#i want to kick his ass i want to throttle him dead
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i need to put azriel shadowsinger in a jar. and then i need a comically large single handle magnifying lens to stare at him with. and sometimes i will shake him up and down and other times i will simply study him like the little freak bug he is.
#acotar#azriel acotar#he is simultaneously so silly and also my nemesis#i want to kick his ass i want to throttle him dead#i want to sit beside him on a therapy couch with a notebook and study his thoughts
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Small intercept of what I planned
Beware this has just some of my ideas based onto one tumblr post- THIS IS NOT ALL MY IDEAS!!!
• the first chapter starts out with descriptions of running but with no reason why just wanna write a running scene lollll.
((Twigs snapped under Danny’s bare feet. Scrapes and scratches dug themselves onto his skin in a manner that only The Box Ghost level attacks could. His head snapped backwards as he reared towards a thick trunk of wood. His breathing escaped him in serval huffs and groans. He didn’t have time to stop. He couldn’t stop. Something was after him…The white suits were his confirmation that tonight had gone horribly wrong. Green lights echoed and groaned against the trees, shredding the bark around Danny. Tears threatened to fall against his deep neon green eyes. His lips curled up into a small scowl-his eyes half-lidded as he hurried into the gothic city..It must’ve been hours of running for as soon as he reached an alleyway and someone saw him..Dark..Dreams.No.Nightmares raged in his mind as his eyelids grew heavy falling into his person’s arms..Strange. They feel like him. Like himself. Like a halfa…
• Straight up- Jason summons Danny to be his date to a gala just to fuck with Bruce Wayne..
((The summoning was complete- why the God of The Dead wanted pop tarts and duck candles were beyond Jason. The markings, chalk, glowed a dangerous Lazarus green as the room dropped in temperature. Jason’s breath fogged and he felt heavy compared to the concrete warehouse. Ice and small burning stars etched onto thin air as if it were paper. A swirling void of green opened up on the floor by the chalk or rather in it…
“Sooo. You want me.Me? To go on a date with you?” Danny asked faking confidence. He was The Ghost King he can handle someone asking him out. Especially this tank of a man who when walks prolly his asscheeks slap.-Ok Danny calm your ass down!!
• Just straight up..
((Bruce Wayne had known Vlad Masters was a shady man, and had even shadier things going on in his life. Like how he mysteriously gained wealth in the sun of about 3 months-his net worth was now 19 million and while that was huge didn’t quite compare to Luther’s or Bruce’s himself. And yet when he got him to talk all he ever talked about was his Godson; one Daniel Fenton. Whom Vlad was apparently obsessed with. Me boy did Vlad talk about this boy. Of course at first he sounded like he generally cared about everything the boy did like he was often there, but it started to get creepier the more Vlad talked to Bruce. Now Bruce loved completing his children around others and making himself seem small compared to the rest of them, but even he didn’t go into obsessive rants about his children over the littlest of things—Like how Vlad got Daniel a telescope for the boy and in Vlad’s eyes he loved it and then raced about how good of a kid he was and that “Daniel’s father is a Baffon and *blah blah* Daniel must see everything I do for him is to keep him safe. Even going so far as to hurt him.” Poor Vlad “I’m obsessive over an almost 17 year old child and his mother” Masters about to get kicked in the face by Brucie “ I have a batcave in my basement and am ready to throttle people” Wayne.
#Danny Fenton#Vlad Masters is a creep#DP X DC#Ideas#lolll#help me#save me from my madness#Aged up Daniel Fenton#Ghost King/Ghost prince Danny Phantom#Jason Todd x Danny Fenton#Dead on Main#Vlad acting creepily towards Danny#Weirdness#i Like writing#writing is gay#Change my mind#oh wait you cant#Fuck this shit
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Female Reader x Rooster
Time: Post-Top gun: Maverick
Y/n Blackwood - L/n, daughter of Charlotte "Charlie" Blackwood. Y/n took a strong interest in planes from a young age. Knowing her father was an esteemed pilot drew her even further into the navy. Quickly, she became one of the best solo pilots and graduating at the top of her class at Top Gun.
Her next mission? Return to Top Gun, Face certain death, romantic interests, and finally, her thought-to-be-dead, father.
This book contains strong language and sexual content that may be sensitive readers under the age of 18
This story was originally posted on Wattpad, follow me on there for faster updates. I have published a non-binary version of this story published there for those who do not identify as female or use she/her pronouns. It will follow the exact same story line.
Link to Wattpad Account
Link to the Non-Binary version
Master list
Liar, Liar
Hangman went first today. He put up a good fight but ultimately, was shot down.
Now was Rooster.
I listened closely to the radio, wanting to hear everything these two said to each other.
"Good morning, Rooster."
"Morning Mav, ready to get your ass kicked?"
"Hand it to me."
I could hear the grunts of struggle between the two pilots as they flew through the air. I was on the edge of my seat, anticipating everything.
"Shit shit shit." Rooster cursed into his headset followed by a grunt. It was hard to imagine what was going on up in the sky.
"Come on kid, hit me. Hit me." That was Maverick, my only guess is that rooster had caught up from behind him.
"Now to hit the breaks and glide right over."
There it was, the trick Maverick always pulled on everyone. There was a few moments of silence before alarms could be heard blaring over the radio.
"Jet wash jet wash!" Rooster exclaimed, I could hear him grunt in response.
"Get control of it kid!"
"Im trying I'm trying!"
"Oh no."
"That's not good."
A few of the other pilots whispered behind me, staring nervously and impatiently at the radio.
"I got it. We're good." Rooster exhaled gratefully, as did everyone else in the room back in the ground.
"Rooster you could have gotten yourself killed with that. You're out. Wolf, in the air in 5." Mavericks voice sounded disappointed, like rooster was receiving a scolding from a father.
I jumped up from my chair, encouraging cheers coming from behind me that faded as I ran to the hanger. That was the second time I had seen my name on a Top Gun plane. I slid my fingers across my steel painted name with a smile. After crawling into the jet and preparing myself, I was launched into the air.
I got comfortable, settling into the cab of the plane and looking at all the buttons and levers. The adrenaline pumping through my veins already and I haven't started fighting yet.
"Alright Wolf, let's see what you've got for me." Mavericks voice sang in my headset, causing me to smirk.
"Bring it on old man!"
A sudden rush of air pushed my plane sideways as Maverick rushed up at me from beneath. Quickly I regained control, throttling upwards to chase after him. We did a series of quick turns, dives, rolls and loops. I was struggling, but I could see what he was doing. He was trying to wear me out, allow me to slip up. I was strong, my mind was strong willed, I would not slip up.
Maverick couldn't shake me from his tail, I could see him struggle on what to do. Although, I knew he was making too many turns for me to be able to get a radar lock on him. I gained speed, approaching closer and closer as we leveled out to a straight away. This had to be it, the break and fly over. I thought about what I was going to do, how to avoid being shot down.
I moved the missile launcher to position, finally connecting a tone on mavericks plane. That only lasted for a second before I noticed the planes weight shift backwards and it sailed right over the top of me.
"Woah." I marveled, looking up through the glass at the underneath of mavericks plane.
The plan I formed quickly in my head was just as quickly executed. I punched forward and sailed straight up into the sun. I was blinded, couldn't see a thing in front of me as I squinted my eyes but kept going forward until I was sure I was high enough. I then exited the suns rays, gliding along with the clouds.
It seemed like forever had passed of me gliding over the sky's until I laid eyes on the solo plane beneath me. I breathed slowly, thinking about my next move.
Maverick had other ideas, he must have seen me on the radar because he veered off and then began to head right for me. We were now facing off head to head, his plane quickly approaching mine.
I felt steady anxiety rise in my chest, now we were in a game of chicken in metal cans up in the air. He was approaching fast, my radar beeping at me to indicate an incoming object. I made the quick decision to fly to the right, my plane at a 90 degree angle.
I watched Maverick watch me fly right past him. Once I was towards the back of the plane I readied the guns, as I was too close for missiles.
"Come on, give me tone give me tone." I grunted, working hard to steer the plane and toggle the radar.
Then I heard it, a beautiful ringing tone in my ears and astonishment washed over me. I leveled out my plane and began flying steadily.
"Holy shit." I uttered.
"Holy shit indeed. Nice flying Wolf. Maverick, is down." Mavericks voice was music to my ears. Hearing those words gave me a sense of pride like nothing I've ever felt before. Maverick punched the glass as a sign of a job well done, which I reciprocated as we began our decent back to solid ground.
I took off my helmet and looked down to see a few other pilots sprinting around the corner of the hangar and running towards me. Joy overfilled me as I climbed down from the plane. I threw both my arms into the air and let out of a yell of excitement.
The yell was cut off by a fit of laughing as fanboy had gotten to me first, picking me up and spinning me around in a hug.
"I told you!" He exclaimed.
I was put down and turned around to the next person, Phoenix, who wrapped me in a hug.
"I bet that feels good!"
The next people I ended up giving bro hugs too, pats of congratulations and astonishment. At the end of the crowd was Hangman. He looked me up and down, obviously sour that he wasn't able to get a shot at Maverick. His face softened, smiling even as he held out his hand.
"I'm still better than you." He teased, winking at me.
"Not today Hangman, not today." I teased back.
There was one person not celebrating, Rooster. He leaned against the large overhead door opening and looked at the interaction happening between us. His sunglasses were on and his face stone cold.
As the group walked back, we approached rooster. He looked down at his feet, scuffing his boots along the pavement.
"Good flying." Was the only thing he managed to muster up. I admit, I was disappointed.
"Thank you." I replied kindly to his pathetic attempt at congratulations. I waited for everyone to leave to go back inside before continuing the conversation between us.
"What happened up there? Are you okay?" I asked, trying to put together pieces of the puzzle aside from what I heard on the radio.
"I choked, tried something I wasn't ready for."
He admitted, his eyes anywhere but on me, the person initiating the conversation with him.
"Better to practice here than in the battle field. Mistakes can be learned from here, you'll get there and you'll beat him." I smiled, placing a comforting hand on his upper bicep, trying to regain his attention back on me.
Rooster looked down at me and rolled his eyes, moving away from my touch.
"What like Maverick didn't just let you win that?"
I was astonished by the accusation. How could he have let me win? I thought it fueled his ego to crack down on the pilots. Maverick doesn't seem like the type to let someone win.
"What are you talking about?"
"When are you and Mav gonna stop lying to us, huh? When is this act going to end?" Rooster was getting heated, his arms expressing his emotions as they flailed around as he rambled.
"Lying?" I raised an eyebrow, shifting my weight to one foot and crossing my arms over my chest.
"Yes lying! Lying about never having not met him before, lying about your Dad getting you into this program."
"My dad? My dad died before I was even born. Bradley you're crossing the line."
"Again with this whole charade! I know Pete Mitchell is your dad! I read about it in your mothers letters to my mom!" Rooster yelled.
I felt anger, frustration as to why I was being lectured by someone who I had met only a few days ago. Then I felt it, a pit in my stomach. My emotions of anger faded and turned to confusion, realization. The letter, the letter I gave to Pete, did that disclose my paternity? Had my mother lied to me all these years?
Rooster seemed to realize at the same time as me, his entire body changed. His shoulders relaxed, face fell to realization. His voice became softer as he spoke.
"Oh my god, you didn't know."
Thoughts swirled around in my head as I tried to stop it from spinning. I just stared at Rooster and he reciprocated it. He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a strained sign.
"Y/n-" Rooster tried to take my arm to comfort me in some way but I pulled away from him. I forcefully shoved my way past him, on a mission to find Maverick and demand to see the letter.
"Y/n I'm sorry! Oh shit." Roosters voice faded as I stormed down the hallway. My frustrated walk turned into a sprint as I searched every possibly room for any sign of Maverick. Finally I stumbled upon his designated office. A white piece of paper with the words "Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell" typed up on it.
I flung the door open without thinking. In the chair behind the desk sat Pete, a paper in his hands and tears in his eyes. His expression fell as he came in and he immediately stood up. He wiped his eyes and sniffled through his nose.
"You shouldn't come into your captains room without requesting a -"
"Are you my father?" I could feel my voice crack as the uncontrollable emotions rose from within me.
He bit his lower lip, tears starting to well from his eyes. He beckoned me to come closer and I did so, shutting the door behind me. Pete silently handed me the letter. Finally, the letter that was in the back of my mind recently. I tenderly took the paper, sitting down and flattening it out on the desk. I stared at my mothers elegant handwriting, nerves getting to me.
My dearest Pete,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. If it does, it means that I am no longer here. It also means you have finally met my beautiful daughter. I lived a long happy life. My job in DC treated me well, I stayed there up until I got sick. I got married to a wonderful man named Harold L/n.
I have two regrets in my life. My first one, not coming back to you. Pete Mitchell I thought about you every second of every day that we were apart. There isn't a man on this earth that I could love and admire as much as you. You were the one true love of my life.
My second regret, never telling you about my daughter, our daughter. I found out I was pregnant about a month after I had left. Y/n is every bit as stubborn and brilliant as you are. She made me feel whole again after having to leave you. She has your dazzling smile and hard work ethic. I tried to steer her away from piloting, but she is her fathers daughter, through and through. I knew there was only a matter of time before you two met.
I am leaving it to you to tell y/n who you really are, whenever you're ready. I know it's a lot to process and I am sorry I couldn't be there to share the news with you.
Forever yours,
Charlotte "Charlie" Blackwood
Next Chapter
#top gun smut#top gun movie#top gun fic#top gun fanfiction#bradley bradshaw smut#bradley bradshaw#rooster bradshaw fic#rooster bradshaw#rooster x y/n#rooster x reader#rooster fanfic#pete mitchell#fanboy top gun#hangman top gun#jake seresin#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw angst#bradley bradshaw x y/n#bradley bradshaw x oc#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradhsaw x you#bradley bradshaw fanfic#top gun rooster#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw drabble
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Saga: Epilogue - 1
Writer: Akira
Season: Winter
Characters: Jin, Jun
Proofreading: 310mc (JP) & hyenahunt (ENG)
Translation: kotofucius
Jin: I’d risen from my grave by mistake, but you've struck me dead once more.
[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]
Location: Reverse Live Stage
Jin: “♪~♪~♪”
Jun: “~…♪”
(GODDAMN! This is so freakin' hard! I’m going at full throttle to kick Sagami Jin's ass, y’know~!?)
(I’m baring my fangs and howling at him, with every intent to strike him dead!)
(But thanks to that damn video that just played, the audience just sees me as some kinda huge starstruck fan of his…)
(And every time I lunge at him, they just start squealing!)
(I can hear 'em now… “Oh, he loves him so much!” “He looks so happy getting to sing with his idol!” “Congrats on your dream coming true!”)
(Couldja not look so fondly at a scene like this~!? I mean, c'mon!)
(Damn it all! Well yeah, my dream did come true, but it's a world away from what you guys think it is!)
(So don’t look at me like that, I'm begging ya~ Why the hell did things turn out like this!?)
Jin: …Sacchan. You’ve gotta focus~ Both your singing and dancing aren't looking too hot. You doing okay? Getting tired?
Jun: 'Scuse me? “Sacchan”? Don'tcha go acting like we're friends, Sagami Jin!
Jin: Well, you’re always calling me by my full name too… And that feels so dead-serious that it's kinda scary…
I’d be a lil' more comfortable if you could ease up and just call me something like Jin-san.
Jun: Haha! Well, if it bothers you so much then I’m just gonna keep calling you Sagami Jin~!
So if you’re giving me an annoying nickname in return just to get back at me, I guess I can't really complain, huh~?
Jin: Hmm, not quite… Calling you Sazanami just makes me think of your dad, see.
And since our names are kinda similar, saying your first name feels like saying my own… so I thought I'd try a nickname.
Jun: Seriously? We’re nowhere close enough to be using nicknames! You better keep in mind that video was edited and nowhere near close to reality!
So if you'd kindly not confuse the two then I'd really appreciate it! You’ve always been and always will be my most resented foe, got that~!?
Jin: I do get it. It's only natural that you hate me — It's what I deserve considering all the people I trampled over just to climb to the top.
Among them were parents who had mouths to feed, along with innocent people who had done nothing wrong… Really, I always knew a day like this would come.
That's why I chose to run away back then, disgusted with the yakuza-like business I was doing.
Jun: ……
Jin: Y’know, Sacchan… I’m kinda confused, too. I thought that even if you were to hit me or kill me, I had no right to protest.
Jin: But take a look. When I actually surrender to fate and face you, our audience cheers in delight.
And it's not 'cause they’re thirsting for violence, no. Nobody wishes to see that.
And well, showing people things they don’t want to see — Is that really what an idol does?
I don’t think it is. No… in fact, that's what my kids taught me. I’m supposed to be the teacher, but I just keep learning new things from them.
I wish I could’ve learned all this much, much sooner. That’s why I’m passing it down to you, while you still have your whole life ahead of you.
'Course, I know it's nowhere near enough to make up for all the pain I caused you and your dad…
Jun: ……
Jin: …That video… truly opened my eyes. It made me really understand the atrocity of the things I’d done.
And what I'd done… was destroy a family and ruin a child’s life.
Join us for Project-Saga, the revival of legendary idols, they said… I let myself get taken in by such a drunken plan, see…
Even I ended up giving in to the fun, and I let it guide me here as if it were all a nice little dream.
But of course, that wasn’t right. You reminded me that I no longer deserve to be an idol.
Jin: I’d risen from my grave by mistake, but you've struck me dead once more.
Won’t you make do with that? If I’m such a condemnable eyesore in your eyes, then I’ll disappear for you. If you want me to beg for forgiveness, then I’ll beg 'til you’re satisfied.
Even if I offered up my life, I still can’t possibly make up for the peaceful family and happy childhood I stole from you.
But it’s all I have, so I’ll offer it all up to you.
So just… Don’t lay a finger on my students. They’re innocent.
No — I'd like you to also forget your hatred and live on happily, with a smile. What must I do for that?
I may be a teacher, but I don't know a thing, so won't you teach me…? What must I do to atone?
Jun: …What must you do, huh?
Haha. Honestly, I’m already plenty satisfied, just from getting to see that look on your face and hearing you say those words.
Hell, from that very moment in SS when you were the one rooting for me from the audience —
You could say that already helped to save me.
Nah, actually… Being found and taken in by Ohii-san…
And becoming an idol great enough to stand on the same stage as you…
That must’ve already been all that I needed. For a wild stray that had lived by scavenging carrion to survive, it's plenty more than enough of a reward… You could say it was my salvation.
[ ☆ ]
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Get Up and Go!!
Yet another fic before my kobra vs car fic, anyways, peach on the crash track. I chose sport bikes because that's what I always imagined and I want one. the race isn't accurate because idgaf, let me a live in a world with pcp and fast cars that all go together with a dead movie star!
"Ready?!" Scene Queen Shouted from the right sideline, flag up.
Peach leaned forward on their bike. Shoulders ahead of hips.
"Set?!" Star yelled from the left side line, flag up.
Ze lifted a foot off the ground and put it on the foot peg.
"Andddddd-!" Demi Devil started, Peach flipped down the visor to their helmet. Letting zer arms rest, hands lightly gripping the handles.
It felt like time slowed.
"GO!" Demi screamed, all flags waving downwards. Peach quickly hit the acceleration and lifted zer foot off the ground and onto the left foot peg.
The pure force from the speed, and wind hit them immediately, not letting that slow them, they tried their damnedest to go faster. And fuck did it work.
Speeding ahead of the competition, that being some kid named 'Kobra Kid', and two, maybe three others. Kobra was not far behind peach, he was basically riding their ass. As expected with their live basically on the line.
Over the old announcement system came Demi Devil's voice, "Remember my little worms! Whoever is last is my dinner tonighttt!!! And I'm gonna fucking feast."
While yes, it is true that Demi has eaten the person in last place a few times, the kid had a chance of living. But the threat still held weight. Because nothing was stopping her from eating them. Morality was lost in this hellscape.
The finish line was in sight, and at this point, Kobra and Peach were far ahead. Side by side now, and occasionally getting a little ahead of each other. Peach was sweating with adrenaline.
Demi came over the announcement system again, "Ohohoho! Looks like we might have a tie!!! Never had that happen!"
A fucking tie? What would even happen? Surely Demi has had this happen, and was just joking?
That couldn't matter now, they had to win. They wanted those shiny carbons for a Mad Gear show. Little did Peach know that was also why Kobra wanted the carbons.
Peach forced themselves further onto the bike. Something about aerodynamics. The finish line was at max 6 feet away.
They forced more throttle from the bike. Trying to put a small distance to touch the line first.
5 feet.
4 feet.
3 feet.
Their win was basically guaranteed.
2 feet.
And before they realized, they crossed the line.
"AND PEACH SPIDER IS FIRST!!!!"
Turning the bike to stop and kicking up sand put the cherry on top.
"KOBRA SECOND!!"
Ze took zer helmet off, and smiled at Kobra. His helmet was still on, and he was staring back. Peach felt.. something, they weren't entirely sure what it was. A strange likeness towards him?
-----
Everyone else had made it past the line, and they got to the prize part of the track. Peach got the carbons, but before they or Kobra could leave, they did the weird walk-jog.
"Your uh,, Kobra, right?"
He nodded, still not having had his helmet off.
"Sorry for beating you, but uh, would you like to go to a Mad Gear show with me? I mean it doesn't have to be mad ge-"
Kobra finally removed his helmet, and he was gorgeous. "Are you serious?"
Peach took a minute, "Yeah-..?"
"Like a date?"
"I suppose. You are gorgeou- hot- fuck," peach smacked their hand to their forehead.
"Your Peach Spider, right?" Kobra asked, starting to smile.
Peach nodded this time.
"Well, Peach, I'm right off of getaway mile, its a diner. You shouldn't miss it. If you really need, Dr. D or Neon Night might know where."
"So it's a date?"
"It's a date."
#CAKE REFERENCE!! HES GOING THE DISTANCE HES GOING FOR SPEED?? HES GOING THE DISTANCE#mcr#my chemical romance#danger days fanfic#danger days#kobra kid#peach spider#ttlofk
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What if Keegan proposes to Fed Logan, which breaks him out of his brainwashing?
I can make this comedy based prompt angsty.
And I'm going to.
Logan comes back, but he's wrong. He's angry and hateful and he just wants them all dead.
Keegan can't stand it of course, he loves him.
And maybe a bit of Logan loves him back still... because Keegan is his first target.
It's horrible. Logan's not alone, he brought help, but Keegan knows it's a lot harder for said help to coordinate if their tactician (Logan) isn't communicating with them.
Keegan's just buying time, he's a distraction, really not much else. And it's just like Sand Viper isn't it? He's back to betting his life to buy time for someone else.
But he figures this time, he doesn't have the company of 14 other dead men to keep him company. So he talks to Logan.
Just kinda... what's been going on. Kick dyed his hair. Hesh managed to get the number of this cute barista while they were on leave for a week, they've been texting non-stop. Merrick finally figured out an edible cookie recipe, though they don't quite hold up to Logan's.
Maybe it pisses Logan off more, being told that they're doing okay without him there.
Maybe Keegan talking to him like a human being, like a friend, is doing some good.
Logan doesn't tell.
Predictably, he's getting his ass whooped. Keegan kept Logan on a chase for him as long as he could because he knew a physical fight can only last so long, around three minutes for an average Joe so they can go seven-ish because they're trained, but as soon as the guns were out of hand he knew he was gonna lose.
Few reasons. He's playing defense, he doesn't have the heart to try and win this fight, Logan's gotten really good at hand to hand while he's been gone... Keegan just knows he's not walking away.
Hey, it sucks, but he's dying next to a friend, so it's not all that bad, right?
Logan doesn't laugh at the joke.
They keep boxing.
Logan gets the upper hand on him, somehow. He's on the ground. There's a lot of one sided punches being thrown.
Not Keegan's face, there's a few that land there, but most are in areas more likely to hurt than kill. His torso: shoulders, chest, and stomach. Wind keeps getting knocked out of him, over and over again. He realizes he can't talk anymore because of it, and maybe that's the point.
Logan's arms get tired or something. Maybe his knuckles are sore. Either way, he starts kicking and stomping instead of hitting.
But hey, Keegan can... kinda talk again. Wind-killing blows are further between... relatively.
Something clicks right in his mind, somehow. He's panicking a bit and it's harder to think. Human, when you realize you're dying and or are going to die, everything kicks into overdrive.
"Remember the proposals--"
And it's probably a mistake to open his stupid literally bloody mouth again, because now Logan's legs are tired or something and the blonde it on top of him.
He's gained a lot of weight, is the first thing Keegan realizes, because Logan's just kneeled on his chest and everything is on one point and it's hard to breathe again.
Honestly, he doesn't know how he's still conscious at this point.
It feels like his ribs are going to crack, then there's a pop and yeah one of them just did, but that's a bit of a minor concern because Logan's throttling the life out of him.
He still doesn't say anything, but Keegan thinks he can hear him growling. Hard to differentiate between that and the blood screaming in his ears.
Though the eyes... he gets the message there. Even without words, he knows Logan wants him to shut the hell up right fucking now.
But he's just got one thing to say.
"Should have said yes."
It comes out more "Shdhevvsss." because he is choking to death. He can literally feel his windpipe starting to give a bit, and he guesses maybe Logan's dragging it out because he's definitely smart enough to realize something as simple as a pen can put Keegan out and he wouldn't be able to do shit about it.
He wants to get the point across through, desperately.
Hands are weak. He can't feel his fingers or toes and there's... static in his brain.
Barely manages to maneuver a hand around Logan's and through the fog to tug at the chain around his neck, most of which is stuck under his hands.
Just trying to get Logan to realize it's there. He's bad at humor, but he tries sometimes. He's been holding onto something for a while, waiting for a good chance...
Like Logan always did. Good chances and he'd pop out some ring shaped object, drop to a knee, silly grin with that look in his eyes. And the first few times he'd ask, "Marry me?" and Keegan knew even then he was whipped because those little whispers, all for him, just for him, those were enough to get his heart to skip around like a little rabbit. Hop hop hop hop. The other times he didn't need to because Keegan knew the joke.
In return to Logan's little game he'd make his own jokes... "How cheap is that? I'm an expensive man." "A ring that small? My fingers aren't that tiny." "No, it's cloudy today and that's a bad omen."
Why he was saying no... it became more about continuing the game than making jokes. If he wanted to end it he would but he didn't. He liked that Logan wanted him, even if it was a game.
He's got a different joke this time though. Figured now's the last chance, pretty much the first too, that he'll get to say it.
The day's weather had been shit, humid, warm, at the same time cloudy. It was too big a ring, way too big. And it was definitely cheap, made to be tossed away and lost as soon as it lost its singular purpose.
He's not sure why this one specifically. Logan had proposed with a ring pop before, a cheap plastic toy you'd get from those 25 cent prize ball things, a random twist of colored wire, even a legitimate ring with good metal and pretty stones...
It's just a grenade pin. But Keegan held onto it. Kept it right next to his dog tags, all this time.
Tugs on the chain, again and again. Not sure if Logan's seeing it, realizing... he should. He has an eye for small details... Keegan just doesn't know because he can't see anymore.
And then he's gone, slipping off to inky darkness, unsure if the joke landed or not.
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random rec’s from june!!
watched and willing to recommend:
killing eve (s4)-
overall, this show is pretty fucking good. dark, deadly, twisty, bloody, and two amazing women leads who are obsessed with each other to the point of ruin.
as for this season? it was my least favorite out of all of them.
I’m still dead sea levels of salty about the ending and the way they just didn’t put as much effort into the relationship between them. like they could have used the last three episodes to tell a super heartbreaking and bittersweet ending that would have just ended the show on such a good note but it fell super flat.
i think some of the writing could be better and the relationships fleshed out better but overall it’s just ass kicking assassins murdering everyone all the time.
also jodie comer is one of the best actresses i have ever seen!!! and sandra oh has always been a favorite of mine and she is just fucking breathtaking.
first bite-
so not the best show in the whole world but I like that the characters actually feel young in this. they act awkward around their crushes and they say really silly teenaged things, they focus on school and love a lot- not just the supernatural side of things and there are actual adults involved in the super dangerous things most of the time which doesn’t always happen. i feel like the romeo and juliet theme isn’t as terrible as i thought it would be (i just can’t with shakespeare) which may be because the wlw content but 🤷🏼♀️ also no one made a big deal about the fact that the two leads like each other but are both women— they are much more upset about the hunter/vampire thing, love seeing sexuality portrayed like it’s just a normal thing because it is.
the cgi isn’t the best and some of the plot and writing could have been better. it just felt like a new show with a low budget trying to be picked up and despite some of the flaws I enjoyed it. if they made a season two I would watch it.
also the bonus mom and son interaction at the end got me all in my feels, lort I even cried.
warrior nun-
so i actually really liked this. i passed over it multiple times on netflix because i was like ‘oh no not nuns...’ and despite me also being weird and loving weird things i just couldn’t pick it up. then i saw some cool ass gifs on tumblr that had badass women and women looking at each other lovingly — so I gave it a try.
there was a lot more comedy then I thought there was going to me and as a person who really values humor it made the whole show. the heavy and supernatural things weren’t overwhelming because of the funny and mundane things. cgi was okay— better then the untamed. lol
the plot could use some more attention to detail, like it wasn’t inconsistent and i had an inkling of who the bad guy might be at the beginning and i was half right so that was cool— i like that it kept me guessing. it just felt….incomplete. almost like they weren’t sure if they should go full throttle on relationship dynamics and didn’t want to make the storyline too confusing. i hope they really flush out the relationships and show all the emotions for season 2.
rewatch:
beyond evil —
okay, i know what you’re thinking, do you ever watch anything else? the answer is yes but this one is super special and i can’t stop rewatching it. this time i focused more on how joowon grew and his actions throughout the show but especially the later half of the show.
it was really interesting to just focus on him and how his mommy and daddy issues (said with affection) have shaped him. i tried to think more about his trauma, to understand his reactions and reservations. because at the beginning he’s super arrogant and annoying but still was a good person with the capacity to be even better. he was misguided, naive, stubborn, arrogant and so many other things but he wanted to good. he couldn’t ignore that he helped take someone’s life especially when he was literally seeing the aftermath it created.
as always i recommend this to everyone that even remotely talks about media around me.
still watching because of adhd:
my name
sense8
inspector koo
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Mini crack
They leave the movie theater
Mega: you're in so much trouble Lan!
Lan: me? I didn't see you fix this mess either
Mega: this isn't about me!
Lan: uh-huh! You think I want to make people mad or something? You met the assho-!?
Mega: language! And what do you mean?
Lan: the guy you guys dealt with is the same guy who started this whole thing!!
Roll: really?
Dex: yeah! He didn't wanna listen, just be mad
Mega: still, you're in trouble Lan, and you're not getting out of this lecture-!?
Guy: hey!? You guys got me thrown out of the movie theater!!
Lan and Mega: *sigh* not him again
Guy: I swear, I'm going to throttle you lot!
Lan: Geez, you sure I can't kick his ass? We could totally take him
Mega: He may be a brute but we're above that
Guy: Don't ignore me! You're so dead--
Roll: That is enough!
Guy: E-Eh?
Roll: First of all, from what I've gathered, the cause of all of this was an accident! Instead of acting like some crazy macho man, you could have heard these boys out and accepted an apology. The same with me and Mega!
Guy: I-I don't have to take this from--
Roll: And furthermore, you deserved to be thrown out because you were just as disruptive--if not more--as all of us! Honestly, all of this could have been resolved if you didn't act so hostile all the time! What would your mother say?!
Guy: D-Don't bring my mama into this!
Roll: Well, I oughta meet her because clearly she doesn't know her son is threatening a bunch of young people who were minding their own business and had made honest mistakes! Now, I want an apology out of you, mister, do you hear me?
Guy: U-Uh--
Roll: Do. You. Hear. Me?
Guy: Y-Yes ma'am! I'm sorry ma'am!
Roll: Apology accepted
Dex: Dang, I forgot how scary Roll can be...
Mega: I know, isn't she great?
Lan: At least she got him off our backs--
Roll: And you!
Lan: What?
Dex: Eep!
Roll: I don't know if you already did it, but apologize to him too! It's probably because of your clumsiness that we found ourselves in this situation!
Lan: S-Sorry...
Dex: Y-Yeah, sorry...about the popcorn and the laughing...
Roll: *glares at guy*
Guy: A-Apology accepted
Roll: Great, and Mega and I are sorry too for unintentionally furthering the ruckus. Aren't we Mega?
Mega: R-Right...
Roll: Now that all of that is settled, we will all be going home. Do I make myself clear *scary smile*
Everyone: Y-Yes ma'am!
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let it bleed
summary: you’re on your period, and harry just wants to make you feel good.
warnings: smut, shower sex, period sex, clothed sex/grinding, fingering
word count: 6.8k words
song inspo: let it bleed - the rolling stones (aren’t i funny)
Waking up on Saturday is generally a blissful experience - sleeping in until the day feels nearly gone, lounging with Harry around the house or heading outside when the weather permits it - sure, every day in quarantine could be chalked up to just another Saturday but there’s something different about the actual day itself. Harry’s usually awake entirely too early during the week, sitting at the kitchen table with his headphones in, suffering through meetings with producers and managers for much longer than what could possibly be bearable. And you’re generally holed up at your desk, trying not to fucking die of boredom as you sit through useless Zoom sessions and assignments given by superiors who don’t understand technology - needless to say, you’d rather waste your days wrapped in Harry’s arms than sitting through that.
This Saturday, though, wakes you up a few hours later than you usually would, Harry’s head pressed into your chest, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, fingers clutched tight on the oversized t-shirt you’d donned to bed. Chestnut curls brush the end of your nose and a sleepy smile tilts your lips upwards as your eyes crack open, squinting up at the ceiling of your bedroom, only dimly aware of the low stream of early morning light shining through the window beside your bed.
You never usually wake this early, do you? No, you don’t, and you tilt your head to glare at the clock mounted on the wall across the room from you. It’s 4:56, a whole 5 hours before you’d ever even consider getting out of bed, and, yet, your body had forced you awake for seemingly no reason. You could be curling yourself up in Harry’s arms, legs around his torso and arms around his neck as his snores ring in your ears like a lullaby, except -
There’s a dull pain in your abdomen, right above your belly button, twisting your insides with just enough force to rip a soft groan from your lips. It’s a feeling you recognize entirely too well, cramps throttling your uterus like they’re trying to fucking murder you and you’re sure that, whenever you muster the energy to pull yourself out of bed and waddle over to the bathroom, you’ll see the physical proof of exactly what’s causing it.
Harry stirs against your chest, arm tightening around your waist until his forearm is pressed to your abdomen, face pushing further into your boobs as though it’s intentional. You stare down at him for a moment - perhaps he’ll crack an eye open, lips turning up, just to see how you’d reacted - but, no, he’s truly asleep. Dead asleep, you’d assume as you lift a hand to run through his messy hair and he doesn’t move at the motion.
You hate untangling yourself from him, almost always forcing him awake, but you suppose it’s repercussions for him being such a damn cuddler - not that you’d dream of complaining.
Slowly your fingers wrap around his wrist, his fingertips still held tight onto your shirt (or is it his? You never truly know, sometimes) as though it’s some sort of lifeline - still, it’s easy enough to pull his hand from your clothes, reaching over to rest his arm against the side of his body and he hardly stirs at the disruption.
Of course, the next part is destined to be much less graceful and significantly more disruptive to your loving boyfriend, resting like a sleeping angel, practically on top of you - you press your palm to the side of the bed next to you and use it as leverage to roll out of his embrace, pausing once you land on your back to see if he wakes.
(At the same time, you feel a familiar swooping sensation in the pit of your tummy that - isn’t pleasant, to say the very least, and you scrunch your nose up at the feeling.)
That seemed to do the trick - Harry drops flat on his face on top of the mattress and wakes with a jolt as though you’d doused him with water, pushing himself onto his forearms just as you stand up, stretching your arms high above your head with a sigh.
“What’reyoudoin’?” he slurs out, voice dripping with raspiness and sleep and you look back just as he drops his head back onto the pillow. You could fool yourself into thinking he’s gone back to bed until he lifts his head up, eyebrow raised just so. “Come back, babe - s’so early -”
“I’m going to the bathroom,” you tell him, sliding your feet into your Santa slippers before making your way across the bedroom towards the bathroom, its door creaked open just so. You pause once you pass your dresser and open the top drawer, grabbing a fresh pair of panties and balling them up in your fist. “You can go back to bed - I’ll be back in a minute.”
“I’ll wait,” he insists, eyes already drooping shut as you close the bathroom door behind you, shuffling over to the toilet as you wince at the discomfort. You certainly hadn’t needed any sort of confirmation to affirm your suspicion but you still get one - blood stains your panties, your sleep shorts mercifully spared, and you kick them off your legs, balling the blood-soaked panties with a grimace.
It takes only a minute or two to clean yourself up, and when you’ve put in a tampon and pulled on your new panties and sleep shorts, you rifle through the bathroom cabinet searching for the small bottle of painkillers that your abdomen yearns for - there’s few pills left, used mainly for this time of the month, and you shake three into your palm and pop them into your mouth. It’ll take a while to kick in - twenty minutes, usually, and that’s if you get lucky - but you’ll hopefully be fast asleep in Harry’s arms during that time. They’re not horrible, anyway, your cramps - usually they’re worse, and you’re sure they’ll pain you more as the day progresses, but at least you can take pills now to settle them.
You flick the light switch so the room basks itself in darkness before heading back into your bedroom, eyes landing on Harry’s figure, duvet pushed down to just above his hips, arms stretched high above his head. Even in the dim light of the room, illuminated solely by the rising sun that peeps through the window, you can see the way his eyes follow you - instead of walking around the bed to your side, you stop beside him, reaching down to run your fingers through his curls.
“Tha’s nice,” Harry murmurs, moving his head up further into your grasp and you grin. “Are y’comin’ back t’bed, then?”
“Yeah, sure,” you reply, voice soft, and hardly one minute ago it had been your intent to crawl into bed beside him and sleep off the first morning of your period but you’re feeling an entirely different urge, now, gaze locking with his for just a moment, and he raises his eyebrows slightly. “Yeah - scoot over.”
Harry scoffs with a lazy smile but obliges, shifting to the side so you can clamber into bed beside him. One bare arm lifts to wrap around your waist as you curl into his side, tilting your head upwards to land a light kiss to the underside of his jaw. Your palm goes up to the side of his face, cold fingertips pressed to his cheek as you tilt his head towards you, suckling light kisses into the delicate skin on the column of his throat, and you can feel his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath your lips as he exhales.
“What’re you doing?” your boyfriend questions softly, fingertips fiddling with the ends of your hair as you lift your leg to throw across both of his, kisses trailing further down his neck and your palm smoothing up and down his bare chest, nails scratching his skin softly. “Tryin’ t’make me horny - you’re the devil.”
“I’m not,” you murmur against his skin, which is a lie and a pathetic one at that, as your calf dips higher to caress the bulge in his boxers that seems to harden with every pucker of your lips against his neck.
“You are,” Harry insists, hand sliding down your back until he reaches the hem of your sleep shorts, and before he can duck his fingers beneath the fabric your face heats up and you push yourself to straddle him, core situated directly over his cock, and he groans, the noise guttural and raspy. “What’s got you so worked up, hmm?”
You don’t answer - and it’s not as though it’s embarrassing to admit that you’re on your period, because you’ve certainly been with Harry long enough to know that he’s not a man with masculinity so fragile that it breaks with the mere mention of menstruation - but you’d rather not shatter the moment you’ve created by announcing that it can’t go on further than it already has. Instead, you roll your hips against his, spurred on by his soft moan as your hands slide down his arms until your palms press to his and you interlock your fingers, using it as leverage to rock your body against his with more force.
“Oh, shit,” Harry breathes, head digging backwards into his pillow and you drop your head back, grinding your clit against his bulge and even through the layers of fabric between you, the stimulation is good enough to pull a whimper from your throat - you hadn’t thought you’d been that needy but perhaps you were more desperate for him than you’d suspected. His hands untangle from yours and slide up your thighs, landing on your ass, fingers spreading to encompass as much of your fabric-covered skin as he can, rocking you deeper against him.
You moan softly, bracing your hands on his chest as his grasp on your ass tightens, fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts and you can feel his cock twitching in his boxers against your cunt - his hips buck gently up into yours and if you were like him, you’d tut and murmur for him to stay still, baby, but you’re nicer than that. “God, Har -”
Large hands slide from holding the globes of your ass up to your waist, fingertips smoothing circles into your skin through your shirt and the motion helps to ease the cramps still throbbing in your abdomen, though significantly lessened by both the Advil you’d taken and the pleasure building in your body as you grind against your boyfriend. Orgasms always help with cramps - when you were younger you’d spend hours in the shower, fingers toying with your clit and bringing yourself to cum over and over again. And now - well, you still do that, though grinding against Harry is much more pleasurable than doing it yourself.
“I’m gonna cum, Har,” you breathe, and you lean your body forward, palms pressed into the pillow beside his head until you can dip your head down, lips pressing to his in a heated kiss that he moans into, holding your waist tighter against his dick. “Just - just a little more -”
“Don’t,” Harry grunts, which is what you’d expected him to say, and you push yourself back up, detaching your lips from his as you rise to sit above him again, hips still working against him with ease. “Wanna be inside you, baby - need t’fuck you -”
You bring your hands to his wrists when he reaches for the waistband of your shorts, preventing him from tugging them down your stomach and he looks up at you, brows furrowed and lips parted with desire as you breathe, “No - can’t -”
“Please -”
“I’m on my period,” you tell him, feeling heat creep up your neck and tainting your cheeks, and to compensate you grind further down on him, dropping your head back at his responding groan.
His tongue darts out to lap at his lips briefly, hands smoothing back down to palm your ass and he doesn’t look nearly as weirded out as you’d expected - you hadn’t thought he’d push you off but you didn’t think he’d start rocking you against him with a new intensity that rips a whine from your throat. Harry doesn’t waste another moment before responding, as though you’d merely told him the weather instead of the current state of your menstrual cycle, “I don’t care, need t’be in you -”
He’s horny, your brain tells yourself. He would care if you hadn’t been grinding on him for nearly ten minutes. And you could accept his declaration of carelessness at face value and strip down and take him but he wouldn’t want it if he was thinking straight, and he’s decidedly not, now, brain muddled with sleep and horniness, even as his hands begin smoothing up the fabric riding up your ass. Fingertips graze your ass beneath your shorts and you jolt -
You’ll suck him off when you’re done, and you’re so close - it’s just another roll of your hips as Harry’s hands grasp your ass, digging into your skin so tight you’ll surely see bruises later that will do unspeakable things to your menstruating brain -
Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as Harry moans beneath you, grinding yourself vigorously against him with a desperate whimper, and you’d cringe at it in any other instance but God, it feels so good, better than anything your fingers could do in the shower, and you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed as your orgasm washes over you. It’s fast and brutal and your body jerkily attempts to maintain a rhythm against your boyfriend’s clothed cock but it’s difficult, arms shaking with the force of holding yourself up as your thighs tighten around his hips, and finally you lean forward, crashing your lips to Harry’s so he can swallow your needy moans.
His palms slide up your ass to your back, pressing against the small of your back as you lazily roll your hips over his, riding out the last aftershocks of your release until you’re done, dropping your head to his chest as heat floods your face. Perhaps he can tell you’re feeling embarrassed - he can read you like a book, generally - and his hands move up beneath your shirt, hands warm against your bare back as he breathes heavily.
(His dick is still throbbingly hard beneath you, and it’s a wonder he’s not bucking his hips into yours to chase his release, but he is, first and foremost, a gentleman.)
“Please -” he murmurs as you move your head so your cheek is pressed to his chest, feeling his heart thumping against your face. “Need t’fuck you, baby - little blood doesn’t bother me -”
Well, he’s still horny, and you ignore the way your stomach flips just like you ignore his words, sliding down his body and laying kisses against his skin as you tug the duvet fully off his body. You’ll consider his words later - debate how much he means it, and maybe he’ll mention it again later - but, for now, you can’t go on leaving him so painfully hard under you, especially when the thought of sucking him off sounds so appealing -
~~
The topic goes, for the most part, unmentioned throughout the rest of the day - the two of you fall back to sleep after your early morning ministrations but only for a few more hours, venturing into the kitchen at 8 to have breakfast out in the garden. French toast amongst flowers is an unmatched experience and one you hadn’t had before quarantine, but you and Harry try to take advantage of the weather before it starts to get too chilly to spend time outside. You still had to run inside to grab cardigans for you both to don but - well, it’s the principle that matters.
And after breakfast comes movies, searching through Amazon until you find something you both haven’t seen, and Harry heads to warm your heating pad as you sacrifice the $3.99 to watch Almost Famous, and he returns with your pad just as you clear a space for him to curl onto the couch behind you. It’s such normal period protocol that you could nearly forget his eagerness to bury himself inside of you, blood and all -
Nearly.
You haven’t forgotten, even when Jason Lee and Billy Crudup fight in a crashing plane, how Harry had begged you to let him fuck you - and he was horny, only a blind man could deny it, but he’d never made claims he couldn’t keep no matter how hard his dick was. The first time he’d confessed that he loved you, he’d been balls deep in your cunt, back pressed tight to your back as he landed biting kisses to the back of your neck, and he’d murmured the words against your sweaty skin - and, later, when you’d asked if he meant it, he’d told you that he’d never lie t’you when you’re tha’ close t’my bits.
It isn’t the most eloquent promise, but he’d mostly kept it. Still - what kind of dreamboat would someone have to be to be willing to fuck you on your period? You’d dated enough people to know what how much of a rarity that is, to have a man so cool with menstruation he doesn’t care about having sex with you and you find it hard to believe Harry truly would be willing -
His arms are crossed over your body, forearms holding your heating pad to your abdomen, palms resting nearly absentmindedly against your boobs through your shirt. His lips lay lazy kisses against the back of your neck, so gentle you’re sure he isn’t even aware he’s doing it, fingers every so often flexing gently against your chest. His curls tickle your shoulders through your tank top, cardigan discarded on the coffee table in front of you, and a chill rolls through your body at the feeling.
He doesn’t even know what he’s doing to you - or maybe he does. You can’t decide which option you prefer.
Harry pauses, breathing gentle against your skin. “What’re you thinkin’ about?”
Sometimes you forget how well he can read you. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
He hums, thumb moving in gentle circles against your boobs, grazing your nipple through the thin bra you’re wearing beneath your tank top, and you can practically hear the way his eyebrow quirks as you inhale softly. “Ah.”
“What?”
“You’re horny.”
You huff, and Harry drops his forehead against the back of your scalp with a low laugh. “Well, obviously - fingering my boobs like that - it’s the period hormones -”
“Period hormones.”
“Yes!” And you push yourself to sit up, glaring down at Harry lying beneath you, heating pad falling along with his arms to your lap, and his hands land on your thighs, palms smoothing up and down your skin. “Come on, you know I get horny on my period -”
“More than usual, you mean?”
“More than - I’m not the one who wakes up in the middle of the night with love boners!”
“Did that today, though, didn’t you?”
You, truly, don’t have any sort of response for that, mouth opening and closing a few times before you cross your arms over your chest, decidedly ignoring his smug smirk. “At least I have an excuse.”
He shrugs, drumming his fingertips up and down your thighs before raising one arm to slide beneath his head, tattooed arm gazing up at you and you want to - God, you want him to fucking rail you and you swallow thickly as his gaze never leaves yours, grin still toying at his lips. “So horny, an’ you won’t let m’fuck you.”
Heat burns at your face as you stare at him, eyebrows furrowing. Is he kidding? You can’t tell. He’s wearing that shit-eating smile that he dons when he’s fucking with you but you can’t see why he’d mention it again unless he was serious - it seems cruel. “Harry.”
“Yes?”
“You’re not serious.”
Harry shrugs, pushing himself onto his elbows, staring up at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “‘Course I’m serious.”
You reach down, fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt covering his chest. “You don’t think it’s - gross? Come on, Har.”
“Do you think s’gross?” he asks, and you shrug, even if you really want to shake your head in a vehement no, glancing back up at him when he lifts his head closer to yours. “I don’t think it is -” and as he sees your doubtful, quirked eyebrow, he exhales a laugh. “M’serious! Remember when y’had the stomach bug, an’ I was cleaning up your puke an’ -”
“Okay,” you cut him off, reaching forward to place your index finger against his lips before he can finish reminding you of exactly what he’d had to clean up - he puckers his lips to land a light kiss against your digits. “But that’s different.”
But you can tell that he can tell that he’s wearing you down - “How’s it different, babe? M’fine gettin’ m’hands a little dirty.”
The expression makes you cringe and you drop your head back with a groan, rolling your eyes at Harry’s barking laugh as he reaches his hand up to rest against your waist, other hand pressed into your thigh. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins, dropping his head into your lap, and you instinctively smooth your nails against his scalp. “But m’serious. Can’t have you gettin’ yourself off by grinding - what kind of boyfriend would I be, hmm?”
A normal one, you want to reply, but the truth is you don’t think you’ll ever look twice at a normal man again if you seriously accept this. How could you go to a normal boyfriend knowing Harry is more than willing to bury himself inside of you, blood and all?
When your fingers abruptly stop scratching his scalp Harry lifts his head, pressing his cheek against your thigh, and you lower your eyes to his with your bottom lip tucked tight between your teeth.
“S’that a yes, then?” he questions, and he sounds so excited at the prospect that your stomach flips.
“A maybe,” and he doesn’t deflate at the half-rejection - you’ll come around, and the both of you know it. “We can - um - we can try it.” As a larger grin spreads across his face you playfully hit his cheek, feeling your own heating up. “In the shower tonight. So - you know - it’s less messy.”
~~~
Harry runs off to start the shower nearly immediately after your late dinner while you begin loading dishes in the dishwasher, shaky hands holding tight onto each dirty plate so you don’t drop it. And you aren’t - nervous, per se, at least not as much as you’d expected yourself to be. Harry had hardly been able to keep his hands off of you all afternoon, palm resting firmly on your thigh during dinner and mouthing open mouthed kisses to your throat while you started your second and third movies of the day.
He wasn’t nervous - not at all. He seemed pretty damn excited, too, and that should make you less hesitant but your stomach still flips as you hear the shower turn on, followed by his footsteps padding down the stairs and the hallway until he emerges back in the kitchen, sweatpants low on his hips and shirt riding up his torso, and you swallow thickly as he leans against the doorway.
“Shower’s running,” he tells you as you shut the dishwasher, taking a step closer to him.
“I hear it.”
“Y’okay?”
You shrug, dragging your nails against his chest softly through his shirt, and Harry wraps his hands around your wrists with a raised eyebrow. “I’m fine,” you tell him, smiling lightly. “I’m nervous, but I’m -”
“Horny?”
“Yeah.”
Harry drops his forehead against the top of your head with a laugh, his arms snaking around your waist to pull you to him. “It’ll be fine,” he says against your hair, puckering your lips to land kiss after kiss to your head. “Anyway, don’t periods stop flowing in water?”
You furrow your eyebrows. “No - what?”
“I saw tha’ online -”
“That’s not true!”
“Okay, okay!” Harry holds up his hands in surrender and you grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Well, m’lady, can I take you upstairs, then?”
Your stomach still rolls with nerves, even as he holds a hand out for you to grasp, and his palm is warmer than yours, skin soft and damp from the shower - “‘Course you can.”
~~~
Harry’s fingers are expert at undoing the clasp of your bra, letting the cups fall away from your boobs and he lowers the straps down your shoulders, dragging his fingertips gently down your skin and smiling as goosebumps pop up over your skin. Your hands, in turn, travel downwards to the front of his sweatpants, pulling the tie until they come undone and the slightly-too-big pants droop down his hips until you slide your hands into the waistband and lower them all the way down into a pool by his ankles.
His shirt has long been discarded, thrown lazily on top of the toilet seat, and your tanktop and shorts have faced similar treatment, abandoned on the floor of your bedroom until you’re both just in your underwear - you’re both itching to be free of them, though, and just as Harry’s hands slide down your waist to the waistband of your panties you grab onto his boxers and tug them down, freeing his half-hard cock from their constraints.
Your hand wraps around his length like a vise, thumb swiping over his head and his hands falter, fingers tight on the hem of your panties, and his eyes drop shut with a low moan. You’re solely interested in feeling him harden in your grasp and your wish succeeds, feeling him throb against your fingers until he’s fully up, sliding his hands up to your breasts and rolling your nipples between his thumbs as some sort of punishment. Your lips part with a whine and you rest your head against his chest, inhaling shakily.
“Y’ready?” Harry questions, pinching your nipples lightly, and you arch your chest into his hands - he knows how sensitive your boobs get on your period and he never fails to take full advantage of your increased responses to his touch. “Panties off, baby.”
You pause, and then move your hands up to his chest, taking a step away from him. “Go in the shower,” you tell him, biting back a grin as he playfully rolls his eyes.
“Are y’serious?”
“Yes - go in the shower and - and close your eyes so I can - wash myself.”
Your cheeks heat up as Harry raises his eyebrows, clearly trying to see whether you’re being serious - after a moment with neither of you budging he sighs, trailing his fingertips down your hips before taking a step back, and you get just a moment to stare at his backside as he turns to step into the shower, sliding the door shut behind him until all you can see is his silhouette in the frosty glass.
You hook your fingers in the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your thighs as you can hear Harry humming in the shower - you kick them to the floor and gaze at yourself in the mirror, just for a moment, before reaching down to the unshaven apex of your thighs, hooking a finger in the string of your tampon and pulling it out with one fast yank. First day of your period and it’s mercifully bright red instead of the end of the period brown that you can’t stand to look at, and you open the trash can with your toes to drop the tampon in.
When you look back at yourself in the mirror briefly, you can already see red staining your inner thighs, and your cheeks flush but you don’t give yourself time to ponder on it for fear of backing out on the whole idea. You merely turn, sliding open the door to the shower and stepping inside, and Harry stands, hand pressed dramatically over his eyes as the water washes over him, and you press your hands to his shoulders, moving around him so you can be in the direct line of the water. The stream washes away the remnants of blood between your thighs, disappearing down the drain until you’re sure there’s nothing left, and you tap Harry on the shoulder.
“You can open,” you tell him, and the fingers clamped over his eyes separate so you can see just a band of green peeking between his digits.
“Can’t believe you’re this bothered over a spot f’blood,” Harry says, and before you can venomously retort by telling him that it’s much more than a spot of blood, and he should know, considering how often he has to go out and buy you tampons, he presses his hands to the side of your face, lowering his lips to yours in a clashing, deep kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth without a moment to spare.
You nearly slip, then, taking a slippery step back until your back is pressed to the shower wall, hand reaching behind you to grab onto the railing installed into the wall for this very purpose - it’s ideal to grab onto you when he’s railing you from behind, and the little alcove dug into the wall for toiletries is the ideal place to perch on while Harry goes to town between your legs -
Now, though, you simply loop your free arm around his neck, pulling his body closer to yours with a soft moan into his mouth as one of his hands leaves your face to trail down your body, palm cupping your boob and squeezing the soft flesh. It pulls another whine from your throat, pushing your chest into his hands and he grins against your lips, dragging his thumb across your peaked nipple. You get so caught up in the kiss and his hand on your boobs that you could nearly forget about the circumstances that led you to this specific scenario, fucking in the shower instead of the comfort of your own bed -
Until his hand cupping your breast moves farther down, fingers trailing through the sodden curls between your thighs before dipping between your folds, and you jolt, arm tightening around his neck and his head drops between your neck and shoulder. Your face burns as his fingertips circle your clit, pressing into the sensitive nub as you groan before he slides them back down your folds, pressing one gently into your hole until it slips in with an embarrassing amount of ease.
“Oh fuck -” you exhale, and Harry lifts his head slightly, suckling a hickey into the side of your neck as his finger pumps in and out of you, curling upwards to hit the spongy spot inside of you that has you pushing your hips into his hands. “Come on, Har, babe - just fuck me, really fuck me -”
“Wan’ me t’fuck you, don’t you?” he exhales into your skin, soaked curls dripping moisture onto your chest, and the warm water dripping down your skin has a chill rolling through your spine like a goddamn tidal wave. “Don’t want m’fingers, d’you?”
You do want his fingers, though - and his mouth - and his cock - and the need is so overwhelming it makes your legs feel shaky. For a moment you don’t know what to say, mouth parted in a silent plea for everything and anything he’s willing to give you and Harry simply stares, thrusting his finger in and out of you before adding another.
Eventually his pauses, fingers twisted to graze the spot inside of you that makes your vision go hazy, and you know he needs you to speak but you can hardly think of anything to say. “Please -”
“Please wha’?”
“Please - I need to cum -”
He hums and lowers his lips back to yours, and you cry out directly into his mouth as his thumb rests against your clit, rubbing slow circles entirely too soft into the nub but even the slightest bit of stimulation has your hormone ridden body bucking up into him, squeezing onto the railing behind you for dear life so you don’t collapse with need. “Need t’cum?”
“Yes!”
“Do it then, baby - cum f’me, cum on m’fingers -”
You roll your hips against his fingers, dropping your head back against the wall of the shower with a whine, and Harry continues his steady face penetrating you with his fingers - normally you’d never cum this fast, hardly five minutes with his fingers in your cunt but this isn’t a normal situation by any standards, and you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed over how close you are.
Harry’s teeth close on your bottom lip, nibbling on the skin gently and you’re nearly crossing your eyes to maintain eye contact with him - you know how much he loves watching when you come undone - and all it takes is one more measly pump of his fingers into your dripping pussy for you to topple over the edge. Your body trembles beneath him as his fingers still, your eyes rolling back into your scalp as you shake in his arms, cunt fluttering weakly around his fingers. His breathing is heavy in your ears, low and raspy as you whimper violently with your orgasm wrapping around you like a fucking vise and when your vision finally clears up he’s staring at you like you’re a piece in the damn Museum of Modern Art.
“Fuck, Har, felt so good,” you exhale, and Harry reaches down, one of his forearms going beneath your thighs to lift up, and you look down just as he pulls his fingers out of you. The blood on his digits is immediately washed away by the stream of water but you still cringe watching the water turn red as it disappears into the drain, and you can tell he notices your sudden shyness - fingers grasp your chin, angling your head up to stare at him. “What -?”
His lips press to yours once more, a soft, lingering kiss that doesn’t go anywhere at all, before he pulls away, hands sliding up and down your hips. “I guess eating your cunt s’out f’the picture, then …?”
You roll your eyes with a giggle as he drops your leg again, nails digging crescents into your hips as he turns you around, hips pressed flush to yours and his chest to your back, and you instinctively hold tighter onto the railing. “For now,” you groan in response as he thrusts his hips against yours, cock sliding against the sensitive folds of your cunt, and you can practically feel the way he perks up at your half-rejection. “Just fuck me, Har - please, missed it so much -”
Harry laughs at that - a dry one, void of humor, and you whine, pushing your ass back against him before he indulges you, grip landing on your hips and pulling your ass tight against his cock. “S’only been one day without my cock,” he breathes, one hand leaving your hips, presumably to line his dick up as you feel his tip poking at your folds, and you drop your forehead against the shower wall with a whine. “Look how needy you are.”
You are needy, rocking your hips against the tip of his cock that he drags through your folds, and you can’t bring yourself to care about it one bit. “Please -”
“Tell me.”
“Harry -”
“Tell me.”
You groan as he pulls the tip out, and his length smacks against your ass once and even if it’s gentle it still makes you thrust your hips back towards him, and his arm on your hips tightens until you can’t move at all. “I’m - I need you so bad, Har - need you to fuck me - fuck me like you -”
Your sentence is cut off with a loud, drawn out cry as Harry pushes himself into you, cock filling you to the brim and your mouth opens and closes uselessly before he pulls out and thrusts back in with a loud groan, water droplets flicking onto your skin as you hold tight onto the railing. Your knees feel weak as Harry fucks into you, his hands holding tight onto your hips and surely leaving bruises on your skin, but you can’t possibly bring yourself to complain as you drop your head forward with a sob.
“Fuck, Har!” you moan, pushing your hips back against his as he pumps into you, his groans nearly overpowering the slap of skin against skin but you can still hear it like music to your ears, and you gnaw on your bottom lip to try and silence some of your desperate cries. “Please, please -”
“Oh, god,” Harry grunts, holding your hips tighter to his as his pace increases, hips slamming into yours as though he hadn’t fucked you for weeks instead of one measly day. Quarantine truly had spoiled both of you - days spent without fucking each other all over the house seemed to be days wasted, aren’t they? And the week per month you’d had to spend without having sex during your period was a miserable one, and an era you’re more than glad to see gone - “fuck, baby, so - so tight, ‘round m’cock, squeezin’ me so tight.”
Your hand slips on the railing and for a second you fear you’ll fall - but then Harry’s arms slide upwards, forearms wrapped tight against your stomach as he leans forward, chest pressed to your back as his hips slam into yours over and over, lips pressing biting kisses into the wet skin of your neck. You can feel rather than hear his moans, their vibrations reverberating through your skin and you reach behind your head, dragging your nails through his hair as he leaves bites down your skin.
You can already feel your release building, pressure rising in your stomach as your cunt clenches and unclenches around him, gasping for air in the shower, humid from the hot water and your body heat. You’re sure all you need is his fingers, just circling your clit one time and you’ll snap, cumming so hard you’re sure you’ll see stars, so hard you won’t be able to hold yourself up -
“Play w’your clit, baby,” Harry breathes, so quiet you nearly can’t hear it, and you inhale shakily as you oblige, letting go of the railing with one hand to trail down your wet stomach until you reach your sensitive clit, and it throbs against your fingers. “Yeah, good girl - give it a pinch f’me, baby, make yourself cum on m’cock -”
Shaky fingers circle your clit and then press down before pinching it like he’d instructed, and your back arches into his chest, feeling his peaked nipples dragging across your skin. His body blocks most of the water’s stream onto you but you can still feel droplets soaking your skin, trailing down and meeting your fingers at your clit and it only adds to the pleasure mounting, spreading from your clit throughout your entire body -
“Fuck!”
Your knees finally give out as you sob out, squeezing your eyes shut as you hit your breaking point for the second time - your body shakes desperately, tilting your head to the side with a cry as Harry lunges forward to attach his lips to yours, every whine going directly into his mouth. His arm around your waist is the only thing holding you up but you can tell he’s close, thrusts losing their steady pace and growing jerkier, and as your cunt flutters around him you can feel his cock throbbing -
“God,” Harry moans, and you can hear his voice growing higher in pitch, and it’s a telltale sign that he’s so fucking close you’re sure he can feel it on the tip of his fingers - “clench around me, baby, come on -”
And you oblige, cunt tightening around him as you rest your forehead against the railing, and it only takes a few more jerky thrusts before he grabs hold of your hips, bringing them tight to his. The sensation of being filled with his cum is one you’ve grown so used to but it never fails to make you moan, tilting your head to the side so you can get a glimpse of his face in your peripheral vision as his eyes shut, lips parted as he groans, and hot ribbons of cum fill your cunt as he releases.
Your breathing is shaky when Harry grabs your hands, tugging you around so you’re facing him, and you glance down at the floor of the shower, watching the water beneath you tint itself red with your blood. You expect a rush of embarrassment to wash over you as he glances down to see what you’re looking at but it never comes - you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed when you’re so relaxed, finally satisfied, watching his cum drip down your thighs.
Harry turns to shut off the shower, the stream of water abruptly stopping, and you cross your arms over your chest, trying to preserve the humid air sure to escape as soon as he opens the door. But he doesn’t - not yet, at least - his hands, instead, coming down to land on your upper arms, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin as he stares down at you.
“How was tha’?” your boyfriend questions, voice soft and sentimental and you can’t help yourself from pushing yourself onto your toes to land a kiss to the side of his cheek. “Not as bad as y’thought, was it.”
It’s not a question - he knows the answer already. “It was amazing,” you confess truthfully, reaching up to move his wet curls out of his face, and a smile tilts your lips upward as he grins. “Not bad at all.”
“Not bad at all,” he echoes, and you can tell he’s resisting the urge to say I told you so or something of the sort, but you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to - he was right. Knows you better than you know yourself, sometimes, and it should scare you but it just makes you love him more than you thought you could. “An’ next time, we can do it on the bed.”
“On the -?”
#harry styles smut#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harry styles imagines#harry styles one shot#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles writing#one direction writing#harry styles drabble#so unedited but when do i edit anything i write
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Succession Chapter 10 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic
Y’all have been patient...have some smut!!
Title: Succession Chapter 10
Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader
Rating: NC-17 for language and sex (light choking, fingering, doggystyle, creampie)
Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary. While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.
Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter 10
Once you and Heisenberg entered through the factory gates, he released your arm to turn and secure the lock. You continued the trek up to the building, ignoring his shouts and yells at you to wait for him. You walked through the sliding double doors of the factory and straight towards Heisenberg’s living quarters, him stomping close behind you.
Anger and rage coarsed through your body. The thought of him striking Moreau and towering over the poor man made you furious. What happened, as weird and demented as it was, was an accident and Moreau did not mean for it to happen.
You turned the corner and walked down the hall towards the room.
“You do realize that everything that happened today is your fault!” Heisenberg growled as he caught up with you, “if you had not run off and into an unknown village where anything could have killed you…”
You entered his room, grabbed the edge of the door, and flung it closed behind you with every ounce of strength you had. “Hey! DON’T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME!” Heisenberg roared, stopping the door before it shut. He shoved it open, making it bang against the wall loudly. He stood there in front of the doorway, his body large and seething with anger.
You turned around slowly, crossing your arms in front of you. You stood there defiant, your face impassive, showing him that you would not back down. “How can you blame me for running off when I finally saw what you’re doing in this slaughterhouse you call a factory?!” you yelled.
Heisenberg narrowed his eyes at you and put his hand up, halting your words. “This is not a slaughterhouse...those people were already dead when I brought them here!”
You let out an exasperated, incredulous laugh. “Oh, they were already dead??? That makes it all better, Karl! Why didn’t you say that as I was running off?!?!”
Heisenberg walked to his table, grabbed a mug seated on top, and flung it with all his might against the wall. It shattered into pieces as he closed the space between the two of you, glaring down at you. “There is a reason why I brought you back to the factory! Of all of the places in this village, you are safer with me! You have no fucking clue where you are and what happens here!”
“Then tell me, Karl! Fucking tell me! What is going on here?? How are you expecting me to stay put and trust you when you won’t tell me anything?!?!” You were close to tears. Never has your anger been so intense that you wanted to scream, cry, and set the place on fire simultaneously.
Without warning, Heisenberg grabbed you and pushed you up against the table. His gloved hands went to your shoulders before slowly going around your neck. Momentary panic rose inside you as you felt his fingers tighten around your neck. You gripped the edge of the table tightly, waiting for him to hurt you. He didn’t press on your windpipe or restrict your breathing...he simply kept your head still as he looked at you. Your hands went to his trench coat, grabbing fistfuls of it. You were ready to kick and push him away if he tried to choke you. He slowly lifted his hand and removed his sunglasses, letting them drop to the table. Your face softened as you watched his eyes search yours. “You make me so goddamn angry. I could throttle you right here…” he murmured.
“Let...me...go…” you growled.
“Oh, no, pussycat...I’m not letting you get away again…” And with that, Heisenberg’s lips closed over yours.
It was astonishing how one kiss completely wiped away your anger and your willpower. The feel of his lips against yours, the slow moan that slipped from his mouth, his right hand on your throat with his left hand cupping the back of your head...you had never been kissed like that before in your entire life. His mouth opened yours and his tongue snaked out, caressing and coaxing your tongue. An involuntary whimper escaped your mouth as you gripped his trench coat tighter, pulling him closer. Your right leg lifted and circled his hip. With another growl, his mouth never leaving yours, he gripped both legs and hoisted you against him, sitting you up on the table.
When you finally pulled away, you were gasping for air. Your lips were swollen and bruised from his kisses. Your body felt like it was on fire. Heisenberg smiled and took in your flushed cheeks. Your pupils were blown. His arms wrapped around you and his hands pressed against your lower back, arching you against him. “If I didn’t know any better...I’d say you wanted to fuck me…”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but you were so far gone you didn’t have a leg to stand on. “You egotistical, self-centered asshole…” you spat as you pulled him in and kissed him hard. Your fingers ran through his hair as you pressed your body against his. He smirked against your lips and started to grind himself against you. You felt drunk, your head swimming from his lips on yours and his body pressed to you...you were desperate for him and unable to control your body.
You pushed his trench coat off his shoulders and down his arms. His hands only left your body for the quickest of moments in order to let the coat drop to the floor. He pulled his mouth away and grabbed the three items that hung from his neck, pulling them overhead and dropping them loudly to the table. He removed his gloves as you reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly, your eyes never leaving his. You were taking your time and he was growing impatient. “Oh, fuck it…” Heisenberg growled. Unable to control himself, he ripped his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere.
He discarded his buttoned up shirt and went for his undershirt, pulling it over his head. Once it was off, you moaned softly, your lips parting as you took in his naked torso. Your fingers started at his shoulders and slowly moved downward, letting your fingertips slide over his skin. Heisenberg’s chest rose and fell as he studied your face. He saw your tongue slide over your lips, your eyes gazing over his chest and stomach. Desire was evident on your face and it aroused him beyond measure. Of all the times he thought of you, lusted after you, jerked off elsewhere in the factory when you were locked away in this very room...he never thought that you wanted him as well.
“Karl…” you whispered as you looked up and met his gaze. You grabbed the hem of your shirt and brought it over your head. Heisenberg let out a murmured curse as he looked down at your breasts held inside of your bra. His cock grew harder as his hands went behind you. You shivered at the feel of his lips on your neck as he unclasped your bra and pulled it down your arms. Letting it fall to the floor, he laid you down on the table.
“God dammit, pussycat…” Heisenberg moaned as his lips kissed down your chest. Both of his hands grasped, squeezed, and caressed your breasts. You whimpered and arched your back at the feel of his full lips and the tickle of his beard against your skin. Your legs gripped his hips and your hands moved from his hair down to his shoulders. You could feel the scars peppered along his back. Looking down, you watched as his tongue circled your nipple and his teeth lightly nibbled on it.
“Karl...oh my god, Karl...you’re...you’re getting me wet…” you panted. Heisenberg let out a growl as he moved to kiss your other breast. His hands went to your pants and unzipped them frantically. Your eyes widened as his right hand pushed down the front of your panties and his fingers dipped between your pussy lips.
“Mmmmm….you weren’t lying…” he smirked. Before you knew what was happening, Heisenberg pulled you off the table and whirled you around with your back pressing against him. He shoved his hand back down your panties and continued to finger you. “You’re so fucking wet, Y/N…” he purred into your ear, “...I’m gonna sink my cock so deep inside of you. I’m gonna make you cum over and over again, do you understand me?”
You moaned and nodded as one hand assisted his hand in your pants and one hand reached up to tug at his hair. You moaned and whimpered helplessly as his rough, calloused fingers rubbed your swollen clit. You could feel his cock through his pants and you realized in that moment how desperate you were for him. All of the things you wanted to do to his prick ran through your mind...you wanted to be on your knees before him with his cock in your mouth...you wanted to straddle his body and ride his dick until you came shouting his name.
“Karl...I want your cock…” you moaned.
“Mmmm fuck, pussycat...say it again…” he demanded, his fingers rubbing your clit harder.
“I want your cock…”
“Louder!”
“Oh fuck, Karl, I want your cock!!!” you screamed.
“Good girl. First, cum on my fingers. Cum for me and then I’ll give you my cock…” he grinned as he nibbled your earlobe.
Your hips bucked and gyrated against his hand. His hips pushed against your ass, his dick rock hard and desperate for you. Heisenberg knew that once he crossed that line and pushed so deep inside of you that he would never want to pull out. He would stay nestled in your cunt, cum, get hard again, and spill inside of you all over again. You were going to be the death of him.
“Karl...Karl...please don’t stop fingering me, Karl...OH GOD!!!!” you screamed. You fisted his long hair and pushed at his hand as your body trembled and quaked. Heisenberg almost came in his pants as he watched you fall apart in his arms. His name on your tongue sounded like both a curse and a prayer.
You shuddered against him as he turned the both of you towards his bed and guided you over. Heisenberg pulled his wet fingers from your panties and brought them to his mouth. His eyes closed as he savored the taste of you. Images of your legs spread and his tongue shoved in your pussy aroused him even more. Before the night was through, he would taste you again.
He kicked off his boots and pulled off his pants and socks. You crawled atop the bed and laid down on your stomach, your body still humming from your orgasm. The feel of his hands peeling off your shoes, socks, and pants made you turn your head to look back at him. Your eyes widened as he stood naked before you. His cock was thick and hard, pre-cum forming at the tip. Your mouth watered and you looked up at his dark eyes. Without being told, you lifted your hips, arched your back, and lowered your head down to the bed.
“Y/N, I’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment I met you…” Heisenberg confessed, gripping your hips and angling you against him. “Watching you sleep next to me...hearing you breathe...when I listened to you moaning in your sleep...you have no fucking idea how much I wanted you…”
“Karl…” you moaned as you closed your eyes and bit your lower lip, “...when you caught me moaning as I slept...I was dreaming of you…”
Not being able to wait one more minute, Heisenberg gripped his cock in his hands and pushed the tip into your cunt.
The both of you moaned loudly as he pushed deeper and deeper. You spread your thighs wider and arched your back. Unable to stop yourself, you reached for your clit and began to rub wildly. You were desperate for another orgasm.
“Stop…” Heisenberg ordered gruffly, grabbing both of your wrists and placing them on your lower back, “you’ll cum when I say you can cum. Do you understand?” You whimpered and nodded, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes. You needed to cum again...and you needed to cum on Heisenberg’s dick.
Holding both of your wrists in one hand and his other hand on your hip, he thrusted hard and deep. You let out a loud whimper as his hips picked up speed. The feel of his cock rubbing back and forth along your G-spot was exquisite and agonizing. You needed this man more than anything you have ever needed in your life. And here he was, buried so deep you thought you would go insane.
“Y/N...oh fuck...you feel so fucking good...so fucking tight...uh….uh….uh fuck!” Heisenberg growled. You squeezed your pussy around his cock, pulsing and gripping him tight. He let out a loud shout as his thrusts quickened. The steady slap of his skin against yours echoed in the room. You moaned, whimpered, and panted loudly. He felt so unbelievable inside of you. You never wanted him to stop fucking you.
Heisenberg switched from hard, fast strokes to slow and torturous movements. His orgasm was so close and he could feel that yours was as well, but he didn’t want it to be over so soon. He watched his cock push in and out of your dripping wet cunt. The helpless sounds that flowed from your mouth was music to his ears. You were so perfectly submissive in that moment and he never wanted to let you go.
“Karl…” you whimpered helplessly, “...I’m so close...please, Karl...please...cum inside of me...I want to feel you cum deep inside of me…”
Your words tipped him over the edge. He released your wrists, both of his hands gripping your hips tight, and started to ram into you hard and fast.
“Y/N...Y/N...cum on my cock...right now...RIGHT NOW...FFFFFUUUUCCCCKKKKKK!” Heisenberg roared as ropes of cum shot deep inside of you. You felt his cock spasm over and over. Hearing him shout your name made you lose all control and you unraveled frantically. You screamed his name again and again, your hands grabbing fistfuls of the sheets under you as your thighs trembled. Heisenberg’s fingers sunk into your hips as he continued to thrust over and over, the tempo slowing to soft rocking.
Beads of sweat slid down Heisenberg’s skin. His hair clung to his face and neck. He watched his cock inside of you as he panted for breath. His right hand slowly traced from your hip, up your back, and to the nape of your neck. You relaxed as his fingers massaged your neck and caressed your flesh.
“Okay…” he murmured.
You lifted your face from the bed, looking back at him. “Okay, what?”
“I’ll tell you everything, Y/N...what I am, where you are, who resides here...everything.”
#resident evil village#resident evil village fanfic#karl heisenberg#karl heisenberg x reader#karl heisenburg x reader#karl heisenberg fanfic#daddy heisenberg#house heisenberg#succession fanfic#succession heisenberg fanfic
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This is not meta this is just giggles.
My absolute favorite scene in 501st is the one where the Nulls go to retrieve Niner and Darman only to have them both behave like cats who wanted the door open:
Jaing knows what’s up. He’s not wrong. They really are the two most dramatic members of Omega squad. Darman of the “I’m going to kick my sergeant out of the crashing aircraft against orders” school of thought and Niner, Mr. “We’ll believe Darman’s dead when HELL FREEZES OVER” and “I’m gonna FIGHT A NULL over ETHICS in the MIDDLE OF A MISSION I don’t GIVE a FUCK”.
This is going to be a five act tragecomedy if it kills them, basically. They know no other way.
Now a missing scene with Atin and Fi over on Mandalore making eye contact for the first time as they realize who exactly got left behind on Coruscant in the care of who:
and I’m just saying, if they’d let Atin or Fi come, Niner and Darman would have been tranqed into the ground five paces from HQ with enough drugs to down a Rancor each and woken up a week later on Mandalore. No muss, no fuss.
Ordo: We’ll only go if Niner calls for assistance.
Fi, holding a box of tranqs between his teeth as he loads one of Skirata’s verps: Uh-huh.
Darman and Niner have been Ordo’s official little brothers for like five minutes and they’ve already got him ready to throttle them on sight *wipes away a tear*
They’re doing great. I’m so proud of them.
But the absolute best part to follow, because I love how the Nulls’ immediate, instinctive reaction to this shit is just to line up to dogpile Niner. Best and brightest over here and this is what they come up with. I am imagining now that this is just how they deal with each other when one of them requires an intervention. Just. Flatten the transgressor. Sit your heavy ass on the brother until he stops being a dumbass. Works a charm every time, I’m sure.
It’s beautiful.
But please, Ordo, imagine that you succeeded. You then would have been stuck in the same contained space as Niner and Niner’s lungs all the whole way back to Mandalore.
Please also imagine the Alphas laughing themselves sick at the Nulls suddenly confronted with a bunch of a commandos who emphatically refuse to behave rationally, sit still for five minutes, or do what they’re fucking told. Turn your back on them for a second and they’ve scattered themselves across Coruscant and are refusing orders because they’re having feelings about things, eh? Know better than you do, eh? Hm. hM. HEY, GUYS, DOESN’T THAT SOUND FAMILIAR. WOW YOU KNOW WHAT IT KINDA DOES. JUST GOTTA WONDER WHERE WE’VE HEARD THIS BEFORE-
Maze, looking Ordo dead in the eyes: Wow. Sounds just horrible. I feel just- so sorry for you. I can’t IMAGINE what that’s like--
(and it really is always niner lol please imagine Atin in the distance as soon as he hears taking a deep, deep breath, breaking out his thumb tacks, and adding another line to the “Niner is secretly a chaos gremlin” conspiracy board he’s been packing since Qiilura. He could have told you, Ordo. He could have warned you.)
#repcomm 501st#clonecumber rereads repcomm#new big brother tries to return new little brother to stork via post exchance#click the link for adorable pictures!#nulls encounter nulls jr and are NOT okay with this#nulls are officially responsible for these little shits now: Not Fans#maze lets it be known that he hopes they grow up to be JUST like you guys#you DESERVE it#repcomm
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Motel Living
this idea would not leave me alone, despite me having like three other fics barely done. it is very random. i dont even know what to say lol.
2554 words
enjoy!
Today was officially the one month anniversary of Aelin moving into a three-star motel. She did not think she'd be here for long, a couple of weeks at most, but here she was a month later, and on a Friday night no less. She should have been out with her friends, but she opted to stay inside.
She had to tell herself that she shouldn't complain. That there were people that were worse off than her. Living in a motel was fine.
But it still didn't change the fact that Aelin wished she wasn't living in a motel room. Especially one that was popular with long haul truckers whose snores sounded like chain saws and blenders on the highest level. That right now, down in the restaurant/pub that was only six doors down, an important football game was playing and the patrons inside were cheering wildly.
Aelin missed the house that she had been renting the last three years. Last year she had decided to start saving so that she could purchase the house itself, since it was still on the market since the day she moved in. It was hard, but Aelin was a determined woman and she set her sights on purchasing the house—she felt like she practically owned it anyway—up until the day she received a call from the real estate agency telling her that the house had been purchased and she had to move out.
Aelin disliked crying, but the waterworks started the minute she hung up. She really did love that house. Had created a small vegetable and herb garden to make it feel more homely. Made it hers in the three years she had occupied it.
There was a tiny silver-lining, however, since the new owners were coming from the other side of the continent, she had plenty of time to pack and move out.
But that silver-lining quickly disappeared once she started her search for a new home in-between packing and work. Every apartment, every house, every unit she looked out at was taken by the time she handed in her application. Every inspection starting to become fruitless when she knew that she wouldn't be the one to live in it.
Aelin hadn't realised that the market had become so cut-throat. She knew she was the perfect applicant because in all her years renting she never missed a single day, never received a complaint. Even when the landlord dragged his ass to fix something, Aelin kept her temper in its leash and did not throttle him the way she wanted too.
And as her luck ran out and Aelin had started to truly worry about where she was going to live because while she had multiple people in her life, she quickly realised that she couldn't ask any of them if she could move in for multiple reasons:
Aedion and Lysandra were recently married, and Aelin hadn't wanted to burst their newlywed bubble.
Chaol and Yrene were brand new parents, their baby girl born the day Aelin moved out, and she knew the last thing they wanted was someone else in the way.
Nehemia was in the same position as her, but her parents had invited her back home while Nehemia looked for somewhere else. Aelin's parents were dead, and her childhood home had been destroyed in a wildfire a five years ago, and Aelin had used the insurance money to pay off her debts. She cursed herself now for doing that, but Aelin hated being in debt and she did what she had too.
Fenrys lived in a one bedroom unit and had the worlds most uncomfortable couch, so he was out. And while Fenrys was one of her best friends, she didn't really talk with Connall, his twin. Nor did she often talk with Vaughn.
Dorian and Manon were travelling all over Erilea and Dorian's younger brother Hollin was house-sitting. Aelin couldn't stand Hollin for more than a few minutes at a time and she would rather live in the motel for a year than live in with him.
And then there was Rowan. He had been a close friend for years, until five months ago they decided that they had liked each other too much to keep being friends and officially started dating (at Lysandra and Aedion's wedding, of all places). If they had been together for longer, she would have asked him—but she didn't want to rush anything, because Aelin could so clearly see a future with him and she didn't want to hurt that future by moving in far too early in their relationship.
So that left Elide, her lifelong friend that was more like a sister. Elide was purely on the bottom of the list since she knew her friend cherished living alone after living in a shit-hole with her even shittier uncle—but Aelin knew Elide and if Aelin needed a place to stay, then Elide's door would be wide open. The two had gone to lunch and Aelin had been just moments away from telling Elide everything and asking for a world changing favour.
Until Elide had excitedly announced that Lorcan was going to move in.
And Aelin's plan had deflated. Again, Aelin knew that if Elide was aware of how desperate she was, Elide would invite Aelin to stay, but since Lorcan and Aelin didn't particularly get along, Aelin kept her mouth shut and congratulated her friend for the new milestone in their relationship.
So, all her options completely exhausted, Aelin looked for vacant motels, found that this was the best out of all the options and became a long-standing tenant.
Aelin had managed to keep everyone away from her new apartment by claiming that it wasn't ready for visitors. Most knew that Aelin was house-proud, a trait that she had inherited from her late mother, so they knew that when Aelin was ready, she would invite them.
It was getting hard, however, to keep Rowan away. Each date night and hang out ended up at his apartment and Rowan was becoming curious as to how her new place was looking.
Rowan wasn't judgemental, and he wouldn't look down at her for living in a motel room, but Aelin was the problem; she was too proud to show him her new place. Even when she was at her lunch with Elide, she had to beat down her pride at just the mere thought of asking Elide if she could move in.
Tonight, however, Aelin knew in her bones that Rowan would ask to come over. He had a completely shitty day at work—one that ended up in the hospital because for the first time in his career as a carpenter, Rowan had somehow gotten his hand in the way of his nail gun and shot right through the middle of his palm and was off work until it healed, which Rowan hated the most out of the whole ordeal, since Rowan was the type of person that always had to be doing something.
So when his face finally popped up on her phone screen, Aelin muffled a groan into her pillow (because there was no way in hell she was using the standard sheets the motel provided, she needed her bedding or she wouldn't get any sleep), took a deep breath and plastered a smile onto her face.
“How's the hand?” she asked by way of greeting.
“It'd be a lot better if there wasn't a hole in it,” was his groggy reply. “I just woke up from the longest nap and thought of you.”
“That's sweet of you to say,” Aelin said, “do you want me to come over? I could cook you my world famous grilled cheese.” Please say yes, she thought, please.
“As much as I love the sound of that, I just need to get out of my house,” Rowan said, “I know that you're house-proud and if you don't want me to see it, I understand, I'll even wear a blind fold if that'll make you happy, but I just...” he trailed off and Aelin could see his pained expression even though they were miles apart.
“Seeing all your work tools is making you miserable,” she supplied. Rowan grunted in confirmation. Taking a deep breath, Aelin said, “You can come over, I don't mind. I'd be happy to see you.” And she would be. She'd just have to kick her pride in the corner. “There's a pub right around the corner from mine and the cheeseburgers they have are really fucking good, and I mean that sincerely. Do you want me to get you one? Because I only have snacks and canned food at the moment.”
“A burger sounds good, with extra tomato, please.”
Aelin smiled. “Of course, I'll text you the address, and I'll see you soon.”
After ordering their dinner, Aelin tidied up (even though the space was immaculate) and waited, and waited. When a gentle knock sounded at her door, Aelin took the food from the restaurant worker and was just about to go back in when Rowan's truck pulled up.
Even ten car spots away, Aelin could see his puzzled expression from where she stood. Placing the food on the small, round dining table, Aelin waited by the door and gave Rowan her best smile when he stood in front of her.
His puzzled expression melted away momentarily when she kissed him hello, but it was back in full force when they pulled away.
“Fireheart,” was all he said, and it said everything that he didn't say.
“I know.”
“You're living in a motel room.” There was no judgement in his voice, like she knew there wouldn't be, but it was clear that he was confused about the whole thing. She should have just told him. She loved her late mother, but really hated the fact that she had passed her pride to Aelin. She hated the fact that, deep down, she was embarrassed, even if Aelin told herself that she had no reason to. The housing market was insane, there was no where else for her to go, and that she hated herself for not saving more money to buy her home of three years.
“I am,” Aelin said, “but it's not so bad. It's affordable and clean.” Aelin invited him inside and sat him down the small dining table.
From his spot, he took in the space. Saw the bar fridge that could barely hold a bags worth of cold food, her toaster oven and the dual butane stove she had to purchase because she didn't want to have to use the toaster oven all the time. The tiny closet that held a decent amount of clothes, but didn't make a dent in her considerable mountain of clothes that she had put away in the storage unit she was renting.
None of her candles were in sight and no books either. Aelin was taking full advantage of her library apps, but it wasn't the same. Aelin loved the feeling of a book in her hands, but there was no space and it would have been silly to bring in her bookcases.
“Where's all your stuff?”
“In a storage unit. I considered living in there, but it doesn't have an air-conditioner and this place does.”
Before Rowan could say anything, Aelin turned on the TV, put on whatever movie sounded dumb enough and ate her dinner.
Aelin could see the question burning in his eyes as she stuffed her mouth to avoid answering that very question.
Why didn't Aelin ask if she could stay with him?
Aelin wanted to tell him, she really did, but was afraid that if she showed how serious she was, Rowan might admit that he wasn't as serious as her.
But Aelin knew herself, knew that she was going to tell him at one point or another. She could tell Rowan anything and he wouldn't flinch. It was her own doubt stopping her.
“That really is the best burger I've ever had,” Rowan said when he was finished.
“It really is,” was all Aelin could think of to say. Gods, she felt so damned awkward. The question was still in Rowan's eyes, even as he laughed at the movie and its stupidity. So to avoid it for a bit longer, Aelin took the take-away boxes into the dumpster outback and immediately went for a shower afterwards.
When she came out, Rowan was lounging on her bed, his injured hand laying across his chest, the other arm fiddling with her comforter. Aelin dressed in a shirt that she may have borrowed without asking from Rowan and a pair of sleep shorts.
Borrowing underneath her comforter, Aelin rested her head on Rowan's chest and the awkwardness she felt deflated a bit as he pressed a kiss on her head.
Aelin told him how she ended up here. Including her embarrassment and annoyance at herself. Rowan listened attentively, as he always did. That was one of the biggest things she loved about him, that he listened. And Aelin was in love with him, she knew without a doubt. She was certain she fell in love with him when he danced with her at Aedion and Lysandra's wedding.
When the credits started to roll, Aelin took a deep breath and decided to plunge into uncharted territories. She kept her eyes glued onto the screen.
Aelin decided to bite the bullet. If it all went to hell, she would beat herself up later.
“I don't want to fuck things up with you.” Well, that wasn't how she wanted to start this conversation, but she supposed it was the best way to start off. “I wanted to ask you if I could move in, but our relationship is just so new, and I didn't want to ruin our future, because I can see a future with you, Rowan.” Moving so that she could look Rowan in the eye, Aelin took the deepest plunge imaginable and told him, “I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.”
The smile he gave her was the most beautiful she'd ever seen. “I love you, too, Aelin.” Reaching down to kiss her, all of Aelin's doubts melted away. When he pulled back, Rowan said softly, “If you wish to ask, I'll say yes. Because I see a future with you too. You're the one for me.”
“Rowan, can I move in with you?”
He kissed her again. “Yes, you can.”
Aelin's cheeks were started to become sore from all her smiling. Maybe it was a good thing after all that she ended up living here.
Hours later, after another bad movie and celebrating the new milestone in their relationship (which was mainly Aelin laughing as she rode Rowan because he kept forgetting about his injured hand), Aelin and Rowan got ready for bed, and as Aelin rested her head on his chest again, she said, “Just to let you know, I'm going to replace your mattress for mine, because yours is hard as stone.”
“That's exactly why I'm letting you move in, I'm in the market for a new mattress.”
Aelin playfully whacked his chest and muttered what a buzzard he was, but soon fell asleep with a smile on her face, ready for her future with Rowan.
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Shigaraki x Reader 18+
Title: Crybaby
Rating: Explicit/R-18+
Words: 12,290
Warnings: I'll be honest and say I'm not entirely sure how to tag some of this so proceed with caution. Infantilization, forced age regression, mental age regression, non consensual regression, ageplay, mentions of baby bottles and pacifiers, coercion, general noncon and dubcon, diddling, vaginal fingering, involuntary urination, wetting, mention of forced third party bathing, diapers, penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, creampie, excessive use of 'Tomu-nii', mention of sex slaves, a brief but explicitly violent death mention towards the start, overall very questionable decisions from both me and Shigaraki
A/N: I will not be taking any questions at this time, thank you.
( @tomurasprincess)
���♥♥♥
There was a fine line between a gift and a burden.
A new video game, for example, is something people were generally happy to receive and there was no obligation to slave over it at all hours of the day, unless you wanted to. A puppy, on the other hand, came with a certain amount of responsibility that couldn’t be side lined until Tomura decided to deal with it. There was no save button, no coming back to it later. He had to be vigilant to some degree, mindful of the life that was now in his hands, and that wasn’t something he was accustomed to by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn’t stand it. Didn’t even really possess the vernacular needed to describe exactly how much it pissed him off that he was suddenly expected to take care of someone - something else.
It was bullshit.
Standing over your prone form sprawled out on the cluttered floor he thinks, not for the first time, about ending it right here and now. It would be easy, surely. One touch of his hand and you’d be gone. Disintegrated to mere dust and nothing more than a vague, unpleasant memory in the back of his mind. You deserved it by simple virtue of being such a damn inconvenience but, just as every other time, he hesitates.
Not because you don’t even realize the danger you’re in as you innocently kick your legs back and forth in the air, all your wide eyed, dopey attention locked on the tv screen. Tomura is not so soft as to consider a sneak attack you don’t even see coming an insult to his pride. He would’ve been showing you mercy, actually, because if he didn’t fear upsetting All for One so much he’d have preferred to wrap his hands around your scrawny little neck instead. Give you a good throttle or two. Squeeze until his knuckles were a stark white against your purpling blue skin. He could almost envision what you would look like, all bloated and full of blood from burst capillaries and reddened eyes rolling into the back of your skull.
His cock stirs in his pants and his hatred for you grows with it. He couldn’t stand you or what you represented, a sudden addition to his life that he never asked for but couldn’t get rid of, and the fact he was getting stiff from his morbid fantasies was certainly your fault too. Everything was your fault. Right down to the most minor of inconveniences, you were to blame - even if it happened before you were dropped into his lap with all the to-do of a posh, overly indulgent birthday present. It was you. You, you, you, you you you youyouyouyouyou -
“Tomu-nii?”
With a jolt, he snaps out of it. The haze lifts and his blown out eyes focus in on your tubby little face, now turned over your shoulder to glance back at him. Tomura isn’t sure when you realized he was looming over you like some horrible, sickly wraith and he knows even less how it is that you show no fear towards him. Were you really so stupid that you couldn’t sense his desire to not only kill you but make you suffer? So blind that you didn’t see the way his bony hands fisted at his sides with a purpose and not in idle reflex?
No. It wasn’t that you were as unintelligent as a brain dead sheep happily trotting off to slaughter. Rather, it’s because that was what All for One had designed you to be.
Tomura wouldn’t claim to understand how, exactly, his mentor had gotten these results but he knows enough to recognize the signs. You’d been stripped of everything in a way that far exceeded mere surface level nudity. All for One had gone even deeper than that, past flesh and bone and right into the heart of what made you you. The brain.
He had no doubt that a quirk had been used, the specifics of which he couldn’t even begin to fathom, but the tinkering and rewiring had done its job exceedingly well, in fact. While your body was that of a young adult woman, early to mid 20’s if he had to wager a guess, your mind was something like that of a toddlers. You could speak just fine but the enunciation was sloppy, your words childish and limited to small, easily communicable sentences. You picked up on things surprisingly fast, perhaps even a little too well if the way he’d heard you let out a soft, half hearted ‘fuck’ earlier was anything to go by. But you slipped up just as easily and he was getting real tired of making sure you went and sat on the toilet instead of pissing all over his (no doubt already smelly) carpet. Living in his own mess was one thing. Living in someone else’s was another matter entirely.
Nothing about this was in error, though. You were exactly what All for One intended for you to be - little more than an animal for him to look after but with arguably higher stakes involved - and he’d had enough. It’d only been a single day, a full 24 hours since you were dropped into his room, and he was already at the end of his patience.
“What’s wrong? Don’t like that stupid cartoon I put on for you?”
You actually had the audacity to pout at him, jutting your lower lip out and puffing your cheeks as if that was supposed to make him feel anything other than an even stronger urge to take you out of this world. “S’not that. Mm’ just bored. You’re no fun.”
Tomura very nearly lunges at you with outstretched hands, All for One be damned, but your next words stop him in his tracks.
“I thought maybe you were coming to play with me.”
Play with you? He would’ve laughed if only he could find even a sliver of real humor in this situation. This was a joke, if not because of the absurdity of it all then at least because he wanted to play with you alright. He wanted to play a game that started with you screaming in shrill terror and ended with a chilly body laid out on his bedroom floor. That sounded like more fun than a barrel of kittens.
He stills himself, though, and snobbishly peers at you down the length of his nose. “I don’t play games with brats. Sorry.”
That only makes you pout even more. “Meanie.”
“Watch your fucking cartoon,” Tomura grits out through gnashing, angry teeth, unreasonably irritated by your persistent refusal to cooperate. “Before I make you.”
He isn’t even really sure if that threat makes any sense at this point, so thrown off by your mere presence in what should’ve been his space that he can barely make heads or tails of his own thoughts anymore. But the dramatic way you squawk in displeasure and throw yourself out flat on the floor placates him somewhat. You were easy to rile up, and he would have been a boldfaced liar if he’d said he didn’t get a kick out of that. Tomura had never felt quite so cruel, so much like an adolescent bully looking to make his problems someone else’s as when he was working you up into a proper fit.
It was easily the most enjoyable aspect of this arrangement so far, and he watches with nothing short of smug satisfaction as you pound your hands on the floor in pent up frustration. It was laughably easy to picture what they’d look like, well groomed after a manicure and with a fresh coat of polish on the nails. You looked like you’d probably been the sort of woman who would go with reds. Fierce and bold, as much a statement as your pretty face, which was currently scrunched up and pressed tight against the carpet in front of his tv. Those same hands were plain and unadorned now, squeezed into tight little fists that were about as harmless as they could get. Tomura probably would’ve considered a turtle more of a pressing threat than you right now.
“Crybaby.” He spits the word out like it’s poison. “Does that make you feel better? Huh? Throwing a tantrum just because you’re not getting your way?”
“Mm’ not a crybaby!” You scream into the carpet. The contrast between your plushy figure and your behavior is disturbing on some very real, intrinsic level and that only seems to add fuel to his fire.
“Hah! That’s funny. You certainly look like one, you know that? What would you even think of yourself if you were in your right mind, I wonder.”
“Mm’ not!” Your incessant screeching rises in pitch and Tomura is almost positive you aren’t even really hearing him anymore, but he decides he doesn’t care.
“Embarrassing. Maybe I should have Kurogiri bring me a bottle since you want to act like a baby so much. Or would you like a pacifier instead? Hmm? Would that make you feel better, princess?”
“Nooooo!”
Your feet start kicking the air again, violently rather than in placid distraction, and the motion draws Tomura’s gaze to the seat of your onesie. Pink and humiliatingly infantile for a grown woman to be wearing, he’d looked at it with nothing short of contempt up until now. But the (no doubt exhausting) flex of your legs bunches the loose cotton, making it gather around your upturned ass and in turn emphasizes the convenient button flap across the back. Now that he’s actually looking at it, he’s almost positive it was wide enough to expose your entire rear to the world with little more than a quick snap of his fingers. Maybe even wide enough to expose other things too …
Tomura jolts with all the force of a sudden electric shock when you cry out his name or, rather, the ridiculous moniker you’d given him. He’d like to know who’d planted that particular seed in your head - if it was All for One’s idea of a twisted joke or if Kurogiri had really thought being called niichan by a woman who may or may not actually be older than him would make Tomura feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It doesn’t exactly matter now, though, because the wet quality of your voice makes his cock spring up in his pants. He’s mildly horrified with himself, far more comfortable with his earlier fantasies of killing you, but there’s no helping it anymore. Not when you say his name like that. Not when the tears he’d initially thought were crocodilian at best were so thick and heavy in your throat that the syllables come out garbled and almost incomprehensible.
He’s not sure what he intends to do, but he shuffles closer.
You’ve started to tire out now and the kicking slows before stopping all together. He watches your ankles cross over one another in the air, as if you were trying to self soothe on some level by physically keeping yourself together, but it doesn’t seem to do much in the way of good. Your shoulders were still trembling with the lingering traces of your fit, and he can hear you mewling into the abrasive carpet like a wounded animal. It was clear that you were hurting because of him - and not just as a result of his teasing. After the complete and utter deconstruction of your mind, you were probably scared without even really knowing why. Confused, but too lost in the quirk induced stupor that had left you in this sorry state to seek out answers.
He hadn’t bothered to test this theory yet, but Tomura would have been willing to bet good money that All for One left you with very little inside that thick skull of yours. It just made sense, after all. For what good was a doll with memories of her past life? What would he have possibly gotten out of playing house with someone who fought him every step of the way, either out of embarrassment or repulsion towards him as a person?
No. You were a blank slate in the strictest sense. His to mold however he deemed fit and with no recollection of who you were, who you’d been or even who you’d wanted to be, he was free to do whatever he damn well pleased.
There was still raging contempt for you burning within his chest, certainly. You were an annoying, unnecessary burden on him and there was no getting around the fact that he still wanted you gone. But the spark igniting his gut is even stronger and, for better or worse, it momentarily overrides his better judgement.
So he sinks down onto his knees, directly behind you, and reaches out to tentatively palm the swell of your ass. Pinky held away, so as not to disintegrate you, which surprises him somewhat given how vivid his fantasies of killing you had been. He doesn’t get to linger on that for very long though, because you grow still at his touch and your pathetic sniveling quiets to a soft, almost hopeful sniffle. Tomura bites back a crude snort, just barely managing to catch himself before he backpedals and hisses another insult at you. He could probably take what he wanted with any given method, he didn’t have to be nice about it, but somehow the alternative just felt wrong. Physically you were an adult, but with the mental state of a child it felt a bit like taking advantage of an innocent and he wasn’t a complete monster.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, the word foreign on his tongue. “I shouldn’t have been so mean. Will you forgive me?”
You squirm and push your face further into the carpet. “Mhm.”
He doesn’t smile. But he does take that as an incentive to push forward, and he starts caressing your backside with slow, cautious circles. “Do you really want me to play with you that bad?”
“Mhm.”
Hesitating, Tomura considers his next words very carefully. “Fine. I’ll play with you. But I get to choose the game.”
You don’t immediately respond and he starts to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Overestimated his ability to be diplomatic and conscientious - which wouldn’t exactly have come as a surprise. But then you shift on the floor, tension draining from your body as you turn your head so you aren’t suffocating in the carpet anymore. “Okay.”
His brows lift in surprise only to then knit together. It was that easy? He’s not so sure he trusts it but, dropping his gaze back down to your ass, he gives the doughy soft flesh an experimental squeeze. Your only response is a soft, faltering sigh that seems to help you relax more. This, too, seems a little too good to be true but he keeps going anyway.
When a few minutes of kneading your defenseless backside does nothing to upset you, Tomura starts to get bolder. He slowly brings his opposite hand forward and latches onto the other cheek with four fingers, massaging both sides in tandem. He’d had the unfortunate luck of seeing your bare ass late the previous evening, after you’d emptied your bladder all over the blanket he’d tossed you to sleep on which had resulted in an aggressively administered bath for you and a frustrated headache for him. He hadn’t paid too much attention at the time, far too angry to be horny, but he knew enough to realize that you were unexpectedly voluptuous under that onesie.
The garment itself was so oversized it hid even the smallest hint of the womanly figure underneath. He probably would’ve forgotten all about it, pushed to the back of his mind in favor of more pressing matters (like getting rid of you) but now that he’s got his hands on your butt it’s all he can think about. The way your full tits jiggled when he’d non too gently manhandled you into the tub. The frustratingly cute lower belly pouch that bulged when you sat down, crying, on the porcelain surface. The way your thighs molded to whatever position he’d yanked them in so he could hose you off like a filthy stray. He’d actively avoided looking at what was between your legs, in fear of what he’d see as much as stubborn refusal, but looking back on it now he isn’t sure how he hadn’t given in to temptation.
Now, however, he was suddenly more interested than ever in finding out what your pussy looked like and, hooking his long index fingers into the flap, he starts to unlatch it one button at a time.
You make no move to stop him. Don’t even protest or question what he’s doing. It’s almost as if just having his attention on you is enough, and Tomura’s mouth pulls back in a sneer at the mere thought. You were so damn stupid for trusting him like this, completely oblivious or uncaring about what his intentions were. He could be as violent with you as he wanted. He could erase you from this existence with the briefest touch. But you just lay there, your shoulders slowly rising and falling with each even breath you draw, and he can’t decide if that feeling clawing at the back of his throat is hatred or guilt.
But there’s no real reason to stop now, so he carefully peels back the flap of fabric once he’s got it completely unfastened. Bare skin greets him, a perfectly exposed strip of swelling flesh that seems all the more enticing with pink cotton framing it so nicely. He pauses long enough to lick his dry, cracked lips. The weight of his stiff cock strains against the inside of his zipper, twitching eagerly when he reaches out to hesitantly touch your back side again.
The sensation of a real, living person under his fingertips makes his breath come a little faster. Still, you don’t move though and he picks up right where he left off, roughly groping your ass cheeks with barely contained excitement until he gets so vigorous that you whimper.
“Shh. I’ll try not to be so rough.” Tomura shushes you, throaty and barely more than a murmur.
You settle back into place, thankfully, and he takes that chance to spread your cheeks open. He gets a brief glimpse of the puckered hole hidden inside, white hot static racing straight to his groin, and he lets out a rumbling groan. His fingers squeeze into flesh again and he pulls, baring you entirely to his voracious eyes. The tight muscle twitches, winking at him, and his attention drops to the smallest satiny peak of your slit. He can just barely see it, mostly hidden behind the pooling fabric bunched under the swell of your ass, but it’s more than enough to make him feel dizzy.
“Shit,” he sounds winded even to his own ears. “You’ve got such a nice body.”
To his surprise, you actually perk up at that. “Really?”
Tomura almost snaps at you on impulse, so irritated by the sound of your voice that he nearly forgets what he’s trying to do. Quelling himself, though, he tugs at the bottom half of your onesie until he can see the plushy soft lips of your pussy. You look so inviting, so warm and real he can hardly even stand it.
“Really.” He croaks. “How old are you again?”
You seem to think about that. “Mm, I dunno’!”
He frowns. Contemplates that for a long beat. But the coarse hair curling around your slit seems answer enough, for him at least. You weren’t actually a child. You just sounded like one, acted like one, dressed like one. That wasn’t what was getting him so painfully hard though. It was the fact you were a woman, physically, and he’d never gotten to see one up close and personal like this before. Why hadn’t All for One just given him a proper sex slave instead of one that threw tantrums and cried at the drop of a dime? Was this really what his mentor had intended for him to do with you?
“Tomu-nii?”
Drawing a sharp breath, he brings his attention up to bark at you to be quiet but the words catch when he finds you looking at him over your shoulder. He can feel his cheeks starting to warm, suddenly embarrassed.
“What?”
“Why’re you looking at me like that?”
He flounders for a moment. Then, awkwardly clearing his throat, he decides to fall back on his original excuse. “This is the game I mentioned earlier. You wanted to play, right?”
You nod your head, but you don’t look entirely certain about that. “I do but … aren’t games s’posed to be fun? This is boring!”
His mouth presses into a thin line. It hadn’t occurred to him that you might not be content to just idly sit by while he molested your slutty little body, but if it was fun you wanted then he could certainly give you that. “This was just the warm up. Roll over and I’ll show you how to play.”
The way your eyes light up almost makes him regret this decision. It’s too late though, you’re already twisting over on to your back with your elbows braced on the carpet so you can stare up at him. Stupid and expectant.
He clicks his tongue.
Reaching out to grab your wide set hips with only eight of his fingers, he inelegantly drags you closer so that you were nicely slotted between his knees. Your legs curl up as you regard him with nothing short of intense curiosity, lips parting in a silent ‘o’ that very nearly sends him over the edge. You were too pretty for your own good. Much too beautiful to be wearing a pink onesie and acting like a baby. This was such a waste, and he almost feels bad for what All for One did to you.
But he shrugs it off, forcefully, and his delicately poised hands descend on your zipper. Zrrrrrt, straight down the length of your body. It stops directly above your crotch and he reaches up to reverently push the cotton out to the sides and expose the rest of you.
Your tits were even better than he’d initially thought. They were full and heavy, dotted with the most perfect little buds for nipples. Soft and smooth. Tomura’s mouth waters in anticipation and he doesn’t realize how roughly he’s jerking your arms out of the sleeves until you wail dramatically that it hurts.
He’d like to tell you what really hurts is his cock, unbearably hard and trapped inside his pants, but he refrains. Instead, he huffs out an insincere apology and keeps on yanking. He can’t get you undressed fast enough, mesmerized by the way your breasts jiggle and bounce every time he pulls on you. There’s something inherently wrong about this, he knows. It’s so damn obvious you’re not right in the head, that you aren’t of sound enough mind to even understand what he’s doing to you, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you were so willing and pliant under his shaking hands.
Finally managing to wrest the blasted onesie off your kicking feet, Tomura tosses it off to the side and he eagerly sets his sights on your naked body. You should have looked seductive and coy, spread out in front of him with a devious smile curling artfully painted lips as you invite him to have his way with you. Instead, you fitfully squirm, neither seductive nor shy. It’s clear that you have no sense of shame, your artificially infantile brain completely void of the concept and even less aware of how inappropriate any of this was. You just keep looking at him, waiting for the explanation he’d promised to give you.
Oh. That’s right. The game he kept talking about. Perhaps he could still salvage this after all.
“The rules are simple,” he says slowly, scrambling to put together a decent excuse to keep going. “I’ll touch you for a little bit and if I can make you feel good then I win. After that, it’ll be your turn. If you make me feel good, you’ll win. Understand?”
Your expression pinches in confusion. “So we both win?”
“Only if we make each other feel good. What’s wrong? You don’t want to play with me anymore?”
Much to his relief, you quickly bob your head. “I do! Please play with me, Tomu-nii!”
The way his cock jolts at that makes his entire body ache. It’s much too late to turn back now, he was well past the point of salvation, and he haltingly drags his attention down to your chest. Your petite nipples had stiffened in the cool air but it’s as if you don’t even notice. Wasn’t that something a grown woman would be conscious of? He thinks so, or at least he’s pretty sure it is. Apparently it isn’t the sort of thing a dumb baby brain even registers, though, and he reaches out to curiously flick at one.
You gasp, eyes widening slightly. Misplaced hope sears his veins and he watches you intently, holding his breath, but you don’t seem to understand what it is you’re feeling. Your brows furrow as you glance down at yourself and bring a hand up to cover your nipple.
“Oww …”
That certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Or at least it wasn’t the sort of reaction Pornhub had taught him to expect, but it was still something.
“Baby.” He grumbles, reaching for the opposite tit.
“Mm’not!”
“Are too. Didn’t that feel good?”
“No!”
“Then you’re winning, aren’t you?”
Confusion marches across your face for a moment before understanding dawns. You look quite pleased now as you track the movement of his hand as he carefully pinches your puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently rolling it between the pads. He doesn’t get an immediate reaction out of you but the longer he does it the more your lips start to purse. It’s as if you were holding back, determined not to show him that you might be enjoying it and risk losing the game, but it’s enough to embolden him.
His ministrations pick up and he gives your delicate little teat a mild twist. There’s no malice or cruelty behind the action. He just wants to see what you’ll do. And you don’t disappoint, the way you jump and your mouth flies open as if to squawk making his stomach clench with something perverse. You catch yourself at the last second though, teeth clacking together as your gaze flits up at him to see if he’s looking.
He is, of course, and you forcibly swallow the sound you’d almost let out. Tomura is a bit disappointed, sure. He’d wanted to hear how pretty you’d moan for him but there were still plenty of other chances for him to coerce at least one out of you.
Hunching over your prone body, he brings his other hand up to latch onto the opposite nipple, the one he’d previously flicked. You wince at the contact but make no move to stop him, biting down on your lower lip to keep quiet as you watch him play with your fat tits in petulant silence. It was ass backwards in so many ways. He’d thought, despite everything, his first time with a girl would be somewhat normal. Maybe not picture perfect or all that good when everything was said and done, but at least relatively mundane. This was the farthest thing from that though. He couldn’t conceive of a more wildly abnormal scenario even if he’d tried, nor did he recall ever seeing any porn with this hyper specific set up. But there was still some sick, twisted part of him that was deriving pleasure from this decidedly unorthodox encounter with the opposite sex, and that feeling only grows exponentially the more he keeps going.
Kneading, pinching, squeezing, tugging. He doesn’t let up until your nipples are flushed dark and straining hard, the glistening hint of tears at the corners of your eyes telling him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was getting somewhere. The urge to call you a crybaby swells in his chest again but he doesn’t want to risk another tantrum. He wasn’t so sure his cock could handle it, particularly not when he’d positioned himself over you in such a way that one solid kick would put him out of commission for the foreseeable future. No, this was a delicate situation that required the utmost care on his part and, gathering his nerves, he swoops down to cover one of the stiff buds with his mouth.
The heated gasp that bursts out of you in a great woosh has him groaning into the meaty swell of your tit. You shudder underneath him, involuntarily twitching as he traces your areola with the tip of his tongue and laves it in warm, wet attention. He can tell that you’re not sure what to do so he waits with bated breath, reveling in the fleshy nub pinched between his lips. There was no reason for him not to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment he could get out of this while he could, after all - but then your hands find his hair, threading into wavy locks, and he throbs for you.
“Tomu-nii …”
He practically sinks into you, damn near suffocating himself in the plushy swell of your breast. His mouth opens wide and sucks more of you past his lips, suckling enthusiastically just like the infant you were programmed to be. This particular role reversal doesn’t even seem to register in your mind though and he seethes when you tug at his hair, trying to pull him off.
“St-aaahp …. I don’t like it!”
Tomura comes up off you with a wet gasp. “Bullshit.” He practically growls, narrowing his eyes at your dopey, flustered expression.
“It’s true! I don’t!”
“Oh? Should we check then?”
Your face scrunches and you draw a breath to question him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Going back up on his knees, he plants one hand against the meat of your inner thigh and shoves it wide. His other darts between your legs before you can react, spindly digits finding your bare cunt and prodding at your folds with rough fingertips. You jolt at the contact but it’s too late. He barely has to touch you to feel the slick oozing out of you and he lets loose a harsh bark of laughter.
“My ass. You’re fucking soaked. You shouldn’t lie, you know.”
“I didn’t!” You gasp, clearly offended by the insinuation. “You’re just a fucking meanie!”
That gives him pause.
Glancing up at your face, Tomura regards you carefully as he tries to figure out his next move. On one hand it was his own fault for saying that word around you so much and it’s not like it was any of his business what you did or didn’t say, but on the other … there was something uncomfortable about hearing that come out of your mouth with such a childish inflection. It lacked any and all bite, not even a hint of impotent aggression to be found. You were just parroting him, that’s all, but for whatever reason he didn’t really appreciate it.
“Don’t say that.” He huffs, turning his attention back to your pussy.
Tomura had wanted to leave it at that, but of course you have to fight him every step of the way.
“Why not?” You ask rather flippantly.
“Because i said so. If you want to get smart, be my guest. I know how to handle bratty little girls like you.”
He’s a bit surprised when that actually shuts you up. Apparently, he was starting to get the hang of this but he still has to sneak a quick peek at you just to make sure. The fact you actually look contemplative, as if you were turning that over in your empty head, almost makes him laugh.
“Do you still want to play?” God, he sorely hoped you did.
You hesitate though, unwilling to give your acquiescence just like that. “When is it my turn?” You ask warily.
“Soon. I’ve got one more chance to make you feel good and then you can try.”
“Mmm … okay. But I’m not gonna’ lose!”
He’s almost certain you would have already lost if you weren’t such a petulant little thing, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, he once again turns his attention to the spot between your legs. Your puffy slit was noticeably wet, the faint sheen of fluid glistening slightly in the overhead light, and he takes a moment to gently part the curls there. Just as he’d thought. Damp to the touch and only getting wetter. He really was going to have to talk to you about lying especially since, in this particular context, you were cheating. This was a far cry from his video games but that didn’t make it any less annoying.
Swallowing his reprimand for the time being, though, Tomura carefully presses two fingers into the doughy softness of your labia and spreads them apart. He can see now that you were practically drenched in slick arousal, thin threads of discharge stretching across your petal soft folds before snapping. He gulps down his nerves. You really did have the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen and the fact it was all his for the taking very nearly had him creaming in his pants right then and there. It was almost obscene how bad he wanted to fuck your tampered brains out but he didn’t want to scare you into noncompliance. He wasn’t going to fight for this if he didn’t have to.
Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings his other hand close and prods at where he thinks your clit should be. He’d certainly seen them in enough triple X videos to have some idea of where to look, but when all you do is let out a soft sigh he knows he’s mistaken.
His teeth gnash in high strung irritation as he walks his finger lower and then higher, feeling a bit like a blind fool searching for buried treasure. There were so many fleshy ridges and folds that he couldn’t pinpoint the right spot from memory alone, so he has to take his time feeling around instead. He thinks he’s found it for a split second when you shift underneath him, but then he realizes you were simply getting fussy - no doubt bored with all his incessant pawing - and that only angers him further. It shouldn’t have been this damn hard to find!
Impatient now, Tomura roughly swipes his finger up the length of your slit and surprise washes over him when you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Your head comes up off the rug and you stare at him, wide eyed, but it was much too late. He’d finally gotten the reaction out of you that he’d been hoping for, and he leans into it with nothing short of devilish delight.
Knowing precisely where to look helps a great deal and it immediately occurs to him that the reason he’d struggled so much is because your clit was still hidden behind its protective hood. But he’s got the advantage now, and he ever so carefully pinches at satiny soft skin until he can ease it back and expose the sensitive little bud nestled inside. You whimper slightly as he does it, squirming awkwardly on your back as if you could instinctively sense that you might be in a bit of trouble now. It was kind of cute, if he was being totally honest.
“I don’t think I like this game …”
“You will. Trust me.”
Clearly not believing him, you start to open your mouth to complain but he stops you cold with a quick flick of his finger. Your engorged clit jostles against the indelicate contact and you blurt out such a startled sound that he actually glances up to make sure you’re okay. Unsurprisingly, you look a little more flustered now and the panic edging your expression is almost enough to make him reconsider this.
Almost, but not quite.
“What’s the matter?” He goads, dropping his gaze back down to your pussy again. “I thought you didn’t like it.”
“I … I don’t …”
“Really? I’m not sure I believe that.”
He does it again, gentler this time. Just a brief tap against the meaty little nub, but it’s enough to make you twitch and try to close your legs from him. Tomura won’t let you back out so easily though and he shifts even closer so he can wedge himself between your thighs to keep them spread. You issue a frustrated, huffy sound that he could only describe as babyish as you try to push up on your elbows, no doubt intending to scuttle away from him. He had to give you credit for being so hard headed even in this infantile state but he was far too invested to quit now.
Letting up his hold on your labia, Tomura directs his fingers lower and wedges three of them into your slit. You freeze, momentarily stunned, and he takes that split second opportunity to feel around for your entrance. It’s not hard to find. Much easier than your clit, at any rate, and he wastes no time wriggling a long digit up inside your body. The penetration is smooth, your guts such a slippery mess that it almost startles him.
You really were a liar.
He suddenly realizes he’s panting. At the same time, he realizes that you don’t appear to be breathing at all. Your expression is about as dumbfounded as it could be, and he dully watches the way you sway in your half upright position. Shellshocked would probably be an appropriate descriptor, and he wets his lips in anticipation.
“Well? Do you like it?”
Your legs flex around his arms and you shake your head. “Nuh … no …”
“If you don’t stop lying to me,” he grumbles. “I’m going to get mad.”
You stiffen, clearly drawing yourself up to challenge that statement just like he’d known you would. It was embarrassing how predictable you could be.
He’s had just about enough of this back and forth though, and he roughly curls his finger upward in search of the spot that would finally shut you up for good. But his efforts only make you more fussy and his patience quickly unravels when you try to twist away from him, wailing in displeasure. He hated that sound and, if you weren’t careful, he’d go right back to hating you too
Grunting, Tomura abandons your clit in favor of latching his hand onto the swell of your thigh and he digs his blunt nails in to keep you still. You actually have the audacity to kick out at him but he puts a stop to that quickly enough by shoving a second finger into your sticky cunt. Just like the first time, it makes you hesitate and he watches your warbling mouth drop open in what he thinks might be pleasure. It’s frustratingly hard to tell with you but, having no other choice, he decides to take it at face value.
Your pussy clicks loudly when he starts pumping into you straight down to the knuckle, the wet squelch almost deafening in his ears. It’s unreasonably hot though, his mind running a mile a minute as he tries to commit every little detail to memory. The way your face screws up with a stuttering gasp, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and try to brace against the pressure of his digits driving into you again and again. The way you moan, even when you try not to, is particularly enticing, especially since it’s just as pretty as he’d hoped it would be. The way your legs shake and you threaten to double over, the way he can see you clutching the carpet in a death grip, the way you just seem to get even wetter for him. There was too much to take in all at once but it was also far too erotic to look away from. He really was going to cream his pants at this rate.
Somehow, your honest reaction appears to make up for all the trouble you’d given him up until now and Tomura can feel the wet spot bleeding through his boxer briefs start to grow. He was positive he’d never been harder in all his life. Animalistic and practically slobbering like a rabid dog, he hunches further over your quaking body and pistons into your cunt so vigorously his arm starts to ache. You were wailing for him to stop, crying out for Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, but he doesn’t even slow down. He can’t.
Your cunt just keeps sucking him in deeper on every plunge, gummy walls pulsating around his no doubt pruning fingers so enthusiastically that he’s sure you’re going to cum. He can practically taste it. Tomura wasn't going to stop until you did and, realizing he doesn’t have to hold onto you any longer, he reaches out to roughly shove you down on your back again.
“Are you going to cream for me, princess? Huh?” He grits out through savagely bared teeth. “Is that what you’re going to do?”
“No! Please, Tomu-nii … it hurts!”
Even in the heat of the moment he can’t stop himself from clicking his tongue in irritation. “No it doesn’t, you big baby. You love this. I know you do. I can see it written all over your stupid, pretty face. Go on. Tell me exactly how good you feel. Do it!”
Wailing, you peer up at him through heavy lashes with a look so imploring it very nearly gives him pause. “I - I can’t! I’m … Tomu-nii, I’m gonna’ … I’m gonna’ pee!”
“No you aren’t. That just means your clo - -“
Tomura cuts himself off when you do exactly that. He’s almost too stunned to react and all he can do is watch as the steady stream of urine bursts out of you before dribbling down his wrist to soak into the carpet underneath. It’s only now, when you’re pissing all over yourself as well as him, that he finally has the decency to slow his pumping to a staggered halt. For a fleeting moment he actually considers the notion of keeping at it. There wasn’t much else you could do to ruin this for him, after all, but one look at your expression immediately quashes that idea.
He’d be lucky if all he could manage was to stop you from dissolving into ugly, heaving sobs, let alone worry about getting himself off. Dammit. You really were nothing but a pain in his ass.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He deadpans, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt now that he was thoroughly coated in warm, smelly piss. “To be honest I was kind of tired of that rug anyway. And these clothes, too.”
You hiccup so sadly that what little bit of anger had sparked inside him immediately dies out. He couldn’t even be mad at you for this no matter how much he may have wanted to blame you for everything. You’d tried to warn him.
“T- Tomu-nii … mm’sorry …”
Tomura sighs through his nose, hard enough to make the split end tips of his hair shift. “Don't be. That was my fault. Just - let me find something to clean us up with.”
“Do I have to take another bath?” You ask so meekly he almost misses it.
Pausing halfway through the motion of rising to his feet, he glances down at you again. It occurs to him quickly enough that it wasn’t the accident you were so upset about but, rather, the looming possibility of another aggressively meted out trip to the bathroom. Interesting. He’d almost think he was mistaken, it had only happened once, after all, but the way your lower lip wobbles tells him everything he needs to know. Apparently you were more scared of him than you’d let on.
“No, not right now. I think I can get you clean enough with a wet rag or something. You’ll have to take one later but,” Tomura scoffs, hating that he was actually trying to be nice after you’d peed all over him. “I’ll try not to be so rough next time. You just made me mad last night, that’s all.”
You nod slowly, looking like you don’t quite believe that, but still too naively trusting to press the matter. “Okay.”
Nodding once, Tomura climbs to his feet. The inner seam of his pants from the knee down is absolutely soaked and he makes it only three steps before deciding he didn’t like them all that much to begin with. Dropping his hand to the rough denim, he brushes all five fingers across the thigh and they dissolve into nothing without a second thought to the matter. He can faintly hear you ooohing behind him but there were much more important things to worry about than how easily impressed you were.
His half flagged cock throbs hopefully inside his boxer briefs and he reaches down to delicately adjust himself. God, he’d be aching for the next week thanks to your uncontrollable bladder.
An idea pops into his head with that thought. You weren’t the only thing he’d been saddled with yesterday, and he turns to regard the thick gym bag he’d previously thrown against the far wall in anger. It’s where he’d gotten your pink onesie after you’d similarly soiled the first pair of clothes you’d been wearing. He hadn’t bothered to look through all of its contents just yet, but he felt relatively confident he’d find what he wanted in there.
Circling back around, Tomura squats in front of the bag and yanks it open. He can feel your eyes watching him from your spot on the floor but he pays it no mind. Digging inside, he pulls out a few more articles of clothing, far too cutesy for his tastes, and then a book on child care that he knows for certain was put there in jest. Over his shoulder it gets chucked, and he digs deeper. Down at the very bottom he finds exactly what he’d been looking for.
But in addition to the baby wipes there are two other items that catch his attention. He outright balks at the very notion - however, realistically speaking, it could very well be the answer to his problems. At least the most pressing one, anyway.
The idea that All for One knew he’d likely run into this issue but still decided to dump you on him anyway bothers Tomura a great deal and he frowns even as he looks over the packaging. Diapers and pull ups. What was the difference? He’s not so sure there is one, and he feels almost certain that they serve the same purpose. But further inspection proves him wrong. One was for a total lack of control and the other was for the potty training stage, so not as thick or absorbent. That’s what the packing said but, at any rate, they definitely weren't the plain adult brands he was looking at here.
These were bright and colorful, and he can’t help but cringe at the thought of putting you in either of them. But he was still left with a very real concern that he simply couldn’t overlook. The fact he even had to make this decision at all was ridiculous but he couldn’t very well have you pissing on every available surface in his room. And given your track record of absolutely drenching whatever you happened to be sitting on at the time …
Hesitantly, Tomura takes out the diapers and shuffles towards his unkempt bed. The print on the back wasn't particularly clear about what to do with them. He’d probably have to look up a tutorial later, when he wasn’t feeling quite so downtrodden and his balls weren’t aching, though that would certainly put him on a few watch lists. Not that it really mattered.
He sighs and tosses the package on top of his sheets before tearing into the baby wipes. Taking his time, he methodically scrubs his wrist and his legs clean while he contemplates his next move. It wasn’t going to be pretty. It certainly wasn’t going to be sexy. It was still probably the lesser of two evils, though. Far be it that he wanted to go this route but did he really even have any other choice at this point?
“Tomu-nii …”
Your soft whining draws him back to reality and, abruptly realizing you’ve been sitting in your own piss this entire time, he turns to look back at you. For a split second, he seriously considers just killing you right then and there. It would save him a lot of trouble and you wouldn’t even realize what was coming. You were so stupid you’d probably think he was going in for a hug or something asinine like that. He’d be doing you a favor, really, because as far as he was concerned, death was certainly preferable to wearing diapers but … the urge fizzles out almost as quickly as it had appeared. He wasn’t going to let you slip out of his hold until after he’d gotten to bury himself in that tight, pretty little pussy of yours.
Decision made, Tomura makes his way over to the carpet again. You look cold, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, and he bends down to grab the meat of your upper arms so he can drag you up to your feet. “Come on. I think I’ve got a solution.”
Your brows furrow slightly. “Salution?”
“Close enough.”
Steering you over to the bed, he makes you bend over the mattress so he can take a baby wipe to the backs of your thighs and ass. Luckily, depending on how you looked at it, the urine had run down rather than going every which direction so it was pretty easy to clean up. The way you tremble and shift your weight back and forth makes it a bit more difficult than it needed to be but he manages, somehow.
Tomura straightens after a long moment, finally deeming the back of you good to go. He’s not so sure he can get through this next part when you were fidgeting so much, though, and he briefly considers the clothes in the gym bag. The thought of putting you in another girly, saccharine sweet garment repulses him almost as much as the thought of putting you in a diaper. But he was going to have to pick and choose his battles here and, reaching back, he delicately tugs off his t-shirt.
“Turn around.”
You slowly comply, teeth chattering the whole time.
“Arms up.”
At this, you hesitate. But at his expectantly bland look, you do as you're told and raise your arms up in the air. The lift of your heavy tits almost successfully distracts him and it is with a great deal of self control on his part that he pulls his shirt down over your head, yanking it a little too forcefully into place.
“There.” He practically hisses, watching you clumsily work your arms through the sleeves. “Is that better?”
You think about that for a moment, eyes scanning across the front of his shirt, and he briefly wonders if you’re going to say something derisive about the worn video game logo stretched across your chest. But then you smile, nodding your head a little too enthusiastically.
“Mm! It smells like Tomu-nii!”
He really couldn’t stand you.
“Good. In return, I’ll need you to cooperate with me here. I’ve never done this before, you know?”
You blink at him quizzically. “Done what?”
Tomura rolls his eyes, feeling grumpier by the second. He couldn’t wait to get this over with and have you situated so he could run off to the bathroom for what probably wouldn’t even amount to five minutes of desperate jerking. “Never mind. Just do what I tell you, okay?”
You nod your head again, but he has some very real doubts about that. Even when you were pretending to go along with whatever it was he wanted you still found some way to fuck everything up for him. If this scheme somehow backfired because your brain was so scrambled you couldn’t even follow simple directions, he was not going to be happy.
Mentally bracing himself for the worst possible outcome, he reaches for the diapers. He rips the bag open almost violently and pulls one out, but it feels even more wrong in his hands than he’d thought it would. A strange sense of scandalized affront warms his chest, making him reconsider this choice for the upteenth time. If Tomura was being completely honest, he felt embarrassed for you but a quick glance in your direction proves that you don’t share quite the same sentiment. You really couldn’t have cared less, huh?
Right. Baby brain.
He grumbles under his breath as he non too gently snaps the diaper open with a loud crinkle of plastic and lays it out close to the edge of his bed. Motioning you closer, Tomura awkwardly helps you get seated on the damn thing and then instructs you to lay down. You genuinely don’t seem to have a problem with this as you recline back, just placidly peering up at him with your little fists balled in the hem of his shirt, but now that he’s gotten this far he’s not sure how to proceed.
At a loss, he takes another baby wipe out of the package and inserts himself between your bent legs. “I’m going to clean you some more, okay?” He's not sure why he’s telling you that, especially when all you do is nod your dopey head in understanding. Just buying time. That’s all he was doing.
But it gives him a chance to think and for that he’s grateful. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to figure out what All for One’s intention with all this had been. ‘A splendid birthday present for my favorite pupil’, he’d said, as if there were any others. But what was the reason? Surely you weren’t actually supposed to be a sex slave for him. Not in this sorry state. His battered onahole did a much better job on that front and it wasn’t prone to tantrums or crying, and it certainly didn’t pee on his stuff. It also didn’t require more than a perfunctory cleaning every few months. He couldn’t very well shove you into his nightstand and forget about it until the next time he was in the mood to rut into something.
All that was true, yes, but … his onahole also wasn’t warm to the touch, and it didn’t have soft, curly hair framing its abused slit (he really should buy a new one) nor did it self lubricate. It didn’t squeeze him quite the same way your pussy had squeezed his fingers, and it didn’t even really feel like an actual vagina now that he had something to compare it to. You were soft and squishy, pliable in the way only flesh and blood could be, and although he had no way of knowing if this had been All for One’s plan or not, he was certainly self aware enough to recognize that he’d screwed up somewhere along the line.
Tomura absolutely should have turned you to dust while he still had the chance.
Licking his lips, he drags the wipe through the seam of your cunt much more slowly than he needed to. You don’t even stir on the bed, and he thinks you must be starting to doze after … all of that. He’s not quite ready to leave well enough alone yet though, and he gently presses down on the spot where he now knows your clit is hiding. Still using the moist towelette as a pretense to keep touching you like this, he circles the sensitive little bud with it and genuine surprise washes over him when you let out a soft, pleasant sigh.
He glances up at your face but you aren’t even looking at him, lashes fanned out against the apples of your cheeks. It’s hard to tell if you were actually asleep or just pretending so you could lull him into a false sense of security, yet he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. You were his so he could do whatever he wanted to you, right? Besides. You kind of owed him after pissing all over his hand like that.
Discarding the baby wipe, Tomura bends closer and carefully spreads your labia again. He could see your little hole weakly palpitating, beckoning him to pick back up where he’d left off, but he drags his gaze a bit higher instead. You were so velvety soft and smooth it bordered on insane, so much more inviting than he ever would have thought possible.
He briefly hesitates before throwing caution aside and sealing his lips around your clit, gently mouthing at it. Your plushy thighs twitch around his head as you shift on top of the mattress, letting out another breathy sound that rushes straight to his cock. It almost hurts, the way it so eagerly springs back to life after being denied something as simple as release, but he can’t find it in himself to complain. You were giving him another chance, knowingly or not, and he wasn’t the type to squander such an opportunity.
Tomura takes his time lapping at you over the next few minutes until you’re almost as wet as when he’d started. You taste heavenly even with the artificial flavor of the wipes clinging to your folds and he entertains the notion of eating you out until you cum all over his face. There’s something he wants even more than that, though, and he sighs in relief when he finally straightens up so he can fish his cock out. It was almost painfully sensitive to the touch, and he could feel it throbbing potently in his hand. He knew this probably wasn’t going to last long but he didn’t care.
Guiding himself to your waiting entrance, he slowly pushes in one fraction at a time, damn near blowing his load the second his glans disappears into your body. He holds back though, struggling to maintain his composure as he seethes through gritted teeth. You finally seemed to realize that something was going on and your pretty eyes flutter open, immediately searching out his face.
“Tomu-nii …?”
“Be quiet. I’ve got you.”
You accept that in lieu of an explanation surprisingly fast, at least by his standards, and without another word you sleepily glance down at the juncture where your bodies were connected. A slow inhale makes your chest rise, mouth falling open as if to groan. He couldn’t take it anymore.
“Fuck,” the sound rattles out of Tomura’s chest as he slides in right down to the base, toes flexing against the floor. “I’m not even gonna’ get to enjoy this.”
Brows knitting together, you let out the softest mewling sound he’s ever heard and it makes him dig his carefully poised fingers deeper into the meat of your hips. He can’t even bring himself to move, so overwhelmed by how soft and wet your guts are. It felt like you were massaging his length, involuntarily or not, as your pussy suckles at the tip like he’s almost positive your mouth would.
Softly wheezing, Tomura drops his chin to look at where the two of you were stuck together. His pelvis was so flush against yours that your pudgy cunt was molded to the front of him, squishing under the pressure, and his silvery pubes were tangled with your darker ones. He hadn’t expected such a sight to be so damn erotic and it has him twitching, fighting back the orgasm he’d gone through hell and back for.
He’s almost scared to do it but, slowly, he eases back. The way his cock gradually reappears, glistening obscenely now, very nearly sends him over the edge. He isn’t sure how he hasn’t ruptured yet, his ballsac drawn so tight and throbbing that it leaves him feeling lightheaded, but through sheer force of will alone he manages to sink back into the inviting heat of your body without spraying your insides white. His self control was tentative as best, hanging on by a mere thread, but you felt far too good to waste on a quick nut.
“Goddamn … you’re so tight, baby. So fucking tight.”
You fidget underneath him, fussily tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Mm’ not a baby …”
Your pouty little response is enough to make him bark out a clipped laugh, more breathless than amused. You could insist you weren’t a baby all you wanted but, even putting aside the cruel, infantile reprogramming of your brain, it was hard to think otherwise when you were spread out on top of a diaper. It’s stark white, cottony lining was an almost unsettling backdrop to the perfect view he had of his cock stuttering in and out of your slick cunt. Even when he was barely moving, it crinkled softly underneath you with each rocking motion of his hips and he couldn’t quite forget it was there no matter how hard he tried.
Tomura wasn’t sure what he would ultimately do with you and he knew even less why he was even entertaining this wildly absurd situation to begin with, but there was no denying that you did have some use. The clinging grip of your pussy, for starters, and if he could get that bratty mouth of yours under control he might even some day find your company bearable. He still didn’t particularly like you but it wasn’t so farfetched to think that he might be able to tolerate you, with enough effort.
Hissing through his teeth, he drags one of his hands down to spread your puffy lips apart and get a good look at the way your petal soft folds clutch to his cock. It was a mesmerizing visual in the worst possible way, especially when accompanied by the soft, wet clicking he pulls from your body. He could have watched this for hours on end but, realistically, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he gives his wrist a brief twist to bring the middle finger down on your clit.
You twitch at the contact but Tomura takes a much more gentle approach this time, sedately drawing circles around the swollen bud. He doesn’t get much in the way of a reaction for his trouble so he just keeps at it, rubbing you in tandem with his staggered thrusts. The thought of making you cum around his cock is almost disturbingly enticing, but he isn’t so sure he can accomplish that. Not when so much of his focus was devoted to simply biting back his orgasm - but then, to his throbbing surprise, you draw a faltering breath.
“Tomu-nii … feels good …”
It’s as if the air had been punched right out of him. He isn't so sure he even believes his own ears, the blood suddenly pounding inside of them making it hard to hear much of anything. He groans though, thick and heavy as he slides his other hand up across your stomach to push at the bottom of his shirt. Your grip on the soft cotton momentarily tightens, still fighting him at every turn, but you give in almost immediately and allow him to shove it over the swell of your tits.
They’re moving, jiggling ever so slightly with the push and pull of his narrow hips as they quietly slap against the backs of your thighs. Tomura heaves, practically doubling over you with another throaty moan that rises in pitch at the tail end. His palm descends on one of your breasts, squeezing hard enough that the pliable flesh bulges and spills out between four of his fingers. You just stare up at him the entire time, face pinched and flushed while your glistening eyes dreamily watch him with a far off sort of quality that he’s sure must be - has to be pleasure.
He’d never seen anything sexier in his whole life, and that thought alone is far more terrifying than he could have ever guessed it would be. There was something wrong with you, yes, by All for One’s design. But there was something even more inherently wrong with him for getting off on this so much and without the added bonus of quirk tampering to excuse his behavior. You were so sweet and unfairly innocent despite your seductive figure, the sight of you naked save his bunched up t-shirt driving him absolutely wild. It was like you belonged here, with him, in his bed. It wasn’t that he no longer wanted to kill you but that he couldn’t.
What little bit of self control he’d still been clinging to up until now shatters, and Tomura snaps his hips into your upturned ass: once, twice, three times. The sticky squelching between your bodies increases in volume, echoing inside his skull like a ricocheting bullet as he watches your face screw up at the sudden force. It doesn’t even matter though. He’s long since reached his limit and, with a wounded grunt, he slams into you one final time, lurching over your prone body.
The sound that comes out of his mouth as he shudders and violently paints your pink guts is, frankly, embarrassing. But he’s riding a high too great to care, clinging to you hard enough to make his joints ache and you whimper in discomfort. He can’t stop though. He’s cumming so hard, pulse after pulse, that it feels like his soul actually slips out of his body for a worryingly long beat before returning in fragmented pieces. The same, but also somehow different. Like he’d experienced rebirth in the warm, comforting clutch of your drenched cunt.
He wheezes as if he’d been stabbed in the chest when he finally eases his softening cock out of you some time later.
Tomura was completely spent, both physically and mentally. His wobbly legs could hardly support his weight anymore but, with a strength of mind he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he directs a shaky finger to your clit again. You squirm in response, huffing after that rough treatment, but he soothes you with hushed words and a gentle touch to the delicate little pearl he barely even needs to brush against to have you shaking for him.
“Relax. You feel good, don’t you? Let me hear those pretty sounds again, baby.”
Obstinately, you purse your lips together to deny him even that one simple request. Tomura heaves a tired sigh, wishing you weren’t such a brat, but he doesn’t let up. The gentle circles he rubs into your clit with the pad of his finger slowly brings you around though, grudgingly, and he can’t quite deny the satisfaction that sparks in his throat when your mouth warbles open to let loose the sweetest, tiny moan he’s ever heard.
“Nngh … Tomu-nii …!”
“Don't fight it. I want you to feel good too, yknow.” He pauses, tongue glancing over his dry lips. “Will you cum for me, sweetheart?”
You shake your head, eyes screwing shut, but the way your body continues to tense up seems to suggest otherwise. He could tell you were practically thrumming with it, burning from the inside out even as his milky white discharge slowly oozes down your slit to pool in the seat of the diaper. It was unexpectedly exciting to watch, disproportionately naughty given how utterly unappealing the crinkly plastic was at first glance, and he picks up the pace of his rubbing.
“I think you’re lying again. You liked how it felt when I was inside you, right? This will be even better, I promise. You’ll love it. I know you will.”
Weakly writhing on top of his bed, you crack your eyes open to peer up at him again. “T - Tomu-nii … I can’t … ahh. Ahh. Ahh! I … I’m … ahh! Tomu-niiiii!”
You suddenly jerk, tossing your head back against the sheets, and he watches in rapt fascination as you quake so hard it nearly catches him off guard. It wasn’t the seductive, rolling tremors he was used to seeing in porn videos but, rather, a full bodied spasm that had you twisting as if to get away. Your thighs try to clamp shut around his hand but he elbows them apart, refusing to let up until he’d milked your orgasm as thoroughly as you’d milked his.
And you looked so pretty, too. Caught up in mind numbing pleasure so intense he couldn’t even begin to fathom what you were feeling. Even his own earth shattering release seemed to pale in comparison to this, and it takes you much longer to start coming down from it than it did him.
Your hair is a mess by the time you’re done, matted in some places and sticking to your damp forehead in others. For a fleeting moment, Tomura can almost see the adult woman you should have been when your face goes slack in ecstasy and your flushed lips were parted to suck in as much oxygen as you could get. He imagines you were probably no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, not with that body and those looks, so the thought that he could make you feel this good was a bit like a pat on the back for him. It was probably just beginners luck, but that didn’t stop him from feeling any less proud of himself.
Slowly, he takes his hands off you and steps back. The spot between your legs was absolutely covered in fluid, your sticky, copious slick mixing with his spunk to make a truly viscous concoction that clung to your damp curls. He thinks that he should probably clean you up again and reaches for the baby wipes, but stops himself short.
The idea that crosses his mind is very likely foul, perhaps even more offensive than anything else he’d done til now, but … a quick glance at your sloppy pussy proves too great a temptation. There was something inherently erotic about making you walk around with his semen dripping out of you, even if it was only going to be absorbed by the diaper, and he shuffles close again with his heart in his throat.
Tomura hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s doing and it takes him a long moment to figure out the tape tabs on the sides. He gets frustrated halfway through the process, struggling to make sure the crinkly plastic was secure enough around your waist, but by some miracle you stay relatively still through all of his fumbling. He isn’t quite sure how he got so lucky but he doesn’t stop to question it, hawkishly focusing all of his attention on the task at hand.
At length, he straightens to admire his work. It’s not perfect by any means but he’s pretty sure the damned thing wasn’t going to fall off as soon as you stood up so there was that. The diaper itself was just as obnoxiously girly as everything else in the gym bag; a soft, lilac purple with a flowery, cartoon bunny design on them. He didn’t mind the rabbits so much, and it was certainly preferable to the onesie, but he still thought you’d look nice in something a bit cooler.
The realization that he was thinking about this in such quaint, fuzzy terms chills Tomura to the bone, and his gaze flicks to your face so he can ask what you think of them. Even if only to distract himself from his own uncomfortably perverse change of heart.
But you were already asleep. He probably should have expected as much, and he could tell you were actually snoozing this time by the shallow, even rise and fall of your chest. A strange sense of embarrassment washes over him and he reaches out to delicately take the hem of his shirt between thumb and finger so he can tug it back down into place. You only snuggle further into the mattress though, getting comfortable, and further cementing the notion that he had, indeed, fucked up.
He’d never be able to get rid of you now.
Grumbling under his breath, Tomura leans over you with one hand braced on the mattress. The other slips between your legs, unable to squeeze shut now with the bulk of the diaper between them, and ever so carefully cups his palm over your crotch. It was cool to the touch, but if he pushed down hard enough he could feel the warmth of your body bleeding through. You let out a quiet huff in response, petulant towards him even in your sleep, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing. It was absurd. It was strange. It was strikingly, unequivocally weird, but he was almost glad he hadn’t disintegrated you or strangled you to death.
This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d wished for a woman he could do with as he pleased and not have to worry about her running away, but … it was close enough, he supposed.
#shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki#self insert bullshit#my writing#I'll tag the series later#I don't know if I want this to show at the top of the main tags seems a bit like inviting trouble#I've wanted to write something like this for a very very long time and I just took advantage of Shigaraki's birthday to finally do it#blah#I make him cry bout' the pussy#prolly why my shit so wet#ahh 👅
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Unexpectedly Bitten
Vampire!Henry Cavill x Reader
Part 1 of 6 (or 7)
SO...I watched 30 Days of Night, and somehow I got to this. The plots are nothing alike and the vampires in the movie are creepy, but I figured Henry would obviously be a hot one, thus this mess was born!
This is a Vampire!Henry x Reader story where each chapter, while chronological, is a different conversation or event during the course of their evolving relationship. But we kinda just jump right in.
Summary: Your ex gets into some trouble with Vampires, and his mistakes lead the bloodsuckers back to you. After seeing you, one vampire gets a little attached and he’s taking his time deciding what he plans to do with you, but whatever it is, you’re not afraid. In fact, you might just be a little attached to him too.
Warnings: cursing, smut, violence. (Count on spelling mistakes or repeating words too often. it’s very likely.)
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Part 1: When Idiots Make Deals
Words: 1330
There was one thing everyone in your town knew: Don’t made deals with Vampires. It was an unspoken rule, a law to some. Werewolves, fine. They keep their word, and a deal with them is an honorable one through and through. Demons, wraiths, witches, The Devil—literally, anything would be better than a Vampire. But some still get entangled with them, though it never ends well. It’s as if they forget the odds of surviving these agreements. Vampires often ask for difficult things, and if you can’t deliver, you die.
Now, there was one other thing you always knew: Your ex was an idiot. An idiot who made idiotic choices and got his idiotic ass in heaps of trouble. So, when he pounded on your door in the middle of the night, sweating and panting, it was clear he’d, once again, fucked up.
“Close the door. Close the door,” Jason bolted into your apartment on shaky steps, fisting his fingers in his ash blond hair as if to tug out the strands.
“It’s one a.m., Jason.” You yawned. “What have you done now?”
He looked at you nervously, and said, “Ah, look, Y/N, I fucked up.” Shocker, you thought. “I, uh, made a deal.”
“And didn’t hold up your end again? Oh, boy, consider me stunned. Who’d you piss of this time? Another wraith?”
Jason swallowed and shook his head.
Your eyebrows scrunched together. Jason didn’t usually venture outside of wraith deals, or the occasional werewolf, but werewolves were not nearly as threatening. “Demon?”
He shook his head again, and your arms rose before they flopped back down to your sides.
“Well, witches are far and few between, and I doubt you met The Devil, so what else—” You paused, your eyes widening as Jason winced. “Have you lost your goddamn mind!”
“It was a good deal, ok? I thought I had it in the bag.”
Your heartbeat doubled in speed. “What did you promise them, Jason?”
He rubbed at the back of his neck, and his palm pulled away glistening with sweat. “Just a bit of daytime shit.”
“Bodies?” Your voice rose. Women often had to be on the lookout during the day with extra caution. It was easier to lure prey when the sun was out. Centuries old half-vampires could survive in the sun for some time, so it was they, or a rare dealmaker, who tracked females to hand over to their superiors. As it was, three women on average went missing every week.
“They mentioned something about needing a few extra for some big boss or whatever. It’s some sacrificial shit.”
“They told you their plans?” You asked skeptically. If they told him their secrets, then they probably planned to kill him anyway.
“I overheard.”
“And you ran out of time?”
He dragged a hand down his face. “Deadline was yesterday.”
“God damn it, Jason! So, you came here?”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go!”
“You don’t have anywhere to go because you keep trying to hide out in people’s houses after you fuck up! Now, get out!” You snapped, pointing at the door. “You’re going to get me killed. It’s only a matter of time before—”
You couldn’t even finish your sentence before your door slammed open and a dark silhouette illuminated by the hallway lighting filled the space. A second later, your head shot to the swooshing sound of a window being shoved up just enough for a figure to easily slip through.
This was exactly how these things--failed deals with vampires--went down. You’d heard the rumors, which you took with a grain of salt considering survivors of this same situation did not exist to confirm or deny them. But this was certainly close enough to the tales you’d heard as a child. You, of course, wouldn’t survive to confirm or deny the rumors and tales either.
The men stepped forward, closing in on you and Jason with each step, effectively trapping you. Though it was not like you would bother trying to run. They were practically twice the size of Jason. Taller, broader, stronger, and as their faces unveiled under the glow of your lamp, you noticed, insanely more attractive. Beautiful even. They were chiseled like gods, but all full-vampires were heard to be. A trick to draw pathetic humans in. After all, average people are drawn to two things in life: sex and beauty. Vampires embodied both more than any human could, even on their best day.
Before you could stare much more, you were gripped harshly by the arm and thrown to the side like a dirty dishtowel. Your body slammed hard enough into the wall to create a small dent and it jostled your brain in its skull, dizzying you enough that you could barely make out the threatening conversation yards away from you.
“Why must they always fail us?” A dark-haired vampire said to a blond. “It’s very disappointing.”
“They just don’t have it in them.”
The dark one tsked as he walked around Jason in a slow circle, sizing him up. “We give them a chance to prove themselves. They ask for whatever we can provide and all we ask in return is a few measly bodies.” He stopped his trail when he was in front of Jason again, then leaned down the five inches necessary for them to be eyelevel. “We could have had respect for you. But now what are you more than a meal, hmm?”
“G-Give me a-another day,” Jason stuttered, his whole body visibly trembling.
“That’s not how this works, blood-bag,” The blond said as he crossed his arms. “One chance, only.”
“W-What about her? You can have her!”
You did your best to lift your head only to be met with three sets of eyes on your face. One pair a glowing gray-blue. One, a dull, dark green. And the last, a cerulean so intensely bright they practically burned through your own.
Yet, those ones were soft as they scanned your features, stopping at your lips a moment longer before looking back at your ex. ��We asked for three.”
“I-I can get you two more by tomorrow, I swear.” Jason’s lip quivered like the pitiful rat he was, and if you had your full strength, you’d have run up and throttled him for trading you like meat. But your body ached, and your brain was still fuzzy from knocking your head into plaster.
The vampire huffed out a deep breath, shaking his head and crossing his toned arms. “I don’t know what it is,” He said. “But I just don’t trust you.” Then he looked past Jason’s head, nodding to his friend. You jolted at the sound of bone snapping, and watched, somehow calm, as Jason’s lifeless body fell at the feet of the blond. But the view was blocked moments later when the dark-haired vampire crouched in front of your exhausted, crumpled body. He was so much more beautiful up close, and you couldn’t seem to pay attention to anything other than how perfect he was.
He studied every bit of you in silence until his friend interrupted. “So are we taking her, Henry, or is she to be a dead duck like this one,” The friend asked, then lightly kicked at Jason’s limp body.
“No need for her to die. She’s just an innocent bystander,” The vampire, Henry, said. You liked his name, it somehow suit him. You liked his voice more. He reached forward and grabbed a tip of your hair, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger before letting go, then hummed and ran a knuckle down your cheek. “You want to come home with me, Little Lamb?”
Despite how it should have been, panic alarms did not go off in your head, but you still said, as dignified as you could, “No.”
He sighed and cocked his head. “That was not the answer I was hoping for. Unfortunately, Lamb, what you want makes little difference to me.”
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Tags: @meganwinchester1999 @dani-si @agniavateira @tumblnewby @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc @the-soot-sprite @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity @aquariuslavenderhoney @harrysthiccthighss
#vampire!henry#henry cavill#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill imagine#henry cavill fic#henry cavill fics#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill fanfics#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill one shot#henry cavill oneshot#henry cavill angst#henry cavill fluff#henry cavill smut#vampire henry#vampire henry cavill#chris evans#vampire!chris
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Near... Far... Wherever You Are...
Summary: All he wanted to do was enjoy a nice, calm commute to work with his husband. But thanks to some construction and a partner who thrives on coffee and chaos, there's little chance that Daichi is going to get his wish this morning.
A/n: This is my first entry for KuroDai Week 2021!
I went with: commute for the prompt!
This was really fun to write as I feel like I haven't written these two in forever! Hopefully you can enjoy it as well!
You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31143008
Enjoy! :D
Word Count: 1395
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There were many things Daichi was grateful for in life.
A fantastic job teaching history at the local University.
A comfortable apartment that left him wanting for nothing.
And the love of one of the most amazing men he’d ever met, who also just so happened to be a science professor at the same school.
Truly he was a blessed man.
However…
The love of his life was currently two horribly out of tune song lyrics away from being throttled where he sat in the driver’s seat of their car.
They’d been stuck in traffic for over half an hour now on their daily commute to work. Construction was the main culprit and sadly small spaces combined with a coffee filled Kuroo did not go hand in hand.
God help him.
“Do you REALLY want to hurt ME?!”
“Yes.”
“Do YOU really want to MAKE me CRY?!”
“God yes.”
Kuroo turned his golden eyes on Daichi, a smirk on his lips as he reached over to turn down the radio. “Come on, Dai. You know you love my singing,” he cooed, leaning over into Daichi’s space.
With a petulant grumble, the shorter man brought his hand up to push at his annoying partner's face in an attempt to stop the invasion of his personal bubble. “I never said that,” he pointed out once Kuroo finally relented and sat back in his seat. “I said I love you. Your singing, however, can raise the dead.”
Kuroo gasped at the accusation, one hand flying up to cover his mouth as the other rested dramatically over his chest.
“You wound me, Sa’amura! Was it not my crooning that once brought you to your dorm window late at night?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at his grouchy darling.
Daichi tried to hide the smile that attempted to break free when he saw the ridiculous display. His arms crossing over his chest in defiance of it. “No. It was the yowling of a stray cat at ass o’clock in the evening that got me out of bed,” he retorted, though this time he couldn’t stop the smile from escaping as he noticed Kuroo’s pout.
“Lies and slander!” Kuroo lamented. “You’re going to sit there and tell me that my soulful serenade did nothing to your heart?!”
Daichi couldn’t hold back a snort as a giggle broke free hearing this ridiculous man’s diatribe. Quickly he tried to turn his head, not wanting to give up his grouchy facade just yet.
“No. Not a single thing. The damage to my ears, however, has been irreparab-ahahaha!” Daichi’s rather witty retort, if he did say so himself, was rudely interrupted by his own laughter when he felt Kuroo’s fingers now invading his space to attack his side.
“That is just rude, Daichi! I sang my heart out for you and all you can do is make jokes about it! How am I supposed to look you in the eyes ever again?!” Kuroo cried out dramatically, though the effect was ruined by the playful smile on his face as he continued his attack, sending nibbling pinches and soft scribbles all along Daichi’s side.
“Stahahahap it y-you… you mahahangy caha-NO! Ah! K-Kuroo nahahat thahahat!” Daichi begged as Kuroo’s hand instantly dropped down to squeeze his knee, sending a ticklish jolt right up Daichi’s spine.
“Oh ho? What was that, Dai? Did I hear an apology teetering on the tip of your tongue?” Kuroo asked, his fingers giving another soft squeeze and making Daichi jump in his seat with a small yelp. He glanced around at the cars surrounding their own praying no one saw this embarrassing display..
“D=Don’t you dare do this, Kuroo! I swear to god I will bury your body under the campus librar-HEHEHEE! Y-YOU BAHAHAHASTARD!” Daichi positively lost it as Kuroo’s fingers went on the attack, squeezing and kneading into the muscles surrounding his poor knee. Somehow being in this cramped and confined space with little room to escape just made him feel that much more vulnerable. Daichi’s body really couldn’t help but to react on instinct, shimmying like a worm even as he kicked and rocked around in his seat.
“Ready to apologize yet, Dai?” Kuroo cooed as he focused on a particular bad spot on Daichi’s inner knee that made him shriek through his laughter.
“NO-nonononahahahaha!” he reflexively cried out as Kuroo’s hand shot back up to taser and squeeze at his lower ribs.
“Oh? Still feeling feisty, huh? Then I guess you just have to suffer the consequences!” Kuroo teased as his hand moved over to vibrate right against Daichi’s stomach, sending the poor man into the loudest belly laughter yet.
However, just when Daichi thought he would have to admit defeat the blaring of a horn startled them both back to reality.
Daichi slumped in his seat, panting and giggling as he noticed Kuroo glancing in the rearview mirror. His husband either gave the other driver a wave… or perhaps something else a bit less friendly if he knew the man at all.
Sadly, Daichi honestly couldn’t tell as he continued to recover from that tickle attack, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Apparently they’d been so caught up in their own little war of wills that their lane had started to inch forward and the car behind them thought this was a matter of life or death.
As he calmed down, Daichi glanced over to the car beside him, meeting the concerned gaze of the other driver. The look the guy was giving him was absolutely silently asking if everything was okay after witnessing what, Daichi could only assume, looked like electric shock therapy happening in the passenger side of their car.
Daichi’s cheeks flushed scarlet as he realized what others had seen and he worked up the energy to offer a wobbly smile before nodding. Ending the sad display with the worlds most awkward thumbs up before turning around and slumping in his seat.
“You... are such… an ass,” he grumbled as Kuroo now kept his eyes ahead of him, attempting to creep forward along with the rest of traffic. “But… I’ll admit that your singing isn’t… that bad.”
A slightly smug but warm smile appeared over Kuroo’s lips as he heard this admittance and he spared his poor embarrassed darling a glance. “I knew it,” he said, puffing his chest out a bit as he turned his eyes back to the road. “I knew you were only teasing me! No one can resist my dulcet tones!”
Daichi couldn’t help rolling his eyes as he watched his partner reach over to turn the radio back up. But as he heard the first few notes, concern began to bubble in his chest, his eyes glancing over to see Kuroo instantly perking up as the song played.
“Daichi! It’s our song! The one I sang to you that night!” he exclaimed, already starting to sway in time with the music as Daichi’s mind instantly relived the mortification of that night.
“God, please no!”
“Every night in MY dreams! I SEE you! I feeeeel you!!”
“Kuroo please! The other drivers are staring!” Daichi pleaded even as a smile began to spread across his face.
“That is how I KNOW you go OOOOON!”
“K-Kuroo plehehease!” Daichi found himself giggling now as he tried to reach over to cover Kuroo’s mouth, but his husband would not be silenced.
“FAR across the distance… and spaces BETWEEEEN US! You have come to SHOW you go OOOON! Come on, Dai! You know the words!” Kuroo called out as Daichi laughed at the absurdity of it all. But really… when had he ever been able to ignore his husband's antics? And that was how Daichi found himself taking a deep breath and hoping the man in the car behind them would enjoy their impromptu concert.
“Near… far…. WHEREEEEEEEVER YOU ARE!” he belted out, sending Kuroo into one of his wild, hyena laughing fits. Their shenanigans earning them a few honks and shouts from the cars surrounding them as people enjoyed the break in the monotony of gridlock.
Finally, Kuroo was able to catch his breath enough to join in once more.
“MY HEART WILL GO ON AND OOOOON!”
There were many things Daichi was grateful for in life.
And now, getting stuck in traffic with this amazing, ridiculous man was just another one of them.
#KuroDai Week 2021#KuroDaiWeek2021#Sawamura Daichi#Kuroo Tetsurou#Haikyuu!#my fics#tickle fic#Fluff#Humor#I love these two so much
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Sola/Calling for Rain
@secret-engima and, months later, the snippet I promised!
.
Karin’s first memories are her mother’s grave and her sister’s sick bed.
She knows more than that of course. She knows how her mother died, forced to use their family’s healing ability until they’d drained her chakra dry. She knows her older sister nearly followed their mother that night, eight years old and already scarred across her arms and shoulders.
But that knowledge isn’t seared into her memory the way her mother’s gravestone is, the bamboo marker plain and unmarked, nothing like the stone markers bearing carved names for the village shinobi. That knowledge doesn’t paint itself across her closed eyelids like Kyoho’s frail form, skin too pale, breaths too shallow, wild hair tumbling across the pillows like a splash of blood.
Karin remembers when Kyoho first opened her eyes, how her sister had looked to find Karin first, and hadn’t settled until she could clearly see Karin was well.
.
Karin doesn’t know how much Kyoho’s near death changed her older sister. She can’t remember what Kyoho was like before, can’t remember a time when Kyoho didn’t braid their hair with little painted beads and thin cords of braided thread. Can’t remember a time when Kyoho didn’t hold her close at night and whisper bedtime stories in words that sound like thunder and rain.
Stories and Songs and meanings just for the two of them. Braids and beads hidden beneath hair and cloth, Clan secrets told in the dead of night in a tongue only they knew. Teaching Karin to dance, to fly.
Teaching Karin to survive.
Kyoho trains with the determination not to learn, but master every skill she can. Taijutsu, weapons, healing, ninjutsu. She claws her way up the ranks of Kusa’s shinobi, genin at nine, chuunin at eleven, jounin at fifteen.
Kusa’s own little prodigy. A match for Konoha’s Uchiha Itachi or Hatake Kakashi. Or so Kusa likes to think.
There’s a lot Kusa doesn’t know.
They don’t know of the fuuinjutsu, of the basics learned from their mother that Kyoho took and reinvented on her own. The black tattoos spiraling across Kyoho’s skin hidden from sight under dark green clothing.
They don’t know about the chakra chains Kyoho painstakingly learned to use. Chains Kyoho learned to modify, to shrink to the size of a fine gold chain, to enlarge to the size of the massive chains that once rose from the waves to close Uzushio’s ports.
They don’t know of Kyoho’s sensory abilities, so fine tuned she can pick out a shinobi’s specialization from the feel of their chakra alone. They don’t know of the weapons Kyoho can wield beyond her glaive and curved shortswords.
They don’t know Kyoho’s taught Karin everything she knows. They don’t know Karin isn’t the fumbling, lackluster genin overshadowed by her prodigal sister’s brilliance.
.
“My name is Uzumaki Naruto, and I’m going to kick all of your asses!”
The room goes silent, every genin present turning to stare, and Karin feels her breath freeze in her lungs as the chakra signatures around her spike with anger and disbelief.
Karin buries her own chakra, smothers it down to a spark so small even Kyoho has difficulty detecting, hiding the surprise and recognition and the tangle of emotions she can keep off her face but not out of her chakra. And she knows she shouldn’t focus her attention solely on the loud Konoha genin as his teammates and comrades converge to scold him for his recklessness. There are others in the room far more dangerous than the rookie too dumb not to draw the ire of the rest of the competition before the Exams have even begun. And yet-
Uzumaki.
He doesn’t have the red hair. But that’s the mon on his shoulder, black and purple instead of the black and blue variant Kyoho’s stitched into their clothes, in places easily hidden because there’s Clan Pride but then there’s announcing to all the Elemental Nations that they’re female kekkai genkai bearers.
Karin lessens her hold on her chakra, reaching her senses past the thunderstorm-shadow-river feeling of the three genin standing beside him.
Warmth. Bright encompassing warmth, intense but not painful, the ocean breeze across her skin on a clear sunny day. Swirling reserves deeper than she’s ever sensed, even deeper than Kyoho’s hearth-fire chakra.
Karin suppresses her chakra the moment the blond’s thunderstorm teammate glances her way, glancing away and digging her fingernails into the back of her hand so hard she’s surprised she doesn’t break skin.
She swallows back a sob.
Uzumaki. He’s Clan.
But not Galahdian. Not a child of the Storm-Father, not someone who grew up with the Clan Laws and the certainty in their bones that even if the world fell apart, the Clan would always have your back.
The Uzumaki are a shinobi clan. Karin can’t… how can she know if she can trust this wayward Uzumaki? How can she know if he will hold that same fierce loyalty that blazes in her and Kyoho’s souls?
She shouldn’t. Oh, but by the Storm-Father, Karin wants to. This long lost kinsman who wears Freedom and Protection across his shoulders. Who looks at the world with Protection in his eyes and crowned with Love.
Karin knows the Colors don’t apply to the natural world. To things that are mere happenstance and genetic chance. But-
(‘Sometimes the Gods paint us with specific Colors,’ Karin remembers Kyoho telling her, ‘A message and a warning, for souls so strong the physical has no choice but to reflect it.’
Karin had looked into Blue eyes framed by Red hair, and never asked if Kyoho spoke from experience.)
For the first time in nearly ten years, Karin hopes.
She has to try.
And that means staying in Konoha long enough to get a measure of Uzumaki Naruto.
.
Karin is perfectly happy not knowing how something gets named the ‘Forest of Death.’
Unfortunately, as the location of the Second Exam, Karin’s not going to get a choice.
Kyoho would love it, Karin thinks as she miserably fills out the liability waiver. Kyoho had spoken of many places in her past life, but none so fondly as Galahd, deadly and wild and all the more beautiful for it.
She lets her ‘teammates’ take the lead as they scout through the forest. Her head’s busy planning her next step. Should she focus on passing the Second Exam? Kyoho told her how the Third Exam was always an exhibition for clients, so she’d have plenty of time during the preparations to track down and try to get to know her kinsman. Perhaps with Kyoho’s help even - surely her mission would be finished by then?
But that assumes Karin and the two idiots she’s assigned to play chakra-battery for can pass at all. They aren’t the weakest team in the forest, even counting Karin’s careful pretense, but there are a lot of teams stronger than they are. Stronger, and all too willing to kill.
Karin could ditch the idiots. She’s kept track of where she last sensed Uzumaki Naruto’s chakra, so she could find him and get to know him in the time before the Second Exam ends. Maybe even steal the Earth scroll and bring it as a good faith gift.
But she’d be on her own, carrying a high value target, and gambling on her kinsman caring enough about a cousin he didn’t know to trust and protect her.
Karin tugs on the loose ends of her hair in frustration. Why is this so hard?!
Kyoho would know what to do.
Kyoho’s not here, Karin firmly reminds herself. She has to figure this out on her own.
In the end, she chooses to stay with her teammates. There's too many unknowns for her to risk running now.
.
Two days later, staring up at the bear taller than her house, Karin's regretting her decision to stay.
They left me!
Stay and hide, they said. You'll be fine.
If they're still alive when Karin finds them, she's going to throttle them. Hiding her chakra doesn't matter when enemies can find her by her scent! The bear snarls, and Karin gives up any pretense of hiding her abilities. She's out of her depth, anything less than her full skill will only end up with her dead-
("Above all else," Kyoho had whispered the night before Karin left for Konoha, "survive.")
She reaches for her supply of explosive tags (way more than anyone thinks she has, way more than she probably needs, but they're the easiest seal to make and Kyoho always says there's no such thing as overkill) and prepares to turn the bear into a pile of charred meat and fur.
Only, there's movement above her, a blur of black and purple, a flash of silver-
Thunder. Lightning and rain and the howling storm as she huddles by the warmth of hearth, each flash of light in the sky accompanied by the rolling drums that echo in her chest; an invitation, a challenge, to face the storm and laugh in the embrace of the sky.
Uzumaki's dark haired teammate lunges from the trees like one of the jungle cats of Kyoho's stories, dropping down onto the bear with a spinning, flying kick, and Kyoho freezes.
Kyoho knows that kick.
(Karin stares wide-eyed as Kyoho all but flies through the air, leaping and spinning with the grace of a breeze through the prairie grasses. Kyoho's been teaching her how to dance, but those jumps have nothing on the ones Kyoho is doing!
"Will I learn to do that too?" Karin asks. Nerves flit in her gut like butterflies. She's trying to learn everything Kyoho can teach her, but those leaps are so high.
Blue eyes soften as Kyoho ruffles her hair. "You don't have to - it's not part of the Ostium Dance."
Karin blinks. "It's not?"
"It's Ulric, our sister Clan." Kyoho says. Her gaze grows distant. "Clan of Sky and Storm, Coeurl-kin, first of the Storm-Father's children."
Karin's touch on her arm brings her back to the present. "Were you Ulric first, before you were Ostium?"
Kyoho laughs. "I was Furia, Clan of Sea and Horizon, but I learned the Ulric Dance because I was Sky-born instead of Sea-born.")
She can't see a braid, but- Black and purple. A pair of well worn kukri at his back. The aerial combat she's never seen anyone but Kyoho use.
Her fingers tremble around the string of explosive tags as the genin checks to make sure the bear is dead. Then he turns to her with an easy grin. "You're an Uzumaki, right? Do you want to meet your cousin?"
And Karin has been so keyed up over possibly having Clan, over being in hostile territory with no one to watch her back, with desperate hope dogging her heels for the past three days of finding someone she can trust-
(“You can always trust the Clans. Even the most bitter rivals will protect a Clan child, if they are threatened by Outsiders.”)
"Are you Ulric?" She blurts.
Dark eyes sharpen. "How do you know that name?" But his gaze flits to her temple, to the black braid joiner peeking out from her hair. Karin removes the grey hitai-ate and pulls her hair back to show him her braids. The Ostium Braid and the Mourning Braid for her mother, unlike Kyoho who also wears Marriage, Hero, and Revenge Braids. Braids Karin and Kyoho have never shown anyone but each other.
But the boy's eyes widen in shock and recognition, and pale fingers pull the Ulric Braid threaded with the purple ribbon of a Chief from its hiding place behind his ear.
("And if you get the chance, run. Before Kusa kills you too.")
Karin sobs.
This boy is Clan. He's safe.
#A Shadow of Heaven's Light#fusion#naruto#Calling for Rain verse#Uzumaki Karin#Uzumaki Kyoho#Nyxsuke#Kusa doesn't know how badly they screwed up#Kyoho's worn a Revenge Braid since Kusa killed their mom#she's just been waiting until Karin is safe to be able to take that revenge#Kyoho's not had a Braincell for almost ten years#she might be a touch feral
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