you both with a raised eyebrow, looking over the two of you perched at the end of the bar, “Don’t mind this freak. He’s got a way of making everyone hate him.”

“Oh, that’s fuckin’ cold!” Xurek hissed at him, “After I introduce you to those bands too!”

Durzub rolled his eyes again as Xurek slinked around him to laze across the bar on one arm, his head propped up on his fist, “Bands which have given me nothing but persistent headaches.”

“Headaches but three magazine features!” Xurek wound his middle finger up before he smiled at the two of you again, “Ignore him. He was castrated at birth.” The statement earned him another gruff noise from Durzub.

“We don’t want your attention, Xurek.” Pip gave him a sardonic smirk, “Not unless you’re replacing those drinks from last time.” She leaned on her own open palm and bared her teeth at him, her hoof clicking against the bar stool.

“You’re a cold bitch, Pip. You know that was an accident.” Xurek whined, “Highlander honour.” He crossed his heart, “Anyway, why don’t I introduce you to my new friend here?” He wrapped his arm around Durzub, making the other spill mead down his fingers as he dragged him over to the two of you, “This is Durzub. He’s a music producer, and part time good looker.”

“You’re a music producer?” You asked in awe before you turned and looked at the stage, “Are you here for these guys?” You pointed at the industrial band on stage as the lights went low and they started the intro for their next song. At the back here it wasn’t as loud, and you could readily hear the two orcs.

“Yeah. They’re a new signing.” Durzub rolled his shoulders in a shrug, “I never really sign their sort, but it seems like they have a decent following.”

“Come on, mate, we’re here to chill out, not to talk work.” Xurek groaned and laid against the sticky bar top before recoiling in disgust.

“I know, you great oaf.” Durzub placed Xurek’s drink next to him, “Are you both here to see the show?” He asked, his voice slipping from ‘totally pissed off’ into something that was ‘gruff but polite’. Either way, his soft country accent made you smile before you took a few mouthfuls of cocktail for courage.

Pip answered before you could swallow, “We come on a Friday to wind down. The gigs are always just a bonus.”

She shot a look at you with her dark, goat eyes, warning you from speaking as she steered the conversation, “What about you guys? You here to bother people on their nights off?”

“Well, we know where we ain’t wanted.” Xurek shrugged his shoulders at Pip’s rudeness, “Sorry to harass you, but you don’t have to be a salty asshole about spilt drinks, you know.” He watched Pip’s temper flare and you ducked back as she slammed her hand against the bar top.

“You listen here you little asshole!”

“Little?” Xurek scoffed, “I tower over you, babe.”

Pip gave a bleat of anger before she swept her leg around you and cracked Xurek in the shin, “It was my new dress you ass for brains!” She hissed at him before she stood up to walk around you and face the orc head on.

“What do you want me to say, huh?!” Xurek goaded, “Oh I’m so sorry that my accident ruined something I couldn’t stop. Get over yourself thinking I did it on purpose!” He fumed with anger.

You leaned back before hopping out of your chair, taking the jug of cocktail in one hand and a tall glass in the other before you turned to Durzub, “Hey come on. They’re going to be screeching for a while. Want to go and sit on the balcony and watch?”

Durzub seemed a little taken back by the offer, “Oh, sure.” He uttered as he pulled Xurek’s drink away from him and then took his own in hand and following you towards the stairs, leading to the viewing area above the pit. You found two stools and a table and happily placed your drinks on it before leaning on the railing to look down at the band as they headbanged together on stage.

Durzub sat awkwardly for a moment before he coughed behind his head, “So, what is it that you do?” He asked as he leaned over the table, eyeing the mixture of liquor and fruit juice in your jug.

You turned from the show and smiled, “Oh nothing as interesting as music production. I just got hired at a new modelling agency.”

“Do you model then?” He asked with wide eyes, “Because you’re certainly…”

“Oh, God no. Nothing like that. I work with brands and secure deals and shoots. I work with Skull Crusher and Tombstone mostly.” You smiled and sipped cocktail through your straw.

Durzub tucked his hair back again with a sweep of his hand, “That explains the look then.” He smiled softly, “Do you get some sweet discounts?” He asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. It’s never been cheaper to be a goth!” You cheered as you looked down at the rowdy beginnings of a mosh pit, then back to the bar.

You gave a great laugh, “Well, looks like their argument is sorted.” You pointed at Xurek with his bruised cheek. He slammed back his drink before storming away into the pit, rushing through a mosh pit before his eyes caught sight of a human among the others. You grinned at his expression. Dumb struck.

“Jesus. I hope they’re ready to be pestered.” Durzub chugged a few mouthfuls of mead before he scoffed, “Whenever he gets that look, he ends up heartbroken a week later.”

“Well, it might be different this time, you know?” You smiled back at Durzub, “Maybe this is the one!” You cooed.

“You’ve got fairy tales in your head and cotton candy to go with it. He’s going to have a one-night stand then not shut up about her for the next three weeks.” Durzub held up three fingers as he drank some more, “Or he’ll relay every little detail to us on our next outing. He has zero filter.”

“I can tell that much.” You laughed as you shuffled back in your seat, “What about you then, have you met your one?”

“My one?” Durzub scoffed, “Hardly. How old do you think I am?” He leaned on his fist and pointed back at himself, giving you a curious look.

You felt like this was a trap, “Are you doing this so you can get mad when I guess wrong?” You asked as you pushed the ice around in the glass.

“Hardly. I’m not sensitive.” He grumbled as his painted fingers tapped against the side of the pint glass.

“Hmm, if you say so.” You leaned over the table to squint at his face. You’d worked with a few orcs before, but most were young models, sharp featured and tall, broad in the shoulders. Durzub was the same, though his face had wrinkles in places which would suggest he was far over twenty years old, “Thirty-six.” You decided with a smile.

Durzub let out a low laugh, “Not far off actually. I’m thirty-eight.” He pointed to the stage, “And I used to do that. Played in a band until about five years ago. Started as a producer then. Never looked back.”

“Oh wow. Who did you used to play with?” You asked in awe.

“A gothic rock sort of deal.” He replied before he looked into your pleading eyes, and relented, “Zi Gijak.”

“No way.” You rushed to stand from your seat as you recognised the Orcish name, “Black Blood!?”

Durzub ducked his head, reaching for where his hat had sat before he realised, he wasn’t wearing it, “Keep your voice down, please.” He begged quietly, “I don’t need people in this place to recognise me.”

“How could they recognise you now? You look nothing like you did back in the day.” You stated before realising what you said sounded rude, “Not that you look bad now it’s just…”

He laughed at your awkwardness, “I know. I ditched the netting and bones a while ago.”

“You didn’t look half bad in it though, even five years ago.” You winked at him with a sudden rush of confidence, “Though I think this outfit suits you just as much.”

Suddenly, it was as though the intimidating exterior melted, and you watched Durzub’s face go flushed with embarrassment, “Thanks. It has been a change.”

Without making him any more embarrassed you changed the subject a little, “So what bands do you produce for now?” You asked.

“Quite a few. I used to work with SIREN before they got huge, but that sort of metal was never something I could do rather well, I thought.” He shrugged, “They’re with a more focused label now.”

“No way…This keeps getting better and better!” You uttered again.

“Better and better for you. They were a headache and a half for me!” Durzub chuntered into his drink before he swallowed the last bits of it, “I’m glad they’ve moved up. They were good for business.” He smirked over the edge of the pint glass.

“Only thinking of the money.” You tutted playfully, “That’s no way to treat your bands.” You joked.

“Oh no, but that makes me feel better knowing my weekly migraines are worth the agony.” Durzub chuckled as he watched the band on stage, “These guys ain’t half bad for a show though. I think I picked the best from the bucket.”

“They have an interesting ensemble.” You smirked at the leather clad demoness as she slinked along the stage before she growled from her stomach, a crop landing against the hand of a handsy looking fan in the front.

“Interesting but it’s the sort of thing that gets you recognised.” Durzub noted as he watched, “This place is a refuge for all kinds of people. I’m glad Cal has got this place running with Weldrick.”

“Who’s Cal? I’ve met Weldrick. Giant bright white minotaur, right? Build like a brick shit house with all the piercings?” You recalled.

Durzub nodded, “That’s him. He’s about eight foot tall too. Scariest mother fucker I ever did meet.” He shifted in his seat, “Cal is the co-owner, but he’s not around that often. He’s a vampire, but he’s not people fond.” The orc shrugged before offering you half a smile, “We all used to work together, believe it or not.”

“Wait…” Your mouth dropped open, “I’m actually stupid.”

“Cal was the singer of Black Blood. Weldrick ran our security back in the day.” He laughed at your open mouth before he leaned over to close your mouth with two large fingers. He brushed his fingers over your chin before leaning back and pointing to your drink, “Do you want anything else?”

“I’m okay thanks. I’ll keep your seat warm.” You joked as he stood up with a nod and grumbled about having something better than ‘shitty mead’.

“I’ve never seen Durzub ever sit and talk with someone in a bar.” A deep, gravelly voice rang out from behind you. You turned around in your chair to see a tall, human looking male watching you, his sunglasses perched on the end of his nose as he regarded you with a mild amount of curiosity from over the lenses. He reached out a hand awkwardly, “Cal.”

“As in…” You took his hand, and flinched at the stone coldness of his grip, “Co-owner of the bar, Cal?”

“The very same.” He shook your hand lightly before his hand disappeared quickly back into his pocket, “I just came to say hello. I was curious. He hates attention in these kinds of places…”

“Just like you then, apparently.” You observed as you turned on your seat to face him. He was a giant man, but stony cold, and overly pale, looking almost grey around his reflective, steel-coloured eyes. They shone red as he turned, the bouncing curls of black hair spilling over his shoulders before he reached for a cigarette packet and cursed, seeing it was empty with only his lighter inside.

“Cal?” Durzub returned with a large looking ale in his hand, “Weird time to show yourself. Unless you were planning to steal this one for a snack, hmm? As usual.” He scoffed.

“You know I’ve been off the blood for years…” Cal whispered as he rummaged in his other back pocket, before finding a small, slim packet of chewing gum, “I don’t…”

“Yeah. Save it. That’s what you said last time, Clarence.” Durzub huffed into his drink.

Cal’s back went ridged before he stooped over and unfolded the wrapper of his gum, “You don’t get to call me that.” He whispered again, his gravelly tone rumbling in the back of his throat before he slunk away, back into the shadows, and disappeared in a shadowy wave of his black hair.

“Sorry you had to see that.” Durzub rumbled from across the table, “Its…complicated.”

You span back around and smiled, “Don’t worry about it. I think Pip had more of a fight with Xurek.” You snickered as you turned to spy her sat at the bar, batting her eyelashes at Flix as he served, “Though I think she’s okay now. She’s turned her eyes on a certain someone.”

Durzub looked down at the bar and laughed as well, “Well I guess you know her type now.” He joked as he sipped at his ale.

“Yep. Scary pretty boys, who aren’t part of your friends.” You snickered as you sipped at the last of your cocktail and refreshed the glass.

The band on the stage purred their final song as you took another drink, and you looked at your phone with wide eyes at the time.

“I have to get up tomorrow for errands.” You lamented, looking at the clock. It was almost midnight, and you knew Pip would be here for hours if you left her to her own devices.

“So, this is where the night ends.” Durzub laughed before he finished the last of his own drink, “Here.” He tugged out his phone, “Let me give you my number?”

You nodded and took your phone out to exchange numbers before checking it was working and showing him the message came through okay.

“Thank you for tonight.” You smiled at him, “We should do this again.” You leaned over and carefully placed a kiss on his flushed cheek, “For an grumpy music producer, you’re funny to be around.” You took your bag and looked at Xurek, who was busy pressing a human against the far wall, “And look after Xurek, huh? Looks like he might just get himself into trouble again.” You descended the stairs just as the orcs started cheering for the male and shook your head.

After speaking to Pip, and confirming she had a taxi to get home, you exited the bar and shivered in the cold, before you felt a warm presence behind you, and a hand catch your own.

“Hey!” Durzub grunted as he caught your hand, “Let me walk you home?” He asked, “No way in hell I’m staying to watch those lot gawk at Xurek strip a human down.” He sneered. His sneer softened as you interlinked your fingers together and squeezed his hand before looping an arm through his own, leaning into his body heat.

“Sure. You can walk me home.” You leaned into his arm again and smiled, “I live three blocks away, so it’s a bit of a short walk.”

“Better to spend time with you.” Durzub whispered before he looked at the night sky, “I’m still sorry about what happened with Cal…”

“Honestly, it never happened, okay?” You patted the orc’s large arm, “We all have our differences and reasons.”

“Still. I was rude.” He huffed before he reached for his hat and tugged at the brim, “I’m glad I got to meet you at least tonight.” You tried to ignore the way he tugged at his bottom lip before he adjusted the decorative chain over his lip and smiled, still a little awkward.

“Me too.” You purred back at him.

The messages started off polite between the two of you, but it was quickly a regular thing for you both to message back within a minute or two depending on if Durzub was working in the studio or you were in meetings. You were both enamoured. It didn’t take long for you both to meet again, eating together in a restaurant which was a little bit too expensive for you. It was high end, and suited Durzub as he sat there eating, looking intimidating as he ate couscous and chopped vegetables before smiling and blushing with embarrassment as you complimented him and his outfit. For such a giant orc, with a bigger scowl, he was softened whenever you said something nice. Several nights together on dates lead to this one, finally going to his studio to see what he did, and to listen to something he had been working on. Excitement churned in your gut as you looked at the choker around your neck and touched the spikes around its surface before flicking the dog tag and grinning at yourself before you rushed for the door to meet Durzub.

“Hey!” You shouted at the orc. He was stood out on the pavement, dressed in an old print of a Black Blood shirt with a screaming orc and vampire on the front, blood dripping from both of their mouths. He was dressed in dark jeans, littered with pocket chains and a heavy leather duster to combat the cool breeze. He looked up from beneath his broad rim hat. Instantly, Durzub’s perpetual scowl turned into a small smile, and you took hold of his hand before leaning up to kiss his cheek before placing a soft kiss against his bottom lip. He was always a little slow to catch up, but he returned the kiss with a gentle rub of his tusks to your chin.

“Hey stranger.” He rumbled before he gestured to the building, “My studio is on the sixth floor.”

“This doesn’t look much like a record label building to me.” You hummed as Durzub led you into the reception. A naga waved him on up with you, looking back at her work with a hiss and a grumpy frown.

“Not yet it doesn’t. Wait until we get into the actual building. This is just the polite front for greeting people.” The elevator dinged as he pressed the button and the two of you climbed inside. He pushed the button for the sixth floor and you jittered with anxiety as it moved upwards slowly.

“I’m excited and nervous.” You whispered as the doors opened on floor two and let some more people in.

“Don’t be, baby. You’ll be fine.” Durzub soothed as you continued up.

The sixth floor was littered with records on the walls, gold, red, black and mixed dyes. You looked along the walls before Durzub tugged you down the carpeted hall. You followed a step or so behind, trying to read the framed records as you toddled behind him, little out of your depth. Durzub’s coat trailed behind him and you moved to not step on it as he stopped at his door. He unlocked it with a click of an electronic card and you watched the black door swing open to reveal the sound room.

“Wow.” You stepped inside in front of him and looked at the expensive sound equipment, keeping your hands to yourself to avoid being told off or ruining anything, “This is some expensive gear.” You grinned at him, “And pretty.” You peered past the soundproof glass to see the guitars and drum kit in the recording box and smiled at the pointed-v design one, knowing it was from when he played with Black Blood.

“I knew you’d spot that one.” Durzub said mildly before he threw his coat over a speaker and collapsed into his large office chair, the leather making him shiver with the cold against his arms, “This is where I spend most of my life, making kids realise that riffs are stupid in the wrong places.” He scoffed before tugging you a chair from the other soundboard and patting it, “Come sit. I have some things to show you.”

Carefully, you placed your coat on top of Durzub’s before joining him by the large computers, eyeing the two screens as he logged in, squinting at the screen.

“Fuck. Glasses.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled free a set of circle frame glasses, putting them on before cringing and looking back at you, “Not as young as I used to be…”

“You look cute in them.” You gushed as you scooted the roller chair forwards and made sure to sit as close to him as possible, “Being able to see is important, even if you don’t look as scary with glasses on.” You teased.

“Yeah…” He let the words drop off as he found what he was looking for and pulled free two sets of expensive headphones. Durzub leaned over and gently tucked them over your ears, holding them and holding up an ‘okay’ sign before he donned his own and pressed play. He leaned back in his chair and you sat impatiently before the noise of a gentle synth graced your ears, opening with a gentle melody before a guitar followed the same rhythm before chugging to life with slow riffs. It was gentle somehow still as the guitar started on a slowly moving rhythm along into the beginnings of a verse, sung by a vocalist you recognised as Durzub. The lyrics lilted about roses on a hill, growing in a graveyard around a forgotten tombstone before you grinned at the references to old vampire movies that the two of you enjoyed. The chorus was met with a litany of soft guitar and synth before a drum solo full of soft cymbal carried on. It was something made for the two of you, and you wondered just how long Durzub had spent making this song. Looking at the poorly hidden bags under his eyes, you figured it had been most nights after work.

In the closing synth of the son, you laid your head against Durzub’s arm, against the tattoo of the roses around the gravestone. You pressed your lips to his skin gently before smiling and tugging the headphones down to around your neck, smiling up at the orc. Durzub copied the motion with another small smile, reaching to stroke at the top of your head

“That was beautiful. It’s hard to believe you made that just for me.” You whispered against his warm skin as the orc flushed with embarrassment, “Did you mean the part about making love on graves?” You teased gently before you slipped from your own chair, and into his lap, your fingers sliding up over the tattoos on his arms, tracing the thorns of the roses down before you traced the edge of the stem curling over his collar bone.

“Maybe not. Stone gives you a bad back.” He rumbled as his pupils went wide, watching your fingers as they slipped under the collar of his t-shirt, “But I would worship you just the same.” His hands moved from the computer to your hips, his fingers pressing into the meat of your backside before he leaned forwards to kiss you. You gladly accepted the advance, kissing the orc back, your tongue licking at his lips before you traced the rings around his tusks and wrapped your arms tighter around his neck.

A soft moan escaped Durzub’s mouth as you pulled away. His lips were puffy and you leaned forwards to bite his lip, enjoying the second croak that escaped him as you leaned back on his thighs.

“What about this desk?” You asked under your breath.

Durzub grumbled, “There’s a lot of…” Your hand meeting his crotch shorted his brain for a moment, “I can make room.” He grumbled before he pushed the keyboard and monitor aside, leaving the desk free for you both. You laid back over the wood and grinned as you tugged on one of his tusks, forcing his face down so you could lay another kiss on his lips. Durzub moaned again as you reached up into his dark hair, tugging the braids at his scalp.

“Maybe you should make good on your song lyrics.” You purred as you kissed his cheeks and then bit at his neck before sucking a mark under his ear.

“Fuck.” Durzub hissed before he leaned over you, his fingers tugging at your clothes before he admired the collar around your neck and gave it a tug, “I hope you didn’t have any other plans.”

Neither of you saw the audio recording button flashing red.

‘Everything was recorded. I’m keeping it. See you at the bar. x’

#orc x reader #male orc x reader #orc x gender neutral reader #orc #orcs #monster x reader #monster bf #monster bf x reader #monster boy x reader #monster boyfriend #my writing #original works #reader insert

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑺𝒏𝒐𝒘 (𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒏)

Tag: @seacottons

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)/ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐷𝑎𝑑! 𝐴𝑈.

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 2𝐾

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑, 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟.......𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑦 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑗𝑜𝑦.

ღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღ

~December 5th~

Y/N hurried towards her friends who were already settled at the very top of the mountain, their snowboards and skiis all lined up in a perfect row.

"Last one down pays for dinner." One of them suggested to which they all unanimously agreed to.

"3, 2, Go!"

The racers all started sloping down the snowy mountain, some going to different directions, but ultimately they were all headed south. Y/N shifted her weight to keep balance on her snowboard. Usually she'd show off and do a trick, but right now she was focused on getting down as fast as possible.

"Pick up the pace Y/N!" Her friend teased as they swooped right past her.

Y/N let out a snort as she leaned forward to get more speed and traction. She also decided to move more to the right, where she knew a shortcut that none of the others knew about. She let out a small chuckle at the thought of their faces when they saw her all the way down there.

Her smile faded fast when she saw someone step out right in front of her, a dark haired male that seemed preoccupied with taking a picture he didn't notice she was coming.

"Look out!" She shouted, finally getting his attention.

The boy froze and seemed unable to move. Y/N swerved to the left, a little too fast and ended up falling off her board, tumbling down a few feet before landing on a bed of snow. She groomed softly as she lifted her head, already feeling the aching of her muscles.

"Are you ok?!" The same man who had inadvertently caused her accident ran over and helped her sit up.

"I...think so?" She asked rather than answered.

She quickly stood up, taking off her googles and winter hat to try and inspect what damage had been done not only to her body but to her board. She dusted some of the snow off her and looked up to find the mystery man looking at her intently.

"What? Am I bleeding?" She touched her face and forehead, not a stranger to bleeding due to some of the accidents she'd been through.

"No! Not at all!! Just......"

He smiled shyly, dimples clearly shown on his cheeks as his eyes formed small crescents.

"You're really pretty..." He confessed awkwardly, leaving her baffled and speechless.

"Th-thank you....you're pretty handsome yourself..." She tucked some hair behind her ear.

"I'm San." He introduced himself, holding out a hand for her to take, which she promptly did.

"I'm Y/N."

You were sad that you had to pay for your friend's dinner because you lost, but you weren't to sad because San asked you out for a date the next day.

ღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღ

~January 12, One Year Later~

"Brrr. It's freezing out there."

San shook the snow off him, placing his boots on the corner.

"I told you it was going to snow, but you don't listen." She rolled her eyes at him.

Adding marshmallows to the hot chocolate, she picked them up and set them down on the table in front of the fireplace, then proceeded to wrap one of the blankets around herself. San wasted no time in cuddling up next to her and taking one of the mugs in his hand, sipping slowly so as to not burn himself. Smiling sweetly at her, he scooted closer to her, his head resting on her shoulder.

"Remember when we met last year?" He suddenly spoke.

Y/N nearly spat her chocolate back into the mug.

"Ahhh yes. You mean when I nearly killed you?"

San laughed softly at that.

"Never in my life did I think I'd actually end up dating my almost murderer."

She rolled her eyes at that.

"You were the idiot that wasn't paying attention." She reminded him.

"I was trying to take a picture of a bunny that was nearby thank you. Which you scared off by the way."

They began reminiscing about their times after a year of dating, laughing about their first fight, their first kiss and the times they met each other's respective parents.

"You looked terrified of my dad."

"How was I supposed to be calm? Especially after he said he wanted to talk to me in private?" San defended himself.

Y/N hummed softly.

"What did he talk to you about anyway?"

San shrugged softly.

"The usual...like...if I broke your heart, he was going to break my balls."

Y/N actually slapped her knee at that one, knowing fully well her father would really be the type to say such things.

San scratched the back of his head as he wondered if he should say the next part.

"He.....also asked....... if I loved you...."

Y/N felt her heart drop at that word. Even though they had been dating for a year, they had never said the L word. She wanted to change the subject, afraid of his answer, but curiosity got the better of her and she had to ask.

"What....what did you tell him?" She fidgeted with the ends of her hoodie.

San shifted so he sat in front of her. Taking her hands in his, he confessed:

"I told him I loved you with all my heart and that.....I hoped you felt the same way..."

He looked at her with hopeful eyes, gulping slightly, afraid that his feelings weren't reciprocated. When Y/N didn't respond for a minute, he let out a defeated sigh.

"All right. I understand." He made move to get up, but Y/N made him stay in place.

"No silly. I was just shocked you actually told my father that." She explained.

"Well I wasn't going to lie. I do love you Y/N, truly I do." His voice sounded desperate at this point.

Y/N teared up and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Oh Sannie.....I love you too."

San widened his eyes at her words, he felt himself tearing up as well, but he was filled with warmth at the thought that she felt the same, it was not a one sided love. He couldn't help himself as he cupped her face and began pecking her lips repeatedly.

"I love you. I love you with all my heart."

He giggled as he intensified his kisses, turning them from small pecks into more heated and passionate lip locks that had her craving for more. San ended up pushing her onto the floor, his hands placed on either side of her face. They both looked at each other, both wanting to ask the same question but too shy to actually speak out about having their first time right then.

"Y/N.....if you don't want to, we can-"

She silenced him by pulling him on top of her and resuming their makeout session.

"I want to. Go ahead." She assured him.

San kissed her forehead.

"I love you so much."

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~December 25, 3 years later~

All of the boys gathered around the tree, already ecstatic at the thought of opening their presents.

"I'm really looking forward to Yeosang's gift for me." Mingi bounced in his seat.

"I told you. I got you socks." Yeosang repeated for the thousandth time, making everybody burst out laughing.

"You know you're just joking Sangie." Wooyoung pinched his cheek, much to Yeosang's dismay.

The clock struck midnight, signaling that it was now time to open presents. There was a lot of noises, squealing and rustling of paper heard, the latter all discarded near the floor, soon picked up by Seonghwa, who hated seeing litter scattered about.

"Perfect for you Hwa. I actually got you a broom and dustpan set." Hongjoong snickered as he held out the cleaning supplies from the house to his friend.

"Shut up." Seonghwa groaned, not at all amused by the joke.

"Calm down. I actually got you something else." Hongjoong held out the actual gift, which turned out to be Toothless slippers and bathrobe set. It made Seonghwa burst out laughing, donning his infamous awkward smile.

"Yah! What is this Kang Yeosang?!" Mingi held out a box full of assorted socks.

Yeosang merely shrugged.

"What? You all laughed and joked that I wasn't serious. Jokes on you bitches. I was dead serious." Yeosang sipped his tea as he stared Mingi down, who merely pouted.

"Look on the bright side Mingi. Yunho might stop complaining about you stealing his socks." Seonghwa patted his shoulder.

"It's not me!" Mingi retorted.

"No one else's feet but yours fit in them!" Yunho accused him.

Y/N and San just laughed and decided to just enjoy the presents they got for each other. Y/N was happy that San liked his presents, but she was saving the best for last, knowing he was going to go wild about it.

Pulling him outside, she closed the door behind them both, ignoring the chaos going on inside.

"If it's another mistletoe trick, I won't mind." San was already puckering his lips.

"No silly....there's another present I wanted to give you."

"Oh?" San tilted his head.

She pulled out a small and thin white box that had a purple ribbon wrapped around it. San shook it near his ear, trying to guess what was in it, but had no clue. He carefully unwrapped the ribbon and opened the box. He had to do a double take as he peered into the contents. He looked at his lover with wide eyes.

"Is this....?" He asked for confirmation.

She nodded and chuckled happily. San's face lit up and he picked her up, spinning her around as he kissed the side of her head.

"Oh my God! This is the best Christmas present ever my love! Thank you!"

Tears of joy started streaming down his face as he embraced the love of his life for a long time. He wasted no time in speeding back inside the house and wave the object around for everyone to see.

"Guys! We're having a baby! You're all gonna be uncles!"

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~December 5, Present Day~

San and Y/N made sure the carrier was covered fully by the long and thick blanket. After making sure it was sunny, San opened the door and allowed his sweetheart to walk out. Y/N carefully walked down the steps of the cabin they always stayed in since the day they met. San followed after her, one step behind her, ready to help if she needed anything.

They both looked at each other and smiled. Y/N put the carrier gently down on the blanket of snow as San took out his camera.

"Ready." San gave her the ok sign.

Y/N peeled back the blanket covering the carrier, revealing their tiny 4 month old baby daughter, who was now wide awake and observing her surroundings.

"Smile snowflake." San took a picture of her.

Light snow started to fall around them and the tiny baby reached her hand out to touch this new object that was foreign to her. A tiny snowflake fell on her nose and she sneezed softly when it made contact with her skin.

Her parents couldn't help but coo at how lovely and adorable she was. Picking her up along with several blankets, Y/N showed off the view to her.

"Look darling. This is the exact spot daddy and I met years ago."

San chuckled as he kept taking photos of his two most precious treasures in his life. After getting his fill, he walked up next to Y/N, poking his daughter's cheek.

"Even though you were born in summer, I'm sure you'll learn to love the winter just as much as we do."

The baby continued to be fascinated by the falling snow around her, her arms flailing into the air, trying to catch it, only to fall in confusion every time it melted in her tiny hand.

"I say she already loves it." Y/N noticed her reactions.

"I'm glad she does. I can't wait to bring her here every year to watch the first snow fall every time." San kissed her tiny head before looking back at his wife and repeating the action on her forehead.

"I love you. And I love our precious snowflake too."

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kisekinodrabbles · 3 years

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Can we get detective Aomine, who gets assigned a female partner but from the start they're always at each other's throats. During an undercover case, reader has to be super flirty and Aomine gets all jealous and mutual confessions ensues. Maybe some sexy times at the end? :') Sorry if this is too specific, feel free to come up with your own interpretation! I'm such a huge fan of your work Sam and I'm so excited that you're opening your askbox even just for a little while!

ngl idk what im doing here but this is the last request in my inbox so i wanted to finish it haha pls enjoy (not proofread so excuse mistakes) - also my first time writing smut in like years so forgive me!!

Sometimes, Aomine thinks that if he isn’t a law and order professional, he thinks he might actually commit murder and hide your body away in some undisclosed, obscure location. Most of the time, you feel the same way about him.

The two work in different divisions—Aomine in homicide and you in robbery. The two divisions have always been highly competitive especially given how much overlap you both encounter. Things can get territorial, but their teams are used to your snide remarks and Aomine’s verbal assault. It’s just the way the world works.

After all, the two of you were in the same graduating class. You, a valedictorian by books. Aomine, top of the class by combat. It’s natural that the two of you are so competitive with your conflicting personalities.

The two of you may have also fucked at some point.

–

“I’m not fucking working with her, are you kidding me?” Aomine spits out at his boss. Any other person would’ve been kicked out of the room or probably fired, but Aomine is the best detective in his division so Akashi would never do such a thing. For now. Aomine’s been wearing his patience thin.

The red-haired man sighs, folding his hands together atop his desk. “Aomine, I understand you both have had your immaturity in the past. This, however, isn’t the time for such trivial matters. There’s a double homicide downtown during a robbery. She’s the lead for the case on the robbery end because they’ve been tracking a series of these.” Aomine opens his mouth to argue again. “No more buts. She’s already down there getting witness statements. Unless you want to be behind again, I suggest you get in your car and start driving.”

He grits his teeth. Breathe. Don’t strangle your boss, he’ll probably kill you first. “I’ll take Wakamatsu.”

By the time he arrives on the scene, a crowd has gathered behind the police line, snapping pictures in the hopes of getting something Twitter worthy. He growls past all of them and ducks underneath the tape. “Where’s the officer that called it in?”

“Inside talking to the detective.”

“I’m the detective,” he snaps right back, knowing full well you’re already three steps ahead of him. And you definitely won’t let him forget that.

He marches past the thick front doors, Wakamatsu in tow. From a distance, he spots you talking to another officer. When he finally approaches you, he realizes that you’re in a skin tight dress covered by an oversized police jacket.

Your name slips past his lips. “Did we interrupt a hot date?” He smirks.

You whirl around, knowing full well the irritating voice that grates on your nerves. Aomine Daiki. “Unlike you, I have actual friends and actual plans on a Friday night. Did you decide to give your wrist a break for the night?”

Aomine bites back, “Well, it’s not getting much rest either when I had my fingers knuckle deep in something tight and wet tonight.” Complete lie but he’s not about to lose this battle. “Not sure you know how that feels though.”

“If you’re talking about the pudding in your fridge, you might want to ease up on that. Doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favors,” you smile right back at him, knowing full well you’ve won this argument.

Aomine growls low under his breath, jabbing Wakamatsu hard with his elbow when he hears the snort escape him. “Brief me on the situation,” he tells the police officer.

“Well, uh, I already told this detective here—”

“I’m the other detective in charge for homicide. Now, you better fucking brief me before I tell your captain.”

The guy glances at you warily and you just laugh. “Told you he hasn’t gotten any in a long time. Come on, sugar, I’ll brief you on the way down to the vault.” You curl your finger in a gesture to get him to follow you and he sucks up his pride for the first time and do as he’s told. If he solves this case, he still gets the credit and you can go back to that sewer where you came from.

There are two bodies at the vault and forensics are already working to collect evidence when they arrive. “Your area of expertise, double homicide. Both are surprisingly the robbers. Four of them broke in, only two were seen exiting with money bags. No other casualties.”

“Fucking weird,” Aomine mutters. It’s not new for robberies to go wrong, but for two of them to die with no civilian casualty? That’s fucking weird.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” You grin, seeming way too pleased considering there are two dead people in front them. “The ammo is the same as the previous bank robberies in the area. We’re going to assume they’re linked to the Red Dragon clan.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “I fucking hate those guys. Bitches to deal with. Hard to infiltrate.”

You flick your hair over your shoulder, grinning at him. He can’t help but draw his gaze to your neck, a very attractive neck. Now that he notices how tight that dress is, he can’t help but admit that it has been a while since he’s gotten any action. The curves of your breast defined so clearly by the fabric that stretches across the mounds, the flow of your hips, every dip and rise. Your exposed legs further emphasized by your heels. God fucking damn. He feels his pants tighten as he licks his teeth. Get it together, Aomine.

Of course, the clothes do nothing to remove the memory of your nude body from his mind. He’s seen all parts of you some time ago. A drunken mistake that ended in a brief, but extremely satisfying night of passion. Your tight pussy wrapped around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps. He can still picture the sheen layer of sweat on your skin as he rams into you, your broken moans falling from your lips.

“Well, lucky for you,” you start again, pulling him out of the hazy cloud of lust. “I already have someone on the inside. They’ve set up a meeting for me tomorrow night meet with the head’s son. I’ll try to get some information done.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free tomorrow to be your backup. You’re welcome,” Aomine smiles, “Don’t fuck this up. I don’t feel like cleaning up after your ass.”

“I should say that about you, asshole.”

–

Aomine is sat in a dingy van just across the street from the bar you’re having your meeting. You’ve hidden your mic in the perfect spot, a location which you do not disclose to Aomine. However, he has a feeling it’s somewhere promiscuous that he wants to be aware of. They can see the restaurant clearly, their brat hacker Sakurai having plugged into the restaurant’s security cameras.

“Shut the fuck up, Aomine. I can hear you munching on your stupid sour cream and onion chips.” You mutter into your mic before the guy arrives. You sip your wine and take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone undercover but it is the first time to have Aomine behind you while you do so.

The detective looks down at the can in his hands. Sour cream and onion. How did you know? He sets it aside, bringing the mic up to his lips. “Maybe you should do your job better and focus on your meeting instead of listening to me. Why are you so obsessed with me, hm?”

However, a man’s voice on the other side of the headphones has him straightening. “Good evening, I didn’t expect to be meeting a lovely lady like you tonight,” the sleaze says and Aomine can just imagine him kissing your hand. “When Tanaka said I’d be meeting with the right hand of White Claw, I didn’t expect it to be a woman.”

“Well, we are moving up in life, Mr. Ito.”

“Your good looks are certainly quite persuasive. I’m sure there are ways you can convince me to strike a deal.”

Fucking. Sleaze.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly, “what a flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself. I can imagine people fall at their feet for you.”

“Well, I am quite knowledgeable in more ways than one. Perhaps I can show you tonight after dinner.”

The two banter back and forth, trading flirty comments that puts Aomine on edge. You’re supposed to be doing your job and he knows that. He knows this is all an act but you’re a damn good actress.

“Aomine, where are you going?” Wakamatsu’s concerned voice carries through the speaker.

You freeze. This fucker better not screw this whole operation up. “Well,” you say, “this has been a lovely dinner. I’m sure we both can come to an agreement without doing anything reckless.”

The double meaning, a sentence meant for the man across from you and the man listening to you rings clear. Aomine growls, sitting back down petulantly in his seat. He was about to rage in there and start a war, but holds himself back. Be professional, Aomine. Job first, dick needs later.

“The same to you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” the man smiles. “Are you sure you won’t join me for the night?”

Aomine snarls low into his mic. Wakamatsu shoots him a weird look. You let out a little giggle and he knows it’s meant for him. “No, thank you, Mr. Ito. I’m afraid I have other commitments to tend to.”

When he knows it’s safe, he storms into the restaurant where you still sit, sipping your drink. Sliding into the seat across from you, he rolls his eyes. “Enjoy yourself?”

He didn’t see when you were set up with the mic earlier so he also hadn’t seen what you were wearing. He’s almost grateful because he knows he might’ve lost it if he did. Tight ass dress, deep neckline that shows ample cleavage (he’s always a sucker for this), sultry eyes, red lips. God, all his favorite things packaged into one.

Your lips quirk up. “The breadsticks here are quite nice.”

“Fucking hilarious. Let’s go.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Unless you want Wakamatsu to hear me fuck you, you better dump that mic and get your ass up.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to like my tone to enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Licking your lips, you consider your options as you bring the wine back to your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, unclipping the mic from the strap of your dress. Aomine moves faster though, snatching it from your hands and dumping it into the wine. Before you can protest, he already has a hand wrapped around yours, tugging you up from your seat and into the back room.

You’re stumbling in his manic rush, heels barely keeping up with your movements. “Aomine!” You chide as he pushes all the way to the employee break room. The space is fortunately empty and Aomine locks it to make sure it stays that way. “Can you please stop?! You’re such a caveman, I—”

He’s quick to shut you up, swallowing your words with his lips as they slot over yours. He doesn’t waste time, shrugging off his leather jacket as he licks your bottom lip for permission. You gasp a complaint, but he takes advantage of the situation to stick his tongue in, pressing it up against yours.

All your worries fall away into a moan as he separates from you only to gasp for breath and pull his t-shirt over his head. With nimble fingers, he’s unzipping the back of your dress and yanking it down, leaving your top half exposed. Shivering, you’re about to voice your disapproval but your brain seems to stop functioning the second your gaze lands on his tanned body.

Aomine’s always been attractive. No one can deny. There’s a reason why he’s simultaneously the precinct’s most eligible bachelorette and most insufferable jackass. His confidence matches his skills. His looks live up to his brags. Hard lines and shadows are painted on him like a masterpiece in a museum. His broad shoulders make him look even bigger with his height. His jeans that hang just low enough to be tantalizing with the hint of a v that leads to the space between his legs.

Your mouth dries up at the sight and Aomine smirks knowingly. You’ve fallen into his bed before, he can make it happen again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Fifth grade humor doesn’t become you, Aomine.” You scowl as he backs you up against the table in the middle of the room. He effortlessly grabs you by the ass to lift you up and onto the surface, the metal cool against your exposed thighs.

“Did you dress up for me, doll? Knowing full well that this was going to happen,” he grins devilishly, bringing his hands up to shamelessly cup your breasts.

It’s not as if you’re embarrassed for being so bare before him. You’re proud of your body and he damn well knows that. You let him fondle you through your bra for a little bit. “No, you animal. I dress for the job.”

“You tell me you wear this flimsy thing—” he teases the light coverage of your lingerie. The lace is sheer and barely covers your nipples, the material holding onto your breasts for dear life. “—for the job?”

“I do my job right, asshole,” you spat right back. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

A wide grin stretches across his face. The heat in his eyes carry to his hands as he works to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground. Aomine doesn’t waste time as you lean back on your palms, granting him full access to fondle and suckle on your tits. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nubs that have grown stiff in the contrast between the cold air and his warm breath. His teeth graze the sensitive skin hard enough to have you groaning in pleasure. His lips close in around them and suck. He uses his hand to tease and tug your other breast, pinching it to elicit that delicious whimper out of you. Aomine alternates between the two, making sure you stay warm.

Meanwhile, you let your hand fall to the bulge between his legs. He lets out a small grunt at the initial touch but seems to respond favorably to the way you stroke the tent, nudging his hips forward for more friction. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Aomine mutters, both humored and unamused by your comment.

“Fuck,” you let slip as your fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. “Your fucking pants. Don’t you live in sweats? You choose today of all days to wear your stupid tight jeans?”

Aomine chuckles, “Patience, baby. You know you like my ass in these.”

You do, but you’re not about to admit that. He quickly works off his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as he moves towards you again. While he continues to stimulate your tits, your hand begins groping his cock which is rock hard and peeking from the top of his boxers.

“God, I miss having this inside me,” you whine, pulling the flimsy fabric off and letting it pool on top of his jeans. “Condom?”

“You don’t want me raw? You know you want to feel all of my cock,” he grins. You throw him a glare and he just chuckles as he reaches for his wallet on the floor, pulling out a packet and tossing it onto the table. “But first,” he pauses, letting his hands slide down to cup your pussy, which is admittedly already drenched at that point.

He hisses when he feels your juices drip and coat his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet, goddamn. How long have you been waiting for this?”

“When that robbery happened, I was about to get laid for the first time in months. So fucking sue me,” you snarl at him.

“Well, I am here to please,” he wets his lips. He slips one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he adds another finger and feels your walls pulse around him. He begins pulling it out before shoving it back in, repeating the measure to stroke your walls. He curls his fingers inside as he watches your face closely.

Your expression morphs from irritation to blinding pleasure in an instant. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part to exhale shaky breaths. Aomine seems to know exactly how to angle and twist his fingers to induce a heart attack. The sounds falling from your mouth are ephemeral, Aomine wishes he can film this moment so he can replay it over and over again.

He pumps his fingers into you and ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling the tip. “God, you taste so fucking good. I forgot how wet you can get. Don’t even need lube to slide into you, huh? You’re already dripping for me.”

“Asshole,” you murmur weakly, clearly in no place to retort.

“Remember the first time I fucked you? God, you were so easy,” he grins, “you were so wet, so turned on already. Remember when I stuck my tongue in your pussy? Licking up your juices. You tasted so sweet.”

Your breath stutters in your chest, hitching in your throat. “Fuck you, let’s not forget how quickly you came when I sucked you off.”

“I mean, the sight of you on your knees is enough to get anyone off, sweetheart.”

“Fuck me,” you groan. Any rational thought has fizzled from your brain. The feeling of his fingers inside you is enough to consume you whole, overwhelming you in waves of rapture.

“What was that?”

“Dickwad.”

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips again. “Beg me.”

“I’m not going to—”

Aomine yanks his fingers out, looking down at you, taunting you. He waits as you internally struggle with your moral convictions. Are you willing to give up your pride for one night just to get fucked out of your mind?

Easy.

Yes.

“Please,” you huff, “please fuck me.”

“Please fuck me who?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, wondering what in the hell you did in your lifetime to have met the devil that is Aomine. Biting your lip, you lean closer to whisper, “Please fuck me, Da-i-ki.”

The man is a sucker for you calling him by his first name. And to get what you want, you’re willing to play into his hands. Aomine lets out a low growl before ripping open the condom packet and rolling the thin rubber along his length. Your pussy squeezes at the sight. Just imagining what it’s like to have that thickness inside of you, fucking you full, has you on edge.

He doesn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He holds onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy lips, circling it and letting your juices drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his dick, he uses it as a lubricant before he slides himself inside you.

When he’s buried to the hilt, Aomine leans forward and lets his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your pussy is so fucking tight. It’s squeezing and throbbing around him with the engulfing heat. He feels as if he’s going to explode right then.

“Fuck, you really haven’t been screwed in a while,” Aomine rasps.

“Told you.”

Aomine starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in. With how thin the condom is, he can feel every ridge, every bump in your heat rub up against his cock. The sensations is enough to have his thighs quivering, but he’s not one to back down. He begins to pick up the pace, thrusting deep inside of you repeatedly. HIs mouth latches onto your neck, tongue lapping and teeth nipping to paint purple blooms upon your skin.

His movements are building a bubbling pressure in the pit of your stomach. You feel your heart tightening with every move, your insides squeezing. The absolute pleasure that crashes over you has you breathless, your hands finding purchase on his arms.

He mutters filthy words in your ear, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. He yanks back lightly, just enough to have you moaning. You like it rough, he’s well aware of that. He pounds into you relentlessly, hands keeping you in place as whimpers tumble from your mouth.

“Fuck, right there, oh god,” you gasp, “fuck me harder. God, your dick feels so good. Filling me up so full with your thick cock.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to come in you, baby,” Aomine grazes his teeth along your ear, hot breath kissing your skin. “God, I want to just fucking cream inside you.”

“Better watch yourself, Daiki.”

Aomine grins lasciviously, sweat beginning to bead his forehead as he attempts to keep himself in check. He feels you tighten your pussy, walls closing in around him. “Bitch,” he growls. You know what you’re doing but he’s not about to let you gain dominance of the situation.

So his hands dig deeper into your hips as he fucks you harder and deeper, his cock pulsating inside of you on the brink of his self-control. “I’m about to come,” he says with eyes squeezed shut. If he sees your tits bouncing as he fucks you again, he might actually combust in that second.

“Me too,” you panted, fingers scraping down his arms.

With a few more pumps, Aomine spills into the rubber with a grunt. He feels you convulse around him, your entire body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. He can feel his come continue to leak from his cock. God, he hasn’t come this hard in a fucking long time.

His heart is thundering in his chest from the impact of his climax. He slumped forward, leaning against you for support—also partially to feel your tits press up against his chest. “Fuck,” he huffs.

“That was good,” you admit to yourself, still breathing heavily as you begin fixing your hair. “We should do that again sometime.”

Aomine just laughs, huffing against your skin. “You’re the fucking she-devil.”

“Says the guy who’s fucking me in the back room in the middle of an undercover operation.”

“Dick first, job second.”

–

Wakamatsu looks at him when he walks into the precinct that morning. “You do realize the captain is going to kill you for fucking up that expensive mic, right?”

Fuck.

#kuroko no basket #knb #kuroko no basuke #aomine daiki #aomine smut #knb smut #knb drabbles #knb scenarios #anonymous #popz

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