#i don’t even think i have the physical strength to press the play button in some hours | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

universitypenguin · 3 years

Text

Steve Rogers - Sex Headcanon

Warnings: Smut, Light bondage, NSFW, 18+

Word Count: Too long, as usual.

First of all, Steve Rogers loves sex.

He’s a bit touch starved after waiting for the right woman, but when he finds you and things move into the physical affection stage, he’s all over you.

During sex, Steve loves that he can pick you up with little effort

He likes doing it against the wall

Standing, almost any position

Likes that he can hold your hips still even when you start to squirm when he hits the right spots

In general, holding onto your hips, your butt, and even when he gets to curl his hands around to grasp your inner thighs, Steve is thrilled. Captain America is an ass man.

He loves your legs too, though.

Likes to pin you down for prone bone.

He hates to admit how much using his strength against you turns him on.

But you love it too and when he realizes that you like the same positions he does, it gets more intense.

Like, he’ll pick you up while he’s standing and lift you to his shoulders, draping your legs over his shoulders to eat you out.

When Steve learns that you not only can orgasm multiple times, but that you enjoy it, he starts to let go a bit more.

At first he was careful in bed. He kept things slow and gentle, not being entirely sure of his strength. But once he gets comfortable…

He goes feral

It starts when you ask him to tie you up. The idea is only familiar to him from Tony and Thor’s jokes about 50 Shades of Gray.

Steve hates 50 Shades of Gray. He thinks Christian is an ass who doesn’t respect women.

But back to the topic: bondage. He’s willing to hear you out about why you want that. And eventually, he says yes.

The conversation about bondage goes like this:

You’ve never done bondage before. Despite having several past relationships and experiences, you’ve never trusted a man like that. Erotica tastes aside, reality is a beast of its own.

And without the feeling of complete safety that Steve Rogers inspires in your heart, you won’t have even brought it up.

But you trust him without reservations.

The idea of bondage for you is totally psychological. To have your hands restrained and be blind folded takes the pressure off of you. Sometimes your mind starts going during sex and it ruins your enjoyment.

It’s not like you’re thinking about the groceries or anything, just that you start planning your next move. Should you kiss him now, or do you need to moan louder? Does your moaning sound like a dying cat? Maybe you should keep it down.

So the blind fold is important.

And you don’t want to be able to move because you’d try to plan that too. Sometimes you put a lot of pressure on situations to be perfect. Perfect because you made it perfect, you mean. Your expectations are of yourself.

This is one reason you hate not being able to achieve orgasm. That matters to Steve a lot and he always but your pleasure first. The man is selfless and sweet. And when your mind decides to shut down the orgasm buttons, you hate disappointing him.

Steve is sold on the idea of bondage once he understands that it’s only an option because you feel safe with him. And he likes being the only person you’d trust to be this vulnerable with. All the 50 Shades objections vanish for him once you explain that part.

When you tell him that your struggles orgasming sometimes are from your own pressures to be good in bed, he gets it.

He loves that about you, your desire to please him and make things good. It motivates him to accept the offer of bondage.

Because it makes perfect sense that being forced to be the recipient and having control stripped away would fix that for you.

Steve says that you’ll have to let him make the plan. Which is *so* Steve Rogers it’s almost funny.

On a random Tuesday you get dinner with a friend and come home late. The lights are off which is weird because you expected Steve to be home. When you step inside you call out for him but no reply. Kicking off your shoes you wander to the kitchen and when you reach for the light switch, a hand grabs your wrist.

You give a small scream as a body presses you into the wall. Then you recognize the feel and the scent of his aftershave.

Steve has you pinned to the wall, wrists on either side of your head, feet spread apart and his big body caging you in.

It’s happening. It’s so happening. And you feel thrilled and scared and outrageously excited.

He’s excited too, you can feel it pressing into your back. The man’s been planning and fantasizing, clearly.

“Do you still want this, honey?”

His first words to you are the reason that you want this. It warms your heart at the same time your panties are growing wet.

“Yes, Steve. So much. Please.”

He rolls his hips, pressing his body against you and you can’t control the moan that passes your lips.

“Red means we stop. Yellow is slow down. If I’m going to do something that I think you need to consent to, I’ll ask ‘is this okay?’ and you’re going to say “Green” if you want it. Understand?

“Pick a safe word, doll.”

Eagle is your safe word. Your mind just liked the whole patriotic motif, you supposed.

Once the ground rules are laid out, Steve turns you around and with a tap on the curve of your ass, signals you to jump up.

With your legs around his waist and arms curled around his neck, he carried you upstairs to the bed.

Blindfold goes on first. Then cuffs that are lined with something soft that feels like shearling.

You know without asking that he picked them because he thought handcuffs would be too aggressive. Again, your heart flips.

“I’m going to push you, baby. I want you to wring every bit of enjoyment you can out of this. I’m going to make you come hard. You with me on that?”

You’re with him. You’ve waited a long time to try this.

“I have a plan for aftercare too,” he says.

And that’s your first hint that he’s about to go feral on you like he sometimes does when he’s keyed up from a mission.

Steve Rogers has freaking stamina for days. The man could kill you with sex if he wanted to.

(His sex drive is high… all that waiting for the right girl makes a man horny)

He undoes the halter tie of your dress and pull it down, slipping it over your legs.

He uses his mouth first. And it’s frustrating that he left your panties on.

(The outfit was something he’d suggested. You’d thought he just liked the sundress and had been complimented when he’d said you’d look great in it today. Now it was clear he’d been planning all day. Probably longer.)

He’s been planning since the night you told him two weeks ago. Before the conversation was even over. You felt safe enough with him to ask for such a private and vulnerable fantasy and that turned him on in a mental way he can’t even explain.

So he starts by teasing you.

He kisses your mouth, slow and sensual. His tongue flicks against yours but never quite for as long as you’d like. And he knows how you like it by this point in the relationship. So you’re well aware he’s teasing you.

His mouth begins to wander to your neck and he laps at the sensitive spot. Your thighs clench in response. You’re soaked now, so wet it’s a little bit embarrassing.

He finally finds your breast with his mouth, taking an aching bud in his mouth and drawing on it. Softly. Gently. Lapping and teasing without the friction you needed to enjoy it.

Your breath came in pants now and you spread your legs to open yourself to encourage him to continue. Because there’s somewhere else that really needs attention.

Instead he turns to the other breast and gives it the same attention. Slower. And softer. Stroking with his tongue until your nipple was painfully tight.

His hand trailed up to cup the breast he wasn’t sucking on. The pad of his thumb made teasing circles and you moaned, arching your back into his mouth.

He chuckled and released the aching bud with a pop. Fingertips swirled the nipple he’d just abandoned, coating it with his saliva. He pinch it just right and your hips jerked.

Arousal was a living breathing thing inside your body now, clawing at your lower belly, turning breath into unsteady pants.

“How are you doing, baby?”

The bastard knew you were dying. Sweat was starting to burst from your pores. Your entire body was hot with need.

“Please, Steve…”

“Mmmhh? What do you need, doll?”

“I need your to touch me.”

“Where?”

“My pussy. I’m so wet for you, please touch me. Get inside of me.”

He purred. This was the moment you realized that you’d created a monster. Because he was getting off on the power play.

(This wasn’t actually when the monster was officially created. No, that would be later when you were done and he got to see your dazed face and tear filled eyes from the magnitude of what he’d drawn your body.)

He let go of the nipple and flattened his palm on your ribs, sliding it down inch by inch until he paused on your low belly.

He toyed with the band of your panties.

“You’re wet for me? Does this needy pussy want my fingers or my mouth?”

“Both!!”

He laughed again. But he went ahead, so it was worth it.

And heaven help you, there were fireworks. The bondage was working wonders for your mental need to be out of control. But Steve took it higher when he forced your legs wide and pinned them to the mattress.

And while spin class workouts did amazing things for your thighs, nothing topped super soldier strength. You were stuck. Legs pushed flat to the bed, hands cuffed to the head board and nothing stopping the extremity turned on man with his head between your legs.

He lied about giving your his mouth and fingers. At first he only used his mouth on your clit, licking around it, touching the tip of his tongue over it in slow flicks, then finally, finally, sucking.

Your body seized at the shock of pleasure, white hot and raw jerking through nerve endings frayed from lack of fulfillment.

He knew what pitch he needed to hear you moan at before he added his fingers.

He knew it because Steve Rogers is a man who studies all the angles of a situation and knows his enemy. Or in this case, knows his lover.

He rubs at your G-spot with the pad of his finger and you scream.

Your head falls back on the pillow and tears start to flow because it’s not enough.

“More, oh, please. Steve, I need-“

He growls. “I know what you need, babydoll. And I’ll give it to you when you’re a good girl and you hold back that orgasm for me. I don’t want you to come yet. Don’t you dare come. If you do I’m going to have to take you over my knee.”

Just the idea of him spanking you almost makes you lose it.

He backs off the intensity. And you start to sob from the brutal frustration of being taken so high and left without release.

His name begins to fall from your lips like a litany, as you start to beg.

“Steve! Please, I want to come!”

“Not yet. Hold back. You be my good girl and hold back. I don’t want to spank that sweet behind until it’s red, but I’ll do it.”

Your scream is gargled by a wave of pleasure that makes your whole body roll as it rips through you from head to toe.

“Let me come, damn it!”

Smack. He’s light and there’s a sting on your right inner thigh.

“Hold. It. Back!”

Screams become sobs. You can’t hold still. You’re fighting the restraints and trying to move but he’s not allowing it. All you can do is clench around his fingers and cry.

“Come for me, baby.”

Release floods you in a second when he gives permission.

The cord of tension snaps. Your muscles lock. The scream you felt building is nowhere to be found. Your voice disappears in the violence of the orgasm. It’s totally silent as your body takes control.

Your channel clamps down around his fingers. The orgasm pulses through your body like being set on fire.

Then you scream. And the muscles that had gone stiff suddenly quiver with release.

If Steve hadn’t held you down through it you’d have been snapping your hips and arching into the sensations, away from them.

He keeps going, pushing you through it until the orgasm is finished.

Then you cry.

Honestly crying, because of the intensity of the release.

You’d expected to get off. You hadn’t guessed that you would get obliterated by the world’s most intense orgasm.

Steve immediately crawls up and takes off the blind fold.

“It’s okay, doll. I’m here. You’re okay, you’re safe. Hold on to me.”

You move, trying to reciprocate when his arms go around you, but they’re still cuffed.

This makes you cry harder.

Steve rips them open, letting you free.

And then you’re in his arms and you can cry properly.

He rolls over with you in his arms, one arm tight around your waist, the other cupping the back of your head.

What shocks you is that he’s not nervous, apologizing, or asking if you’re hurt. He’s petting you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“It’s okay, baby. Let it out. I’m right here, not goin’ anywhere. Hold on to me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

The warm hand moving over your back is a delicious comfort. Almost as good as being held to the strong chest by arms thicker than most people’s legs.

When the storm of emotions passes, you blink up as Steve, a bit confused.

His smile is gentle and his eyes are filled with warmth.

“I did my research. You came down from that hard, didn’t you?”

Your answering “yeah,” is slurred.

He kisses your forehead. If you weren’t already boneless from your release, that would have finished you off.

“You were such a good girl for me. I can’t wait to do this again.”

With a tired smile you arch an eyebrow.

“But we can’t be done. I haven’t had you inside of me yet, soldier.”

Steve’s eyes go wide at the remark and you smirk.

“I still need you to fuck me, baby. I need to feel you finish on top of me and collapse into my arms. Please.”

You said please. And if he didn’t get assist a lady who needed his help, what kind of a hero was he?

#steve rogers #captain america #headcanon #smut #steve rogers smut #avengers #lemon #lemon rambles #chris evans #reader #steve rodgers x reader

721 notes · View notes

just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Note

I got Javier Peña and size kink. I can’t wait… also… can we somehow tie this into the universe of my Frankie request from before… 🤪

OMG girl, I don’t know how to work this into the Frankie fic, but only because I feel like if you had this good of a time with Javier, why would you have ever left him?? LOL… Forgive me for failing on that front, but I do hope you enjoy this little drabble/headcanon about Javier Peña’s size kink!

Update: Oh, hey, there's a Part 2 now!

Word Count: 1280

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (petite cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: mature and vulgar language; a smattering of cop/suspect roleplay; some dom/sub elements; SIZE KINK; one instance of Javier restraining your hands with his hands; one instance of a ripped dress; vaginal fingering; mentions of blow jobs and throat fucking; mention of P/V sex; Javier has a FILTHY mouth; this is pretty much just Javier talking dirty about his huge penis and how tiny you are (sorry/not sorry)

“You like that?” Javier hisses into your ear from behind as he presses you up against the wall of his hallway, one massive hand gripping your hip through your thin summer dress. “You feel that huge cock in my jeans? That’s all for you, baby.”

He grinds once more against your ass so that there’s no mistaking what you do to him, and it punches the air out of your lungs. You feel like you’re drowning with desire.

“Put your little hands up on the wall for me, sweetheart. Can’t have you trying to get away right after I got you just where I want you.” He emphasizes his command with a hot lick to the curve of your ear, and you feel your knees start to give out.

Javier’s fingers dig harder into your hip as he brings his free hand down to grab your wrist. You let him pull your hand up above your head, palm flat against the wall, and you bring your other hand up to join it.

Javier wraps his fingers around both of your wrists, pinning you to the wall as he grinds his hips against you one more time. You rest your forehead against the smooth, cool painted surface, grateful for the contrast against your heated brow.

Before you can collect yourself, Javier bends his knee and pushes it up between your legs, shoving it hard to one side. “Legs apart, open up for me. This is going to be a very thorough pat-down, honey.”

You suck in a massive gasp of air and revel in the feeling of Javier taking control. You love this game, and you trust the man to play it well and to play it fairly with you. He always gives you what you want and he’s never once come close to hurting you. But that’s the fun part, isn’t it? The hint of danger? The possibility that he could, at any time, just pick you up and have his way with you?

You love the fact that Javier has so much bulk and strength outmeasuring you. He’s more than a head taller, a good forty or fifty pounds heavier, and lots of it is ropy muscle honed from years of a physical job. Just the fact that he could very well pin you down for hours without breaking a sweat… it makes you moan.

“You hot for me already, baby? I haven’t even touched you yet.” His hand leaves your hip and you feel him skim it up to your breast, cupping it and squeezing before roaming to the other one.

Javier’s fingers drift back to the center of your sternum. He fumbles with the small buttons there for a moment before hooking his fingers into the openings between them and dragging the fabric hard to one side. You gasp and bite your lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood, but close. You hear the tiny pearl buttons clatter to the floor, but all he’s managed to do is pop off two or three.

“Keep your hands right there for me.” Javier growls into your ear. “Don't. You. Move.” And then he releases his grip on your wrists.

Even though you can guess what’s about to happen, you still go reeling when he actually does it. Javier hooks both hands into the opening he’s created at the bodice of your dress, and there’s the briefest moment of hesitation before you feel the pull of the fabric, the sound of more buttons hitting the floor, the cool air hitting your cleavage. You feel faint with desire, fighting the urge to slump down to the floor, let go of the wall, the only thing holding you in place.

You clench your jaw and try to remember how to breathe as Javier brings both of his hands up to cup your breasts through the lace of your bra. He bends his head down to nuzzle the back of your neck and you nearly faint right there.

Just when you think you can’t possibly take any more, Javier drops one hand down. You feel his fingers trail up the front of your thigh. He skims his fingertips up and under the hem of your dress until he reaches the edge of your panties.

In the blink of an eye his fingers dip between your leg and the lacy fabric, swiping up through your folds, straight to the source of your heat and your slick. He brings his face down to rest alongside your cheek, breathing hot and hard over your skin. You fight the urge to grind down against his hand, knowing that if you do he’ll make you wait even longer for the rest of your pleasure.

“I like your tiny, tight little pussy,” Javier whispers against your cheek. You roll your forehead to the side and let his hot words fan across your lips. The hand on your breast moves down to encircle your ribcage, pulling you tight against him to feel his erection again. “I love feeling you squeeze me… the way my fingers look so big when they’re inside of you.”

Javier’s fingers are sure and quick. Two of them tucked deep inside of you feel almost like four of your own. They are thick, one of your favorite things about him, along with the way his wide chest cages you against the wall where you stand, the way his strong arms encircle you when you have your head tucked against his front.

“Are you going to come like this? I’m not finished with you yet, but I’ll let you come on my fingers first if you promise to be good later.”

The words choke out from you in a whisper. “... if I’m good?”

Javier digs harder inside of you, reaching for the spot he knows makes you quiver, and he brings his broad thumb into play, pressing and circling your clit. You whine and bite your lip again, and this time there’s the metallic sting of blood against your tongue.

“If you let me put my dick in your mouth, slip it between those plump little lips of yours, suck all of it down for me... I’ll let you come. I’ll make you come.” You moan, a low, keening sound full of need and want, and Javier knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

“If you’re good, if you can fit all of me this time, I might even let you come twice.”

“Yes!” Your voice is foreign to your own ears, high and ragged. “Yes, Javi, I want you. I want you to stick your huge dick down my throat. Please.”

“And then? After you’re done taking me down your throat, I’m going to fuck you hard. Watch my massive cock disappear into that tight little cunt of yours. You want that?”

“Yesss,” you hiss, and your head is completely filled with the feeling of Javier stretching you open, the way that he fills you up... the way that he fucked you last week when you straddled him and he grabbed your hips and bounced you up and down on his cock like you weighed nothing.

“Oh god, Javi, I’m close.” His thumb rubs your clit twice more and he flexes his fingers inside of you, sending you over the edge. You keep your hands on the wall and promise yourself that you’ll be good for him, knowing that he’ll be good to you in return.

“That’s my girl.” Javier chews your earlobe and you finally slump, letting him turn you and pick you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you to his bedroom to finish the job.

---

Javier Peña character masterlist

JHFTM Main Masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair

340 notes · View notes

bostongirl13 · 3 years

Text

Mentally tired

A/N: The story is based on my personal experiences from a few days ago. Even though I didn't have a person like Chris in my fanfiction, I still have a lovely friend who helped me. Please do not let anyone ever bring you to this state, because no matter what others say or do, YOU are the most important, YOUR mental and physical health is the most important and it is not subject to discussion. So remember that if something disturbs your well-being, cut yourself off from it if possible. Health is very important and nothing can replace it.

Summary: You always considered yourself a mentally strong person, but suddenly someone managed to break you in a way you didn't think you could. For the first time in your life you felt so many things at once and you were powerless, there was nothing you could do. Fortunately, there was someone in your life who, although only hugged you, made you feel that you had a place in this world.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: AGE GAP, angst, anxiety, depression state, fluff and happy end, mistakes

Masterlist

There's a kind of tired that needs a good night's sleep, and another that needs so much more. It’s like a certain level of tiredness that equates to insanity. You always considered yourself a mentally strong person. Hardly anything upset you, made you cry from a feeling of helplessness or simply mental exhaustion. However, on that one day, in which very little happened, your strong psyche was broken. For the first time in your life, you felt that you were powerless and mentally exhausted.

You finished work late and tired as usual. All day on high brats, in a constant run and only half an hour to eat breakfast. A job that required so much of you was not the height of your dreams, but the fact that you needed money did not give you much choice. You had to accept what you had.

The air was sweet, the weather was fine even if there were clouds in the sky and you could feel the wind on your skin. You got in your car and turned on the radio. You should be on your way home, but suddenly someone flips a button in your head. You burst into desperate crying without knowing where you had so many accumulated emotions that led you to such a state. Tears ran down your cheeks, your hands clenched on the steering wheel until the knuckles on your palms turned white. Your lungs were running out of air, and your open mouth let out a silent scream that you wanted someone to hear, come and take what you felt.

You took your phone out of your purse and, with shaking hands, eyes still blurry with tears, you wrote a short message to the only person who knew he would be able to help you, or at least you hoped so.

"I can call?"

After a while, you received an answer: "Of course, Princess"

You pressed the button and after a few chimps, you heard Chris's voice.

"What's up? Everything's okay?"

You were silent for a moment and tried to control yourself, but it didn't help you, because the moment you opened your mouth to say something, another wave of tears flooded your mouth.

"I can't anymore, I don't want to work here. It's the first time I'm so mentally tired ... I ... I ..." you didn't even know if your gibberish and cry made Chris understand anything. “I…I'm so tired"

"Hey, take it easy. What's wrong, Y / N?" Chris immediately started to panic, he wanted to be next to you and beat everyone who made you cry so hard.

"Work. I can't work here anymore. Still, someone wants something, they move me from place to place, they treat me like a parasite, and the worst thing is that because of the number of fucked up rules, I have a headache" you cried all the time, unable to calm down "I eat breakfast on the run or not at all. Everybody expects me to do my 100% as if I've been working there for years. Nobody takes into account that I'm learning everything and I'm new here” you were crying on the phone.

"I know it probably won't work, but try to calm down. And tell me where you are, I'll come to get you."

"I'm trying, but I can't" you sniffed trying to breathe evenly and stop crying "You don't have to. I'm in the car and ...."

"Then take a few deep breaths and come to my place. I live closer and I won't let you be alone today. Not like that." he says firmly. You knew that a discussion with him would be useless because he was able to come to you, pack you and bring you to his home.

"Ok"

"Ok?"

"Yes, I'll be there in 20 minutes," you said and after a few words of comfort you hung up.

Even though you tried to stop crying, you couldn't. Salty drops ran down your cheeks whole way to Chris's house.

When you got there Chris was waiting for you with Dodger. You felt embarrassed showing yourself in this state and uncomfortable, but you still needed someone by your side.

"Oh my god, Y / N" Chris immediately hugged you to him, and you burst into a hysterical cry again.

"Please calm down. Everything will be fine. I promise." You knew Chris was trying to comfort you, but it was not successful. The tears kept rolling down your cheeks and soaking his T-shirt.

After a few minutes, you went inside where Chris gave you his hoodie and told you to go take a warm bath or shower. At first, you didn't want to cause him trouble, after all, you were just friends with a big age difference, and you didn't feel comfortable roaming his house like that. He, however, didn't mind and practically pushed you into the bathroom and went to order some take-out.

As soon as you got in the shower, you sat down on the floor and let the water wash off you all day. You didn't even know how long you've been sitting in the bathroom until Chris knocked to ask if you were okay.

"Yes" you yelled to him and grabbed a bottle of shampoo and shower gel to get a quick wash, then put on Chris clothes and went to the living room.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so I ordered pizzas and Korean food. I remember how you used to say it was your favorite, but if you wanted something less spicy ..."

"You didn't have to" you interrupted him seeing how embarrassed he was because of such tinsel as eating. "Thank you", you smiled and kissed his cheek, and then you sat down next to him.

Chris froze at your gesture and it took him a few moments to get back to reality. He looked at you in his clothes, you looked cute in his oversized hoodie.

You ate practically in silence, except for the TV's on and the Dodger's soft snoring. You were no longer crying, but still feeling mentally tired. You didn't have the strength to go home or to work tomorrow. You wanted to run away somewhere where no one would find you. And so far that place has been Chris's house and the Korean food you chose.

"I don't know how you can eat something like this!" you burst out laughing as Chris drank a glass of water in one breath, "This is fucking hot"

"Not for me," you said, taking a piece of hot chicken to your mouth.

After you finished your meal, you sat down comfortably on the couch and played a movie. You covered yourself with a blanket and slumped slightly on the couch, pulling your knees up. You saw Chris want to ask you something, but he doesn't know how to do it.

"Bosses are assholes, and the amount of work you have to do in a short time is impossible to get done. Besides, there are no human conditions to eat a meal and the constant noise and crowds ..." you paused for a moment to wipe the tear flowing down your cheek "I can't explain it, just a red lamp lights up in my head and someone screams run, but I can't because I don't know where the exit is. I feel, I know I'm trapped and .. . "you started crying again.

You felt strong arms press you against the hard chest of the body to which they belong. You immediately hugged Chris and closed your eyes. And how by a magic wand you started to calm down. He stroked your hair holding his cheek against your head. When you got up and looked at Chris's blue irises, you felt very calm and safe. You didn't know what it is about him that makes your body relax when he touches you.

Chris placed his hands on your cheeks and wiped away your tears. You felt as if you were enchanted, but at the same time, they were doing what your heart and mind told you as if you still had full control over your actions. You bet your lower lip as your gaze traveled from Chris's to his lips and back to his eyes. And then you felt his lips on yours.

In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment. His kiss is not at all the same as those you had before, but one steeped in a passion that ignites. It is the promise of realness, of the primal desire that lives in us all. You threw your arms around his neck and dragged him along. Chris didn't protest. He propped himself up on one elbow so as not to crush you with the weight of his body, and he rested his other hand on your cheek. In that moment of the kiss, you were in each other’s protective cocoon.

You felt his tongue gently move over your lip, subtly pleading for entry. You parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He took his time, slowly revealing every nook and cranny of your lips and letting your tongues dance at an unhurried beat. Your hands moved you from his neck to his hair, tangling your fingers in brown curls. Chris growled and moved his hand to your thigh, throwing your leg over his hip, then carefully placed his body on yours.

The feeling that accompanied it all was incomparable to anything else. It felt like you were just getting to know the world as a little child.

When you pulled away from each other to catch your breath, you couldn't take your eyes off you. Each of you has been examining the face of the other, trying to read feelings and thoughts.

Chris touched your swollen lips with his thumb and smiled slightly at which you smiled back.

"You are so beautiful when you smile. I don't want that smile to fade from your face. Never," he whispered.

Your cheeks turned red, you could tell by the warmth you felt on your face. But even so, you found enough confidence to answer him unequivocally.

"So don't let me be sad"

After these words, Chris's lips were on yours again.

tags: @patzammit @ivettt @mostannoyingbillioner @speechlessxx @angrybirdcr @ozarkthedog @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @sweetflowerdreams @worksby-d

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x reader smut #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x oc #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #chris evans sex #chris evans series #chris evans story #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fanart #chris evans angst #chris evans instagram #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines

414 notes · View notes

love-toxin · 3 years

Text

king of the castle - kaeya

a/n: i had some other fics in progress but this concept had me in a chokehold the entire day. enjoy

warnings: female reader, dom/sub, hard dom kaeya, sadism, degradation, dirty talk, roleplay, spanking, whipping, impact/temperature play, choking/belt choking, bruises, unprotected sex, threats, jealousy, possessiveness, sibling rivalry, i guess you can call it a cuckholding kink, praise, pet names, aftercare

word count: 4.3k

"So you're gonna whore yourself out to my brother, huh?"

Kaeya slapped his open palm with the belt. The sound alone made you flinch, and he just seemed to revel in it rather than shy away.

"Answer me. You love Diluc? You want him instead of me?"

"K-Kaeya-"

He brought it down even harder this time, the leather leaving a harsh-looking splotch against his toned skin. Your punishment was growing closer with each one, but he didn't seem at all fazed. He seemed excited.

"Just tell me, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you."

Liar. You could see it in his eyes--he had a lust for pain that overwhelmed all other warning signs in his brain. Kaeya was the definition of a sadist, his pleasure derived entirely from seeing you suffer, and he seemed to constantly be coming up with new ways to do so that would humiliate you even more than the last. He slid the leather down the raised flesh of his hand, and ripped a yelp from you when he smacked you on the inside of the thigh with it.

"Clamming up, are we? I think that's enough of an answer."

Finally, he climbed up on the bed he'd shoved you into, his stance predatory as he crawled towards you slowly and nudged your legs apart. Not once did his grip loosen on his weapon of choice, though his pants slid just slightly down his lean hips from the lack of support, revealing even more of his stomach that sloped down into an illustrious 'v'. With a gloved hand, he reached up to grab a handful of your arm and yanked you over on to your stomach, his strength just an afterthought for him but a terrifying obstacle for you. Kaeya could throw you around however he wanted to, if he wanted to, and you were just a delicate little toy that would break once he decided to play a little too rough.

"Tell me all the things you like about him. One for each swat."

Kaeya grabbed your hips to hike them up, your knees lifting up to prop you into a face-down position. He liked you the most like this. Vulnerable.

Even better was when he yanked your bottoms down, flimsy as they were, and in his haste tore through the middle and tossed the shredded remnants aside. He spoke and you listened, he gave his orders and you obeyed--but this was something you couldn't do. Kaeya made you swear that you would never lie to him and you had kept to that, as much as he used it to manipulate you into doing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it.

"I-I don't...I don't-"

The words just barely spilled over your lips even as you tried to push them out. It was just too hard, but Kaeya didn't care. You earned an even harder spank for that, right on the inside of your bare thigh where he knew you'd be the most sensitive.

"Speak up. Or else I'll mess up that pretty face of yours instead."

As if to hammer that point home, you felt the dig of his fingers into the back of your skull as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, and shoved your face deeper into the sheets of the bed. They were soft, fortunately, but it was so degrading that you just wanted to melt into the bed and disappear. You even felt the dark chuckle rumbling in his chest as he ground his hips up against you from behind, your top sliding up your back far enough that he could drag the expensive leather down your skin, from the top of your spine all the way to your cheeks that trembled when he landed a smack on one of them.

"You're pretty stubborn, aren't you? Is it really Diluc, then? It's not someone else, is it?"

With the belt gripped tight he swatted you again in the same place, the skin there already growing so hot you could feel it radiating off of you. But while your attention was drawn to the stinging pain that you knew was only going to get worse, the hand that had tangled itself in your hair had started trailing downwards, fingertips light and cool as he left little splotches of frost in his wake that melted just as quickly. Once he found that little spot between your legs, however, he didn't reserve the same gentleness and pressed the pad of a freezing cold thumb firmly against your clit. You cried out, squirmed, struggled to vocalize anything more than a gasp--but Kaeya held you in place, and his smirk burned into you from behind like a brand.

"Tell me, doll. You can't keep your little secrets from me anyways, so you may as well fess up."

He ground his thumb in harder the longer you went without speaking, but soon enough he switched to an easier method to have you talk--he pinched your clit between two of his fingers and squeezed, the tips even colder than before to the point that it made your mind blank for a moment or two. Just to add to the humiliation, he forced you up with his other hand and ordered you to take off your shirt, your chest on full display for him to watch your nipples pebble and your skin prickle at the cold chill that he was responsible for.

"Mondstadt? Liyue? Give me some clues. You're not trying to get in with the Fatui, are you?"

He laughed but not from joy, rather in a mocking way that mimicked a childhood bully or an egotistical villain. If you could see him from your position, you had no doubts that he was grinning in that devilish way when he had something he wanted in his grasp, but with a slight twist to your tingling little bud your thoughts snapped right back to the present. A soft groan slipped from you, and unbeknownst to you, it made his cock stir into an even harder arousal than he already had going. At this point he was in danger of popping a button off those tight pants.

"You just can't keep your legs closed, can you? I think they'd like you, actually. That redhead seemed to love watching you walk away, huh?"

Evidently his attention waned for the moment and he released his stifling grip on your clit, only so that he could drag his fingers up your slit and part your lips just enough to feel for the soft flesh beneath, his fingers quickly growing sticky as your juices leaked all down his hand and towards his wrist. Kaeya's most precious desire was his affinity for abusing the softest, most sensitive parts of you, and so you knew for certain that this uncharacteristic gentleness would soon make way for pain that you wouldn't recover easily from, both physically and emotionally.

"...No? Then what about the bard? You want him to write some love poems for you, princess?"

No matter how you answered it would be used against you--either Kaeya would take it the wrong way or he wouldn't believe you at all. So you kept your mouth shut and tried to bury your noises into the sheets below, his fingers lithe and skilled enough that he had the power to draw some rather unsavoury sounds from you if he really wanted to. And when he plunged two of them inside despite how tightly you squeezed around him, he exercised that power quite easily to the point that the shame burned your face all the way to the tips of your ears.

"How about this? You tell me exactly who it is you're trying to run away with, and I won't drop you naked into the nearest hillichurl camp."

The threat rolled off his tongue so easily as to be criminal. The icy chill that surrounded him already made you shiver, but the thought of him throwing you to the wolves both literally and figuratively turned your thoughts to panic. Perhaps he wouldn't really do something so horrific, but the way he talked you through the scenario with a smugness lacing his words certainly made it feel so, each sentence punctuated with a curl of those dastardly fingers into your sweet spots.

"No vision, no weapons, no defenses...how long do you think your precious little body will hold up? Five minutes? My bet's on five seconds."

To prove his point, he spread his digits inside you without warning and listened for the muffled keen that erupted from your throat, his efforts rewarded with a gush of slick, syrupy arousal that clung to your skin as he pulled away and left a trail behind. You expected him to wipe it off with little regard, but instead you heard a strange noise from behind, and turned your head out of curiosity to see him sucking your mess off of every finger. With his half-gloves thoroughly ruined he yanked those off too, and like a true sadist, he took the chance to savour your pathetic expressions and beat your ass again with the thickest part of his belt, a welt surely already rising to your skin as you cried out in pain.

"You think the Dark Knight Hero would save you then? Or would he take advantage of a shivering little crybaby who owes him her life in exchange?"

Another smack, and then another still, and you were certain that you wouldn't be able to sit properly for the next few days. Kaeya dragged you deeper and deeper into his fantasy, and it was only then that you truly worried that Diluc might somehow hear the two of you and come to investigate. Your thoughts even drifted to the scenario Kaeya proposed, about the possibility of Diluc taking what he was owed from you...about taking you away from Kaeya, who you should've known by now owned every piece of you. Even your thoughts, which he always seemed privy to--and now was no exception, his nails teasing down your spine so you'd have no choice but to pay attention.

"Why don't I just carve that into your skin for him, hm? 'Diluc's loyal whore', you want that on your back? What about your legs, where everyone can see?"

The moment his fingers crested over the hill of your poor, beaten behind, he whipped you again with the belt hard enough that you were already starting to bruise, and this time the tears finally spilled out when you'd been trying to hold them in. He rubbed one of his palms over the sore, swollen globes of your ass, the skin-to-skin contact soothing your aches with the chill and causing you to push back against his touch--and he just snickered and made a passing comment about your neediness, to which you responded by whimpering his name under your breath with a plea for mercy.

The wrong name. The name that didn't belong in your mouth, that caused your eyes to widen and a fresh set of tears to plummet down your cheeks as you hurried to try and backtrack. 'Diluc' this and 'Diluc' that, it wasn't your fault for stumbling over your words--but did he care?

Of course he didn't.

"...I knew it."

Kaeya's grip became hot and painful once again, a handprint stung into your skin as he slapped you with an open palm across the cheeks. It didn't look like he needed his tool anymore--because he leaned over to wrap it around your neck, the leather sliding hotly over your skin as he tightened the buckle to keep it in place. To keep you in place, exactly where he decided you should be.

"Does it hurt?"

With words failing you, you nodded your head as much as you could--the leather dug into your skin and you already felt as though you were going to suffocate, and your tears were a clear giveaway that the cocktail of both pain and pleasure was starting to overwhelm you.

"Good, you deserve to suffer a little bit for being a slut. Especially if it amuses me."

As he spoke he fiddled with the makeshift collar, the peg loosening two holes more until it sat more comfortably--and once he was finished you felt his lips against the back of your neck, his grip on the belt growing taut only when he felt you take a deep breath against his touch. Kaeya straightened back up and fiddled with something else this time, his pants sliding easily down his legs to free the beast he'd been restraining within, and with a sigh on his lips you jolted against something stiff prodding at your vulnerable little opening. He took his time in making a move, maybe to tease you or maybe for his own enjoyment, but he made sure to wet the tip generously with your slick, before sliding himself up your slit one last time and slowly spreading you open on his cock that was cool to the touch. Only about halfway in did he release the breath he'd sucked in through his teeth, and by then he had tugged on your leash hard enough for your head to tip back and your lips to part enough for him to steal a kiss from you.

"Filthy little cocktease...you don't have the right to be so tight. You'd think all your little boyfriends would've loosened you up-!"

He cut himself off with an unexpected gasp, his legs shaking almost unnoticed as he halted himself to steady his breathing. But once he had collected himself he was right back on top, your cheeks flush with new tears as he yanked on the belt hard enough to drag you back further on his cock. With one hand grasping at the sheets you brought the other up on instinct to grab at the collar, but even getting a finger underneath it was impossible as he started rocking his hips into you from behind and choking you with his belt in harmony with each thrust.

"I can't wait for him to see you when I'm finished. You think he'll give you a bath and clean your wounds, babydoll?"

All at once the air escaped from your lungs, but all you got to replace it were desperate coughs and foolish attempts to try and catch a breath. Meanwhile Kaeya pummeled you from behind regardless, his wicked glee only rising the longer he watched you struggle for air as he ripped every breath from your lungs with his thrusts. At the very least his preparation ensured a smooth drag of your walls around him, but the fact that your stomach churned as he reached depths further than he should didn't help in the least--especially when he moaned out his humiliating comments about how your body needed him so much it was sucking him in even deeper.

"Nah. He'll use you just the same as I will. He'll take advantage of you the second he gets the chance."

Somehow he seemed to have regained his composure, and returned to taunting you with a hand resting threateningly just above your hip, daring you to say something back so he could spank you again. But you clung to the spare moments of reprieve when his grip loosened on the belt, and you were afforded a quick breath of air before he pulled it taut again and yanked you back to meet his punishing thrusts. Slowly you were growing dizzier, and Kaeya's voice floated about your head like he was speaking right next to your ear.

"You wanna be Diluc's little slut? You want him to cum all over your cute face like I do?"

No, you wanted to say. You wanted to speak but he made it impossible, all you could do was take his hips bruising your behind and his feverish tugging as he choked you, your mind filled with nothing but the feeling of Kaeya making you his.

"He's nothing like me. He'll never satisfy you like I can."

With his voice reduced to a growl in his chest he yanked on your impromptu leash again, but this time it was to tip your head back far enough to kiss you again, and so he could taste your tongue on his before breaking off so messily he left a string of spit connecting your lips.

"Settle for your second best, then. As long as I get to fuck you, I don't care--he can have my sloppy seconds all he wants."

The force was unneeded at this point, your body to the point of collapsing on its own--but with the heel of his hand on the small of your back he shoved your hips down to the bed, using his own as leverage to keep you there while his thrusts grew even more erratic. Whatever else he had to say got jumbled up with whines and groans peppered in, and just when you felt your own consciousness start to slip away from you, he shoved a hand beneath your hip and searched until he found what he was looking for. With the pads of two of his fingers Kaeya rubbed up against your clit again, though this time was with skin cold enough that it shocked your system into an orgasm you weren't ready for.

Your mind whited out within moments, the heat in your belly swirling into a cool feeling that rose all the way up into your chest, and your fingers twitched and curled to bite into your palms with your nails while the rest of your body shuddered underneath him. Kaeya himself seemed to be reaping the rewards on his own end, your cunt spasming wildly around him and clenching him like a vice until he felt that same warmth wash over his body. Leaving himself to bask in the feeling until the very end, he pulled out just before it was too late and released his hold on the belt, instead replacing it around his cock to aim where he wanted. His cum jetted out in thin ropes as you anticipated, yet you still flinched weakly at every spurt that landed against your back, the cold chill of it still unusual enough to take you a bit by surprise.

Your focus continued to waver as you lay there prone, your body so worn out that he could do as he pleased without hassle. But a rush of warm shivers raced up and down your spine as Kaeya laved his tongue against your sweat-soaked flesh, each sticky glob of his love either licked up or sucked off of you until you were as you were before, mostly. Afterwards he unbuckled the belt from your neck, and it was then that the mood finally turned and he flipped you over on your back so you could catch his smile as he leaned over you.

"Nice to see you again, princess."

He dipped down to take another kiss, though this one was a hundred times softer and not liable to leave a bruise this time, his lips like the petals of a mist flower as he slowly broke away.

"C'mere, come cuddle with Kaeya, baby...you want some water? Your throat probably hurts after all that.."

His tone had come down too, so much gentler and with an obvious tinge of sympathy just above a whisper. As he settled back in bed and tucked you into his side, he brushed his fingers over the bruises already blooming across your throat, taking great care only to use the most sensitive touch as he cooled your skin down just enough to take some of the pain away.

"You made me feel so special, little one--you're such a precious little treasure, aren't you?"

The love in his voice and in the way he looked at you was a complete turnaround from a few minutes ago, but you were glad to cling to the change in your Kaeya--though your body was still working a little faster than your mind, and a few words fell from your lips before you could think twice about them.

"I-I don't...I don't like Diluc, Kaeya...I promise.."

You finally croaked out your reply and Kaeya was on you in seconds, his fingers running through your hair as he kissed the corner of your mouth, just where he could reach without straining you too hard in your vulnerable state. Under normal circumstances he liked to coddle you on occasion, and right now was no exception.

"I know you don't, honey. I know. You're such a good girl. You're my good little girl."

He brought his hand back up to rub the top of your head, and had you lift it up just enough for him to lay his arm underneath so you could use it as a pillow. And while you caught your breath and came down from such a shaky high, he took your chin into his hand and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, his mouth parted in awe shifting into a genuine, toothy smile. He kissed you again, and this time you swore the world paused for just a moment.

"I love you more than the whole world. You're the little shooting star in my heart--you're my everything."

Kaeya touched you like you were glass, like you were a precious piece that he feared breaking, unlike the façade he'd put up just a while ago. This was your favourite part of the experience...Kaeya doting on you as he loved to do, and never wanting to let you out of arm's reach.

"You're Kaeya's little princess, understand? And since you were such a good girl, I'm gonna get you a present. Whatever you ask for."

Such an offer wasn't something you came by often, and at once your mind wandered to what you might ask of your lover as a reward for being his. But there was only one thing you wanted at the moment, and you murmured it just loud enough for him to hear and have a little chuckle about it.

"Wine? Well of course you can, but we won't count that as your gift. I'll go fetch us a nice, big bottle--you just wait right there for me."

As loathe as he was to leave you, and as much as you didn't want to watch him go, he heaved himself up off the bed and reached for his clothes, the uniform out of sorts and messy in a way that he didn't really care about at the moment. Leaving his coat be as it would only be a brisk walk, he buttoned his shirt up halfway and stepped into his boots, before turning and leaning over you one last time with a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you, my princess. Be right back."

With that you bid him a brief goodbye, and while you rested your weary bones he sauntered out the corridor and down the steps into the night air, a warm haze settled over Mondstadt in the late evening when most had gone to bed.

But there were few places that were still open and Angel's Share was one of them, the tavern so close that he pulled on the door within minutes and took a step into the soft chatter of the tavern. Only a spare few patrons still milled about, all having spent more than enough to be too inebriated to pay attention--and at the counter was an all-too-familiar redhead, washing a glass with little purpose while he caught his gaze as he walked in. Diluc said nothing even as he approached the counter, and just turned away with a soft grunt when he picked out the perfect wine to take back to you. No small talk needed. Neither of them wanted it anyways.

"While I'm here, I'll give this back."

As Diluc set the bottle on the counter, Kaeya couldn't miss the sudden flash of emotion in his eyes at what he'd set down in front of him. The letter with a very familiar seal stared back at the bartender, and he just couldn't help himself from digging it in just a bit more while he had the chance.

"Shame she didn't see it in time."

He would've had to be an idiot not to know exactly what it was when he found it tucked inside your coat pocket, the well-placed gift going totally unbeknownst to you as Kaeya snatched it up when the opportunity presented itself. He hadn't really planned on telling you his own feelings until later--but love always managed to find a way, didn't it?

"Don't worry. I'm sure she would've let you down gently."

"...I think you have somewhere to be, Kaeya."

Heat radiated off of Diluc, and it wasn't the normal aftereffect of his vision that most who possessed them experienced. He knew well enough when his brother was furious, if the way he turned his grimace towards the floor wasn't proof enough.

"I do, in fact. Have a splendid night."

With the bottle in hand, he spun on his heels and strolled right back out where he came, the open door making way for another breeze of pleasantly warm air through the stale musk of the tavern.

"...Oh, and before you go, there's something else."

He only just found the energy to lazily turn his head back over his shoulder, and was met with one of the most fiery glares he'd ever seen in his life, Diluc's hand that had come down on the counter setting the letter ablaze and reducing it to ash in his fist.

"Never come into my bar again."

With one last smirk, Kaeya let the door shut behind him as he stepped back out into a lovely Mondstadt evening, the sounds of glass shattering echoing his footsteps as he wandered back to the one he always knew he deserved.

#yandere kaeya alberich #yandere kaeya x reader #yandere kaeya alberich x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere lemon #love-toxin #4k

560 notes · View notes

sparkledfirecracker · 3 years

Text

Wrong Encounter

Synth’s 5K Follower Challenge / How it started – How’s it going?

@syntheticavenger , Congrats on reaching 5K and thank you for hosting this magnificent celebratory challenge.

Title: Wrong Encounter

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

Challenge: Any character but arguing over being charged for something you didn’t order at a restaurant and the owner comes to assist.

Warning: 18+ only, dark content, explicit language, explicit sexual content, vaginal play/teasing?, sex/human trafficking?, sexwork, forced prostitution, forced sexwork, smut, unprotected sex, NonCon

A/N: I can’t say this enough; Synth thank you for inspiring me to write again! I could have gone any direction yet this came out and fought me along the way, so I whipped out the old skool pen and paper. Maybe a little too save on the warnings, but at least they’re there. Don’t think it is dark enough, so enjoy this masterpiece of crappiness, because editing is not making it any better with this beer I’m consuming. Also as a non-native tongue here, so ALL mistakes are my own. Only lightly proofread, so don’t come for me.

ENJOY!

Pictures for moodboard inspo found on pinterest, so all the credit goes to the respectful owners. The quote inspired the final part to this.

How it started

The red ambiance of the room mixed well with the black shining floor and hanging chandeliers, it was slick and well set up. Looking around the room had you wondering what the parties must be like at night. A colleague had recommended this new place – an exquisite night – as they had described it. Yours ending miserably having a disagreement with your waiter.

The waiter had a way of pissing you off tonight and irritation was clearly bubbling “I’ve only had the steak with sides and a fucking bottle of rose, not the entire fish tank and three bottles of your most expensive champagne” your white knuckles balling around his collar as you practically screamed in his face.

“There was another table that said you would pay for them.” It sounded like a plea of trying to settle the rage that was coursing through your body.

“OUTRAGEOUS -- you don’t fact check with your customers?” You seethed “Listen up you little shit. I want to speak to your manager” throwing him out of your grasp, making him stumble backwards bumping into someone.

“He’s already here and you have his undivided attention” your waiter stands in front of the large man awkwardly “Get back to work Jensen, I’ll deal with this fiery kitten” he nods and practically runs off.

Annoyance rising at his degrading comment. “Perfect, an insult to go with the wrongly charges to my bill”

“Ma’am please calm down, I’m sure there’s a way to resolve this mishap” his stance intimidates you

Your eyes wandered to his silver nametag “Why should I calm down, mister Drysdale? Or should I say, entitled prick?” there was pride in your comeback, no-one should ever call you a fiery little kitten.

“Ma’am, Ransom, please and watch your mouth, because we have places for woman like you.” It almost sounds like a threat and you’re willing to fight him on it.

He’s a dark enigma, you can feel it radiate from his body. You’re too caught in taking in his enchanting features and wonder what kind of sorcery this man is using on you to make you feel so small.

“Why don’t we settle this in my office” A charming smile thrown your way, but you’re too caught up in observing the blue-eyed man in front of you “Ma’am?”

“Sorry, yeah, the idiot waiting on me charged more to my bill than I even consumed.” You explained without him asking for any of it.

“Unfortunate, but it happens, please follow me to my office so we can resolve this. Can I offer you a coffee or something else for the inconvenience?”

“No – No, your waiter overcharged me. No need to sit down somewhere private for this idiotic mishap” words falling firmly from your tongue “Just fix my bill so I can be on my way and never come back.”

“Please, let us sort this out, if you just come with me to my office -- we can talk this over” His calming persistence had you hooked and you took a deep breath in.

“Fine.”

“Great, thank you – Jensen, we’ll be in my office, don’t fuck up more than you already have” You roll your eyes at the barked order, he felt superior to his employees.

You had followed him into his office, the golden name plate beaming on the door. The dark aesthetic of his office fitted well with the ambiance he’d created in his restaurant and nightclub, it felt luxurious and exclusive, sprinkled with a bit of mystery.

Ransom stood by his bar cart filled with expensive liquors while your eyes lingered on the well-stocked bookshelves. Ransom Drysdale didn’t look like much of a reader to you.

“My grandfathers, well most of it anyway, he’s a writer and owns Blood Like Wine Publishing” Ransom explained looking at your admiring gaze. You look back at him noticing his motioning gesture to the chairs “Please sit, can I offer you a drink?”

“No thank you” shaking your head at his offer, he poured his poison of choice, even though you had refused he handed you a glass. It would be rude to decline again, you accepted the tumbler letting your fingers trace the outlines of the crystal glass in your hand.

“I won’t keep you for long. What happened?”

“Tonight I celebrated my promotion and a colleague recommended this place. To find out that – Jensen, I believe his name is – added the entire fish menu and three bottles of your exclusive champagne to my bill. Only to justify it with -- the other customers told me that you would pay for them – kinda bullshit” anger returning you gulped down the strong spirit.

“I apologize for the experience. How about we forget this night? I want you to come back somewhere next week. Let us wine and dine you, give you the experience you deserved to have had tonight.” He took a sip from his own glass looking at you with darkened yet hopeful eyes.

It had been a tempting offer, was it going to be worth your time or would you be left disappointed again? “You know what, fine. I’ll be here next week, same time, same day.”

How’s it going?

One week later

Everything in you had screamed not to continue the night in Ransom’s office. Yet here you we, having had that hard liquor burning down your throat. He’d explained how you owed him now and that his interest in your aggression -- a week prior -- had sparked his desire. There was no going back, there was no way out.

Ransom’s looking forward to what is to come. For now, he’s cherishing this moment, he loves the switch being pulled, when the terror fills your eyes and start to physically fight him. They always did and he knows you will too, within the soundproof walls screaming when there is still fight left.

Your mind still trying to comprehend his plans for you. You weren’t sure what to say, instead you settled on staring back at him. Your optic view taking in his well-build frame. You licked your lips unknowingly when he flexed his pecks under the crisp white button down. Your body betraying you by your crossed legs clenching together.

“Like what you see, precious?” your wandering gaze shot up to meet his eyes, your cheeks blushed as you got caught in the act “-I am certainly liking what I’m seeing”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mister Drysdale” you roll your eyes, leaning forward to set the empty tumbler on his desk. He’d taken a step sideways having his crotch right in your face. “Is this really how you want to settle this?”

“Ransom, I insist -- and funny you should ask.” He looks amused by your question “This is exactly how we’re going to finish this extravaganza I offered you”

He was on you before you could even make a comeback. His strong arms had lifted you from the chair, kissing you roughly. A strong – almost painful – hold on your neck, other on your hip pushing you into him feeling his stiff shaft probing against your lower belly.

You felt the shame rising as you let out a moan. His free hand hiking up your skirt, ripping your panties with his calloused hands. The sound snapped you back to reality of what was happening. You tried to push him off, but struggled in his strong grasp. Grabbing his wrist digging your nails in into his flesh.

“You evil spawn.” He roared crushing the grip on your neck, making you squirm “I was going to make this a pleasant thing, but now I’ll take what’s mine.”

“Rail me daddy.” You taunted, you knew you shouldn’t, but there was nothing left to loose.

“That mouth on you little minx. Not one to deny requests though, so the pleasure will be all mine -- Until.That.Cunt.Is.All.Fucked.Out.” with each word spoken he had rubbed himself on you, the heat in your pussy rising unwillingly.

“I just didn’t know you were running a brothel.”

“This is not a brothel, there are no prostitutes at this address. Just woman with disrespecting mouths like yours solicited for exclusive places like mine” Ransom muses “Because you’re staying right here – with me” He forces your neck to bend uncomfortably forcing you to look into his darkened orbs.

Trying to fight him, but failed under his strength. Your body surrendering to his brutal force pressing you into the mahogany wood. The chime of his belt and zip being undone echoing through the room.

“Don’t please.” You begged trying to get out of this horrible nightmare. A wrong encounter because of being wrongly charged for items you didn’t consume.

“Let’s play a little game first; if those panties aren’t drenched - I’ll let you go” Keening at the cool air hitting your clit when Ransom’s hands opened your wet lips. “But – if that sweet little honey pot of yours is soaked for me, I’ll fuck you open with just my cock and you’ll stay right here -- forever.”

“No.” you protested.

His whispered confession only proved his twisted game. “I think you and I both know what it will be.” His fingers played with your clit and prodded your entrance. A soft wail escaped at his given attention. “I think you’ll be a nice addition to my selection of ladies.” Ransom couldn’t help but smirk at your powerless expression. His confession only added to the unwavering pain of realization that you were stuck in this newfound imprisonment.

Thumbs pressing into your ass, his other fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He slams into your fluttering cunt, the air leaving your body from his unforgiving pace. You scream loudly at the unwanted pleasure.

You’re fully trapped underneath Ransom’s body, impaling you from behind continuously. “Scream for me!” It’s an order you won’t obey and you squeak when he balls your hair in his fist “Fierce little minxes like yourself are made for places like mine” Ransom growls into your ear. “Let me hear those gorgeous sounds, precious. Scream while you still can before it vanishes. No-one can hear you, scream for ME.”

Ransom’s arm finds its way around your neck jerking you into his toned chest, your hips being bruised from the impact of the wood. Your hands grip his arm trying to loosen the chokehold, fighting for air into your lungs only to have it escape with every rut inwards. His free hand rubbing circles on your pulsating bead, his pleasured grunts making your stomach churn.

Pleasure taken from your - desperate, powerless and giving - body in his arms. He ravishes your body, like you’re his personal favourite fucktoy. Your legs start to tremble and your orgasm builds rapidly under the abuse, little whimpers escaping you. Tears streaming down your cheeks at the realisation of being solicited for a brothel.

Only seconds later your body surrendered to the fire within you, screaming out to Ransom while your body shook heavily in his hold. His arms let you go, your quivering body dropping on the desk, panting from the intense build orgasm. The lost air stings with every inhale, you’re too tired to fight him.

Ransom sat down in his leather chair and picked up the phone. You tried to look away from him, but he is fast to grab your hair and keep the intense stare. Ransom’s pride beams, he’s a heartless beast. He’s always gotten what he wanted and you’re just a new addition to his elite gentlemen’s club.

“Barber? Yes! She’s definitely the one. How I know? She’s fucked out on my desk, tight little cunt on her. Perfect for the job, draw up the contract will you” A snarled order followed by a darkened smile and filthy wink thrown your way. “Her mouth looks exquisite; I’ll make sure to reserve it for your cock. So she can suck it as a thank you!”

#synths5kfollowerchallenge #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale × reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans smut #lilo writing

207 notes · View notes

staywritten · 4 years

Text

One Week │Bang Chan(M)

Synopsis: You heard that not having sex could strength a relationship. How long will you and Chan last?

Genre: Idol!AU, fluff, teasing, smut, slow burn? established relationship, one shot

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist.

This was your idea.

You did this to yourself but Chan didn’t have to torture you like this.

A few days ago you came across this article encouraging couples to take a break from their sex life and try to focus on emotional intimacy. It talked about how it would bring you closer as a couple and help your relationship last longer, and not be based on pure sex appeal.

Honestly, there wasn’t anything fundamentally wrong with your relationship, but since you were both so busy and alone time had been pretty rare. The times you were free you would spend it in bed and end up knocking out right after spending all night making love. You missed the conversation, you missed getting to know your partner. You missed the early stages of the relationship.

You thought it was a good idea, it was only for a week.

It was only day three and he was driving you insane.

You leaned against the bed frame, scrolling through your phone absently. You were just passing the time while your boyfriend got ready for dinner tonight. You had about an hour before you had to meet your parents at the restaurant.

The bathroom door swung open and your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Chan’s curly hair dripping from the shower, his towel sitting low on his hips. His toned body glistening as he walked over to the closet. He never liked fully drying off in the bathroom, he was one that preferred to air dry.

He smirked to himself, he could feel your eyes on his every move. Looking over his shoulder he grinned. “You look so pretty in that dress Baby. Should I wear a matching button-up or is that too much?”

Your tongue darted out, licking your lips as you just nodded your head.

He chuckled walking over to you. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and his index finger, making you look at him. “Your words Darling, use your words.”

“Fuck…” you whispered more so to yourself, wanting to go back in time and stop yourself from even bringing up this stupid idea.

He winked, kissing your forehead. “Now should I wear a white button-up? Or the black one?” his smile widened “You know, the silk one”

“The black one…” you eyed him, letting your gaze follow a particular drop of water that rolled down his chest and disappeared into his towel.

“You look like you have something else to say Baby?” He quirked a brow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Perhaps something you want to beg me for?”

The way he eyed you was sinful. He leaned in closer to you, caressing your cheek softly. “May I?” he whispered against your lips watching you nod, giving him permission for a kiss. His lips moved against yours, his tongue flicking against the roof of your mouth. You could still taste the watermelon juice on him from earlier. His fingers laced into your hair, tugging you harder as he deepened the kiss. The tiniest growls, echoing from his throat as you bit down on his lip.

Your hands started getting more daring, sliding up his back, your nails grazing his skin as you tugged him down just a bit. He laughed, catching himself before he fell into bed with you. “Behave”

“I didn’t do anything~” you looked up at him innocently, a small pout playing on your lips. You shook your head, trying to come back to your senses. You could do this! It was only a week, and if you couldn’t even make it a week without having sex with Chan you worried your relationship was purely physical. “Get dressed so we can get going.”

“Alright Baby” he smiled brightly, his cheek dimpling as he gave you a once over.

You rubbed your temples looking at your phone. Only four more days left of this torture.

The next day you and Chan were cooking dinner together. You two didn’t normally have this much time together, but he was on holiday from work and you were going to savor every meal with him. You were cooking up an easy stir fry with a steak on the stove. Chan worked on the salad and homemade rolls.

And as much as you savored these little cooking moments. Chan had a tendency tonight of bumping into. One too many times for it to an accident. And you were so touch starved a brush of his fingers could probably make you moan.

But you tried to ignore it.

Only three more days and you could make love to your heart’s content. You just needed to focus on emotional intimacy.

“And then Felix helped me write this cute song about photosynthesis-Oops excuse me Love” he grabbed your hips to steady you as he walked between you and the kitchen island. His crotch rubbing against your backside in all the right spots.

You gasped, biting down on your finger trying to distract yourself. All of this just so he could grab some damn pepper.

The thing about being touch starved was that absolutely everything made your horny.

Sure, it was torturous but it was the moments after that made it feel like it was worth it. You had a good conversation during dinner and cuddled on the couch while watching a movie. Chan kissed your temple as you watched the tv. He was more captivated at watching your expressions than he was in the film.

You looked up at him feeling him pepper more kisses. “Hm?”

“Nothing, I just love you”

You mirrored his beautiful smile. Maybe it was the cozy moment, maybe it was the warm lighting bouncing off the tv. But he just looked so welcoming. You leaned into his touch, the feeling of his nails absently scratching your scalp. “I love you too” you bit down on your lip, your eyes darting to look at his beautiful full lips. “Do you want to….” you looked down, your shoulders slumping a bit as you got embarrassed.

He laughed “What is it? You can ask me anything?”

“You wanna make out?” you leaned closer to him. “No sex just… like making out?”

He laughed leaning into you. “Like some touch starved teenager?” he brushed his nose against yours.

“Mhmm” you grinned brushing your lips against his. The sweet gesture turned into a heated kiss in no time. Your fingers threaded through his curly hair, as his strong hands cupped your face, holding you against his. Your legs tangled together as he settled over you, pinning you to the couch as his kiss got hungrier. His pupils wild, and dilated as you moaned. Hearing your voice only motivated him more. His fingers gripped your sides, under your shirt.

You pulled away, your lips swollen and bruised as you struggled to catch your breath. “Maybe we should cool off?” you playfully swatted his hand that teasingly played with the waistband of your shorts.

“I’ll behave, I promise I won’t go further” he pressed a kiss on the bases of your throat, sucking the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a mark.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, yanking his head playfully to make him look up at you. “I know… But if you keep this up, I might want you to go farther and we still have a few days to this challenge.”

And in that moment he might have been more turned than he’d like to admit. He licked his lips and grinned “I turn you on that much Baby?” He ran his hand up your throat, applying just the smallest amount of pressure. Just enough for you to gasp and to see your eyes roll back. “Mmmm… you sound so beautiful” he pressed a kiss at the base of your throat, sucking at the skin. His teeth grazing and nipping you as he did so.

“Chris…” you whined, your thighs pressing together as you felt that coil in your lower stomach tighten.

“Hm?” he asked absently, peaking up at you past those long lashes. His hand slowly traveled up your neck, gripping your jaw. His thumb pressing against your lips, making you open up for him. Taking his thumb in your mouth. His breath hitched as you sucked hard. Your tongue swirling against the pad of his thumb as you never broke eye contact. “Your mouth feels so good Baby girl” he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Darling, if you don’t stop, I don’t know if I can keep doing your little exercise”

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, chuckling when you whined and grabbed for his hand. “Fuck it” you pouted. “I want you.”

“But we still have… Hm? Is it three more days?” he teased.

“I don’t care” you sat up, your brow furrowing at him. “I want you...” your hand gripped his collar as you eyed him, your hand traveling lower to rest on his pecks.

“But wasn’t the whole purpose of this, to get closer? Being more intimate?” he laughed.

“You can get closer by getting inside me” you rolled your hips into the couch. “Please?”

He laughed, pulling out of your grasp and standing. “I dunno Love, I think restraint and discipline can do you well” he winked. “It’s only a few more days. You’ll survive”

Famous last words.

You huffed, flopping back on to the couch watching your boyfriend disappear into the bedroom. “This is fucking stupid” you grumbled into the pillow. You couldn’t even really be mad at him. You were the one that proposed this whole stupid thing, and he respected your wish. It was only fair that you respected his wish to finish it. But it didn’t stop you from being pouty about it.

The next day was your silent protest that you were far over this experiment. You’d given him the silent treatment. Spending all day huffing and pouting. Even stomping when you had the chance. Which to your dismay Chan was finding adorable hilarious. It wasn’t often that you acted like a brat and he was savoring it.

Chan was sitting on the couch reading a book when you came to bother him. Sitting at the far end of the couch. He chuckled to himself and glanced over at you. “Are you done with your temper tantrum?”

“Hmpf!” you turned away from him, turning your attention to the tv.

He smirked, his cheek dimpling. “I suppose not.” he turned the page to his book, making himself more comfortable. “My Baby is so daring… It’s cute” he glanced at you. “I know what you’re doing”

“Then do something about it”

He snickered “And she speaks” he closed his book,setting it on the table. He licked his lips looking at you, placing his hand on your thigh. Letting it span over the skin before gripping it. “I’m going to finish what you started.”

You straddled him in one swift motion, wrapping your arms around his neck. “How about now?” you grinded your core against him. It’s just two more days.”

“You’ve gone far longer without me when I’m on tour” he laughed, gripping your hips. “Why is it harder now?”

“Because you’re in front of me, and refusing me to be petty”

“Oh is that what I’m doing? I’m just being petty?” he leaned back on the couch, giving you the biggest teasing smile. “You wanted us to get to know each other better, let’s get to know each other” he kissed your wrist softly. “I’m going to ask you some questions, we can get to know each other that way.”

“Will it end with you being inside me?”

“We’ll see” he bucked his hips upward subtly as he moved further on to the couch. The motion was enough to making you moan and grip him harder. Your body, hypersensitive from the dry spell. “Sorry” he gave you a coy smile.

“You’re not sorry” you pouted “You’re being mean”

“It’ll be worth it Love” he chuckled, rubbing small circles on your hips.

“Kiss?” you brushed your lips against his.

“Of course” he grinned, biting down on your bottom lip and pulling you into a kiss. “Mmm…” he raked his fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp softly. “What was the first thing you noticed about me?”

“Really? That’s what you want to know?”

“Mhmm.”

“I thought you were cute, but more than that…” you smiled, remembering the day fondly. Chan had just gotten off stage, and your friend who was a staff member wanted you to meet the guys. You spoke before you could stop yourself, you just couldn’t help it telling him how handsome he was. “After I called you handsome...You had to cover your ears and you had the cutest giggle I’d ever heard in my life… I couldn’t wrap my head around how you were the same beastly sexy man, humping the air on stage” he smiled as you kissed the side of his mouth. “What about you? What did you notice about me?”

His eyes raked down your body and you playfully nudged him. “I’m serious!”

“I’m just kidding” he chuckled. “The first thing I noticed about you was how breathtaking you were. I was pretty self conscious because I was so sweaty from stage and you were just so… wow” he smiled caressing your cheek. And when you spoke I just knew you were my muse”

“When did you realize you were in love with me?” you quirked a brow, asking him a question.

“When I got back from tour after three months and I got back to the dorm. That same dorm that I’ve lived in for years...and it didn’t feel like home. The first place I needed to go was you.” he looked at you with the most loving look. “You were my home”

“Chris…” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his. Just basking in the intimacy.

“When did you realized you loved me?”

“I always knew… but the biggest sign was when I realized that you were the one person it didn’t feel exhausting to be with. My social battery never ran out with you…. I craved being with you” you giggled. “Essentially you became my home too” you yelped, wrapping your arms around him as he stood up. Holding your body close in his arms as he walked you to the bedroom. “What are you doing?”

“I wanna make love to you” he set you down gently.

“We still have two more days”

“I don’t need an intimacy exercise to tell me that I love you” he pinned your arms down. “Any objections?”

“None at all” you grinned as he ripped his shirt off over his head. “It was a stupid article anyway” you smiled running your hands up his abs.

He settled between your legs, pushing your thin t-shirt up over your head. Haphazardly tossing it behind him. Palming your breast, and pinching your hardened nipples between his fingers. “I miss touching you” he trailed a path from your neck down to your nipple, taking the bud between his lips. Your head falling back into the pillow as you moaned, your hips lifting just to feel something. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your sweats tugging them down. “My poor needy Baby is so wet.”

“Do something about it” you whined, dipping your finger into your core. He licked his lips watching you pleasure yourself. “Look at what you do to me”

“I’m sorry Baby, let me take care of that for you” he took your finger into his mouth, sucking hard on the digit. A low growl, bubbling from the back of his throat. He boldly lowered himself, slipping his tongue between your folds and sucking on your clit. Your finger lacing in his curly hair. Feeling him pick up pace, slipping his fingers in and out of you; Your body shivered, hips bucking up until he held your waist and pushed it into the mattress. “It’s ok Babygirl, I got you”

Your pants became more urgent as your lower stomach felt hotter, your hips desperately writhing against him. It wasn’t too long from his relentless teasing that you came for him. He lapped up all of your sweetness before sitting back. Taking in just how beautiful you look. Your chest heaving, eyes clenched in pleasure/ He wiped the slick from his with his thumb.

Looking up at him you gripped his waistband, tugging him to you. “On your back Chris”

He chuckled letting you pull him down. “Yes ma’am” his eyes darkened as you pulled his sweats and boxers down to his thighs.

“I wanna ride you…” you wrapped your fingers around his hardened length, leaking with pre-cum. You straddled his thighs and sighed as he helped you lower yourself onto him. Sinking down to his full length.

He mumbled a strained fuck as his head fell back into the pillows. Your warmth clenching him hard as you readjusted to his length. You sat for a good while, hands firmly planted on his chest as you took the time to let him stretch you out. “Can you move yet Baby?”

“Almost” you whimpered, rolling your hips, his hands instantly gripping your hips.

“Please Baby… Please I need you to” he groaned lifting his hips, making you bounce on him. The sinful way his name fell from your lips, encouraging him.

You rocked your hips slowly at first, picking up pace feeling his hands guide you, words of encouragement on his lips. You kept rocking against him, your moans getting louder as he began to snap his hips upward to meet yours. “Fuck-I’m close, Keep going Love” he gripped your hips tighter, knowing it’d leave a bruise.

You leaned forward, holding on to the bed frame to help you get a different angle, his cock hitting far deeper in you than before. Your whole body shivering as you knew you were coming apart. The way your stomach tightened when he playfully licked your breast. “Come for me..” he whispered. “I need to feel you come for me” rocked your hips faster.

“I’m close.. I’m Ahh…” you clenched your eyes shut, trying to focus on moving your hips.

“I have to come Baby, let me pull out” when he moved to lift you off you tighten your walls around him, squeezing hard.

“Don’t you dare.”

“But-”

“Come in me please… please” you begged. “Fill me”

He was a goner. He grabbed your hips tight, slamming into you before finally coming. He rubbed your clit in a circle helping you reach your climax. “That a girl…” he panted as you collapsed on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, rubbing small circles on your back.

You peaked up at him before kissing his lips. “I love you”

He chuckled “I know Baby, I love you too. But the next time you want to get closer intimately just ask me questions, let's spin more time together. We don’t have to test our patients” he caressed your cheek.

“I know” you giggled. “But you totally caved before I did” you stuck your tongue out, teasing him.

“What? But I-” he groaned rubbing his temples “Dammit I really did” he laughed hugging you tight, rolling you over to lay beside him. “Well my consolation prize for losing was worth it” he pecked your lips softly.

End

Hey Friends! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

This was not supposed to be this long but I couldn’t help it D: I kinda wanna do a version of this for all the members. If anyone is interested in that let me know <3

∘Tags List: (If you’d like to be added to my permanent tag list let me know)

@skzsprinkles @tophuphu @hugs4chan @channieboyo @tonfilm @soobinssmile

2K notes · View notes

jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 3 years

Note

Jean with their almost full term wife just being extremely uncomfortable, they cry a lot and are just ready for the baby to be out?

Here I go... this has been in my inbox for an embarrassing amount of time but I had this plot in mind for two years and I was waiting for this moment to be animated to be able to write and post this... Listen while you read → the sound of silence by Simon and Garfunkel

Pairing: Jean/ Reader

Tags: hurt/comfort (yes my ✨favorite✨), Jean being a sweetheart

Warnings: pregnancy, grief, mentions of labor and childbirth, crying, Post Sasha's death

The Sound of Silence

The dull, gray shade that was plastered all over the sky was accompanied by an excessive stride of frozen air that was blowing on your hair, sending stray strands of (e/c) flying all over your eyes. A few droplets fell faintly in random places over you and on the freshly trimmed grass that was swaying under your feet. There was a vast variety of tombstones that surrounds you, sternly and calculated lined up tombs extend to a tragic horizon, where your eyes couldn't seem to find an end to. A few leaves were being blown around over them, as well as fresh flower petals, ones you could recognise as you had seen numerous people leave bouquets to their deceased loved ones for all the time you'd stayed here.

Inevitably, the gravestone you were resting your back on was frozen, making your whole body shiver as you lean on it, but you chose not to pay any attention to it; you simply buried your chin between your knees and closed your eyes before letting out a sigh escape you. Your stomach tightened as your chest hitched and you instinctively brought a hand to rub over your swollen tummy. You inspected the bum by running your hand around it, rubbing on a few places near your inverted belly button, pressing slightly over the top as you felt the probing piece of flesh flick in the palm of your hand underneath your dress.

When you felt a kick, a single leg movement push against the insides of your stomach, though, you took away your hand, slamming it onto the ground as you tried to grip onto the moist soil right next to you. It was kind of a peculiar feeling and even now, nine months in you were still fully uncomfortable with it. Being pregnant wasn't something you've enjoyed; rather was more like a hazard to your very health and was reason you were relieved of your soldier duties. And you secretly cursed Jean and yourself a bit for allowing this to happen.

Who on their right mind would enjoy swollen feet and back pains, who would enjoy the crazy mood swings and the fatigue that causes you to be unable of even taking a stroll around the town? Who would ever want to feel suffoccated by how big their pregnancy belly had turned? Not you. Definitely not you, but according to your mother they were supposed to be something you'd enjoy later on.

Now, you weren't so sure.

And you were so overdue yet you weren't even sure you could even take care of your child in the mental state you were in.

Sighing hard after taking a deep inhale you dug your frail fingernails into the soil, feeling the ominous tears that the angry skies were begining to pour. Your eyes lingered on the shapeless coulds, focusing onto the dull, stripped light that could barely peak from underneath them. You felt the faint river of a tear run down your cheek at the sight and the skies responded right back at you with a loud thunderclap. It almost felt as if the skies were mourning Sasha just like you. Maybe, if you tried to convince yourself, you'd believe that it was your childhood friend that cried with you due to your departure.

Feeling your body go stiff and your face go numb from the fresh needles of the cold air that was blowing on you your scrunched your nose upwards, hoping for the action to stimulate even the tiniest blood flow to the numb tip. It didn't, and the tingling sensation of a sneeze madxhed it's way to your blood vessels, scratching methodically at all the right pressure points to force it's release. Finally and with a loud blow you felt your chest go in shock as you sneezed, your whole body joltimg up on your very spot.

Still you sniffled the little drops of moisture with the inside of your elbow, you couldn't find it in you to move or get up, you couldn't even try to find an ounce of physical strength inside your body. Sashas tombstone provided some strong comfort for you though, acting as your only comforter against the cold.

"This can't be any good for you."

A soft, large and so very warm hand came to rest upon your shoulder; delicate fingers gave you a squeeze as a bulky thumb rubbed a few circles to the end of your collarbone. You didn't even have time turn your head to see who it was, frankly because you knew.

His scent, his warmth, his touch, his whole aura practially screamed his name.

"Jean?"

"It's going to rain really hard you know." He said, planting a kiss to your temple. "wanna go back?"

"No." You sniffled dangerously.

"Okay then, I-" Jean paused before squating to your level "I guess were staying here for a bit."

"Thank you."

The soft ruffle that you felt on your hair was Jeans reply and it tousled your hair slightly, allowing the shy blond to catch a tiny sniff of your sweet scent to which he sncrunched his nose slightly and proceeded to place a kiss at the top of your hair line. Then, once again, he placed another kiss on your temple.

Fidgeting with your hand while trying to undig it out of the soil, you closed your eyes at the feeling, expecting the tiniest bits of adoration to enter your body through that kiss. Jean rested his head on your shoulder from his squatting position and you smiled a tiny bit and only in the blink of an eye, exhaling a cold huff of air to his face. A sharp pain in your chest was starting to spread, pushing back away over everything else that lay inside your body, strangling the insides of your throat.

"I miss her already."

You felt your breath chock you from the insides of your throat dangerously; a tight, looking knot was finally making its binds tighter and even more evident to the depths of your stomach as it spread to your throat.

"Me too"

"And God she was more that me excited for our baby."

As you shut your eyes, in frail attempt to mute the memories of Sasha that were coming back to your vision, a single tear rolled from the corner of your eye. With a shaking hand you managed to grip onto the side of Jean's coat; the chachi makò cotton coat rubbed against your thum as if protesting for the dirt that was being wiped on it, yet Jean didn't seem to care.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for so long when you're dysphoric about pregnancy."

"Its-its fine" You sniffled, a hitched sigh escaping the depths of your throat.

"Mmm baby, it's not, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't bring Sasha back with me too she'd talk to me everyday about betting on how we're going to have twins."

As another thunderclap roared in the background, Jean found it fitting to move his aching legs and shift his position to the ground. As he took a turn, he placed another kiss just next to your eye while he took your hand in between his. With a soft thud he came to rest his body next to yours and you made a slight move to allow him a little more space before his back finally came to rest to the small tomb right behind you. A hand came to wrap around your shoulders lovingly silently begging you to push your head down to your lover's shoulder to which you eagerly complied.

"I kinda think she was right, I'm too huge, I can't even breathe properly these days." Another tiny peck was placed to the top of your head as you spoke. "To be honest," You sniffled "whatever it is I want it to be out."

"I know."

"And I don't want to accept that Sasha died, I grew up with her Jean."

"I know baby." He said and placed a new kiss to your head.

"And for the love of any fucking intelligent titan I'm so swollen and I'm angry and all that could make me happy right now would be you Connie and Sasha teasing me about it."

Jean felt your back pulp on him like a jolting lighting has just fell from the sky. He heard the hard sniffle of your nose and heard the painful sob that was stuck to the back of your throat as your sentence came to an end. This, with a burning desire to let his own heart go loose came the feeling of his own eyes stinging, his own chest jolting, his fingertips gripping onto the side of your head as if they were hanging onto you for dear life.

"All I get though is this stupid tomb!" You cried and threw a clenched first backwards towards the tomb, hitting it with all your potential might as you chocked on your next words. "This stupid fucking reminder that my best friend is dead."

It was so dearly painful. Your heart hammered in your chest in protest to your refusal to deny Sasha's death, your stomach churned in a coiling fire and the big swelling bumb under your right hand rioted against your mourning. But you failed to give a care. Your best friend in the whole world was dead.

You could still remember when you decided to join the military together, you still remembered your very first friends, you still remembered how she and Connie were the ones to help you and Jean get together. You remembered the way you'd play when you were kids and how you'd spend days sewing clothes just to play like you were paying a visit to Sina in your most elegant attire. You remembered watching her fall in love with food and with whom you had thought could be the man of her life.

You remembered every single miniscule moment of your life spent with Sasha and it crushed you.

Nevertheless when Jean's long fingers came to sway over the roots of your hair and his nose nuzzled to the top of your hairline, his lips rubbing onto your soft hair, ready to press another kiss at any given time, your face softned, taking away the chocked sob you were about to let out with it. You brought your hand to your face, pulling your sleeve to cover it up and put it to your nose to wipe the runny goo off of it.

"I know, shh" The ashy blond rubbed his chin to the side of your scalp, giving you the tiniest bit of affection from it before bringing his nose back to your head to rub it on the spot again.

Then, the way that you sighed was almost silent.

Save for the whiny hiccup that escaped you.

"Please don't cry so much, I'm going to panic."

A tiny laughter inevitably escaped you. You remembered that phrase very well. When you had caught Jean crying after Marco's memorial he had came running into your arms, sobbing like a madman and you had wispered the same words while rubbing your palms soothingly over his back. That was the same night that you decided to follow him into joining the scouts, the first night of an endless personal misery.

"It's just-" You cried "I just can't, we've lost so many people and it hurts Jean. I should have been there."

"Shh no, don't think like that."

Jean was holding back tears for you. It was evident in the way that he was shaking and jolting his head from time to time. His palm was flexed in a fist, tightly resting over your shoulder as it gripped a fold in your cloack. You only breathed harder at the realisation, feeling your chest sink in a tremendous amount of pain that left you hollow. You felt another kick coming from the inside of your stomach to which you shut your eyes to, too afraid to see the outline of a hand or a foot appear under the thin linen clothe of your dress. And just like before, another heart wrenching sob escaped you.

"I didn't want to say goodbye." Jean said quietly, his voice coming as a breath that barely brushed your ear. "You didn't even get to say goodbye and that's bad of me to say, but I didnt want to see what I saw. I didn't want to say goodbye. I don't want you to suffer. I don't want to suffer either."

"Jean.."

The sniffling of your nostrils wasn't nowhere near coming to an halt, thus the back of your sleeve was the ideal solution to your distress; had you had any more little power in your body you would reach for the handkerchief in your shoulder bad. But that couldn't be the case. Not until you could feel your feet.

"(Y/n), baby... I'm sorry. I promise I won't let anything happen to you and our baby. Even if it means I have to sacrifice my life for you to be safe."

A gasp came out of your mouth quicker than you had anticipated. The hiccup that escaped you was accompanied by another burning hot tear that run down your eye, your whole spine giving in to the wave of fear that shook you, resulting in your head jolting in shock. Your hand shot to his, gripping it with force to bring it over your stomach, your fingers clinging onto his while pressing hard in between his knuckles.

"Don't say that shit, you're not dying Jean, get that thought out of your idiotic head," You inhaled through hitches "I'm going to die a pitiful death if you leave me."

"Please don't do that." Jean clenched his teeth.

"Then don't die too you idiot."

Another rush of a few raindrops started pouring, this time even more quickly that before. The grass under your feet swayed, each spiky peak bending and bouncing as the weight of the rain hit the ground. Big blotches of water were now forming on your attire, waiting your skin as they came to connect with each other, darkening the brown color of the linen skirt you were wearing. Jean wrapped his hand tighter around you, rubbing his cheek to the top of your head again with mellow force, as if trying to assure you it would be okay for you to stay there for only just a moment more.

And you begged to listen to his silent proposition.

Letting his hand rest loosely over your swollen stomach, you took a deep breath, allowing your self to flex your toes inside your shoes. Your indstep steamed as the little strap squished you so hard that you tried your best to convince yourself you weren't going to deal with a blood clot. You hated that you had come to despise your favorite pair of shoes. All you ever wished for was that then would just fit you like normal. Still, even to that thought, the little being inside you took half a leaping turn, giving another kick to the top of your stomach.

Had Sasha been here she would have told you something to help you get your mind off of it. She would have teased Jean for not being able to keep it in his pants and you would have laughed, feeling the tentuon easing off.

Still, the kick, that most women would have found one of joy, only turned your insides like clothes swept by a tide.

"I want to throw up." You announced, half looking at Jean

"Because of the kick? Or the thought of it?"

"Maybe-maybe both."

It was then that another kiss was planted in your forehead. The raw sound of lips smacking filled the air against the drenching water of the rain, giving a little antsy essence to the gesture. Jean rubbed his closed mouth against your skin with his eyes closed in his best effort to help you calm down.

"Now now," He whispered "It wouldn't be the best thing to throw up in the cemetery, would it?"

With closed eyes, you pouted and shook your head twice in response.

"Okay then, I have a proposal for you."

"What?"

"Want to go visit Marco's grave? And then get you somewhere warm? And changed?"

Your pout intensified amd you fixated your gaze at the ground with furrowed brows. The nauseating feeling in your stomach was coiling begging to obertske you, but there was something so warm about Jean's sweet tone that fought it violently, so much that you could even feel your face loosen up as you melted under his touch.

"Yes, I'd like that."

"Okay then."

You shivered slightly as Jean took his arm off of you and dug it to the ground, giving himself a little prompt as he bend his knees closer to his body before stretching them to get up. Next, he leaned towards you, extending a long arm to your side, his thick, enormous palm stretching as it signaled you to place yours in it. Lifting a hand to his direction faintly you manages to place your palm into his and soon you managed to feel his fingers tighten a grip over your knuckles.

Still though, you couldn't find it in you to get up.

You stared at Jean with brows that screamed in apology, lifted skin littered with regretful lines. You had been feeling heavy lately. Everyone knew that, everyone who laid eyes on you questioned hoe you even managed to walk normally. But today you had struggled to get out of bed so much that you had even considered asking to be carried to Sasha's grave, knowing full well that you were too heavy for this to be a reality.

"You can do it."

"Give me a second, I can feel my lower stomach pulsating."

Jean eyed you with concern, his thumb quick to rub a circle over the knuckle of your pointer finger. You only gave him a mixed look next, squeezimg him just a little as you started pulling his hand. You had to get up. You couldn't stay in the rain until someone picked you up bridal style. Thus, you gave a little push. Just a teeny, tiny push to prompt yourself up and meet Jean halfway.

"Oh, oh crap."

In that moment you couldn't even think of a worse mistake that you had made in your nineteen years of life.

"What?"

You didn't want to believe it. No. It couldn't be happening now.

"Uhm, my water just broke."

"WHAT?"

"There's fluid leaking down my thigh and I'm pretty sure I didn't just pee myself. I wouldn't do that in a graveyard."

In between Jean's petrified expression and the trembling pain in your core, you somehow found yourself be eerily non panicked about the happening. As much as you wanted to scream from the pain, as much as you felt like your feet where going to give out, you were nowhere near turning pale yellow like Jean.

"Was this supposed to happen so suddenly?" Jean breathed heavily.

"Well" You cursed under your breath as you clutched over your stomach "I have been overdue for some days now and, ah fuck this is painful-"

"I'm really, really freaking out right now. What. Do. We. Do?"

"Calm down, let's go to Marco's grave."

"What? No!? Your waters literally broke. They broke, oh my god I'm going to be an actual father." Jean let out a chocked scream while running his other hand through his hair and gripping despairately on the roots.

"Jean, okay I migh-" A sharp pain went through your core "I still have a lot of time until my contraction is big enough for the baby to come out."

"This can't be safe."

"I'm telling you!"

Jean took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell, his shaking fingers steadied just a tiny bit, his trembling feet suddenly felt just a little more steady. This wasn't a time to panic, of course, he knew that far. The look you were giving him, even though it was pained, screamed that he could trust you; despite either of you having absolutely no idea about childbirth, he knew that having an anxiety attack this early into labor would only cause a worse experience for you.

Plus, he was the one who suggested they you'd visit Marco, and he wasn't about to say no to you at your current situation. With a hand bend over his hip, he prompted your own to snail through it for support. At least if you were going to do this, he'd basically walk you there. Pressing his lips together, Jean gave you an longing look, letting a deepnsigh escape the depths of his chest.

Eagerly you nodded at him, linking your arm with his. You softly dug your button lip under your upper flesh, trying your best not to bite into it as another rush of pain washed through you. Having contractions this frequent only meant that you had to rush and you knew that better than anyone else, but there was this little voice in the back of your brain that begged you to not take this moment away from Jean. With a final little stroke at Sasha's tomb and a tear running down your wet, stinging eyes before you matched away and to the direction of Marco's grave, you let yourself think you could hear her say a tiny good luck to you.

"Okay, let's go see Marco alright?" Jean said with a hint of glimmer in his eyes "For five minutes."

"Okay and then I'm going to go and have your child."

"Quite literally."

Taglist: @sasageyowrites @ackermans-freedom-inc @melancholicmonologue @ladyofpandemonium @levisbrat25 @callmepromise @hawkssnugget @berrijam @thethyri @nobody-knows-anymore @lzrers

#jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein imagine #jean snk #jean aot #snk x reader #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #snk imagines #snk season 4 #aot season 4 #angst

334 notes · View notes

bunchofstraydogs · 3 years

Text

Dazai Osamu in a relationship

Just a lil warning before you proceed: dis a chonky one, kay?

○

Depending on why Dazai is in a relationship affects how he will act with his partner.

If Dazai is curious about them, enough to enter the relationship,

it will last at best a handful of months, at worst about 2 weeks. Enough to get to know them, test them out in terms of reaction, values, honesty and morality, and get bored of them. Thus leading to him braking up with the person or, if he predicts that the person would react badly and cause a scene, get them to break up with him. But even that is dubious because i doubt Dazai would make the relationship official. He would probably just act as if they're dating, leading the partner to believe they actually are without having to verbally confirm anything, and then as soon as he loses interest, pulls a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't and disappears with little to no notice. Hey, he never said they were dating, he calls everyone Belladona, the fault is that person's for being delusional. Yes, he is an asshole, what did you expect of Dazai?

But if Dazai is in love?? Unrecognizable.

I will make a separate headcanon(? whatever these are I'm writing) on what i think a person should be like to sweep Dazai of his feet, but now i want to concentrate on what he would be like in such a relationship.

Is it possible for Dazai to fall in love? Absolutely. He loved Odasaku and Ango, perhaps not romantically, but he's definitely capable of love. People like him- aware of the world's cruelty, dealing with demons and guilt, roaming the world for the sole reason that they haven't died yet, hoping to find something worthwhile they can feel the need to be selfish about and call theirs; don't fall in love, they crash desperately. It takes a lot for them to feel those emotions, but when they do, they can never really let them go.

He would try to act as he usually does in public and try approaching the subject of his trepidation and disarray in many different ways. Distancing himself and going as far to actively avoid them would just come back and bite him in his boney ass. To effectively avoid someone, you need to know their schedule, hobbies, interests, habits, etc. And having learned that would just constantly remind him of them, they'd never leave his mind. He'd look on the clock, see the time and know that they'll be in that specific class because he knows their whole curriculum and class schedule/ at the grocery because they're surly out of their favourite snack/ doing black laundry and yes, he knows unnecessary details about them as well. After that disastrous failure, he comes back running and commences new ways to handle that person. These beta testings are for him as much as they are for them. Just how much and what exactly does he feel for that person, what buttons can he push and which ones he doesn't want to.

When i say Dazai in love would be unrecognizable, i mean it. Not superficially, where everyone can see it, but where it matters.

After doing his best to rail in the unfamiliar feelings under control, going as far as using some of Mori's techniques, the realization of the situation he's found himself in hits him hard.

He comes back as if nothing happened.

The deadpan that person gives him and a "Are you done with your bullshit or do you need some more time to brood about issues you made with yourself?" He doesn't even blink, "Oh, my Belladona! Does that mean you've missed me? Were you worried about me as well??"

All of this was said in your typical, Dazai maniac style, the only difference is that he actually wants an answer. He wants to hear the confirmation, in whatever form it may come- he can read between the lines and body language, just give him something to work with. He's desperate.

While the public Dazai persona won't change, his inner musings and his approach to the love interest will.

Osamu will, sometimes sneakily, usually not so subtly, immerse himself into their daily life. Get them accustomed and used to his presence. What this will do is cause a sense of familiar coexistence, that of people living together; make the person unconsciously continue to include him in their activities; learn to depend on him (not in a unhealthy, yandere way, but if their car brakes down or they're feelinh unsafe, Dazai will be the first person they feel the urge to call) because Dazai can be reliable and he will be reliable for that special person. He will also be the first person they share good news with as well, because if someone is always there for and with you, it's only natural.

Make no mistakes, Dazai is transparent only when he wants to be.

The reasons he does this is because 1) he wants to gauge their reaction to his great interest in them, 2) mask his subtle advances which are the most important part of integrating himself into their life, 3) to get that person in the position where he needs them to be for him to move on to the next phase of his plan.

Now, i may have said plan, but that's a somewhat loose term since what he'll do next depends on their reaction. He definitely has a rough outline of the whole thing in his head, but he's also adaptable and ready to react accordingly to whatever they may throw his way.

[I will be using l/i or LI for "love interest" bc I'm tired of writing that person or whatever, okay? Good.]

Once his l/i made effort to go out of their way for him or commit any type of love language, basically:

act of service- pay for his bills, massage his shoulders, buy crab based food or alchohol he really likes for their own fridge so that he can have it when he's over (often) even if they don't like those things especially then

words of affirmation- thank you Dazai, how was your sleep?, please take better care of yourself i can't help you if you're not making an effort

physical touch- ruffle his hair, lean on him when tired, hold his hand or wrist because it's crowded and it would be a pain to search for you Dazai

gift giving- "I noticed you were running out of bandages", "I bought you food, figured your lost case would forget to eat", "saw this mackerel, reminded me of you^^" "BELLADONA, NO >:("

quality time- spending nights with him because he has insomnia, playing games at the arcade, drive around town run from the cops

He would be overwhelmed. In the best way possible. He'd feel overwhelmingly good and pleasant and warm and worried.

He didn't feel like this, ever.

Not even with Odasaku and Ango. They were probably his first friends, but that's the thing. They didn't make his heart race, they didn't throw him into panic attacks, they didn't overwhelm him, they didn't keep him up at night because he couldn't get them out of his head or completely monopolise his mind during the day.

He gets panic attacks.

A lot of them, actually. Usually he can fake being fine, but sometimes he hyperventilates and can't breathe and all that he can smell is the blood on his hands and his chest is as hollow as l/i's eyes. He knows what can happen. They can and will be used against him. Hell, it could even be an accident. He is vulnerable just because they exist and he can't do shit about it.

He could do his thing: pull some strings, have them move to another country and never speak to each other ever again. He has the power, but he lacks the strength. He could do it, but he doesn't want to. His thumb won't press the numbers, his voice died out, his mind went blank.

The wind blows and it carries their scent with it. The bells ring and it's their laughter that resonates within. His bandages ruffle and it's the warmth of their touch he feels. He's dying, but he's not just ready yet to leave. Hopefully, Odasaku will patiently keep a seat for him.

That was what gave him away, actually.

That's when Ranpo realised, with zero doubt, that Dazai Osamu is in love.

Dazai could be going on and on about suicide.

Enter l/i.

"I found an amazing tree yesterday with really sturdy branches. I wanted to test them out today, but i promised l/i I'd go to the new bakery with them today and who would they go with if i die?? Unacceptable!"

Ranpo: "A new bakery? I'll happily take your place."

"UNACCEPTABLE!!"

With every panic attack he feels stranded on an island in the sea of death.

He's exhausted. For the first time he finally wants to escape alive. Then they walk in and the storm in the sea moves to his heart. And into his stomach and his hands and his knees.

"I'm here for you, Osamu. Everything is going to be fine."

His insomnia goes by a different name now.

It still keeps him up at night and makes him restless.

But this time, when he fills his nth glass of whiskey for the night, when the TV is muted and the trafic quiet, when he can hear their breathing beside him in their shared bed, he raises the glass to hope for the halcyon days.

●

Fucking finally. You think you're exhausted, you waste of bandages?? I have a final today I'm going to fail and actually wrote about your musky ass. You try doing that with my brain.

Hope you guys like it and if you made it this far, here's a cup of ☕ or 🍵, whichever you prefer. I wrote him as i see and envision him. Hope it all makes sense. He's a complicated character, but he is still human and he is not immune to emotions.

Have a good one~☆

I will probably come up with more things for him, because i doubt i covered everything, but for now this shall do.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu headcanons #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu in a relationship

193 notes · View notes

kanene-yaaay · 3 years

Text

Go to Sleep

Kanene’s note: Gosh, having a schedule is weird. I just wanna post everything I already wrote and ramble non stop about it asdfgtyujkigfdo. XD

Well, this was suppose to be a drabble, but it’s very long so sdftyujikgfred. I hope you like it!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders from the serie Sanders Sides.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic. If you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Virgil with Ler!Roman. Around 1.500 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Listen a bit to the birds today. Changing the way you think is not a bad thing. Drink water, sleep, eat and love!

[~*~]

Roman growled, missing by a few inches the button of his thunderous, infuriating alarm before finally hitting it. Staring and blinking lazily at the numbers his brain struggled to discern and recognize, only to confirm it was really time to wake up and start the day. He grabbed his pillow and squeezed it with all the strength he could muster, rolling from one side to other on the mattress, trying to wake up his body as quick as his mind and almost falling from the bed a reasonable number of times during the process.

He got up, yawing, stretching and humming as the first lyrics of the day stuck on his head, hand rubbing at his eyes as he followed the kitchen’s direction with slow steps and tired sways on the beat of the song.

Two dark, wide eyes stared right back at him, their owner completely frozen on the spot with his hand inside the cabinet, probably already holding some sort of a snack. Roman also stopped mid-step, gears running inside his mind, gaze locked on the other, his brow progressively furrowing.

“Virgil,” he began, voice slightly hoarse “What the heckty heck are you doing up? It’s barely seven in the morning!” Virgil only stared back, slowly closing the cabinet’s door, as if afraid the movement would startle the other. Roman proceeded to get some eggs and other cold ingredients from the refrigerator for the breakfast, his words growing more awake and vivid as they spilled with no filter or whatsoever from his lips. “You got an early shift again or something? Those are absolutely hellish. A bunch of people exhausted, tired and glaring at you as if you are the holder of all their problems and their solutions can only be achieved by being insufferable pieces of- Urg. I can’t believe they would give you one right after you got the night one. Damn, I didn’t even see you arriving here yesterday!”

He turned his attention back at the other, looking for a kind of frustration in the place of the still startled, wide gaze which continued to be directed at him. Virgil nodded slowly, stepping away and putting some physical distance between him and the confusion on Roman’s features.

Then, between the strings of sleepiness that clouded his brain, it clicked.

Suddenly more details on the other’s behavior started to become clearer: the way Virgil’s hair was messier than his usual ““style”” (Roman scoffed mentally, thinking that if he rolled his eyes any harder they would never come back to his normal place again), his wary, yes, but way too much slow movements, the way he seemed to be unable to stop blinking at every millisecond and, above it all, the final piece of the puzzle.

Virgil wasn’t wearing his pajamas.

“YOU DIDN’T!” Roman gasped, as if Virgil’s life choices were a personal attack. “YOU DIDN’T GET ANY SLEEP LAST NIGHT!!” A turn of heels and he was again fixating his glare on the other, his free hand accusingly pointing in his direction, receiving an annoyed hiss as immediate answer.

“Shut up!” Virgil snarled, practically growling back at him. “It’s fucking seven am don’t be so freaking loud.”

“Don’t change the subject! Why didn’t you go to sleep?”

The one being questioned just snorted, half amused. “Bold of you to assume I’d ever sleep in my whole life.”

“That is it.” Virgil didn’t even have the time to wonder the meaning of his friend’s sentence before the aforementioned picked him up, resulting to a not very contained shriek escaping from his lips and his hands not much gracefully – or gently, although since they were keen on just jumping on each other out of nowhere to play fight Princey would be fine - meeting his friend’s face.

“Roman! What the he-”

“Did you just SLAP me? My beautiful face?! Before my own beautiful eyes??” Virgil Storm always got, even if he would never admit this out loud, surprised with Roman’s capacity of doing a series of offended incoherent noises which evolved to words before being carefully metamorphosed in weird noises all over again, and in the end still managing to form comprehensible sentences. His surprise did nothing to quell the grumpy snark immediately flying from lips, though.

“And I’m going to do it again if you don’t let me go in this exact instant.”

“You go and try to help and that is the acknowledgement you get,” The one wearing pajamas with little crows printed on it huffed, mumbling in a lower tone as he noticed the sharp gaze being thrown in his direction. “fucking unbelievable.”

“I still can hear you, Princey. You’re literally carrying me.”

“I sTiLL cAn HeAr yOu-OW! Ow! Ow!” The sentence was interrupted when the sleep deprived one punched Roman’s shoulder. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Let me fucking gAAH!” In a way his wish was granted, one could say as they watched his protest being cut as Storm was impolitely tossed on his bed, Roman quickly following his friend on the mattress, arms hugging him from behind, and physically preventing him from escaping his current soft predicament. “Prince, you’re dead.”

“Shhh, no talking. We’re sleeping.”

“We are not. You are being a pain in ass and I am about to defenestrate you.” Despite his fervent protests, his sharp, flaming glare began to lose its heat, his body not doing any actual effort to free himself from the other’s – strong, good - grip, muscles starting to relax against the great warmth involving him in a comfortable and secure blanket.

“Sure, sure, mister Grumpy Pants, you can do that when you wake up.” He tightened a bit his hold around Virgil, yet being the most careful as possible, actively ignoring the annoyed hiss his friend gave him. His hoodie was really fluffy at the touch, slightly remembering his stuffed animals he frequently hugged to sleep.

For a moment, everything was pleasantly quiet. The one with smudged makeup, since he hadn’t time to get it off before being trapped by his roommate and best friend, felt the tiredness becoming sleepiness as the seconds went by.

…That was until an electric sensation shot across his spine, leading him to almost jump in the same place

“S-stop nuzzling me!”

“Hm? Oh sorry.” Virgil pressed his lips tightly closed, preventing the wobbly giggles to escape as Roman speaks, not realizing how close his mouth was from the base of his neck, every breath sending tickly shocks across every nerve. “You’re just too much sooooft.”

Roman opened an eye when realized that no snark remark from the other followed his words, the figure in his arms shaking too much to be asleep. A frown painted his feature as he readjusted the position of his hands, trying to get a bit more of balance to look at Virgil’s face when suddenly a high-pitched yelp escaped, cutting the air and immediately catching their attention.

“Did you just squeal?” He questioned as his glare assumed a playful shine seeing a blush spread on his now frozen friend.

“It was NOT a squeal! It was a yelp.” Virgil’s words came so fast that they almost tripped on themselves. Roman snorted, a smile taking over his face. “Get off me!” and, in the moment the one wearing a hoodie tried to pry his hand from the spot on his right side where it was resting, the pieces finally clicked in the right place and his smile quickly submerged, giving space to a smirk.

‘No WAY Doctor Doom and Gloom is ticklish!’

However, the red lover only blinked as the true personification of innocence and naiveness, his hand firm in its place, fingers starting to slowly move, light pokes being delivered on the sensitive skin. “But why that, Knight Mare? It’s cold and all I could ever want is just to hug my bestest friend!”

“You already hugged me, now go aWAY!” His voice trembled in the last second, the exact moment his thumb experimentally scratched the spot right under the lowest ribs, leading a surprised squeak to leave Virgil’s mouth.

They both stared at each other, gleaming, filling their wide eyes.

“No.” Virgil said, trying to squirm away but finding himself stuck between Prince and the wall. Roman didn’t even attempt to hide his smug grin, anymore. This was going to be so much fun

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you freaking dare!!” His friend only laid down again, now carefully, yet firmly, pulling him one more time against his chest, growling playfully. Years and years fighting for the Tickle Monster title on his family, battles and battles against Remus only sharpening his skills, which showed by the way his fingers seemed to find every single weak spot on Virgil’s skin, wiggles, scribbles, pokes and scratching exploring everywhere. “No! Nononono! You fucker, you moron, you bitch, you-” A few chuckles cut his curses as he one wearing pajamas squeezed his side a couple of times, the tip of his fingers also teasing his ticklish stomach. “Roman!!”

“No, no, my so dear, so ticklish, friend. Roman is no longer here, this is…” He paused for a dramatic effect, basically beaming at the giggly giggles and wiggly wiggles from the other. He shoved his face on his neck, the next words vibrating almost as bad as the spidering on his ribs. “The Tickle Monster!!”

#Cursing #This is inspired on a meme I saw that was basically two beans staring each other like ':0' with the legend 'Me waking up at 5 AM' and-#- 'My roomate going to sleep at 5 AM'#Idk why but this is so funny to me xDDD #I will probably use that exact scenario in others fics in the future #Lee!Virgil #Ler!Roman #Ticklish!Virgil #Sanders Sides tickles #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Fic #Kanene's Art #I couldn't write the tickles here for some reason xDD Honestly if someone want to continue the idea/fic pls feel free to!#I really like this idea xP

117 notes · View notes

bloomyagi · 3 years

Text

bewitched (m)

summary: bakugou has always loved you.

pairings: bakugou katsuki x f!reader, hawks x f!reader (nsfw)

genre: characters are aged up, 20+, pro heroes au

warnings: allusions to cheating, angst, porn w/ lots of feelings, shower sex, kinda subby bakugou, he’s basically lovesick n soft for u, keigo is a good birdie, he would never do this irl

length: 3,518

notes: hello! my first bnha fic, please be kind <3 please let me know what you think! i’ve been so obsessed w/ jjk & bnha recently skdjkjf. send help

It comes down softly at first. The droplets whispering against windshields, ghosting across bare arms, a trick of the light. Then a pause, like the darkening clouds are reconsidering their decisions. There is no wind, no anger in the way it pelts down, darkens the concrete. Like resignation, like relief. It soaks bone, sends most civilians packing as they duck under awnings and flee into shops in anticipation of a short-lived flare.

But it is summer, and the rain is welcome as a remedy against the oppressive heat. Many onlookers merely move their belongings closer to avoid the stream, gaze out glass windows longingly. Some find inspiration, others find peace.

You stand in the middle of it all, drenched and unmoving as you watch your lover wrap his arms around his secretary, and you wonder whose mood this pathetic fallacy is expected to reflect as you look across to meet familiar eyes.

He, too, mirrors your stance. Clothes sodden, yet the nature of its designs only lends to plaster themselves closer to his skin. His irises are that bright, burning red. He is not fizzling, heated against the affair before him. Instead, his gaze is trained on you.

There is no fury, no sadness, no emptiness. His gaze is not hollow, it is instead strangely warm. Your chest squeezes, tightening in the way you experience when you read a novel laced in tragedy, that welling feeling of anguish and sorrow.

His hands are shoved in his pockets, and though his eyes remain fastened to you, he makes no step to move closer.

The sky lightens, a thin streak of sun peering through in a solitary beam. The sounds seem to press close again, like a bubble popping in your ear.

The summer storm is tempered as quickly as it appeared, the sound of life—laughter, the splashing of sneakers drowning in newly formed puddles—and the lingering smell of renewed earth and the chirping of birds as they shake off their wings to take flight.

Water drips silently down the pair of gorgeous wings before you. They flutter briefly, flicking off the thin layer that pooled on its surface, before unfurling to fold over her. He pulls her closer, separating only every so often to breathe.

Shameless, is all you think plainly. And you are—ashamed. That feeling catches you by surprise, breath caught in your throat as the feeling expands, takes root in your lungs. It is that hindsight, that disappointment—at yourself—that has you lowering your eyes.

He is still looking at you, even as someone squeals and a crowd gathers, pushing and shoving to press close, stays rooted to his spot, watching you, even as the couple finally break apart, dishevelled—she adjusts her pencil skirt, re-buttons her blouse; he runs a hand through his golden locks, fixes his half-open shirt—and Hawks’ chuckle rings across the street, one arm braced around her waist as he signs autographs and takes photos. She is glowing beside him, all smiles and shrill laughter. Her nails, perfectly manicured and sharp, digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. He likes it.

You stifle a dry laugh. Turning on your heel, you disappear into the thickening crowd.

He himself is being pawed at, hands fawning at his exposed arms, clutching at him like he is fresh off the conveyer belt.

He waits until he can no longer discern your retreating figure before bearing a half-smile at the crowd. He takes the pen that is shoved into his face, and he begins signing autographs.

Time and experience have tempered his constitution. He has accepted his flaws, worked on them until he could proudly stand on the same stage as his—friends. Because that is what they are—these people that have helped him grow, comforted his trauma, stayed with him despite it all. What else could he call them but the very things they are—they are the pillar of his strength. Because of you, I learned I could be strong for the things I care about.

He is not number one. He has no need for such a title, no need for such a goal anymore. He is no longer the brash, easily angered teenager that charged for the strongest.

“I don’t care what they call me, what rank I am, or what they think of me. I only want the power to protect these people. That’s it.” He thinks back to your words.

You are not often solemn. You laughed a lot, the slow-appearing crinkles to the corner of your eyes a physical testament to your innate joy. You liked to take delight in the ordinary things. Perhaps that is what drew him to you—that strength. To shoulder the burden of your chosen role in this society, to have the bravery to smile amongst the suffering.

There was always an unbidden heat that surged in his chest when he thought of you. That odd feeling of a knot tying itself in his stomach when his skin brushed yours. When you fell from the height of a skyscraper, half-conscious from defeating a new breed of nomu, his heart stuttered and leapt in halting beats to throat as he split from his team, their screams for you ringing in his ears, the rush of badump-badump closing in rapidly, pushing his beaten body to its limits, faster, faster, faster—please! Who was he praying to at the time? He was begging anyone who was listening to give him that push—the gap was too big, you were too far, he was too tired, too useless, too broken—he slammed into you with enough force to compel blood up his throat.

He spat it to the side quickly, not bothering to wipe himself clean before he turned to you. The first thing he registered was warmth. You were limp in his hold, on the edge of passing out, exhaustion lining every curve of your face. Your lips quirked, eyes closed.

“Hurts like hell,” you slurred. “Falling from heaven.”

He stared at you, blinking the blood from his lashes.

And then he threw his back and laughed. It was a full-bodied, uproarish laughter. The type that rumbled from his chest. He shook, though he was careful not to jostle you, and you managed a quiet chuckle.

The adrenaline faded from his body, and he hiccupped as he slumped onto the concrete beam behind him. The ice receded from his veins.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured. It was a quiet plea. Don’t do that ever again, is what he really wanted to say, but how could he? This was the occupational hazard of your shared line of work. This was the risk. His eyes burned, half-lidded as he held you closer.

You couldn’t lift a single limb on your body, so you lean into him.

“No promises.”

It was enough. Your voice was raspy, drained, but there was a sincere lilt to it.

He wanted to say something more, then, but first responders arrived and whisked you separate ways before he could gather his thoughts.

He regrets it, to this day. Perhaps if he had said something then, said something sooner, the scene would have played out differently.

He does not have many regrets, have long resolved to move on from his past and mistakes. “What a useless emotion,” you once told him. “Don’t wallow. Mourn and move on. Do better. That’s what you owe. That is what you are owed.”

But this—this he will always regret.

He finds you on the roof of your penthouse.

“I like it. Being able to see everything from up here.” The first time he’d peered over the edge, he’d been enlisted for furniture rearranging. You handed him a beer, beckoning him over, jerking your head to the scenery below. And it was—breathtaking. You were breathtaking. He hadn’t even bothered to entertain a cursory glance. It was summer then, too, and the evening breeze was light as it brushed your locks back. Lights began to flicker as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. He briefly considered making a similar move.

But moving was a hassle, only further proven by the efforts of today, so he dismissed the thought quickly, taking another swig. He was sweaty, a layer of grime a film over his skin from the manual labour he’d been voluntold for most of the afternoon. It was petty work compared to his—their—day job, but it was still a strangely refreshing workout.

“What are you feeling?” His steps are muted, voice faint. It carries on the back of a shallow gust.

You don’t spare him a look, staring into the distance. You’re sitting, one leg thrown casually over the ledge, the other pulled to your stomach. He’d made an off-hand comment once about adding some railings, but you’d rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully.

Pussy, you called. He chuckled. Like we don’t experience enough life-threatening dangers on a regular basis, he snarked.

All the more reason, then, you shot back. He fell silent then, the pulsing in his throat returning.

He could never really read you. Eyes are the window to the soul. He scoffs internally. Whoever said that must’ve known it was a load of bullshit. Your eyes never said anything. But his—his said everything he couldn’t, and more.

You hum. “Would it be cliché if I said I wasn’t surprised, only disappointed?”

“No.”

“Then I’m disappointed. I had hoped, I suppose, that he would choose differently.”

He tastes the words that I would be enough between, and the sigh of to change him that escapes your lips.

“You knew who he was when you went into this,” he says quietly. No judgement—he is not reminding you of your poor decisions, rather striking a conversation in the same manner one would inquire about the weather.

Quant, you think. And a few years ago, you would have added out of character. But now it is not so—he has grown into himself well.

You tilt your head back. He leans against the wall, arms crossed across that well-built chest of his, shirt straining against the muscle. He’s so tall now—so much taller than anyone had expected him to be. That wild, unruly blond hair of his has remained the same, appearing spiky but soft to the touch. And his eyes—they are gentle but retain the ferocity he is well-known for.

“Yes,” you say after a while. “That is why I am not surprised. But these feelings won’t just disappear overnight because of this.”

He’s quiet for a while, those crimson orbs of his trailing over your expression. You don’t know what he finds, but he must understand your position because he nods.

“I’ll wait for you.”

This—this is a surprise. Somehow, he always manages to surprise you.

“After all this time?” You ask softly.

“Always,” he says quietly.

He leaves, and when you return to the house, you pick up the keys he left on your counter. Twirling them on one finger, you smile to yourself.

Thank you. You know he knows.

“I tried to be the person you wanted me to be,” he says.

“I tried, I really did. But this is who I am, who they made me. I can’t change. I’m sorry,” he says.

He says a lot more, you think, but you’ve long since stopped listening. He knows these are only flimsy barriers that excuse his behaviour. He knows he is not this person. He is not broken, he is worthy of much, much more. He just needs to believe it. They took everything from him. That is what he thinks, how he lives. Like he has no real purpose.

Instead, he is stopped, wings flaring as you reach for him. You smell familiar, and that ache in his heart deepens. He will forever regret losing you, but you deserve more. He is not good for you, and he is not your responsibility. His growth is his obligation. Perhaps, when he is ready, he will find you again.

But by then, he thinks, burying his face into your shoulder, you will have already chosen differently.

“I love you, baby bird. I will always love you,” he presses these words against your neck in a soft whisper, voice cracking, like a prayer, he tries to sear his truth into your skin. He tastes salt on his tongue.

And, between it all, he traces I’m sorry.

You squeeze him once.

You know.

“Hey.”

You’re uncharacteristically shy, cheeks puffing in that sweet smile of yours.

That sharp, familiar warmth blooms in his chest at the sight of you perched on the arm of his leather couch. You look comfortable, relaxed, like you—belonged here, his mind supplies helpfully.

He steps out of his boots, unbuckling his support items and setting them on the counter to clean later. He’s a little worse for wear tonight, shoulders tight from chasing rogue villains the past few hours. The tension seeps away steadily, though, the longer he drinks you in.

You look good. You always look good. Gorgeous, even more so when you’re tired and dirty, covered in blood and dust and debris. It’s been so long since you patrolled together, pulled to opposite ends of the city the past few months.

“Hey,” he says back.

“Shower?” You take his hand.

He trails behind you, nearly tripping over in his haste to follow, failing to register your words in time. This must be a dream, he decides. And he will play along, as he always does in these fits of delirium. He will hold you and have you and love you in ways he cannot begin to describe, and then he will lose you as dawn breaks and he wakes to an empty bed. But he falls anyway, does it over and over until he feels like he will go insane from the sheer longing. He is addicted to you.

You haven’t spoken, not really, since that night on the rooftop. So you, being here, without any prior warning, touching him, smiling at him, leading him to his fucking shower—this must be a dream, right?

You push open the door to his bathroom. It’s big, he’s always been meticulous about his health, and enjoys his fair share of long soaks and hot showers.

He realizes a beat too late that you’re undressing him. He exhales sharply when you tug his shirt off, but before he could say anything, you murmur, “You smell like caramel. You always do. It’s just a little stronger than usual.”

“Oh.” He sounds a little breathless, a little strangled. Unlike him, but he has never really been anything but himself with you. He’s still discovering new sides to himself, it seems.

Oddly enough, he’s the farthest thing from embarrassed as he steps out of his pants and boxers. He’s flushed, but the heat that floods his veins is nothing short of delicious. It makes his head spin, makes him lean into your touch.

You strip quickly, tossing your costume fabric aside his for laundry. He sucks in an audible breath at the sight of your nude body. Beautiful, he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat, and he reaches out with a shaky hand to thumb the smear of grease on your cheek.

You smile, pushing open the frosted glass doors and pull him inside.

The temperature is perfect. He likes it hot on days like today, muscles relaxing as the water washes away his fatigue.

“You know me so well,” he says.

You push him under the stream, water cascading between the two of you. His locks flatten under the pressure, falling over his eyes. You run a hand through his hair, pushing it back as you press yourself flush against him.

“Yes,” you answer. “I do.”

And then you kiss him. A low purring echoes through the space. Ah, it’s me, some part of him thinks absently. He opens his mouth instantly, tongue lapping at yours, arms coming around to hold you close. He can distinctly feel the way your perked nipples rub against his pectorals. He can taste you. And you are sweet, so sweet and the lewd sounds of your make out reverberating in the room so vividly he knows this is not, in fact, a mere conjuration of imagination after all.

He loathes to part from you, but he does. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring him to reality. He looks at you searchingly, beseechingly. If you are here, you can only be here for one reason.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I’m sorry, I know it must’ve been painful. I’m here now, I promise I’ll never leave again,” you say, cupping his cheek.

His breath catches. His eyes flutter shut.

“You promise?” He sounds so small, so weak. Vulnerable. He would’ve hated that, once, but he is no longer that person. Today, he can accept he is weak for you. Always has been. And that’s okay, he thinks. He doesn’t have to be strong all the time.

“Yes. I promise, Katsuki.” You press your forehead against him, standing on your tippy toes.

He kisses you again, swallows your dreamy sigh, one hand on the back of your head, the other crushing your body against his. He wants you close, needs you close. Needs to feel you, this is real, right?

“Yes,” you whisper, and he realizes belatedly that he spoke aloud. “This is real. I’m here. I’m right in front of you.” You take his hand and press it against your upper rib cage, where your heart beats. Fast, like the wings of a hummingbird.

He can’t help it. He takes you against the wall, so pent up from years of pining he can hardly think, rutting into you like a teenager in heat, feeling like he’s a virgin again, every trace of your skin so new, he maps them out first with his eyes, then his hands and mouth. He slows down when you call his name in a haze of pleasure, takes the time to worship you, find what makes you tick, watches your expression raptly as he rolls his hips, as he tweaks your nipples, palms your ass, litters a necklace of freshly bloomed violets on your collarbone.

He’s panting your name, you’re murmuring praises in his ear, tugging at his locks and biting down on his shoulder and he cums so hard his vision whitens.

The two of you slide down, his legs giving out in the aftershocks, until he’s sitting on the floor of his shower and you’re curled up on his lap.

The water is—miraculously—still hot.

You lay there for a while, and he catches his breath between lazy kisses, enjoying the way your hands roam his chest languidly.

Finally, he stands, letting you down reluctantly to actually clean yourselves. You giggle at the pout that forms when your feet touch the ground once more.

You wash his hair, massaging methodically as he dips his head back to let the foam drain. He takes great pleasure in this, at the way you spread a generous amount of body wash on your palms and begin scrubbing the grime from his skin.

He jolts forward, letting out a low groan as you squeeze his flaccid cock teasingly. He glances away, eyes half-lidded, at the heated look you give him when his cock hardens immediately.

“You underestimate how easily you turn me on,” he says plainly. Not a hint of embarrassment. And why should he be? You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I love it,” you murmur.

You rinse him off before turning. His length presses against your ass, but he makes no move to seek anything further, focused on washing you.

Satisfied, he turns off the water.

You step out, toweling each other off. He pulls you to him, inhaling deeply. He likes that you smell like him now.

Afterwards, you are tucked in close, covers pulled up and he’s buried his face in your chest, bare legs tangled.

Perhaps it’s the novelty, the feeling of finally, but you can’t get enough of one another. You wake each other multiple times throughout the night, clawing at each other, ripping his boxers and your—his—shirt from each other until you were pressed tightly together, bare, a thin sheen of sweet already coating your bodies.

A thin strip of moonlight peeks through the cream curtains. He gazes up at you, thinks everything in his life has been leading up to this moment. That warmth swelling again, as it always does, so intense it has him arching his back. You touch his cheek, smiling. Something lands on the side of his pillow. Ah. You lean down, lips warm as they kiss away his tears.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

He closes his eyes.

Thank you.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bakugo smut #hawks smut #bakugo x you #hawks x you #bakugou x reader

274 notes · View notes

macnevercries · 3 years

Text

Intoxicating(Sero x F!Reader)

Genre- fluff, friends to lovers, smut (mostly smut but with storyline)

Word count: 4250

Warnings- drug use, shotgunning, fingering, penetrative sex, praise kink, stoner hanta, hand fetish, mutual pining, sero being a gentleman, size kink?

Notes- This is my first fan fiction so I’m sorry if it’s bad, please enjoy! This was inspired by High Enough by K.Flay https://open.spotify.com/track/1qwno7xb5mJe71xtMS6jl2?si=-5ErHlgtTo-WD_SHyGL6uw

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Are you on your way yet?” Mina spoke over the phone, pressuring you into coming to a hangout for once. You had missed all of the bakusquad meetups for a week and Mina was tired of being the only girl there.

“Minaaaaa, it’s awkward. I can't face Sero and the rest of them after I confessed to him” you spoke shyly.

“Y/N, you were drunk, He was drunk. We were all drunk. I don't think he even remembers it, I barely even remember that night.” she said convincingly. It was likely that Mina didn't remember it, she was a lightweight after all.

“Even if he doesn't remember, I do. And I can't do it.” you spoke, holding your ground.

“You haven't shown up for a week. If you don't come tonight I’ll tell Sero what happened so it won't even matter if he remembers. Be there at 7, it’s movie night.” Before you could answer Mina hung up the phone.

“Mina wait-” you spoke hurriedly. Shit, Now you actually had to show up. And worst of all the movie was at Sero’s house tonight. Despite not going to see any of your friends this week, you had the group's schedule memorized and knew where the bunch would be tonight. Sighing, you got out of bed and checked the clock, 5:04, I’ll hop in the shower and have a light dinner before I go over, You thought to yourself before walking over to the bathroom and hopping in the shower, closing the glass door. You looked in the mirror through the door watching as the hot water poured over your bare skin. If Sero does remember, would he even return my feelings?

You pulled up to Sero’s apartment complex, fresh damp (H/C) hair and PJs on. It was already 7:15 and you were basically running up the stairs to ensure that Mina wouldn't do anything stupid. You barged in the door and five pairs of eyes turned to look at you as your chest heaved, soft black shorts ridden up your thighs, cream-colored tank top straps falling off of your shoulders and a dark green oversized zip up hoodie barely hanging on your arms. It was mid-summer so you had dressed lightly, Sero’s small apartment didn't have very good ventilation and having five extra bodies sure didn't help.

As you calmed down, walking into the room you scanned your friends for shocked looks or anything that would point towards the fact that Mina had spilled. You saw nothing out of the ordinary, Sero and Denki were standing by the counter, rolling joints. Bakugou and Kirishima chatting calmly, which was out of the ordinary for the usually enraged blonde. Mina was looking at you, seeming relived and happy. Sero stared at you extra long after everyone acknowledged your presence. You looked beautiful. Cheeks red and flushed from the running, (H/C) hair messy and disheveled, (E/C) eyes boring into him. Oh shit you were looking at him. He quickly looked away and continued where he was before, clearing his mind of the way you had looked at him. Trying to focus oh his joint, rolling it carefully between his thin and long fingers Denki spoke

“Real smooth bro, what was that look about? Is she mad at you or something?”

“I have no idea, I don't remember at least.” Sero returned, still confused.

“Weird,” Denki mumbled, lighting his joint and walking over to the couch plopping himself down in between Mina and Kirishima. Sero walked over to his hammock, the joint in his hand looked incredibly small, carefully placed between his fingers as he took a drag, light gray filling the space around his head. As he sat down, swinging a little you looked around and noticed there were no more seats. You had always known Sero’s apartment was small but with the tension in the air it felt ten times smaller. Having the old brown leather couch covered in Sero’s tape from rips being filled by Mina, Denki, Kirishima and Bakugou, you opted to sit on the floor.

“Wait wait wait, (Y/N) you don't have to do that, come sit in the hammock with me.” Sero spoke, smoke billowing out of his lips. You clenched around nothing and your heart beat frantically. You had always thought Sero was so attractive, but when he smokes? Don't get me started, he was like another person.

“You sure?” you asked. “I don't want to invade your space and I’m really fine with the floor.”

“I’m sure, you're my guest and my friend. Don't be stupid.” Sero said flatly. He was confident in his answer and he knew he had done the right thing when you started walking over, slowly climbing into his hammock. Swinging back and fourth he got a nice view, his lazy dark eyes settling on your ass, shorts riding up as you stretched over the lanky man. You scooted around and settled between his legs, there wasn't really anywhere else to go.

Turning around, you looked him in the eye as if to ask if where you were sitting was okay. He looked back at you, his signature smile settling on his face, he took a quick puff from the shortening joint in his hand and blew it into your face. You coughed, waving the smoke away as your eyes started to water. You punched Sero in the arm turning back around and looking at the TV. You felt him chuckle, sending vibrations through your body. Your heart thrummed and you squeezed your thighs together.

Sero laid back, pulling you to his chest. The smell of citrus, sage, and weed filled your nose. As you lay there feeling more comfortable than you had been in weeks, you couldn't help but wonder if Sero had heard your confession the other day. You pointed your eyes towards the screen avoiding Mina’s prodding gaze as she clicked the play button.

You settled back into Sero’s chest and you could feel yourself drifting asleep. The up and down of his chest, the warmth of his body, his overwhelming smell, the soft cotton of his flannel, all mixed with the sounds from the TV and Sero’s occasional laughs sending soft jolts of excitement and nervousness through your body all lulling you to sleep. Before you knew it, you were out cold and flipped over, hugged into Sero’s chest, your breath tickling his neck. He couldn’t help but feel excited. He had had a crush on you since high school and here you were, your soft breasts pressed up against him, legs entangled with his while your now dry hair brushed his nose.

The movie ended and everyone slowly shuffled out. It was now 10pm and you were dead asleep, now slightly drooling on the black haired man’s shirt. Oh man, how he wanted to tilt up your face and kiss you. Your soft pink lips were right in front of him. But he knew he couldn't. There was no way you felt that way about him. “You're so beautiful” he whispered into the top of your head, nuzzling his face in your hair and smelling your shampoo before scooting up into a sitting position and carefully wrapping his arms around you as to not wake you. He carried you to his room, his strength had always been startling despite his fairly lean build. He set you on the bed in a mound of pillows, throwing a light blanket over you. As he detached his arms from you, you mumbled “mmm Hanta don't leave, you smell so good.” His breath hitched. He knew you were asleep and probably had a second hand high but he couldn't help himself. He kissed your forehead and retreated to his shower, intent on reliving his now growing issue.

You wake up, feeling a little fuzzy but well rested in a mound of pillows. You could hear the shower running in an adjacent room, through the wooden door to your left. You didn't recognize where you were but you could assume it was Sero’s room. You had never been in here before, looking around it wasn't anything like you had imagined for years on end. There were red LED lights and twinkly fairy lights around the ceiling, circling the room in a soft haze. Band posters littered the walls and there was a mandala tapestry behind the bed. The floor was hard wood, like the rest of his house, but in here, it felt different. Everything was more comforting, Sero was comforting. Sitting up and realizing what bed you were in, you immediately laid back down and enjoyed the softness of his pillows. His usual citrus and sage scent enveloping the room, this was your heaven.

You sat back up as you heard the shower turn off, the bathroom light flickered out as the door opened, Sero exiting. He looked delicious. His wet black hair clung to his neck, one of his long pale arms reaching up with a towel to dry it. Sweat shorts and a baggy t-shirt, water dripping off of him. You still felt a little dazed, you almost pounced on him except for the small amount of self control that you still had in you. He walked over to the bed and grabbed your chin, you heart halted. “How are you feeling? Still tired?” He asked, tilting your head from side to side in his enormous hands, checking your physical wellbeing.

“I-I’m fine Hanta, let go of me” you mumbled, embarrassed by how red you had gotten. You hoped it would be drowned out by the lighting.

It was not unusual for you guys to call each other by your first names, you had been best friends since high school and now you were in college, aspiring heroes. Still, whenever his first name came out of your lips, he was done for. The way you looked right now, clothes strewn and hair progressively getting messier over the night, your foggy mindset obvious in the way you slurred out your words. He wanted to know if he could make it worse, if he could wreck you beyond recognition. He wanted you, messy, broken, calling his name like it was the only word you knew. Letting go of your face, he slowly traced his fingers down your jaw. He sighed, reaching into his beside table, pulling out his stash.

He sat down on the bed across from you and started rolling his second joint of the night. You didn't see it well before, so you paid attention now. It was his art, every small movement of his digits and the rolling of the paper, it was obvious he had been doing this for years. Ever since you guys reached legal age, him and Kaminari had become stoners. Sero was dedicated to it, but Denki just kinda did it when he felt like it. No matter how often you had seen Sero do this, pinching the smoke between his large fingers, the small paper roll making his already large hands look gigantic, you would never get used to it. You had memorized everything about this man, especially including his hands. His slender palm rising from his even skinnier and boney wrist, long and rough fingers, scars here and there. The tendons in the back of his hand, emerging when he moved, light purple veins tracing his whole upper arm. The placement of his knuckles, his chipped black nail polish topping everything off. You had long imagined these hands being inside of you. Looking at him bring his right slowly to his face, moving his fingers accordingly to take a drag, you wanted them. You wanted to reach out and touch them, trace them, feel them, praise them.

He looked up at you, half lidded with his lazy eyes, “Wanna hit?” he asked, noticing your lingering gaze.

“Yes” you agreed, reaching out before you knew was was happening, desperate for skin on skin contact with him.

“Woah woah woah, wait, did you say yes? You've never done this before, are you sure? I don't mind sharing but I was only joking” he said rushed, suddenly more awake from your shocking statement.

“No, I wanna try it, I’ve wanted to for a while” you said, your eyes looking into his to convey your seriousness. He looked you over, and handed you the joint. The tightly rolled cylinder looked so much larger in your hands, were his really that big? You brought the joint up to your lips, closing them where Sero’s had just been. You took a drag and he watched in amazement before you started coughing wildly. Concerned, he quickly moved closer to you, patting your back and rubbing small circles, taking the joint back from your shaking hand.

“Oh my god- I’m so sorry I forgot it would be hard for you at first, let me bring you some water” he mumbled, getting up from his seat next to you. You grabbed his arm before he could leave, dragging him back towards to you. “I’m not thirsty, I wanna try again” you said defiantly. He looked back at you, concern now covering his previously laid back and calm face.

“Okay.. “ he started hesitantly. “well if you wanna try it again can I help you? There's an easier way for beginners. Ever heard of shotgunning?” You shook your head, looking up at him confused. He sat back down on his bed, this time closer than he ever was. He took a long drag from his joint and lightly grabbed your face, his grip gentle on your soft skin. He looked you in the eyes, searching for uncertainty or hesitation but couldn't see any. Instead, your eyes were dark, an emotion he couldn't quite place.

He brought your face close to his and pushing your lips open with his finger, your breath hitched. God did he love seeing you like this. He closed the gap, opening his mouth to yours, the smoke entering you. You inhaled it, you inhaled everything about him you possibly could. Slowly, and regretfully, he pulled away. “Just like that, basically I just transfer smoke to you so you don't have to take it directly since otherwise it can be pretty harsh.” he said, mesmerized in the way you looked at him with wonder.

“I don't feel anything” you mumbled childishly.

He chuckled at your confusion “It takes a second, tell me how you feel in 10 minutes.”

“I want to do it again, I want to kiss you.” you whispered softly, peeking up at him through your lashes.

Shocked, Sero leaned back “Y-you what? (Y/N) are you okay? was the smoke too much?” he asked frantically, confused by your sudden confession.

“Hanta, I feel fine” You assured him. “You're telling me you don't remember what happened last time?”

“Last time? What do you mean? Oh shit did I do something when we went out? (Y/N) I'm so sorry is that why you've been avoiding us?” he asked.

“No, you didn't do anything, I did.” He looked bewildered so you continued “We all got really drunk and I told you I loved you.” Sero stopped moving, his panicked fidgeting coming to halt. “Did you mean it?” he questioned, his voice deeper than before. “Mean what? Oh, yeah-” Before you could finish your sentence he was on top of you, his mouth on yours as he slowly pushed your frame back onto his bed. “I love you too” he mumbled against your lips, resuming his attack on your face. You were flustered but kissed back. There was no time to question it, both of you were high and needy, years of longing built up.

He sat back and looked you in the eye “I know I’m not exactly sober but I want you to know that I mean every word of what I’m about to say. You’re absolutely intoxicating, you leave me feeling higher and happier than weed ever could. You are the drug that I need to survive.”

“Hanta, I only have eyes for you. It's always been you.” You stated, your heart bloomed at his confession. He looked you in the eye, studying you, confirming to himself that what you were saying was true. Sero had never been very confident of himself, he was always seen as average and you were the most beautiful and kind girl he knew. By the look on his face you could tell he accepted what you said.

Diving back into you, his hands met your body, dragging, pinching and squeezing everything within his grasp. It was everything you imagined. His body heat melting into you but his fingers still had a cool touch to them. He traveled your body, memorizing it and making a map in his mind. His nimble fingers slipped under your shirt, smothering you. He felt your smooth skin as his hands went up and down on your waist and hips. He lowered himself, pushing his rock hard length against your shorts, slowing grinding into you, finding friction. “mmm Hanta, you feel happy.” you mumbled into his ear, nibbling on it as your hand traveled down to his sweats. He groaned in your ear, rutting against your hand, desperate for your touch.

Suddenly he pulled back and looked at you. His already dark eyes were darker and clouded with lust. A light pink dusted his face. “you're absolutely beautiful” he stated, absolutely confident in his words. “Hanta, you're just high” you whined, never having been good at taking compliments. He was on you again, pulling your shirt up, glancing at you before doing anything to make sure it was okay. He ran his hands up your chest, gently cupping your breasts. “No I really mean it... I’ve loved you for years... And not just for your body” He said in-between kisses, his lips were soft against yours. Slowly his head moved down, pressing open-mouthed kisses into your jawline and collarbones, sure to leave marks. You moaned quietly and he bit down, surprising you and causing louder sounds to erupt from your chest. Your whole body was throbbing. “Don't be quiet, I wanna hear the sounds you make pretty girl” he growled into your shoulder. The nickname made your core throb. You wanted him so badly.

You pulled off his shirt, running your hands over his chest, admiring his lean muscular build. The man looked like a god. His skin was clear and glistening from his shower, his body dwarfing yours in sheer height. He had already been tall in high school but now he towered over all of his friends. His hands slowly unclipped your bra, pressing soft kisses on them. His tongue swirled around one of your already hard nipples, his fingers pinching and playing with the other. Switching breasts, he moved his available hand down to your shorts to pull them down. Realizing this was harder than he thought, he detached his mouth from you with a wet pop. He used both hands to pull down your shorts, looking at you adoringly.

His hands traced the outline of your panties, and then palming your mound. You moaned and arched your back towards him, in desperate need of relieving all of this tension. “Hey pretty girl, we’ll get there, slow down” he chuckled. Your eyes popped open and glared at him. “Hanta, I need you. Now.”

His breath hitched at your bold statement. He yanked your panties down quickly, surprising you and getting a gasp from you. He grinned as a string of arousal connected your now disposed panties to your exposed core. It glistened with wetness, you had been waiting so long for this moment. Sero couldn't tear his eyes off of it, slowly he reached out his large hand, sliding a finger over your slit and then softly stroking your folds. “Is this all for me sweet girl? You're too kind.”

You arched your back, done with his teasing. Before you could even complain he stuck a finger inside, your velvety walls wrapping around him. You needed more. He could tell by your face, years of observing you closely now coming in handy. He stuck in another digit, pumping them in and out slowly as his thumb reached up to circle your clit. You let out a long whine, music to his ears. At that he went faster, still watching you closely. The way you stopped breathing when he hit one spot, he knew he had found it. Focusing all of his energy on that spot, going quicker and harder. He simultaneously hit your g-spot and rubbed your clit, getting you unraveling under him faster than any man ever had. He guided you through your high, slowing down and eventually pulling out his fingers, leaving your thighs shaking and your cunt clenching around nothing.

He observed his slick coated fingers and licked them clean. You stared at him in shock, baffled at his actions. “mmm (Y/N) you taste so sweet, I’ll have to explore that another time though” He groaned, palming his painful erection. You swiftly pulled down his sweat shorts and boxers in one motion, his cock springing up against his stomach. You had never really thought that dicks were pretty, but everything about Sero was beautiful so you weren't surprised.

He had average girth, but an amazing length. He had a few prominent veins that you traced, leaving him shuddering at your touch. His slight left curve looked delicious. You moved your hand towards the head, red and glistening as you traced a finger over his slit, dripping with pre-cum. You tried to wrap your hand around his base, but your fingertips barely touched on the other side. You did a few experimental pumps, you were afraid that even with your preparation it might be too much for you to take. You bent your head down, swirling your tongue on the tip, giving small kitten licks. He tasted salty, but better than other men. You weren't surprised about that, you knew he took good care of himself. You ran your tongue along the bottom, dragging it slowly and tracing all of the bumps and ridges.

He couldn't take it anymore. He pushed you back onto the bed, grinding himself against you, using his small amount of restraint to not push into you there and then. “Condom?” he asked desperately, looking around. “Don't need one, I'm on birth control” you spoke softly, hushing him with gentle kisses. He sighed contentedly at your response. He ran the head up and down your slit, getting ready to line himself up with your small hole. Your kisses crept up towards the side of his face, you licked a strip up his jaw and whispered directly against his ear, warm breath fanning his neck, “Plus, I want to feel you when you're inside me” you blew lightly on his ear and giggled. He didn't think it was funny.

Before you could say anything he lined himself up with you and pushed inside in one motion. Your walls hugged him in all the right places.The stretch burned but when he leaned down to say “So tight. You're so good for me, taking all of my cock like a good girl” all the pain faded into pleasure. As he mumbled praises int your skin, he rutted into you, his previously gentle motions now rough and fast. Want, need and lust filled the room. The smell of weed fading, covered by the smell of sex and your overwhelmed sense of mind. “Hanta, you feel so good inside me” you groaned. This seemed to spur him on, he went faster, if at all possible, attaching his thumb to your clit and rubbing harshly without hurting you. He could feel you clenching around him and he knew you were close. He was barely hanging on.

“Where should I-”

“Inside. Come inside me. Please” you cut him off, begging.

With a few final strokes you spasmed around him, and as you fell down from your high, he chased his own. Whispering your name over and over like he was praying, he spilled his seed inside you, white thickness covering your insides and dripping out onto your violently shaking thighs. “Oh, my god. That was amazing. You're amazing.” Sero ranted. You smiled brightly at him, too tired to move and your voice a little hoarse from all your whining.

The black haired boy got up and went to his bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and a cup of water. You sipped on the room temperature water while Sero cleaned you up. He always treated you so well, even when you were just friends. He grabbed one of his clean t-shirts and a pair of boxers, helping you get dressed. Sitting up, you faced him while he beamed down at you.

“How are you feeling?” Sero asked, genuinely concerned for your well-being.

“I’m good, it felt good.” you hummed contentedly.

“What does this mean for us? Are we gonna tell the rest of the guys that we are dating? That is only if you want to date of course, I wouldn't want to pressure you into anything” Sero mumbled, saddened by his own assumptions.

“Is this your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?” you grinned.

“Depends, are you saying yes?” Sero smiled back, your positive reaction upping his mood. You answered his question by pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Yes, always.”

#serohanta #sero x reader #bnha #ouid #smokersero #friendstolovers #druguse #sizekink #handkink #mha #bnha smut #mha smut #mha x reader #mha x you #mha fluff #bnha sero

169 notes · View notes

dunstory · 3 years

Text

Yellow

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Panic Attack, Fluff

A/N: sooo, this is my first writing ever! all of this came from a dream i had last may, so i thought i could turn this into an imagine. also, there is a lot of lowercases because im to lazy to correct… sorry!! hope yall enjoy, feedback is appreciated!!

gif is not mine!

yellow, white and red lights came from everywhere. it was happening, the first twenty one pilots convention ever. there were some people with their yellow tapes and bandanas, some with their red beanies and white glasses, even some people cosplaying as the bishops.

everything looked great. unfortunately, you weren't able to stay with josh in the backstage because him and tyler had a lot of interviews to attend and stuff. so you had the chance to explore the convention as yourself. as a clikkie that you first were, not just as Josh Dun's girlfriend. of course, some people recognized you and asked for pictures, which you happily accepted.

you spent most of your time at the stand where the clikkies were playing their tøp covers. you were amazed by their talent and passion, it was just fascinating. you even got yourself to play heavydirtysoul on the drums with another dude, you never felt so cool.

and then it was time. their special concert was about to start. As you arrived to the area, the majority of the fans that were already there recognized you and insisted for you to stay in the front row. at first everything was great, until you actually went to your saved place and started hearing some comments about you.

"she's just not it."

"she doesn't belong here."

"i don't claim her."

"josh deserves WAY better than this."

"she's a whore. she only wants his money."

to say that you're insecure is an understatement, but you could deal with it occasionally, josh knew everything about it and was always there for you.

except for now.

all the overheard voices ignited a bad feeling that you forgot you ever had. it was it. 3 minutes before your boyfriend concert, and you were about to have a panic attack. you were glad that there were chairs for everyone, so you sat and breathed deeply and slowly, as you always practiced. you thought you were going to be ok, until a girl a few rows behind you yelled:

"look how excited she is for her boyfriend's concert!oh my god. she's the only one seated."

you were about to say something back until someone else yelled

"that bitch must be pregnant! she just wanted his baby so he could give her all his money, i am sure."

dear. lord.

"why didn't I just stay home" played repeatedly in your head. but you had to focus on josh, after all, you were there for him.

and just as you calmed down, the lights came to a halt and the concert started. to be honest, you were really glad that it was a pocket show so the boys couldn't interact that much physically with the crowd because the constant movement and yelling was making you dizzy and more overwhelmed by every second, so you were glad that josh wouldn't be able to se your visibly uncomfortable face.

you loved the boys' concerts, you truly did. but you just couldn't wait for this one to finish, to be honest.

at this point, you couldn't even pay attention to tyler's singing, you just had to focus on keeping yourself on its place. considering that you were on the verge of having a panic attack and you couldn't dare to sit down while you're feeling dizzy, nauseous and slowly losing your conscience.

gladly, you could still cry. people would just think that you were thrilled. so that's what you did. you ugly cried until you heard the last screams of "hello" from tyler, meaning that trees was about to end and so was the concert. you couldn't even believe it when the music came to a halt and all you could hear was screams and applauses. these were surely the longest 50 minutes of your life.

as the boys came to the front to bow, josh started to look for you and as he found your eyes, his heart dropped. he knew you too well. he knew you weren't crying because of the concert, bur yes because of something else, most likely your anxiety got the best of you.

he was feeling so bad for you, for having left you alone and now seeing you in this state. he felt and the guilty over him. in a matter of seconds, after tyler said "we're twenty one pilots and so are you" he whispered something in a rush in his ear and he nodded, giving him the permission to run to you.

as he reached you, you started crying even more. you were too overwhelmed at this point. he then grabbed your hands firmly and asked "hey, hey, easy. are you ok?" and you shook your head weakly, feeling like you wouldn't last too long.

"ok, do you think you can jump this grid?" he asked and you nodded with a weak smile. with a help of two securities and the strong arms of your loved one, you made it to his arms. he grabbed you in bridal style and rushed out of the convention center, while kissing your forehead.

at this point, you were crumbling completely, letting all your feelings out. you were embarrassed, nervous, overwhelmed but above all, relieved for being finally in the arms of the man you loved the most. when you arrived outside, josh sat on the floor with you on his arms. he held you tightly, never wanting to let you go, he loved you so much that he couldn't put into words, so he demonstrated with actions, all the time.

and the same goes for you, you adored him, you never felt such as a thing as you felt your love for josh, it was overwhelming, but in good way actually.

he didn't ask you any questions. he just held you, kissing your forehead, massaging your back and eventually taking your hair out of your face. he stayed in silence with you, just gesturing with his hands the breathing exercises that you both had been practicing. once he made sure your breath was controlled, he just made his magic.

"and it was all yellow..." he sang lowly, only enough for you and him to listen.

it was like the whole world stopped, and it was just you and him. he forgot about his problems and commitments, even the meet&greet's that were about to happen after the show, he forgot they existed, his priority was you and you only.

"your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones..." he kept singing, shyly but doing it all for you.

you couldn't believe this, your favorite song being sang by your favorite person. he knew just the right buttons to press to make you feel like yourself again. you could feel your tears slowly drying and you smiled weakly against his chest, feeling the comfort you could never get tired of. feeling your smile encouraged josh to sing louder, as a way to also express his feelings, especially what he felt for you.

"turn in to something beautiful..."

you knew it wasn't going to be the last time you were going to hear his pretty voice sing. now that you knew that he would do this for you, you would always get the best of it. at this point, you were almost crying of joy. he was too sweet for you.

"do you know, you know i love you so.."

now, you had forgotten about the last one and a half hours of your life. you were back into your reality, where you felt good and happy, all of this because you had this yellow headed smiley boy by your side, always. to make an honor to him, you got all the strength you had left after crying a river and sang the last verse with him.

"you know i love you so... much." you nearly whispered the last word.

as he heard your tired voice, josh looked down at you with pure love in his eyes, that face that once was full of concern was now relaxed again, as the smile that he loved so much was returned to you.

all you knew was that you're going to be okay, it didn't matter what'd have to deal later in social media and press. you were okay, and while Josh was by your side, you'd always be. no matter what. even if he was comforting you from a panic attack in the middle of a sidewalk. it was just okay. after all, for him, you'd bleed yourself dry. and so would him for you.

#josh dun #yellow #twenty one pilots #fanfic #joshua dun #josh dun imagines #twenty one pilots imagines #josh dun imagine #twenty one pilots fan fiction #josh dun x reader

65 notes · View notes