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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Hiiii, I loveeeee ur work ❤️

I was thinking about a head cannon of how some of the mw2 characters (ghost, soap, König, etc) would react to their partner sending them a nude photo?👀👀👀

Sorry if you did this already but I’m pretty sure you haven’t tho cuz I definitely would have read it already 😭

MW2 Reaction to Receiving a Special™ Photo from Their S/O

Warnings: 18+ (just to be safe), Non-Specific/Explicit Implications of Smut, No Pronouns used for Reader except 'You', Singular Mention of Graves Throwing Himself off a Cliff, Dominant! MW2, Submissive! MW2, Dominant! Reader, Submissive! Reader, Profanity, etc.

Ghost

He will literally stare bug-eyed at the picture you’ve sent him like 👁️O👁️

Since it’s a physical photograph, he keeps it on him like a chapstick, which is to say all the time.

He isn’t risking ANYONE besides himself seeing it.

And when he’s about to embark on a mission, he keeps it tucked into his vest right where his heart is so that it’s practically part of him.

He likes to think that, somehow, you can hear – feel – his heart beating, know that he’s still alive and fighting so that he can come home and see you.

And when he returns from a mission and goes to his quarters, he has some…alone time.

You know, to really study the picture.

Not that he doesn’t know every curve and edge of your body already.

But that doesn't stop him growling your name into the pillow as he rocks against it, a hole cut into the bottom of it – a poor imitation of you.

A makeshift lover.

If anyone ends up seeing that picture – if they stole it from him, if by some act of God (because that’s what it’ll take) it slipped out of his vest or pocket – they are in for a World of Pain™.

There won’t be a time they won’t flinch upon hearing Ghost’s name, or when they see his shadow like an omen on the wall as he commandeers the halls. Prowling.

He’d feel pretty guilty about someone else seeing you how he does, even if it was only for a fraction of a second.

So he’s definitely going to make it up to you when he gets back <3

König

His heart can’t take this kind of torment.

He’ll be looking down at his phone, the image of you burning into his skin like a holy artefact.

He definitely gets more jumpy around people when he has his phone on him.

Will literally clam up and shove it into the deepest recesses of his pocket if someone comes too close.

Even when your picture is safely stored behind a password-protected photo album.

He has to excuse himself from training or other commitments whenever his mind wanders back to you, and subsequently that image (which is basically all the time).

Sometimes he calls you while he’s sorting himself out.

He just needs to hear your voice – to feel closer to you.

It’s the only way he can finish.

“Engel,” he rasps, his breath stuttering, “I need you,”

And everyone just looks at him like he’s grown a third eye when he returns because, unbeknownst to him, König can’t keep quiet, and everyone who has never heard even a peep from him is suddenly aware of the carnality that lies beneath his skin, wired into his soul.

And at the centre is his love for you, boundless and overflowing so that the rest of his teammates know it, too.

Not that they mind all too much.

They all sit and think that you must be one beautiful person to evoke such a response from König.

Soap

Will tease you back.

Sends a mirror pic of him in a tight black shirt, saying something like ‘You’ll see the rest when I get home.’

Is absolutely ravenous when it comes to you.

No cap, goes absolutely ham in the shower when the image of you in nothing flashes in his mind.

His low moans are enough of a warning for the rest of the 141 to stay away for the next half an hour or so.

Aside from that, he’ll just look at the picture because he finds you beautiful.

Stares at it while he’s in bed. Laments on how much he misses you ☹️.

He’s counting down the days until he can see you again, and with each that passes, he can feel your silhouette becoming tangible in his hands, as if you were stepping out of the photo.

Sometimes, he dreams that you’re there with him, nestled between his arms.

Other times the dreams are a little more…graphic.

But Johnny can’t help it.

He just can’t contain himself when it comes to you.

Valeria

If you thought her violent tendencies could never extend to you, prepare to be amazed.

The second this woman sees what you’re trying to do – or, rather, what she thinks you’re trying to do – she is not happy.

You could have sent that image with the purest (within reason) of intentions; just letting Valeria know that you miss her, wishing her a good day – whatever.

What she sees is you trying to manipulate her by using your body as an instrument of destruction.

Dramatic, yes. But Valeria has never been one to take chances.

She’ll be deceptively calm over text: ‘Don’t tease me, Darling. You know what happens when you do.’

All day, all she can see is that image.

Whenever she turns a corner, you’re there; whenever she’s talking to someone, you’re peering at her over their shoulder; when she’s alone, you’re sat with her – on her – trying to take her attention away from her paperwork.

Redemption is a baseless concept when Valeria returns home that evening.

You will not know rest until she’s done with you.

Price

“Fuckin’ Hell, Love,” he’ll say, the darkness hanging on his voice tangible even through the voice note.

“What’ve you been up to while I’ve been away, hmm ?”

Will not rest until he knows he’s got you hot and bothered.

This entails him sending increasingly risqué images of himself; first, just one of him flexing, his arms thick and crawling with veins.

The next is of his shirt raised just below his chest, the dim light of the room keeping enough of him shrouded that his identity is unknown to all but you, his wide silhouette taking up most of the picture.

And, if you decide to be resilient against his attempts to make you feel as you have him, you’ll receive a series of menacing messages.

‘Don’t get too comfortable, Angel’, he’ll say.

‘You never know when I’ll come through that door–’

He grins as he sees you’ve read his message, hanging on his every word.

‘And ravage you.’

And you know he means it, too.

Meanwhile, he’s multitasking; keeping a clear, professional head and giving orders while resisting the primal urge to drop everything and find you.

And no amount of pleading or tears will spare you from his wrath when he returns.

Horangi

Regardless of how well the military life trained his self-discipline, nothing can dampen the sheer need Horangi feels whenever he receives a special picture from you.

I’m talking: he will literally sit in silence for ten minutes because he’s got a raging issue he needs to take care of but can’t risk anyone else seeing it.

Will thunder down the hall to the nearest bathroom when the meeting’s over and take out his frustrations there.

When he calls, you’d better pick up the first time.

If you don’t, you’ll have Hell to pay when gets home.

“Baby,” he breathes down the phone, the fog already making his mind frost over, his body burning up.

“What have you done to me–”

These brief encounters are the only thing keeping him sane while he’s away; they make him feel closer to you.

And, repaying you in kind, he returns one night, in the silence of the moon hours.

He finds you, pulls you to him, clutching on tight as you begin to wake.

And, between delirium and consciousness, his voice is all you can hear.

“Shouldn’t have tested me, Sweetheart,” he says, whispering as though partaking in a secret.

“Now I’m going to have to challenge you.” His arms are snakes as they constrict you.

“Fall asleep before I’m done with you, and I promise there will be no end to your suffering.”

Alejandro

Teasing a man as passionate as Alejandro is not going to end well for everyone involved.

Expect to receive a barrage of very choice texts back.

‘You have no idea what you’re doing to me’, he’ll say, followed by a photo of the tent in his trousers.

And a sinister: ‘But you will’.

If he’s away on business for even just a few days, he’ll go practically feral whenever he sees that picture of you.

To everyone else, he’ll be the leader Alejandro Vargas they all know him as – ruthless and righteous.

Yet, there’s something different in the way he walks as he excuses himself from the table, his destination unknown.

His gaze is narrowed and his teeth are grinding, rabid in disposition.

And when he gets home, no matter how long of a day it’s been, you’re in for a very long night.

He’ll appear behind you, a spectre, clamping a hand down on your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t test a soldier, Love,” he says, his grip tightening.

You don't turn around, an exhilarating fear keeping you frozen.

He leans down, his mouth just at your ear, his breath hot.

“Because you never know when he’ll snap.”

Rodolfo

This man is usually rather quiet and submissive when it comes to the more personal aspects of your life together.

But when you send him a picture that makes him question how long he can keep his composure for, you’re in trouble.

You’ll be receiving a phone call from a very exasperated Rodolfo, who, despite his best efforts, has succumbed to your charm.

Definitely a growler when he’s in a dominant mood.

More of a whimperer when he’s not.

At times like these, you get both.

“Darling,” he breathes, the back of his head pressed against the cold cubicle wall. “Look what you’ve done to me…”

His whining is more than enough to let you know the effect you’ve had on him.

And it’s what he says next that makes your blood run cold.

“I won’t let you get away with this.”

The husking baritone in his voice tells you he’s being truthful.

And if you try to clap back with something witty, or even an apology, Rodolfo just laughs.

“The time for mercy is long past, mi Amor,” he tells you.

“All you can do now is prepare for the Reckoning.”

Graves

This smug idiot.

Definitely smirks to himself when he gets that picture.

Has to resist the urge to show it off to everyone in the boardroom because he’s just that proud to have you as his partner.

Yes, he is hard. Yes, he’s still going to give this presentation in front of all the major shareholders.

Why ?

Because he’s Graves. Also, because he knows he has more money than everyone else in that room, and, consequently, more power.

Will shoot you back a text like: ‘Mighty fine work, Babydoll’, followed by, ‘You’re getting a promotion when I get home.’

Yes, he uses corporate jargon when discussing intimate matters.

He’s a businessman at heart, he can’t help it.

Definitely more playful than most of the others on this list.

The type to take his time with you and make you laugh while he does so.

But when he wants to be rough (and when you want him to be), he can be.

And he gets mean when he’s like that.

I’m talking hair-pulling, name-calling – basically just bullying you, but consensually.

Does his best to take care of you, though.

If he found out that he’d actually upset you, he’d literally jump off a cliff – he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

Expect many lavish gifts if this happens, though.

But don’t tell him that I told you that 👀.

Gaz

Will nearly drop his phone – it turns to butter in his hands.

He looks over his shoulder at least fifty times before he’ll allow himself to look at the photo again.

Poor boy’s face is turning red, his palms are sweating, he can’t think straight.

Paranoid 24/7 that everyone knows he has that picture of you.

But it doesn’t intimidate him enough for him to even try to keep quiet in the barracks when he has some alone time.

Similar situation to Soap; everyone knows to steer clear of whichever room Gaz was last spotted walking into for a while.

It would take him a few days for him to send a picture back.

More than likely, it’ll be of him in a scarcely lit bathroom in nothing but his boxers with a very prominent outline in them.

Followed by a text with something to the effect of: ‘Been thinking about you all night, Sweets’

And God forbid you send him another image of yourself. And definitely do not send a message saying ‘Aww, has my good boy been behaving himself ?’

Will literally send him over the edge.

The rest of the 141 can’t commandeer the bathroom for the rest of the day after that.

And when Gaz gets home, just know that your phone screen can’t protect you anymore.

Not when you have a man made of pure intellect and solid mass running full-force at you with all the pent-up energy seen only in a nuclear reactor.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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osachiyo · 5 months

Text

ᘎᘏ jealous? yeah, I am・ gojo satoru ─── f!reader . jealous toru . approx 1.4k+

ᘎᘏ cw . n/sfw, jealousy, hair pulling, cunniligus, so much dirty talk, light bondage, edging, degradation, mean mean mean!satoru :(, brat!reader, pussy slapping, he spits like once in your mouth, FERAL toru, mentions of toji being divorced etc . mdni

ᘎᘏ a/n . so sorry to that anon who requested this 😭 it took me a while to finish this and the ending was pretty rushed, but I hope u still manage to enjoy </3 not proofread so apologies in advance if there's any errors!

Satoru stared intently at you from across the bar, drink long forgotten as his jaw clenches at the sight of you giggling with Toji fucking Fushiguro of all people. The way you complimented his impressive build, ran your hands up and down his arms and fuck, the way you practically pushed your tits against him— all of it made his right eye twitch with annoyance. What the hell were you thinking?

Unfortunately for you, it wasn't long before satoru finally decides that he had enough of your bullshit— strutting over to the both of you before grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you close to him, ignoring the gasp and yelp you let out. He stood tall, towering over you and the scarred man, who only smirked sleazily in response. "Woah there, boy. ya gotta be more gentle with your lady there," he grinned deviously, making your boyfriend glower down at him, blue eyes glowing dangerously in the dim light of the bar before basically dragging you through the packed crowd and out the building. Even going as far as childishly mocking the raven haired man on the way, "woah there, boy, you gotta be careful with your lady blah blah blah," he rolled his eyes before sticking his tongue out towards the man, who had his back turned to the both of you. "Hah, fuckin' muscle brained gorilla— talkin' like his wife didn't divorce his ass," Satoru scoffed, the veins on his forehead almost popping out.

"Toru! You shouldn't call him tha—" you were quickly shut up when his eyes finally met yours, he looked borderline crazed— blue eyes that were once clear as the sky, now had turned into a much darker shade dangerous gaze screaming at you to shut the fuck up.

And you did, not wanting to anger him even further. But you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together in need— a smug smile almost tugging at your glossy lips, holy fuck that actually worked.

The ride home was eerily silent, the only noise being the loud thumping of your heart as you glanced at Satoru's side view occasionally— fuck, he looked so sexy. Jaw muscles clenched tightly, veins bulging against his skin, eyes narrowed and holding a dangerous glint of jealousy in them— fixated on the road ahead.

You gasped when Satoru slid a hand over to your side, large hand splaying on your thigh before gripping onto it tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He only ignored the whine that escaped your lips, now driving with one hand as he he sped through the empty streets.

You two eventually arrived back home— shit, your feet were absolutely killing you. You were busy taking off your high heels when you heard the front door slam closed, a shadow engulfing you from behind— Satoru.

"Toru wha—" "On your knees. Right now." You didn't get to finish your sentence before getting cut off by your boyfriend, his usually silky voice now gruff and an octave lower— fuck, it made you scared for what's to come but excited at the same time.

It wouldn't hurt if you pushed him a little bit further, would it?

"What? And why would I do that?" You turned around to face him, hands on your hips as you boldly eyed him up and down.

"Oh, sweetheart you know exaaactly why you should listen to me right now. I fucking promise you, you don't wanna make this worse on yourself." He spoke slowly in a low tone, as if he was scolding a child right now.

You had the sheer audacity to roll your eyes at him with a grin, "oh yeah? Then do your worst, Sa-to-ru."

That was it. You had sealed your fate— he was going to fucking break you and won't stop until he's satisfied.

"Ouh— fuuck, 'Toru—!" You threw your head back onto the pillows, legs pushed back and knees against your chest as Satoru was nose deep in your cunt— eating you out like your pussy was his last meal on earth. He had you tied to the bedpost, completely unable to touch him and render you useless.

A calloused palm harshly smacked against your ass— making you yelp and flail against the restraints. Your back arched off the bed every time Satoru hit that one spot inside of your gooey walls, pointy nose bumping against your clit as he swiped his tongue over your hole. Thumbs spreading apart your lips for him as he spit on your cunt before slurping it back up— he was fucking nasty with it.

Your eyes widened as a wail left your lips when Satoru bit on your clit softly before slipping his tongue inside of you— looking up at you with those blues as you felt your eyes rolling back slightly. He clicked his tongue, pulling away right as you were about to cum all over his face— you'd be stupid to think he would give you the satisfaction of cumming yet. No, he wanted you to suffer.

You whined and tried to kick your legs, but your attempt was fruitless as Satoru was much, much stronger than you— firmly holding the back of your thighs as he tsked, rolling his eyes at your desperation. "Should've just gagged you, huh? Shut that smart lil' mouth of yours, ain't that right?" He scoffed, before cracking a hand down to your cunt— smacking your pussy. "Fu—ck! 'yer s'mean! Too— ugh— mean!" You sobbed, mascara running down and leaving streaks of makeup on your pretty face— lipstick smudged and the sight did nothing but made Satoru's cock twitch in his pants.

He laughed cruelly, running a hand through his snowy locks before grinning— it wasn't a genuine grin, nor was it friendly. Something about it was...crazed, sinister if you will.

"Awww, am I being too mean for my 'pwetty lil' pwincess?" He mocked your pout, thumb rubbing small circles on your swollen clit before smacking it harder, "then you should've thought about that before whoring yourself out to that fuckin' deadbeat, huh?" He growled out, every word punctuated by a swift but harsh slap to your pussy, making you jolt and cry out with each hit.

"Yeahhh? You say you wan' me to stop but— hah, look at this soaked fuckin' pussy, hm?" He showed you his fingers, your slick dripping down them and sticking to each digit like little webs. The sight only made your clench your thighs in humiliation, and he noticed. "Yeah, yer' such a fucking whore, huh? You wanted this didn't you?" He growled, yanking you by the hair with his clean hand before slipping his slick soaked fingers into your mouth and shoving them as deep as possible. "Mmph—!" You thrashed around, choking and gagging on his long fingers as a fresh wave of tears gathered in your lash line.

"Wanted me to fuck you up, yeah? Wanted me to fuck this slutty cunt up? Yeahhh, baby take it— god, you look so good choking 'round my fingers, don't you?"

His words were nasty, his own cock starting to drip and ache in his boxers and eventually he got too impatient to torment you any longer.

He eventually pulled his fingers out of your mouth, letting go of your hair before parting your legs and spitting directly into your mouth— a fat glob of spit landing directly on your tongue and you swore you could feel your cunt gushing out even more, if it was possible.

You felt him untying you from the bedpost, finally letting your hands free. God, the marks felt like they were burned into your skin— clearly he wasn't thinking straight when he tied you, but that was fine— it was the last thing on your mind, really. "On your hands and knees, slut." You obeyed the order almost immediately, turning around to face the bedpost before sticking your ass out to Satoru', who only watched you with scrutinizing eyes.

"Oh yeahh— yer' fuckin' soaked, huh? Pretty pussy so wet f'me?" He groaned, lining his pulsating cock with your entrance before letting out a "tsk" and shoving your head into the pillow beneath— before slamming into you without any warning.

Your eyes widened, a gurgled moan leaving your messy lips from the sheer stretch of his cock— you had him plenty times before but each time feels like the first time. "Fuuu—ck!! S'biigg—!" You squealed, feeling Satoru's cock drag through your velvety walls, pulling away until only the tip remained inside— before slamming his way back into you.

"Oh yeah? 'Toru's cock too big for this— ah!— tiny f-fuckin' pussy?" He moaned, fingers entangling themselves back into your hair before pulling you up by it— breath hot against your ear as his cock bullied your cervix— "Too. Fuckin'. Bad." Every word was punctuated by a brutal thrust of his hips against your ass— the his other hand reaching blindly to swipe and lightly slap your clit— " 'Cause I'mma pound my pussy til' I'm done and you won't cum til' I say so."

©sachiyoh ─ do not copy/translate/repost any of my works under any circumstances.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #౨ৎ — archive・

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achaoticeternal · 1 year

Text

bewitched.

AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM!READER

summary: more word has arrived to you regarding your husbands infidelity. as he returns to you, you present him with a choice. word count: 2k warnings: drinking. strong language. angst. adultery. pain. a/n: see end of the piece for author’s note

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

choose your own ending...

— ending 1.

— ending 2.

— ending 3.

— ending 4.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“My lady,” Your chambermaid spoke from the doorway, returning with a fresh pitcher of wine as you had requested, “Should I see the children to bed?”

“Please do,” Your voice was soft, the words fragile in your solemn state.

“It might be best for you to rest, rather than await the return of Prince Aemond.”

Her words were gentle, simply advising you to take care of yourself. But the fires of hurt and betrayal were already lit.

“What makes you believe that I am awaiting my husband?” With words more venomous than you intended, you bid her leave.

At the sound of the door shutting, you stood and moved toward the pitcher and chalice left idly by the fireplace. You poured the deep red liquid and lifted the cup to your lips, taking a generous gulp. The dull burn allowed some relief to your heightened senses. But you also knew that the alcohol only added fuel to your fire.

Rain began to pour over King’s Landing, softly thudding against the windows and stone of the castle walls. Usually, the rain would lull you to sleep, but it seemed the thunder of the skies only spurred you to continue drowning away the ache in your heart. Your eyes flickered over the second chalice that had been placed on the silver tray with your pitcher. It seemed that the servants expected Aemond to return to the Keep tonight. You were not sure if you wish for him to return or for him to drown in the heavy rains that poured from the sky.

As if the fool perfectly timed you, you glanced out the window to see the silhouette of Vhagar descending toward the Dragon Pits. In a drunken frenzy, you pulled the curtain to cover it, instead, the velvet fabric came down at your harsh tug.

The frustration would nearly boil over, but you did not allow the simple issues to push you over the threshold. As the Queen had often advised you, it was important that a lady bite her tongue and keep her composure even when she is by her lonesome. If someone saw the illusion of a proper lady shatter, it would be nearly impossible to recover from. She even revealed to you how she had come by this knowledge, sharing with you the events that occurred the night Aemond became the one-eyed prince.

Swiftly, you moved back toward the fireplace, picking up the parcel that a raven had delivered directly to you just this morning. It appeared blank to the simple eye, but when you hovered the note over the fire, the message revealed itself. The contents of it were simple, but completely shattered something inside of you:

She is with child.

Though the news had shocked you, the existence of the other woman did not. When Aemond and Daeron laid siege to Harrenhal and the Riverlands, word had traveled through the courts regarding the princes bedding other women. At the time, you had bit your tongue, excusing your husband’s infidelity as you convinced yourself it was just something he used to relieve his stress from battlefields.

But even after the marches through the Riverlands were claimed to be successful and at an end, Aemond would sometimes fly off to Harrenhal. He would say that he was just ensuring the hold that the Greens had on the region, yet you never believed his lies.

It was said that Harrenhal was cursed, blood mixed into the stone that built it. You believed the stories true after the great fire took the lives of Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin when you were a child yourself. But now a curse had attached itself to your husband and kept him crawling back to the towers of Harrenhal.

The door cracked open, the hinges creaking as he entered, exhaustion painted over his face. Aemond was completely drenched, his hair now scrunched into waves rather than falling perfectly straight. Most of his leather overlayer had been discarded for the servants to see to, leaving him in a black tunic and pants with his riding boots.

It took him a few moments, but Aemond quickly came to realize that you were resting by the fire rather than fast asleep in your shared bed.

“Should you not be sleeping, dear wife?” Aemond called out to you while readying himself to turn into bed.

“Sleep has… escaped me recently,” You replied, eyes remaining on the fire. Only at his words did the nerves begin to spur inside you. How would he react when you told him? What would tomorrow bring? None of it really mattered, you supposed, as long as you didn’t allow your nerves to get the best of you.

Now in his proper bedclothes, Aemond began to approach the fireplace. He noticed the half-empty pitcher of wine, slightly shocked that you were partaking this late at night. Usually, you would reserve yourself to only enjoying wine at dinners or feasts, not in your marriage chambers. His eye flickered to the second chalice that sat empty on the silver platter. His slender fingers reached to grasp it, “Would this cup be for me?”

You turned your head, looking between the pitcher and chalice but never into his eye, “The maid brought it with her, probably as a formality. No one expected you back tonight.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed at the tone you spoke with, and it caught the prince off guard when you returned your gaze to the fire rather than continuing to speak with him. He poured his own chalice with wine and allowed himself to enjoy it. He stayed in place, unwavering from his position as he looked down on you.

The air went still… the taste of the wine began to sour in his mouth. He sensed something to be out of place, yet he could not pinpoint it. Usually, you would be elated to see him, but recently you were far more reserved from your husband. Aemond was not sure if he should be upset or concerned, but did not ponder on the thought too much as he allowed himself to attend to his duties rather than his wife.

With a sigh and a light cough to clear his throat, the prince finally spoke once more, “Come to bed…”

The pause settled again before your soft chuckle hung in the air. Quickly, you stood from your seated position and drowned the remainder of your chalice in one swig. You moved to the table and refilled your cup till the pitcher ran dry. Instead of crossing to your bed, you remained standing, only turned away from the man. This behavior caused Aemond to clench his jaw, subduing his urge to correct such disobedience.

“Will you not come to bed with me?” Aemond summoned you again.

Once more you chuckled at him, not sparing him any sort of look from you. Just the cruel chuckle of your acknowledgment.

“Your husband demands—”

“My husband demands me of nothing,” You interrupted him, “And he would do well to find another bed to sleep in or find himself in tonight.”

At your words, Aemond crossed toward you, attempting to snatch the half-drunk chalice of wine from your hands, “It seems you have overindulged yourself. It would do you well to sleep before—”

“Before what? Before I continue to act out of turn?” With a fierce determination, your fingers clutched down onto the chalice so that Aemond could not separate it from you. Your words dripped with poison, “Or before you return to Harrenhal and bed the whore witch?”

At the mention of Alys, both you and Aemond let go of the goblet at the same time and simply watched it fall to the ground, red liquid covering the tile floors.

“It would do you well not to speak of things you do not know or understand.”

“I understand it quite plainly that my husband is now an adulterer, just like his eldest brother and his damned uncle. It seems that disloyalty to marriage is quite a common trait among Targaryen men.”

Quickly, Aemond’s hand came to your throat, gripping the flesh to show how serious he was being, yet not hard enough to asphyxiate you, “Did you not understand my words before, my stupid little wife? It would do you well not to speak of things you do not know…”

“Oh? But I do know…” Your hands grabbed at his forearms, nails sinking into the flesh so that he would release you, “And it would do you well to learn just how smart your wife is…”

“I have known… I have known about Alys since your first rampage through the Riverlands. For moons, I remained confined to the Red Keep from your orders, and when they came to deliver news of you and your victories, I cheered. I still cheered when the maids told me the rumors between you and Alys, because I was grateful to the Seven that you were alive. Because I was still foolish enough to love you far more than you deserve.”

Tears threatened to spill over, but you swallowed them back. You would not allow Aemond the pleasure of your tears, only the fire of your anger.

“She promised me security for my life and the lives of my men,” Aemond attempted to justify himself, “I could not risk it—”

“You could have offered her gold, offered her a title, or anything else besides your body! Instead, you break your vows. And you did not stop there, because you continue to fly back to Harrenhal whenever you desire the witch’s cunt to the point where your son and daughter could not even recognize you if they ever saw you!” You huffed out, scanning his face for any sign of emotion, anything at all.

“You have allowed your lust to overcome you, disappointing your wife, your mother, and the Seven. Worst of all, you shall now have your own bastard. At least this bastard will not be raised of the Street of Silk as your brother’s bastards have.”

“How did you know?” Aemond’s voice cracked while he asked the question, “How do you know she is pregnant?”

A smirk played on your lips at the question, “It seems that the Master of Whispers is a very devoted friend of the Queen, and with the Queen being your mother, she deemed it important enough to share the news with me, your faithful wife.”

His face went pale at the realization of how many people were aware of his infidelity. While Aemond remained silent, you twisted the knife deeper into his chest. You had been tortured with this knowledge for so long that you now enjoyed the pained expression on his face.

“I have always been good to you, devoted to you. Where others cowered from you, I loved you. Despite the warnings of your blood lust and deformity, I loved you and gave you two perfect children who study just as diligently as you once did. So while you found yourself in the arms of another woman, I tried not to curse your name and assure our children that all was well, even if their father would not be present for them. But now, I look at you like a curse upon my life. You have allowed yourself to be corrupted outside our marriage, and I can no longer offer you salvation for your selfishness…”

“What would you have me do?”

You laughed mockingly at his question. Instead of providing a proper answer, you only glared further into his good eye.

“Please,” Aemond gritted his teeth, hating that he allowed himself to beg an answer from you, “Just tell me what I should do!”

“I can not simply tell you what to do. That would be to easy - what lesson would you have learned?” You shook your head and a shuddering breath escaped you.

“You have to make a choice, Aemond,” Your hand gripped his wrist, forcing him to remain attentive to your words, “Either you atone for the sin your committed and the hurt you’ve caused or you reside in Harrenhal for the rest of your days…”

“This is a choice only you can make — a wife or a witch?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n: I am considering making a follow-up to this one-shot, a blurb about the outcome of the options that Aemond has... maybe...

#mattie writes #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd angst #alys rivers #aemond targaryen x wife!reader #aemond targaryen x alys #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon aemond #Aegon II Targaryen #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen one shot

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bitchimasnake-sss · 16 days

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just a distraction ft. choso kamo!

academic rivals, academic rivals, academic rivals, academic rivals- set-up: in which, choso and you are academic rivals. in every exam, the raven-haired cunt always seems to be just a negligible percent ahead of you. maybe you've had enough of his bullshit. maybe you should find better ways to get him off that first rank? (both the reader and choso are in second year of college)

warnings: PORN WITH (A LITTLE) PLOT. nsfw babes. contains blowjob, cunnilingus, dirty talking, pet names (baby, darling, etc.), banter (lots and lots). yeah mdni <3

you didn't know much about choso kamo. not really, no.

i mean you knew the basics. you knew his name, his voice. you knew that he always was dressed in black and that he had that weird (somewhat hot) tattoo cutting a horizontal across his pretty face. you knew he had two younger brothers (the pink-haired twin underclassmen) and how he doted on them outside of these wretched lecture rooms.

oh, and what else? you knew he was a fucking bastard.

you knew how smug he was. how absolutely insufferable. you knew the way he scoffed when the professor asked you for the answer instead of him. you knew the way he rolled his eyes when you told him he was wrong. and you knew his full lips always curled up when all the students would gather around the notice board after the exams.

you knew he would always scan his gaze over the crowd, meet your eyes and mouth, "maybe next time, sweetheart." and then walk away.

there's no way an arrogant asshole like him should ever come first in anything! but here you stood in front of the fucking notice board, seeing his name next to the first rank. again.

you had tried everything, really. you had been studying everyday in the library until the staff physically pushed you out of the gates and asked you to go home. you had practiced every question paper in existence, really. then how was he still sitting on top with that stupid fucking smirk of his?

"ugh, don't tell me you're going to the library today." nobara groaned, sprawled out on your dorm bed. "exams literally ended two days ago. you should take some time off!! you promised me you would shop with me once the break came-"

"that was before that bastard beat me again." you mumbled, stuffing a thick notebook into your bag haphazardly.

"are you gonna ditch me for that guy? again? nobody even cares about coming first in uni!! it's a miracle we're all passing, even."

"it matters to me."

"sure does..." nobara pouted. then she sat up and tucked her legs one under the other. she eyed you cautiously and uncannily slow, then grinned like a devil, "what are you doing?"

"what? packing my bag to go to the library?"

"why are you trying so hard to impress him?"

if your body was not a human body, you were sure your eyes would have fallen off and onto the ground. you spluttered, "excuse me? i- i am not trying to impress anybody!"

"uh huh, uh huh." she rested her face on her open palm as if oblivious to the accusations she had placed upon you and your character.

"don't uh huh, uh huh me."

"i am just saying that there are more ways to get a first rank than just studying your ass off you know?" she followed with a cashmere smile, "maybe you should take up another strategy. distract your opponent a little?"

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

this was stupid. really, really stupid.

but nonetheless, you knocked on his dorm room and awaited an answer.

the rest of the floor was empty, most people on vacation or back home for the spring break but not him. he was holed up in his room doing god knows what (studying, probably.)

you subconsciously pulled down the hem of your short denim skirt while awaiting his answer. it's not like you dressed too modest or something. but knowing that you had purposely put on a white, almost see-through long sleeve with a mini, mini denim skirt for all the wrong purposes felt embarrassing.

he would probably see through your act so quickly.

the door finally swung open and there stood an annoyed man in a black, fitted tee and black sweats. his long, choppy hair had been put up in a half-up and his annoyed expression morphed into a sadistic, half-satisfied smile when he saw you. his lips tugged upwards as he took you in, up and down.

"want something?" he asked slowly, leaning against the door frame and towering over you.

you held the books flush against your chest, as if hiding yourself from his scrutinizing gaze. "i-" you swallowed thickly, the words going sour on your tongue, "i just was wondering if you would help me out."

"awh, finally asking for me help, sweetheart?"

the urge to flip him off and walk away was big. but the urge to defeat him and see his crying face was bigger.

"are you gonna invite me in or are we supposed to do this in the middle of the hallway?" you snapped.

god, your self esteem was taking brutal hits right now.

he stepped to his right and mockingly invited you in. you stepped inside into his dark, disheveled dorm room. only purple LED lights had been turned on and from the looks of it, his roommate was gone. possibly on vacation. the raven-head's laptop lay forgotten on his bed and the dimly lit screen had some pop-up game menu asking if he wanted to exit the game.

you looked back at him as he locked off the door. you swallowed yet again, "uhm, so what were you doing?"

"playing." he remarked nonchalantly, nodding towards his laptop. he sat on his roommate's clean bed and you mirrored his actions by sitting on choso's messed bed.

"so?" he quipped again, and the purple led lights casted ghostly shadows across his face, "what does the princess need help with?"

"first, she needs you to drop that cocky, bitchy attitude." you chewed on the inside on your cheek to bite back insults, "second, i- uhm, needed help with the integral problems."

"ah, really? which part?" he stood up, walking over to where you were sitting. looking down, he casted a dubious look as your fingers pulled his tshirt downwards as if nudging him to sit down besides you.

he sat down, uncomfortably close to you on that small bed. he refused to meet your gaze, choosing to pick up the book you had brought with you and flipping through it.

you leaned forward, purposely brushing your perked chest against his biceps. you pointed towards a random problem and whispered, "that one, please."

and just like that, choso kamo was fucked.

you could feel the man's composure was evaporating when he nodded dryly and swallowed in vain. he tried to put distance between you two but you felt confident in your teasing. deciding to press himself closer to his side, molding your curves against his sculpted body, you noticed how he shifted his pants ever so subtly.

"so, you know this needs to be integrated separately first-" his breath hitched as your light fingers skimmed over his arm and you nodded enthusiastically to continue. "right- so. so, you know then you take the numerator okay? and you should- hey w-what?"

he stopped confused as you lightly skimmed over his thighs. your fingers barely brushed over his hard-on. you flashed him a smile, "you look a bit tensed up. i feel like i can't study if you'd be so stiff around me."

"yn." choso breathed as you brushed your soft fingers past the growing tent again. his rough hands held your wrist still as he gave you a pleading look, "what are you doing?"

you took the book out of his hands, placing it somewhere on the bed. then you gave him a reassuring smile, "choso, relax."

and then you sat down on the floor. your hands separated his thighs gingerly and you looked up at him one more time. he had closed his eyes, as if looking at you would make him cum.

you dragged your fingers to the waistband of his pants and tugged them down slowly. his erect dick sprung up, slightly hitting his clothed abdomen. hiding your amusement at his apparent shyness, you slowly pumped his dick.

"look at me." you whispered and he exhaled softly. when his eyes met yours, you took off your shirt, presenting him with your bare torso.

"fuck-" he choked up, eyes transfixed on your perked nipples and the slight goosebumps on your supple skin.

your fingers pumped him languidly and you finally placed wet, kitten licks on the mushroom tip. tasting his salty pre, you swirled your tongue around it, relishing in his breathless whimpers. then, in one go, you took him in. you sucked on it while your hands worked his base.

you looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes and something in his demeanor broke. as if he had finally let lose.

his rough palm pressed against the back of your head, pushing you to take in more. you momentarily gagged around his cock and he moaned as your helpless voice reverberated against his shaft. he pushed you in slowly, looking at the way your eyes started tearing up.

fighting off a feral grin, he whispered, "you have no idea how long i've waited to do this."

then his hands guided you up and down, using your face as a toy for his pleasure. your manicured nails dug into the fabric as he abused your mouth for his pleasures.

"fuck- fuck. fuck. look at you, on your fucking knees. you're so fuckin' pretty, god." he threw his head back and strings of curses and moans left him as you worked in tandem with him. sucking him in pacing with the way he moved your head up and down. you eyes were getting watery and your throat feeling sore but you kept going, sucking harder till you felt him tremble under your strained touches and spit-soaked, red lips.

"i think im gonna cum- f-fuck i-" his voice broke and suddenly your mouth was full of a salty liquid. you swallowed down and ignored the sting that his dick had left behind in your throat.

still struggling to breath, he looked down at you. his calloused fingers softly wiped off the drool on your chin and he pulled you back up to sit you on his lap.

"pretty sure that wasn't a part of calculus." he whispered, almost laughing at his own joke but you were having none of it.

"choso." you breathed, desperation etched into your voice as you rut your hot, wet core against his clothed thigh. your eyes were watery, voice hoarse, "cho-"

"what do you want?" he pulled you in and pressed a kiss on your throat, his hands running over your smooth back, "ask me 'n ill give you the fuckin' world."

you leaned into his soft kisses. his clothed chest rubbed against your perked buds as you grinded yourself harder on him, "i dont know- you. i want you."

"you already have me." he insisted.

turning you around and laying you on his bed as softly as he could, he gave you a last hesitant gaze. his lips pressed chaste kisses down your body till he reached the swell of your breasts. his hand roughly pressed against one while his mouth latched onto the other.

he hummed, too drunk to say anything other than the feeling on your skin on his tongue. his fingers pulled at your hard nipple and you jolted under him, fighting off a moan. he let go with a pop, his eyes trained on your face as he licked a stripe down on your skin before focusing on the previously ignored side.

your hands tangled in his hair and you pressed down his face harder against yourself, insisting him to go rougher on you. as in on cue, he bit you slightly. grazing his sharp canine against your soft tits, he smirked when you shuddered under him.

moving even downwards, he kissed down on the soft fat on your stomach. his hands slowly played with the soft skin and he looked up at you, mumbling against your skin, "you're so fucking beautiful."

he undid the skirt, pulling it past your hips and thighs and throwing it somewhere on the floor. then, he took off his shirt, leaving him bare to be ogled at. you propped up, eyes running over every taut muscle rippling under his skin. mindlessly, you mumbled, "i hate you, you know?"

he gave you an easy smile, "maybe if you focused as much on integrals as you do on my abs, you would have been first."

"excuse me?" you sat up haughtily, "are you fucking stupid? asshole!"

his hands gently guided you back, laying you down. he gave you a teasing smile, "you run your mouth too much. that's your issue, yk."

"did i ask for your opinion or he-lp-" you closed your eyes as the pad of his thumb rubbed your clit through your slick-drenched panties.

he slowly traced circles on the sensitive nub, kissing the inner side of your plush thighs, "i thought that's why you came here?" he pressed an open-mouthed kiss close to where you wanted him. then he looked up and mumbled through a hooded gaze, "i thought you needed my help?"

he pulled the translucent fabric aside, he kissed the bundle of nerves before licking down a patient stripe down to your entrance, "fuc- choso ngh-"

"or is this it?" he spread your thighs apart more, looking at the glistening core, "did you want my help to fuck you as dumb as you are?"

before you could argue, he dipped his tongue in your entrance. his tongue lapping up the juices. he dragged his tongue up, focusing on your clit and the way you squirmed under him when he sucked on the puffy bud harshly.

looking over at your flushed face and being guided by your desperate hands, he pushed in two fingers inside. dragging them in and out, he marveled in the way your body responded to his touches.

your walls spasmed every time he entered and refused to let him go. you bit your lip to quiet yourself down. your thighs were shaking ever so slightly, your mouth agape, lips stained red. your back arched off the bed when he increased the pace and you tugged on his hair and cried out a moan when he used his thumb on your clit and pressed a kiss to your thigh.

"oh my god-" your back arched off as he sucked at your clit again, "fuck fuck fuck, choso. i'm gon'- cum, im gonna cum."

he pressed one last, fleeting kiss to your flushed clit. and he stayed there, drinking up any wayward nectar till you stilled under him. once he was sure you were through your orgasm, he stood up on his knees. wiping his face off, he asked, "you okay?"

you gave him a lazy, unenthusiastic thumbs up and he laughed at the gesture. climbing up, he came up and kissed your nose. you were sure he could taste the salt on your skin.

well, not like it wasn't his fault you were like this anyways.

laying next to you, he stared up at the ceiling and you fidgeted with your hair because it felt as if there was nothing else to do. you chewed on your lips, mulling your words over, "i don't run my mouth too much."

now that the sexual tension was gone. it was awkward, "sorry i said it like that."

"yeah, i guess it's okay."

well there were other things he had said aswell. like "i have been waiting so long for this" or "you have me"... but you didn't feel like raising such important questions when your limbs ached with fatigue and your mind was clouded over with thoughts of choso in your veins.

he gave you a tight-lipped smile and after a minute, he climbed off the bed.

"uh, hey?" you got up too, "do you want me to like... leave?"

"what? no no. i figured you'd get cold." he shook his head and grabbed a plain, blue t-shirt from his closet. he handed it over to you and climbed back in bed, dragging the covers up to cover you both. hesitantly, he draped his hand over your waist and no sooner was he asleep. his soft snores rang through the room and now you lay confused next to him.

nobara had given you some ideas and you followed it. now what? choso barely seem distracted. if anything, it seemed like it had taken off some sort of load off of his chest. he was sleeping so peacefully that you resisted the urge to sock him in the face and run back to your dorm.

while choso lay unaffected, it seems as though this escapade is gonna be rough on you.

well, this is your sign to never take nobara's advice again.

a/n: i actually have a part two written out already. let me know if anyone wants to see it lol. part two is now up! hope you liked it <3

#jjk smut #choso smut #choso #choso kamo #choso kamo smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk choso #choso x reader

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del-thetiredwriter · 1 year

Text

Twisted wonderland mafia au? (Good luck while running away from mafia)

Introduction or something like that

Part 0.5 , part 1 , part 2 , part 3

Notes: If you liked it let me knew. I maybe do this an au.

Warnings: gn reader , be aware of my bad English, not really mentioned yandere traits

You looked at the time, you could only catch up with all of them if you started now. You were supposed to notify seven executives for the monthly meeting that evening.

Night Raven organization, also known as Night Raven mafia, one of the biggest organizations of the underground led by seven executives and boss Crowley. The organization was divided into seven divisions. Each department was managed by their own directors.

Heartslabyul

As you said, the Night Raven organization had seven divisions and directors. The first of these was the Heartslabyul division, which was responsible for the torture and the organization of the mafia . The head of this department was one of the executives , Riddle Rosehearts.

Riddle was a perfect fit for management. Strict, harsh, cruel. He showed no mercy towards those who broke the rules and traitors' heads.

Trey Clover is Riddle's right-hand man, his most trusted man. He was loved by all for his calm fatherly demeanor. No one who saw him walking down the street would believe that he was in the mafia, especially in the torture division Heartslabyul.

Cater Diamond was an entertaining type with his cheerful and fun personality. Although taking pictures and listening to music were among his hobbies, torturing traitors was the activity that amused him the most.

Ace Trappola is rookie of the year. He was a newcomer to the mafia. Even though he was 'good' at his job (the sadistic guy just likes to torture people so he's good at his job), this kid was really good at getting in trouble and getting others in trouble too. You don't remember how many times you rescued him from Riddle.

Deuce Spade rookie 2 . He joined the mafia at the same time as Ace . How come you didn't understand this kid in the mafia especially the torture division heartslabbyul?! He wasn’t really well versed in his business, but the boy really had a great respect for Riddle and Trey.

You knocked on the open door. Ignoring the tied mens staring at you with pity-eyed eyes on the ground, “Sorry for interrupting . I didn’t thought you would be in the middle of your work. Is Riddle-san here?" . “Oh Y/n-chan what a pleasant surprise. Sorry, I'm a little dirty,” Cater said with a smile. His white shirt was visibly soiled with the blood of those mens. "These?" ' you asked, pointing at the mens with your eyes. “They're not people to worry too much about. Just a few traitors, that's all." ' Trey said, appearing behind you.

"You're looking for Riddle, right? Those rookies, Ace and Deuce, seem to be in trouble again. They're in his office with Riddle right now. They are waiting to be saved by a savior angel.”

You laughed at what Trey said, but you should meet the other executives. “I'm sorry, but I don't think I can save them this time. I need to talk to other executives as well.”

"I see, it's for the monthly meeting, right?"

"Yes. I think Riddle has already prepared all the paperwork for the meeting.”

“You know him very well.”

“The meeting is in the main headquarters meeting room at 8 pm . I texted him but you remind him anyway. Then goodbye.”

Savanaclaw

The second division was Savanaclaw, which fought the power of the mafia and other organizations when necessary.

Leona Kingscholar is one of seven executives and head of this department. Usually he slept somewhere, unless he had any duties. His right-hand man, Ruggie, often took care of the documents he needed to deal with as a executive . You were one of the few people who knew how cunning Leona was, even though he was the power of the mafia, you knew very well how he analyzed his enemy and planned strategies before the battles.

Ruggie Bucci , Leona's right-hand man. Despite his weak appearance compared to the other members of Savanaclaw, he is respected by the members. He would take care of the department more than Leona. In wars, he usually stayed in the back line and took care of post-war cleaning. He was more concerned with the documents Leona had to deal with.

Jack Howl is a rookie who just joined Savanaclaw. With his strong build, he quickly adapted to Savanaclaw. Despite his stern appearance, Jack was very polite. Because of his character, Jack was among the people you couldn't understand why he joined the mafia. What was someone like him, who was boiling with a sense of justice, doing in the mafia?

The phone was busy for the tenth time. But you knew him, after a while he was going to get angry and answer, and he finally answered your call.

“Hi Leona-san this is Y/n speaking. How are you sir."

“Damn! What do you want, herbivore!” Leona shouted. There were shouts and gunfire from behind. Looks like he was in a fight again.

“Excuse me for bothering you in the middle of your work, but I was supposed to inform you that you have to come to the main headquarters meeting room at 8 pm for the monthly meeting. The boss wants all seven of the seven executives.”

No response, just shouting.

“Leona-san?”

“Y/n-shii this is Ruggie. Leona-san is busy right now but he heard you. Don't worry, I'll bring him to the meeting. But in return for this favor buy me a meal.”

“Thank you Ruggie-san. I’m counting on you ."

Octavinelle

The third division was Octavinelle, which controlled the money flow of the mafia . At the head of this department was Azul Ashengrotto, one of the seven managers.

Azul Ashengrotto was the type of person who could bargain with the devil with his quick wit. In addition to being a well-known businessman in the business world, he was also a well-known casino owner in the underground world. Usually, those in financial difficulties would be deceived by his smile and beggar and borrow money from him and then become his slaves because they could not pay the debt.

Jade and Floyd Leech are twins who Azul trusts more than anyone else, often doing the dirty work. They had jobs such as finding those who did not pay their debts and threatening them. Floyd was the emotional, active of the twins. He liked to play with things that caught his attention. His twin, Jade, was the same as his brother , both in appearance and character. The only difference was that unlike Floyd, Jade was calmer.

You opened the door and entered the stylish bar. Although it was noon, the bar, which was always crowded with customers, was empty.

“Oh the shrimpy has arrived~” Floyd jumped at you.

“Hello Y/n, how can we help you at the Mounstro Lounge?” Jade greeted.

“Hi Jade and Floyd. I came to see Azul-san. Are they here?"

“Ah Azul is currently meeting with an important client. Would you like something to drink while you wait?" Jade handed the menu.

"No thanks. If it's going to take a long time, I'll go. I was going to tell him to be in the main headquarters meeting room at 8 pm for the monthly meeting.”

“I thought you came because you needed money.” said a familiar voice.

“Azul-san,” you greeted Azul.

"You're done early," said Jade.

“Then, as I said, please come to the meeting tonight, Azul-san.” You got up.

“Eh~ shrimpy are you leaving already?” Floyd whined.

“I have a lot of work to do so I have to go.”

“See you then Y/n. Remember, whenever you need money, come.” said Azul.

“I don't think such a day will come. Even if I need money, Azul-san is the last person I would borrow money from.” You said and left.

Scarabia

The fourth division Scarabia was concerned with the external relations of the mafia with other organizations, high-ranking persons, etc. The head of this department was Kalim Al-Asim from the famous Al-Asim family.

Kalim Al-Asim, the cheerful head of the Scarabia department. Unlike other executives , Kalim was a kind, naive, sweet person. He treated his subordinates more like a friend than a manager. Sometimes you would forget that he was the executive of one of the most dangerous underground organizations. Apart from looking so naive, Kalim was pretty good at his job. His attitude towards people made many people like him, even though Jamil was the one who handling matters such as politics etc.

Jamil Viper is the director behind the shadows and Kalim's 'best friend'. He was the complete opposite of Kalim with his quiet, calm and cunning personality. Although Kalim got along well with people, Jamil usually made the deals. Jamil was the one mostly (almost entirely) take care of the department. Many people even call him the real director or the executive in the shadows for this reason.

“Some coffee?” You handed the man with his head buried in the documents a cup of coffee.

"It'll be fine," said the man with tired eyes.

“Looks like Kalim has left most of the work to you again, Jamil.”

"Why did you come ? Or is there another task or something? I swear, if the number of documents I have to deal with increases, I will throw myself from the highest floor of this building.”

You chuckled at his words.

“All executives should be in the main headquarters meeting room at 8 pm this evening for the monthly meeting.”

“Monthly meeting… Yes, I remember. Out of all the work, I forgot for a second. Okay, don't worry, I'll inform Kalim about the meeting."

"Okay then I'm leaving. Don’t work too much, it’s not good for your health ."

“If you don't want me to get too tired, you can do these things for me Y/n.”

“Sorry, next time, bye” you waved your hand from behind the door.

Pomefiore

Fifth division , the mafia’s assassin department Pomefiore. This department consisted of specially trained assassins who committed the perfect murder without leaving any evidence. At the head of the department was Vil Schoenheit ,one of the most famous assassins of the underworld and also one of the seven executives.

Vil Schoenheit , the best assassin of the underworld. Because he kills his targets with poison, he is nicknamed as the Poison Apple. He is known as a tough and strict person as a executive. He wants his subordinates to show their best. He dislikes being told about the Rival mafia’s assassin as well as his ex-partner Neige LeBlanche from whom he used to be trained by the same teacher.

Rook Hunt Vil's right-hand man, nicknamed Hunter. A lunatic who says death is when people are most beautiful. Unlike Vil, he likes to play with his prey. He talks endlessly about how sweet the way his prey escapes him seems to him.

Epel Felmier Pomifiore's rookie. The poor boy had only wanted to join Savanaclaw, but Vil had taken him in, claiming he saw potential. Unlike the other members of Pormifiore, Epel was a noisy, uncontrollable person. That's why you still didn't understand what kind of potential Vil saw in him.

“Oh Y/n welcome, I didn't expect to see you.” ' Rook called out. He and Epel were outside for target practice.

“Yes, I came to meet with Vil-san. Is he in his room?"

“Oh yes, he just got back from his Duty. Right now he’s probably busy with his skincare routine."

"I understand. What are you doing ?" you asked.

"Oh, I took little Epel with me on my last mission, but he's still not good at using weapons, so we were practicing target practice with him."

“How many times have I said I don't want to be a Pomefiore assassin. Let me go to Savanaclaw." whined Epel.

This rug of his made you laugh.

“If Vil-san sees potential in you, there must be something in you. I have to go now, I have to meet with Vil-san.”

You knocked on the door, when the answer came, you entered. Vil was lying on the bed with a clay mask on his face, filing his nails. When you entered, he stopped and looked at you.

"You look wonderful as always, sir." You greeted him.

“And You look awful as always, Potato. Why did you come ?"

You smiled.

“Please come to the main headquarters meeting room for the Monthly meeting tonight at 8 pm. The boss wants all executives to be there.”

“Agh! Was it today. OK, is there anything else I should know ?"

“No, sir. Then with your permission"

As you were about to leave, you stopped at Vil's call.

“Potato, I will be free this week. I need to take care of your situation. You really have to take care of yourself a little bit.”

“Thank you for your thoughtful consideration. I will contact you when I am free.”

Ignihyde

The sixth department was Ignihyde, this department was the source of information for the mafia as well as producing state-of-the-art weapons and vehicles with great engineers. At the head of the department was Idia Shroud, one of the seven executives.

Idia Shroud , the mysterious director of the Ignihyde department even his subordinates in his department almost never saw his face . Although he was known as a genius, the nerdy genius Idia would never leave his room (aside from the urging of his brother and you) and would work all day with new weapons or stuff . He would even forgot his daily basis so you had to call him every day to remind him.

You suddenly opened the door, only computer light illuminating the dark room. You entered the room, ignoring the owner.

“Ahh Y/n-shii stop!” ' the blue-haired man pleaded.

You opened the curtains.

“Agh sunshine!”

“You are overreacting , you played video games all night again. Your eyes are purple from lack of sleep. You haven't even eaten. What am I going to do with you, Idia-san.”

Idia averted his eyes like a child scolded by their mother.

“I made you dinner. Don't forget to eat it or I’ll be really pissed off . If I didn't had any work , I'd stay and feed you with my own hands, but - whatever. Come to the main headquarters meeting room at 8 pm this evening. For the monthly meeting, the boss wants all the executives.”

“Do I have to come? Can I talk through the tablet? I can right? “

You raised one of your eyebrows as meaning to say was it even a question . Upon your gaze, Idia clung to your leg and began to whine.

“Y/n-shii please I don’t want to come. You can't leave me alone in the same room with those horrible mens."

You ran your hands through your hair.

“Idia-san please let go of my leg. I still have a lot of work to get done. Have your dinner and come to the meeting tonight. Then with your permission-”

“I don't allow it!”

“I said it because of politeness.” You finally saved your leg and left.

Diasomnia

Finally, Diasomnia, even you didn't know what this department was in charge of. All you knew was that only the most talented, powerful people could get in. In other words, it could be called the special department of the mafia.

Malleus Draconia is the heir to the famous Draconia family and also the head of Diasomnia, one of the seven executives of the Night Raven mafia. Even though you were friends with him, you didn't know much about him. He was just a mysterious and kind man.

Lilia Vanrogue is a jovial, playful Diasomnia member. He may be the mafia member with the most gossip about him. According to some rumors, he was a former government agent, according to others he was a former mercenary who fought on the battlefields but who knows what was real ,only God knew.

Silver was a mysterious type like the other Diansomnia members, not much was known about him. He was a quiet man, spending most of his time sleeping. On rare occasions you've seen him train with Sebek or Lilia. He was a really great fighter.

Sebek Zigvolt a Diasomnia member who is the complete opposite of Silver. Although he was often with Silver, he was the complete opposite of him. Every time he saw him he was baffled by Silver that he should be a suitable subordinate to Malleus.

“Hello Y/n.” You reflexively drew your gun at the sudden sound you heard.

“Oh your reflexes are pretty good.” Seeing that the voice was owned by Lilia, a member of Diasomnia with short black-purple hair, you relaxed and put your gun down.

“Lilia-san you scared me.”

“Oh really ,” Lilia chuckled.

"If you're looking for Malleus, he's having tea in his study."

"Thank you sir."

Malleus told you to enter before you even knocked on the door. When you walked in, you saw Malleus drinking tea by the window. While drinking tea he was watching Sebek and Silver, who were training outside.

“Malleus-san , good day sir.” You greeted him.

“Good day to you too Y/n.” said Malleus gently.

“I'm disturbing you, but I came to inform you that the monthly meeting will be in the main headquarters meeting room at 8 pm this evening. The boss wants all seven executives to be there.”

“I know Y/n. Would you like to join me while drinking tea? There are also cookies you like.”

As expected of Malleus Draconia, he already knew everything.

“I am sorry sir but I must decline your invitation. But I'll be happy to have tea with you another time."

Malleus smiled. "I understand"

“Then with your permission, sir” and you left.

Everything was ok. The documents were lined up in order, the food and drinks that each executive liked were prepared. One hour left until the meeting. You took a deep breath as you got everything done on time.

“Good job again as always Y/n.”

“Crewel-sensei!”

Divus Crewel , a former mafia executive. He had quit running a long time ago, but was still training newcomers to the mafia. He used to be your teacher.

"I heard you're leaving the mafia."

Your eyes got huge with what he said.

"Sensei-"

“Don't worry no one knows but me, but I don't think it will take them long to find out huh. “

“You are right sir,” you said shamefaced.

“Before you came, these seven brats were always arguing. Not a single day in the mafia would go smoothly, but after you came, at least the departmental fights within the mafia were over. “

You were silent, not knowing what to say.

“Y/n you have to be very careful ,those seven are not the ones who will just accept the fact you’re leaving the mafia. The more you run, the more they will find you. You know right ? They're not the seven executives of Night Raven for nothing."

"Yes sir."

“Then there is nothing to do. I hope you live a peaceful life after the mafia.”

“Thanks sensei”

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alltheirdamn · 8 days

Text

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 5 Nevermore

Chp. 5 Summary: It's hard to understand why everything feels so right. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, language, heavy kissing, unprotected piv sex, semi-rough sex, creampie, praise kink, (kinda) size kink, aftercare, fluff and a LOT of angst, light banter, lots of emotions, mentions of past trauma, brief flashback of trauma, another cliffhanger (sorry) A/N: Well, if you're here, I hope you're prepared for what's coming. A HUGE shoutout to @loonmartell for helping co-conspire the trajectory of this story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it as always <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in—

“Miss Smith?”

Your head jerked up at the sound, and the pencil you were drawing circles with fell against your desk. Bradley, one of your students, was standing at the edge of your desk with his test in hand.

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” you smiled, extending a hand. “Thank you.”

Bradley eyed you curiously before turning and skipping back to his desk. You dragged a hand over your face, wanting to crawl into the furthest corner of the world and never be seen again. Beth’s words had been plaguing you for days since you called her. Over and over again, they annihilated your thoughts, a constant broken record that you couldn’t shut off. You still had your nightly calls with Joel, talking past midnight and falling asleep together, but you kept making excuses not to see him.

“I’ve got lesson plans to make,” you lied.

“I’ll help,” Joel had offered.

“You’re a distraction.”

“I ain’t that bad,” he huffed.

The next night, you lied and said you were going out with Maria, which was an even worse lie since you were avoiding her at all costs. Telling Beth the news was one thing, but telling Maria was another matter. She was nosey and a bit too loud-mouthed to trust. The last thing you wanted was for the entire faculty to know your dirty secrets. Joel had to remain a secret—at least for now.

It’s not like you wanted to avoid Joel; you were just scared. You were not ready for this new territory, and if Beth was anywhere near correct in her assumptions, it only made you want to shy away more. The only problem was parent-teacher conferences this week, meaning you’d have to see Joel and Sarah…together.

The class bell rang, and your free period between classes began. You dropped your head on the desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to wrangle some semblance of calm back into your body. The final class of the day would be Sarah’s, and you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to see her. The blaring reminder that her dad had fucked you sore over the weekend still hung over your head, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for it. How was your fall break, Sarah? Oh yeah, mine was great. Your dad fucked me so hard I ended up having a complete breakdown.

Fuck.

You wanted the day to be over.

The free period went by much faster than you wanted, and as you watched the next slew of kids take their seats, you made a conscious effort not to stare at Sarah as she walked in. She wore her usual smile, the impression of her dimples digging into her cheeks. Some wild thought popped into your head that you had no time to recover from: if you and Joel went any further, God help you, you’d be Sarah’s step-mom one day. Your stomach rolled with nausea as you tried to will those thoughts away. Joel wouldn’t stick around that long; you were a lost cause. There was no chance that would happen. Right?

Clearing your throat, you rose from your desk and made your way over to the projector to set up the lesson for the day. Since the school year was nearing Halloween, you decided it would be fun to teach Edgar Allen Poe, completely forgetting you had chosen “The Raven”—which was about losing someone. This would have a bite to it that you weren’t ready for.

“Okay, everyone,” you announced. “Did we all finish the reading assignment this week?”

There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement, and you quickly shifted to the first few slides of your presentation.

“Alright, so who can tell me the overall theme for Poe’s ‘The Raven’?”

Georgia, one of your top students, shot her hand up without a beat.

“Yes, Georgia?”

“It’s about his grief for losing Lenore,” she answered.

“Good,” you smiled. “Can anyone tell me what other theme the poem contains?”

“Madness!” Another student chimed in, causing an uproar of laughter amongst the students.

“Okay, okay, settle down. Very good, you guys.”

You switched to the next slide, staring blankly at the words typed out. Lenore is gone forever. Something struck you as you silently read it, realizing you weren’t too far off from Poe in his grief. Although Bennett wasn’t dead, he wasn’t coming back. That fact hadn’t hurt as deeply throughout the last few weeks, especially with Joel around, but it still threw salt in the open wounds still scattered over your heart.

“In stanza two,” you cleared your throat. “In stanza two, Poe refers to Lenore as ‘nameless,’ which can imply that she has died, and he’s now consumed with grief. Where else did you guys find his grief prominent?”

Georgia quickly raised her hand again, and you motioned for her to speak.

“In stanza four, he talks about his dreams, which I think he means he’s dreaming of her to return to him. But if she’s dead, there’s no way she’s going to come back,” Georgia said.

Fuck. You felt the sting of tears rim your eyes and briefly paused to gather your bearings. Bennett left. He left, and you had spent years dreaming he would return.

“Good,” you choked out.

You glanced around the room, your eyes connecting with Sarah’s. It took all your strength not to break down and cry as she studied you with the same concerned furrow in her brows as her dad would do.

Clicking to the next slide, you exhaled, focusing on the following theme to discuss. Madness.

“Now, with the theme of madness, where do we see this begin? Obviously, the dreams can be interpreted as his descent into madness, but what else do we find?” You asked.

To your detriment, Sarah was the one to raise her hand.

“Sarah,” you sighed, nodding.

“It’s the raven,” she said plainly. “The raven is what drives him mad.”

“What does he do to drive Poe mad?” You questioned.

“The raven only says one word,” she explained. “And that word drives him mad until the end of the poem.

“And why does it drive him mad?”

Sarah shifted in her seat, looking around at her classmates before responding.

“Because it’s the answer Poe doesn’t want to hear. Poe doesn’t want to be reminded that Lenore is dead, but that’s the only response the raven will give.”

You were swaying in place, trying to hold yourself together as the memories started ricocheting back into your mind. Now wasn’t the time to collapse, not in front of twenty students staring at you, confused and concerned. You only responded with a nod and flipped the projector off.

“Good job, you guys. Now, does anyone have any questions on this unit? Any questions about the stanza format or the themes?”

Sarah raised her hand again.

“Did his madness kill him?” She asked.

“Who?”

“Poe.”

“Oh, um, no. Well, it’s a mystery, really. Some people say he died of delirium, so, I guess, madness. But other people speculate he drank himself to death.”

The class grew morbidly quiet, which made it harder for you to continue. No one else spoke up after Sarah, so you resorted to handing out the quiz and sinking back into your desk chair.

One by one, the students came up to turn in their quiz, and you averted your gaze each time with a nonchalant ‘thank you.’ When the final bell finally sounded through the room, you hardly had the energy to wave goodbye.

Sarah was the last to leave, and that same concerned look lingered on her face as she shuffled out.

That night, you didn’t pick up the phone when Joel called. You stared as it rang repeatedly, watching the light fade from the screen when the ringing stopped. You buried your head under the covers and tried to sleep, but then the nightmares started.

You woke up to your alarm, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. Squinting at the morning sun streaming through the blinds, you grabbed your phone to check the time. Your fingers froze as you read the screen.

Seven missed calls from Joel

Two voicemails from Joel

With shaky fingers, you pressed play on the first voicemail.

“Hey baby, it’s me. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’m hopin’ you’re just asleep, but if you’re up, please call me.”

Then you played the next.

“Baby, it’s me again. I miss you, and I’m worried ‘bout you. Please don’t shut me out, okay? I just wanna hear your voice and hear ‘bout your day. If you don’t wanna talk, that's okay. I understand. Just please lemme know you’re alright. I’ll drive my ass out to you if I need to just to make sure you’re okay. Call me when you get this. G’night, baby.”

You dug your knuckles into your eyes to try and force the tears back. Last night, you had the worst of the nightmares: the memory of something you tried to forget. You hadn’t touched that memory in so long. It was just the brutal realization you were truly at fault for everything with Bennett. No matter how badly you wanted to blame him, it was always your fault.

Glancing back at your phone, you rechecked the time: 7:35. Fuck, you were running late, and you really didn’t want to call Joel back right now. At least not right now. You’d muster the energy and strength to do it later, but you needed to gather yourself and get ready for work right now. Tossing off the sweat-slick sheets, you rushed into the bathroom and quickly showered. You couldn’t bother to put makeup on, so you opted to go without it and found a simple dress to wear. It was still in the high eighties in Austin, and a dress was the easiest option for the day.

Scrambling for your purse and keys, you ran to the garage to start your car and head to the school.

It wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot that you realized you left your phone on the nightstand.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Maria questioned, sipping her lukewarm coffee.

She had nagged you into spending your free period in her classroom, demanding that you tell her everything that you had been withholding. You sat on the edge of her desk, your dress flowing over your knees as you stared out her class windows.

“Nothing, Maria,” you lied.

She said your name sternly, forcing your eyes to snap to hers. Her usual chipper demeanor was replaced with that ‘mother’ look, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

“Something is going on,” she pressed. “Could have something to do with Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

“You did it, huh?” She raised a brow.

You exhaled heavily, nodding your head—no point in lying now.

“We talked on the phone the entire break, and when I got home, he insisted on taking me on a date. Then one thing led to another… and yeah, we had sex.”

Maria squealed, clapping her hands and grinning wide. You stared at her blankly, unamused by her reaction to your words.

“This isn’t a good thing, Maria,” you said pointedly.

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re finally putting yourself out there! Oh my god, was it good?”

“It was,” you sighed. “It was good—really good. He’s so sweet and caring.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” she interjected.

“But I can’t let it go any further,” you finished.

Maria leaned forward and placed her hand on your knee.

“Does he make you happy?” She asked softly.

“So fucking happy, Maria. I hate it.”

“You deserve to be happy, sweetie. That’s all I’ve been saying for years, and now you have it! Don’t force it to fail before it even begins. I saw the way he looked at you at the father-daughter dance. You can’t fake that.”

“I know. I know. I just—ugh,” you slid off the desk with a groan. “He’s too good for me. I’m still trying to get over Bennett and everything that happened. He doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all my misery. That’s not fair to him.”

You were pacing around the room, your eyes darting between the science posters hanging along the walls of Maria’s classroom. You heard her desk chair scrape against the floor as she approached you. She gripped you by the shoulders and leveled you with a heavy stare, but her eyes remained soft.

“He’s still around, right? I don’t think he’s going anywhere, sweetie. If anything, I think he’s in it for the long haul.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned into her, letting her wrap you up in a motherly embrace. She rubbed circles against your back, hushing you as you wept quietly.

The rest of the day passed by in a numbing blur. You packed your things quietly and headed to your car, ready to drown yourself in a glass of wine.

Joel’s truck was parked in front of your house as you turned the corner onto your street. His tall figure was leaning against the driver’s door; his eyes focused on your car as you pulled into the driveway. You inhaled sharply before putting your car in park, mentally preparing yourself for whatever anger he might unleash.

You barely shut the car door before Joel had his arms around you, tugging you into a warm embrace. You couldn’t make sense of it; why wasn’t he mad? He should be angry at you.

“Joel?” you whispered, your fingers twisting into his shirt. He smelt of cedarwood and smoke, the lingering scent of the workday still on his clothes.

“I was so fuckin’ worried ‘bout you,” he muttered into your hair. “Been tryin’ to get ahold of you all day.”

“I left my phone at home this morning,” you explained. “I listened to your voicemails from last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I was just running late this morning.”

“Why didn’t you pick up last night?’ He asked, pulling away.

“I needed some space. I’m just trying to figure this all out. I want you—I want this. I just don’t know how to be fully vulnerable. I know that’s silly to say since I’ve cried every time I’ve seen you.” You laughed at the thought of it.

“You coulda just told me that, baby. I would’ve understood,” Joel sighed.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Of course not,” he smiled softly. “Had me worryin’ like crazy, but I ain’t mad. I know this is all new, and you’re scared. Just don’t shut me out, ‘kay? I wanna talk to you and understand what’s goin’ on with you. I told you I wanna work on it with you.”

“I’m s—.”

Joel was pressing his lips against yours before you could say those two words. The kiss was all-consuming and tender, strong enough to erase every thought in your mind. Your mouths moved in unison, tongues intertwined and exploring. It was dizzying to be kissed this fervently; the first kiss couldn’t hold a torch to this moment. You tangled your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck, slanting your lips to open yourself even more to him. Joel’s hands twisted into the fabric of your dress that hugged your hips and pulled you tighter against his body. You whimpered at the feeling of his cock straining in his jeans, and he hauled you upwards until you were wrapping your legs around his waist.

Spinning you around, he pinned you to the metal of your car door, breaking away from your mouth to kiss down your neck. Was it possible to be branded by a dozen kisses? He left a trail of sweltering kisses over every exposed part of your upper body, and all you could do was pant and moan helplessly. To hell with the neighborhood and their lingering eyes; the world around you could collapse, and you’d still be clinging to his body.

“I told you I didn’t wanna hear those apologies,” Joel muttered against the hollow of your neck.

“What are you gonna do about it, Joel?” You moaned, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

“All I want right now is to hear you screamin’ my name, so you better invite me inside before I fuck you right here.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered.

“Wrong name, baby.”

With one strong arm braced around your back and a firm hand on your ass, Joel carried you out of the driveway and through the open garage. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the bare patches in his beard. Joel stumbled into the living room and sat you on the edge of the couch. You clung to him, refusing to lay back, too afraid to disconnect from his body. There was something so addicting, so right about being in his arms—almost familiar.

“Y’look so beautiful in this dress, baby,” Joel breathed. “Turn around.”

You unattached yourself from him, spinning until your thighs pushed against the leather of the couch. Joel’s hands roamed over your calves, dragging your dress up until it piled against your lower back. You gasped as his fingers tore apart your underwear, the scraps falling down your legs and piling at your feet. It was embarrassing how wet you were already, your slick coating your inner thighs.

“Joel,” you whined as he swiped a finger through your wet folds.

“Use your words,” he hummed, slowly pushing in two fingers.

“I need you, Joel.” He curled his fingers against the spot that left you breathless, coaxing you to speak more. “Need it rough—please.”

You needed to feel how bad he needed you; you needed to show him you wanted him, even if it meant doing it without saying it aloud.

“Y’want it rough, baby? I can do that. If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

Joel pulled his fingers from you, bringing them to your mouth and smearing your arousal over your parted lips. You hummed as you tasted yourself, pushing your ass back into him. You heard the clang of his belt and the soft sound of his jeans hitting the floor before he swiped his cock across your slick entrance.

“Don’t be gentle,” you moaned.

“Anythin’ you want, baby.”

That was all he said before splitting you open, the fullness of his cock inside you robbing you of all the breath in your lungs. Joel kept his hips flush with yours, his fingertips drifting down the fabric of your dress covering your spine.

“Joel,” you whined.

You shifted yourself onto the tips of your toes, nudging yourself back until the tip of his cock rubbed against the right spot inside you. You mewled at the sensation, wiggling your hips to find some sort of relief from the pleasure churning inside your stomach.

“Impatient, baby?” Joel teased.

He moved against you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You had been in such a haze last time you hadn’t realized how big he actually was, but now you felt every glorious inch of him inside you. You let out another frustrated whimper, and Joel responded with an onslaught of forceful thrusts. Your body shoved further into the couch, your midsection rubbing against the edge every time Joel snapped his hips against yours.

Joel’s hand snaked around your neck, drawing you back into his chest, the angle of his cock spearing deeper inside you. Your wails turned to sobs as you listened to Joel grunting harder behind you, his fingers squeezing rhythmically around your throat.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel crooned. “That’s it. Doin’ so well for me.”

You gasped for air as the desire coiling within your core became agonizing and all-consuming. Your fingers wrapped around his hand holding you up, clawing at his skin as his thrusts became erratic and determined. You were teetering on the edge of euphoria, your body buzzing with pleasure.

“Touch yourself, baby,” Joel whispered into your ear.

You fought against your dress to find your clit, the instant connection of your fingers causing you to cry out. Joel’s mouth ravaged your neck, sucking marks into the skin as you drew tantalizing circles over the sensitive bud. It was right there— that explosive pleasure bubbling under the surface.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice strained under his grip. “Don’t—right there. Right there, Joel!”

Joel quickened the pace, your eyes blurring as your orgasm raced through your veins and set your nerves ablaze. Your sex clenched around his cock, forcing him to slow his thrusts as he groaned into your ear.

“S’fuckin’ good, baby,” he punched out, releasing your neck.

“More,” you heaved.

“Think y’can take it?” He asked, pinning you down onto the couch cushions.

“Just want you, Joel,” you said. Your words were muffled into the couch as you exhaled, “Want everything with you.”

You didn’t know if Joel heard you, and you prayed he didn’t. Your brain was lost in some euphoric haze, dizzying you and your ability to control your emotions. Joel knew every part of your body, like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what you needed and what you wanted, and it was so confusing.

But all your thoughts grew quiet as the lewd sounds of your arousal and his ragged breathing echoed around the house. Joel’s hand pressed into your hair as he pushed you further into the couch. Bent over this way, you were entirely at his mercy, putty in his hands, and helpless.

“Swear y’were fuckin’ made for me, baby,” Joel grunted. “You’re mine, baby. Mine.”

“Yours,” you cried. “I’m—.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as Joel seized up, choking out your name as he spilled into you. His body slumped over yours, the weight of his chest heavy against your back. The hammering of his heart matched yours as you both recovered in silence, the house growing quiet aside from your labored breathing.

“Too rough?” Joel muttered into your hair.

You shifted your face to the side, rewarded by his lips pressing into your cheek.

“Perfect,” you sighed. “It was perfect.”

“You weren’t lyin’ when you said you weren’t a fan of vanilla, huh?” Joel chuckled, pulling out of you.

You slumped further into the couch, laughing softly.

“I was talking about cake, Joel. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Sure you were, baby. Stay right there, okay?”

You heard his footsteps disappear toward your bedroom, the distant sound of water turning on and off floating down the hallway. A second later, Joel was behind you again, the cool touch of a towel making you jerk away in shock. He gently rubbed the cloth over your inner thighs, taking extra caution of your sore entrance. You’d feel him everywhere tomorrow, and you didn’t hate that for some reason—you wanted the reminder of him.

“C’mere,” Joel urged, helping you stand.

He pulled you over to the couch, curling you into his arms and bracing you against his chest. Joel intertwined his fingers with yours, his breathing evening out as you shimmed further into his embrace. Maybe it was the sex, maybe it was just being around him, but all your doubts and worries seemed to fade away. It was just this moment; you and him with limbs entangled together.

“Tell me somethin’ no one knows about you,” Joel whispered.

“Only if you tell me something in return.”

“Of course, baby.”

You paused, considering all the possibilities of what you could share. You had forgotten pieces of yourself over the years, the layers of heartbreak and trauma suffocating the person you once were. You still weren’t sure if that girl you had once been was still inside you.

“I hate pancakes,” you said.

Joel laughed, his body shaking behind you as you buried your head into the couch.

“Pancakes? Really?” He teased.

“I just don’t like them!” You defended.

“Y’gonna tell me why?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled. “They’re just too sweet.”

“So y’don’t like sugar in your coffee, and y’think pancakes are too sweet,” Joel mused. “What do you like?”

“Don’t tease me, Joel.”

His fingers prodded your sides, forcing you to shriek at the contact. You hated to be tickled and hated it even more when he kept you pinned to your chest with nowhere to go. You rolled toward him, squirming against his touch. Joel leaned in to kiss you softly, muffling your protests as you settled into his arms.

“Your turn,” you sighed.

“Hmm, well, I like pancakes.”

“Be serious, Joel,” you frowned.

“Okay, okay. I love watchin’ cartoons.”

You giggled, watching that grin stretch across his face.

“Been watchin’ them with Sarah since she was a kid,” he chuckled. “I still do sometimes, even if she ain’t home.”

“That’s cute,” you smiled.

You brought your fingers to his face, scratching at the stubble covering his chin and jaw. Joel’s eyes shut as your touch drifted over the patchy spots, your fingertips drawing circles in the places his beard disconnected.

“Tell me somethin’ else,” he said.

“I think you’re really handsome.”

It was a quick response—almost too fast—but you couldn’t swallow back the words. You glanced up at him, peeking through your lashes to see his brown eyes soften.

“Handsome, huh?”

“Well, I can’t call you cute,” you scrunched your nose. “It doesn’t fit you. I like handsome more.”

“I like it,” he smiled. “Call me handsome all y’want.”

You dragged him to your mouth, saying everything you couldn’t form into words. Joel moved with you, his head tilting and mouth molding to yours. He made everything feel so simple; maybe that’s what scared you. It was too easy with him—falling into this idyllic routine. Joel mumbled your name, pulling himself reluctantly from your lips. You chased one more kiss and settled back into his chest.

“Did you know it’s good luck when it rains on your wedding day?” You thought out loud.

Joel tensed up, his arms flexing around you.

“Superstition says it means your marriage will last,” you continued. “I’ve always thought it was funny, you know? I used to believe in that before my wedding, but after that, I figured everyone had lied to me.”

“Baby,” Joel whispered.

“No, it’s okay. There’s a point to this, I promise.”

“Tell me,” he urged softly.

“I think the rain was good luck. Maybe not in the way people think, but I don’t think Bennett and I were meant to get married. My sister hated me for going through with it. We didn’t really talk once Bennett and I got engaged. Everyone warned me about him; they told me he wasn’t who I should be with. I was so stubborn to make things work. He—he was there for me during a really awful time in my life. I thought I owed it to him to stay.

“But then here you are, and it makes me re-think everything. The rain? It’s still good luck, just in a different way. I wasn’t meant to be with him because maybe… maybe I was meant to be with you.”

Joel was painfully quiet, his eyebrows furrowing together as he closed his eyes. Oh, fuck. You had rambled out everything you were scared to say, and now it was biting you in the ass. This was why you were too afraid to acknowledge your feelings: the rejection. Joel didn’t see it the same way; he didn’t think of you in the same way, and you just made a complete idiot of yourself.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. You kept the tears at bay, trying not to let yourself succumb to the heartbreak shattering inside you.

Joel’s hands wrangled you back to his chest, his eyes leveling with yours. You inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed away the rogue tears falling down your cheeks.

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind y’were meant for me, baby. I’m thankin’ God every day for bringin’ you into my life,” Joel confessed. “I know this is all new, but I promise to keep provin’ myself because whatever this is between us, it’s real.”

“It’s real,” you echoed.

“Don’t run away from me,” Joel pleaded. “Gimmie all the good and bad stuff. I swear I can handle it.”

“What if you get tired of me? What if I’m not enough?” You rambled.

“I could never get tired of you, baby. If anythin’, I keep wantin’ more.”

You snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his scent as you pressed your nose into his chest. Joel ran a hand through your hair, his fingers catching on a few knots left from earlier.

“What’d you mean when you said he was there for you durin’ somethin’ awful?” Joel asked after a beat of silence.

Flashes of the crash came back into your mind, or at least the ones you could recall. You squeezed your eyes shut as your nightmares began to see the light of day. It was a memory you never liked to revisit.

“Easy,” your mom whispered. “Easy, honey. Don’t move too much, okay? Take it slow.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the harsh lights above you burning into your retinas as you tried to adjust to the room fading into the forefront. You were tucked into a hospital bed, IVs and tubes sticking out of both arms. Your head was pounding, and everything hurt. That’s all you could focus on. Everything hurt so fucking bad.

“Bennett?” You croaked, searching the room.

Your mom, dad, Beth, and Stella were all grouped around the foot of the bed, their eyes glassy with tears. Bennett was nowhere to be found. Beth’s fear-stricken eyes shifted from your mom to your dad before she bolted from the room.

“I’m going to go get the doctor,” your mom announced, turning and leaving the room.

Stella shifted uncomfortably and promptly followed, leaving your dad alone at the foot of your bed.

“How’re you feeling, peanut?” He asked, rounding to the side of your bed.

“Pain,” you cried softly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Baby?” Joel said cautiously.

“S–sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know if I really want to talk about it.”

Joel’s brows scrunched together, his eyes staring at you with concern. You turned away from him, lifting yourself from the couch. Pacing the living room, you stared blankly at your bookshelf beside your entertainment center, still collecting dust after two years. You heard Joel shift against the couch behind you and glanced back to see him staring at you intensely. Anxiety was thrumming in your chest the longer you stood in front of him, too many thoughts reeling inside your mind. You never talked about the accident; you didn’t want to be reminded of what had been the catalyst in your relationship's failure. Because that’s what it was. You owed everything to Bennett for sticking by your side through it all, and in the end, you weren’t enough. Nothing you did was enough to salvage what had been your life with him before it all.

“Hey,” Joel exhaled. “C’mere.”

“I—I need a minute,” you cried.

You bolted from the living room and went down the hall, gasping for air when you reached the edge of your bed. The room was spinning as you dropped your head in your hands, the nausea surging up inside you the longer you stayed stuck in the memory. You needed out of it; you needed out. You needed—.

Joel rushed into the room, falling to his knees in front of you as he said your name over and over to coax you out of the trance. Nothing was working. Your head was throbbing in pain, and you couldn’t work around it.

“Breathe with me, baby,” Joel whispered. “Breathe.”

You heaved in a lung full of air, only to choke on it and gag back the nausea crawling up your throat. Joel rubbed his hands over your thighs, the sensation of his touch jarring you enough to make you cringe.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he crooned, a distant echo of your dad's words. “It’s okay.”

The shrilling sound of your phone ringing pulled you both from the moment, and you crawled over the bed to grab it.

Beth

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I can’t—I can’t answer it.”

“Give it to me, I’ll do it,” Joel offered with an outstretched hand.

You practically tossed it at him while you crumpled into the sheets with your hands clutching your head.

“Hello?” He answered with a brief pause before he said, “This is Joel.”

Silence.

“Fuck, okay. Gimmie a second,” he replied.

“Baby, she needs to talk to you,” Joel said.

You stifled your cries before taking your phone from his hand, already hearing Beth’s frantic voice on the other end of the receiver.

“Beth, what is it?” You asked, your body shaking.

“It’s dad, sis. You’ve got to come home, okay?”

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x teacher #joel x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miler tlou #tlou #pre outbreak!joel #the last of us fanfiction #fluff and angst #so much angst

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sugurizz · 11 days

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𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓/𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 +𝟏𝟖 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈!!

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ── Bby Boo Joo is a M E N A C E but I know a lot of us noticed him being all soft and tender (like 1% of the time) but oh well, I can work with that 💪🏼. So here’s some of the ways Jaekyung expresses his…feelings? Ig. kinda his love language.. in a way 💕…

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐒𝐊.

Also thanks for the inspo and sorry ik this ask was sent long ago 🤧. U can call me Hana but I’ve been thinking about Yuna as a new alias…idk.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: established relationship, Physiotherapist F! Reader, shared house, implied power dynamics, hints at sex/ SEXUAL content.

Living in Jaekyung’s penthouse sure made life easier for both of you. It slowly aquainted you to each other, bodies and minds. You slowly got used to his mannerisms, little habits and his little pet-peeves. The sense of pride it gave you to feel like you knew him more than anybody else sure gave you a tiny ego boost. especially him desiring you whenever his body needs it…

♥︎──♥︎ He checks on you randomly. Casually pretending to walk by your room and just making sure you’re there. He does it almost whenever he’s home with you. Sometimes getting a bit sly with it so you don’t really notice him. But you slowly learned it was his way of checking up on you, making sure you’re around him -you know- just in case…

♥︎──♥︎ He hates you not being home, especially when he’s back from overtime training. Whenever he’s feeling stressed, uneasy or just in a sour mood, he’d rather you be around him or at least somewhere he knows.

He made it obvious the one day you were away til a late hour at night. He came home from his evening workout, didn’t find you there and instantly texted you.

‘I’m home. need you to check on my shoulder.’

♥︎──♥︎ He always complains about his feather-light sleep, but snoozes like a baby whenever you’re in his bed. The nights before his matches are surprisingly best for him. He gets the best sleeping quality after he pounds the juices out your poor pussy. He wakes up before you for sure, but his cute disheveled morning hairs are sure proof of a healthy healthy nap.

♥︎──♥︎ He likes it better when you make the food. His cocky ass always claims he’s fine making it himself but eats twice the amount whenever it’s you cooking his meals. He’d pretend he’s tired and not in the mood whenever he craves your cooking cause…his ass can’t simply ask for something lol. Yet he gets all giddy and blushy when his fav smoked eel dish is ready.

♥︎──♥︎ He hates to see you in any pain. Always saying it’s just for himself though…You know, just because he wants you always safe and ready to keep him in peak condition. and NOT because he actually cares or anything.

Yet why does he still gets annoyed at you getting the slightest scratch? He frowns when he notices you wearing band-aids, having a bruise or even some random shallow cuts on your hands and he’d instantly grab your arm, staring into your eyes and asking you how’d you get the injury.

♥︎──♥︎ He likes randomly noticing you…*ahem* underclothed. booty shorts definitely trigger his inner perv. He stares at your ass when you’re standing in the bathroom, doing your skincare freshly out of a quick nighty shower. So damn shameless when he stares. Almost undressing you with the raven eyes and thick lashes. So annoying…

You usually end up taking another shower that same night, only with his thick cum flowing down your thigh the second time :3

♥︎──♥︎ He can sense whenever you’re feeling down…IRONICALLY? Sounds like a joke with Jaekyung being the dick he is LOL but trust me on this one.

He almost has a sixth sense whenever you’re sad, scared, stressed out or just if something inconvenient happens to you in general. He’d never admit it -obviously- but it bugs him if he ever caught you teary-eyed. It gets him uneasy and you can tell when his mood sometimes matches yours..

Uhhh smells like love in here *insert Jaekyung stuffing his nose with toilet paper scraps*

♥︎──♥︎ He hates when you struggle to do something by yourself instead of asking him for help. (paying bills, dealing with packages, paperwork etc…) Says they’re just ‘bs problems’ and he can solve them for you much quicker and better than you could. He’d do it himself or even pays someone to do it instead.

Besides, he’s not kidding when he says he wants all your focus on him so he’d rather everything around you gets taken care of just so you can be there for him at all times.

♥︎──♥︎ He doesn’t mind your outside life but would definitely notice when you’re all cute and dolled-up for some reason.

It’s not only about the dolly looks to be fair. He’d bend you over the kitchen counter in your stained apron and fuck you dumb or suck your tits in your goofy pattern pjs on one of his long sleepless nights…

But the time he notices you spraying your cherry fragance in the bathroom, your perky breasts sticking shyly through your dress and a shiny jewel dangling from your ankle bracelet always gets him tight in his boxers.

He walks in with his glossy eyes, same naugthy grin you see when he’s in that mood..

‘Tomorrow’s my back check-up. Better not be late.’ He steps behind you, arms lazily crossed above his chest.

You nodded and made your way through the entrance, catching a honeyed voice behind you.

‘Hey Doc. I’ll drop you by'...

…His white McLaren got you there way ahead of time. so ahead that you ended up clawing at the door close to you, the little ankle bracelet jiggling over Jaekyung’s back and your shaky arms wrapped shut around his shoulders. Begging him to let you cum in fear of missing on your little night out...

#joo jaekyung smut #joo jaekyung x reader #joo jaekyung #jinx bl #jinx manhwa #jjk smut #jinx mingwa #jinx #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines

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kitttttchaos · 2 months

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Things I need in a currently nonexistent raven cycle adaptation: (Gansey)

1. The middle part flow haircut but like longer because that is the “not like other girls” of the preppy boy haircuts and Gansey is not like other preppy boys

2. Ik he wears all those brightly colored polos but keep in mind, he’s been everywhere, he probably has so many souvenir sweatshirts—picture extremely tired Gansey, just threw on an oversized crew neck from like Wales or Singapore or some other place he’s been LIKE—and you know he wears those so people ask him about all the places he’s been

3. He has the newest iPhone. We love that he likes vintage things but a block of a phone is not going to help him find Glendower the way an iPhone 37 and a half will. Plus, imagine Adam’s face in every scene when Gansey has to check the time with a thousand dollars worth of capitalist propaganda

4. Acting wise, he is always looking up. At the stars, at the trees, at the future. The most prominent expression on his face is WONDER. I can envision so many scenes where he just turns to Blue or Adam with this wide-eyed excitement, and suddenly everyone else in the room is excited too. Just AAAH

5. Adam says, “Ronan and Gansey were laughing at a joke where the rest of the world was the punch line” when he’s talking about how cruel he thought Gansey was. I want a flashback of Gansey and Ronan being those best friends at the back table that came in late because they couldn’t stop giggling and now they won’t stop smirking at the teacher, and then Adam’s just at the front trying not to break his pencil in half

6. Ok imagine this: close up of Gansey, hands behind his head, glasses half sliding down his face. He looks asleep, but he definitely isn’t. The screen is relatively dark, tinted blue. He has AirPods in, and we hear muffled Phoebe Bridgers or Lizzy McAlpine or some other sad, wistful female artist BC GANSEY IS A SAD WISTFUL FEMALE ARTIST ON THE INSIDE. The music starts crescendoing, then there’s this loud screech over top of everything and Gansey’s eyes snap open and then we’re catapulted into the “what fresh hell is this?” scene

Um. *clears throat* Anyway.

#the dream thieves #richard campbell gansey the third #the raven cycle #the raven king #the raven boys #the raven cycle tv adaptation #blue lily lily blue #bllb #tdt #trk #trb #trc #richard gansey iii #richard campbell gansey iii #richard gansey

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tarjapearce · 9 months

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Iridiscent (Pt.2)

PirateAU!Miguel x Mermaid!Reader

WARNINGS: Angst, Historical Figure use, mild sexual situations, a dash of history inaccurracy just for the sake of the plot, implied mysticism, character origins, mourning and grief, mentions of slavery.

Summary: The origins of The Red Eyed Demon.

Pt. 3

I apologize in adavance if this one is a bit too boring or too difficult to read, they'll meet ;) I promise <;3 . Hope you like!

The incessant wailing of a toddler echoed through the barns of the sugar cane plantation. English man with wide eyes as he held a knife, looking how the olive skinned woman flailed like a fish out of water, gaping her mouth open as blood flooded her airways.

Air stagnant in iron, horse shit and sweat. Each odor fighting to see who was the stronger one in the secluded area. The man dropped the knife as he tried to dress his lower parts as quickly as he could. His wide and horrified sight settled in the woman that, despite having her life slipping through the deep wounds, tried to reach for the crying toddler.

The woman choked as the tiny human hiccuped watching his mama.

Everything went still.

"Conchata!" the man panicked when the true commanding voice of Hacienda De La Vega, called for the woman that laid before him, lifeless.

He was the foreman, and of course he would have authority above everything that breathed under his command, even the owner's favorite plaything. Conchata.

The woman was beautiful, cinnamon skin, dark ravenous hair that reached to her waist, pouty lips, strong nose, high cheek bones, eyes that could kill with a single look as they were a deep shade of red, almost mahogany, hooded under thick brows, a plump hourglass figure that had captured almost immediately the owner's attention as she came down the slave shipment he just had acquired in Veracruz, México, long ago. A rare gem among coal and stones that had given birth to a bastard child.

And now, she was gone, dead on the floor after trying to retaliate the big english man that was trying to force himself on her as she was attending her duties in the barn. Anger took over him as she denied him multiple times with a plain disgusted expression on her sharp features.

"Conchata!" The owner, Guillermo de la Vega, called again, worry laced with anger in his voice. The forgotten infant looked at the door, as his tiny face contorted into a crying one.

"¿Dónde se habrá metido esa mujer?" (Where did that woman go?)

The foreman escaped. It took a couple of hours for the crime to be discovered. Guillermo could only look with heavy eyes as his lover was taken out, and thrown in the mass grave down the hill that was used to bury the ones that were too weak and sick to withstand life itself. After all, he had an image to uphold.

"Mi señor, ¿qué haréis con el infante?" (My lord, what must be done with the baby?)

Her spaniard accent thick as she spoke. The little boy resembling his mother raised little to no suspicions as to who was the father, was nested in her arms quietly.

The midwife asked as the little boy had cried himself to sleep. He was but two years old.

"Dáselo a una de las esclavas que lo cuide. De preferencia una que esté amamantado." (Give him to one of the slaves. Preferably one that is nursing.)

-----

The boy was now twelve years old, features a bit more prominent and the resemblance to his old love had settled in. Despite his age, the boy was tall and his face was already showing the hardships of life, frown on his brows as he dug yet another grave, this time wasn't for another slave that died under poor conditions, no.

Miguel had taken his bittersweet time in digging a grave comfortable enough for the person that perpetually rested next to him. Adia, an african slave that had nursed him to health, wiped his tears, consoled him the best she could at the hard, cold, lonely nights in the settlement. A woman that without a doubt had taken him in, and had turned into his mother. The only form of love he had known so far.

He had begged Guillermo to have her burried, De la Vega accepted with the condition that he would have to do it himself, since everyone was busy enough as it was in the sugar cane harvesting season. It had been hours since he was shoveling dirt. His tears watered the land. Adia had died out of malaria.

At everyone's sight, Miguel was trying to put his mother's body on the grave, but it was too heavy. He sobbed in frustration and kicked dirt. Cold realization hit harder than a whipping on his flesh, there would be no more sleeping stories, none to wait for him after helping in the fields, none to sing him to sleep when his nightamares frequented him at night, none that actually cared for him.

Two other men had been kind enough to help him as they tried to keep an eye for the foreman. One of them patted Miguel on the shoulder, a measly yet comforting gesture to show him compassion. Another form of love that was foreign to him. No words were needed.

Calloused, hard and shaky hands shoved dirt back, covering bit by bit the lifeless form of his mother. Oddly enough, the vocalizations of the men and women around that shared the same fate of slavery as him and origins of Adia, raised their voice in a foreign chant. A chant that promised a new start, in another life. Strangely enough; comforting, soothing to his aching little heart as he kept shoveling dirt back in it's place.

A forever farewell song.

----------

"¡Maldito hijo de puta!" (You son of a bitch!)

Miguel had rolled the loose leather handle of the weathered whip in his large hand and walloped his mother's killer with all his might, over and over again. The whip tore and ripped the feeble fabric of the supervisor's clothes to then tear viciously at his flesh, biting harder each time Miguel struck him down with it.

A gunshot resonated through the air, Miguel didn't stop.

"Golpeas a ese hombre una vez más, y el próximo en ser enterrado serás tú." (Strike that man one more time and you'll be the next one in being buried)

"¡Pues Hazlo! Pero primero lo mataré." (Then do it! But I'm killing him first)

Miguel's rage had consumed him, people just stared with horror at the damage he had done on the agonizing man. Eyes flashed red in anger, teeth baring as the overseer held his hands up in defense, a rather pathetic tactic to gain some sympathy from those witnessing his eventual fall.

Tall, yet lanky looking sixteen year old boy had whipped him real good, given him a taste of his own medicine. Some of the men in the back had been silently cheering on the boy

"No lo repetiré de nuevo, Miguel."(I won't repeat myself again, Miguel)

"¡Él mató a mi mamá! ¡Este maldito animal la mató!" (He killed my mother! This fucking animal killed her)

Tears were simmering in his eyes as he struck once more. No gunshot came. A bone shrilling cry snapped Guillermo out of his stupor. Glaring at the boy, he put the gun away and marched towards both.

"¿Qué acabas de decir?" (What did you just said?) His voice wasn't threatening, rather confused and surprised at Miguel's accusation.

"¡¿Qué no oyes?! ¡Este maldito bastardo mató a Conchata, mi madre. Mi verdadera madre! ( Are you deaf? This fucking bastard killed Conchata, my mother. My real mother!)

He didn't mean to insult or despise Adia's memory and efforts in his upbringing, but his origins was something he had always been denied no matter how much he cried for answers.

It all took one night to remain hidden as he watched one of the women being dragged away from the group by the overseer and had his fun with her, and not exactly in a willing way.

The rapist was admitting his crimes one by one as he thrusted harder into the poor girl, marveling at the fact that none had caught him so far. Not even Guillermo himself. He detailed how he killed them, but turned vicious as he explained how he ended the life of a certainslave that refused him because she was in love of his master, and even had a boy with him.

A bastard child.

The thought sparked a fire he thought long gone, and when his mother's killer was unaware the next day as he was polishing his shoes, his punishment begun.

Miguel had aimed to kill him, not caring if it took him hours. He cursed and spat at the man. Guillermo took him by the arms softly but he flinched at his touch.

De La Vega could only stare at him, a bit of himself on his features, strong jaw, his prominent height and frame were his doings. And so was the hatred Miguel looked back at him. His son had grown.

Guillermo turned around and left. A killer and a hero at sixteen.

--------

The sound of the canons blowing all he had known made him freeze in his spot. Bells rang more than his ears allowed to tolerate, people ran in all directions, trying to put themselves into safety.

Hacienda De La Vega was under attack.

"¡Aseguren las entradas! ¡No les permitan avanzar!" (Secure the entrances, do not allow them to advance!)

De la Vega barked orders as he shot a few pirates away from the walls.

Pirates.

A chill ran down Miguel's spine as he watched the men slaying the guards in their wake. Slaves, his friends, were all rounded up like cattle, as the rest of armed men shoot, killed, maimed, any foe on sight.

"Por Mundaca!"

He had been on his studies, something that Guillermo had insisted for him to partake in a few weeks later after the overseer was killed, despite the broken bond between them. He couldn't give Miguel properties and lands, but the least he could do was to give him the power of knowledge. His one and only gift towards him.

Everything happened in a blur. A ground shaking explosion had blown brick, stone and debris on Guillermo's position, erasing him from existence within a blink of an eye. Miguel's body was sent flying as another projectile impacted his study hall area. Glass and shrapnel cutting into his skin. Pain biting and screaming at his bones, he whimpered almost breathless as he tried to stand and go to a safer zone.

He passed out only to wake up being dragged down by a group of armed, tattooed and dangerous men. The captain, wore a black robe, big laced rimmed hat with a black large feather, a clear mockery to the Spaniards.

Fermín Antonio de Mundaca had attacked Hacienda De La Vega, thanks to the rumor that Guillermo bought the best slaves other privateers offered. And not only did he find that, but a rich property, women, spices and of course, Miguel.

Dark eyes fixed on the eighteen year old young man that had put some of his men to sleep despite being injured. Adrenaline pumping through his veins as he fought for his life.

"¡Alto!" (Stop)

Fermín barked as he sheathed his swords and marched towards a wobbly standing Miguel. Never in his life had seen someone this tall with spark.

"A este lo ponen a parte. Los demás van al fondo." (This one goes separately. The rest goes to the bottom)

An air knocking punch was the last thing Miguel felt before collapsing.

-------

Fermín was an outlaw accused of slave trafficking and commerce among other illicits by the Spaniards. By the time they had arrived to Cuba, his ship was one of the most expected by the pro-slavers settled in La Habana.

"¿Cuánto por él?" (How much is he?)

One of the buyers had asked as Miguel glared holes into the man.

"No se ve como los otros. ¿De dónde es?" (He doesn't look like the others, where is he from?)

"¿De dónde eres, muchacho?" (Where are you from, kid?)

Fermín asked in a serene tone, with curiosity in his eyes.

"De tu puta madre, cabrón" (Your fucking mother, you dipshit)

Fermín couldn't help but laugh merrily at his temper. The buyer gasped, horrified.

"Nacido y criado en alguna Hacienda española en Yucatán de seguro. No está a la venta." (Born and raised in a Spaniard estate for sure. He's not for sale)

Once the sale was over, Miguel was shackled and pulled to Fermín's headquarters. The ship once more sailing after restocking. The swaying movement made Miguel's stomach to churn. Fermín only chuckled as he removed his robe and hat.

Weathered face along some graying strands poking here and there and his trimmed yet irregular shaped beard. He was tall, but Miguel was taller.

"Not used to travel by ships?" Mundaca spoke in a chewed yet understandable english that had earned him what he possessed now. An unethical and morally questionable fortune born by the traffic and smuggling of lives.

Miguel frowned, confused at the sudden language switching.

"Te he preguntado si estás acostumbrado a viajar en barco. Pero, viendo lo pálido que estás, ya es una respuesta en sí misma." (I've asked you if are you used to travel by ship, but seeing how pale you are, it's already an answer itself.)

Mundaca served himself a cup of tea, to then sip it and smiling, relishing at it's flavor.

" ¿Porqué no me vendiste en Cuba?" (Why didn't you sell be back in Cuba?)

"¿Y desperdiciar el potencial que tienes? No me hagas reír." (And waste away your potential? Don't make me laugh.)

Miguel sighed and held his stomach, dizziness slowly taking over.

"¿Qué edad tienes?" (How old are you?)

"Dieciocho." (Eighteen.)

Mundaca stared at him, doubt splattered all over his face, it felt like a terrible joke said.

"¿Con esa altura, puedes hacerte pasar por lo menos de unos veinticinco años." (With that height you could pass as a twenty five yeard old)

"¿Para qué me tienes aquí?" (What am I here for?)

"Creí que era bastante obvio, niño." (Thought that was pretty obvious, kid.)

"Un esclavo toda tu vida, que probablemente nunca conoció a su madre, hijo bastardo, y un padre que nunca miraba en tu dirección, ¿cierto?" (A slave all your life that probably never met his mother bastard child and a father that barely or never looked your way. Right?)

Miguel's lips remained in a tight line.

" Tema delicado, ya veo." ( A delicate topic, I see.)

Mundaca finished his tea and gave a cup of water to Miguel, who quenched it in a gulp.

"De nada. Ahora, no tienes nada que perder, estás solo, pero puedo ayudarte en eso." (You're welcome. Now, You've got nothing to lose, you're on your own but I can help you with it.)

"No gusto de hombres, gracias." (I'm not into men, thanks.)

Fermín laughed almost into a fit, and only made Miguel's anger to rise again.

"¿Qué mierda te da tanta risa?" (What's so fucking funny?)

"Mira, niño, si realmente quisiera ese tipo de cosas, ya las hubiera tomado. Pero, piensa en grande, piensa más allá de lo que tu limitada imaginación puede." (Look, kid, if I'd want those sort of things, I would've already took them. But think big, think beyond what yout limited imagination can)

" ¡Riquezas, mujeres, propiedades por todo el mundo produciendo para tí! No tienes que darle explicaciones a nadie, y si las debes, sólo matas y escapas." (Wealth, women, properties all over the world producing for you! , you won't owe none an explanation, and if you do, just kill them and escape.)

"No soy un pirata." (I'm not a pirate)

Mundaca rolled his eyes and smirked

"Nadie es un pirata hasta que la probreza y la injusticias de la sociedad te arrastran y te obligan a serlo, muchacho." (None is a pirate until poverty and social injustices drag you down and force you to be one, kid.)

"Nadie es un maldito pirata hasta que los malditos ricos se ponen en guerra y las personas como nosotros sufren las consecuencias de dicha guerra" (None is a fucking pirate until the fucking rich wage their wars and it's people like us who suffer the consequences of said wars)

Miguel gulped as his eyes casted down, pondering in the elder man's words. He was slightly privileged to at least know hoe to read and write properly, a simple yet powerful difference between him and the people he used to bury.

"No hay malditas oportunidades en tierra firme, muchacho. Mientras los ricos se dan un banquete cada noche en base a nuestro sudor y sangre, los pobres mueren olvidados, solos y enfermos. Y me rehúso a eso." (There are no fucking opportunities on land, kid. While the rich feast each night thanks to our blood and sweat, poor ones die forgotten, sick and alone. And I reject that)

"¿Entonces solo tomamos de nuevo lo que nos pertenece? "(So we just take back what belong to us?)

Mundaca smiled and unshackled Miguel.

"Tienes un largo camino por recorrer, muchacho. Pero primero es lo primero. Aprende inglés." (You've got a long way to go, kid. But first thing first. you must learn English.)

-----------

He had just raided his first ship. A Spaniard ship named "Valencia Co.", He found medicines, people, spices and some materials that could be used to repair some wilthered parts of the ship Mundaca had gotten him.

Excitement was almost turned into ecstasy. He had proven to be worthy of something more than just burying people he once held dear and loved.

Life on land had shaped his body, but life at sea and Mundaca had shapen his mind. Mundaca had taken him under his wing, fed him, trained him, taught him everything he knew.

One night he had admitted through a bit too much rum, that he was better father than his own ever was. His body had also changed.

Work and food on land had gained him muscles, his english although chewed, had earned him more open doors within navy engineers that worked for either privateers or royalty itself.

Even though he chose to decline Mundaca's lesson on slave trafficking, and their views on said topic had created a small rift between them, where Miguel would stay at Isla Mujeres as Fermín made sure to deliver the slaves. The twenty six year old, rookie pirate never participated in a smuggling. Lives were out of his list.

----

Miguel couldn't help but notice how Mundaca's health deteriorated the more he traveled.

"You gotta stay here, old man. Ya no estás para esos trotes." (You're no longer young for that sort of action.)

Fermín's laugh was unavoidable as he listened to Miguel.

"Shut up, O'Hara." O'Hara. A surname that he adopted after his carpentry instructor passed. Old, wrinkly yet honest and kind man that gave him a chance onnthe spot as he was sent to learn how to repair boats through a fake note.

Pretensions had been necessary to learn everything he knew, but never actually indulged too much in it. It felt a disrespect to himself, even though it got some benefits.

"La trigueña looked at me today. She looked so beautiful as usual." Miguel was almost pitying his old man. A woman, 37 years younger than him, green eyes and overall pretty had been the reason of his sick look.

"Mundaca..." Miguel started but knew it was futile. Fermin had been deeply infatuated with the youngest daughter of the Pantoja family. Martiniana Gomez Pantoja, better known as "La Trigueña". Even killed his own crew to avoid any lose ends to reveal his location at Isla Mujeres where he finally settled down.

The portraits, pages full of poems, even small sculpts with a womanly face that resembled alot to Martiniana, loitered Mundaca's room. Fermín was unabashedly in love with her, but said obsession was taken too far when he out of the blue started to build "Vista Alegre", a estate that would be a gift to Martiniana. But of course, the young woman rejected him.

Crushing all his hopes once and for all. even though Miguel took him to Merida, to be medically assisted, Fermín Antonio de Mundaca ended up dying.

Once more, Miguel was alone, this time however he had much more than knowledge. He had a purpose. He took what Mundaca had inherited him, and used it to build his own ship. It was time to make his own history.

--------

He wasn't love sick, but definitely the woman had put him in a trance enough to make her be swollen with his child.

He was scared, even questioned way too many times if he would be a good father, something that was hard to grasp at the begining.

"Why do you stare at her like she will grow a second head?" The mother giggled as she looked from the doorframe of the small room. Miguel wasn't fancy, but practical. He provided enough for his family.

The sheer word made his skin crawl, the baby before him, a product of a one night stand, even though the woman played her role as a doting bride, he knew what she did behind his back. He couldn't be an hypocrite to call her anything but decent when he was much worse and still she had no idea.

She left as soon as she found out where Miguel went off to get money. She didn't hesitated in abandon him and their four year old daughter, Gabriela.

Oddly enough, despite living under the same roof, the both had felt like strangers sharing a common goal. As unethical both jobs were, they provided enough to keep the pretense of a good family. The mother couldn't complain of Miguel, he came home injured, but with enough money to live by another couple of months.

But of course, her leaving had put him in a difficult position where, he couldn't leave since none was willing to take care of his daughter, neither he trusted people to do so. And then, what he never thought possible, happened. Gabriela fell ill.

The Typhus had walloped mostly of the places in Campeche, and no matter how much he tried to look for medicines that would help his little girl to feel better, even being gullible enough to do small rituals that supposedly attracted mermaids to get one and make his wish true, nothing prepared him to see her exhale her last breath in his hands.

He spreaded her ashes in the sea, a reason why he turned himself into a full time pirate.

"Miguel?" The soft spoken voice had pulled him out the trance as the woman before rested her chin on his chest, staring with concern at him.

"Must be a powerful cunt if ye space out like that." The courtesan giggled but Miguel remained shut. A hand tucked behind his head as he rested on the perched pillows.

"What's on yer mind?" the woman asked as she gathered her clothes that had been discarded long ago. A few of the fancy courtesans that he knew was clean. Her sight drifted to the shiny pearl that rested on his trousers.

"Look at that! So shiny" The woman took the pearl and sat next to him.

"I could accept this as a payment." her tone playful, but a large hand retrieved the pearl and his dark ruby eyes looked at her.

"Do you believe in... those fairy-tales?"

"Like?"

"Mermaids."

Her nose scrunched up and shook her ginger locked head.

"The only thing I believe is money."

Of course, she was rational and had shared her hardships enough to make her who she was. Even though her hand stretched towards him, a signal for payment.

Sighing, he towered over her, then pulled out a couple of coins and a small gemstone and handed it over the woman's hand.

"A pleasure doing business with you, darling." He could help but fix his eyes on her, gorgeous, fascinated by shiny things, and surely knew how to lure men to a certain death. Difference between her and a mermaid was that the death part was just temporary, and of course she wasn't a fish like creature.

She was dressing up, and he went back to the bed. His frame occupied mostly of the space.

"I don't know if... would it be too personal to share this but..." Dark ruby eyes stared at her flushed back that still had some of his fingers imprinted on.

"When I was little, my grandmother used t'tell me about mermaids and shite." Her stockings were up on her feet.

"And I believed her, because... I had the feeling of being watched as I was on the shore, watching ships come and go." Her trousers were up to her hips as she fetched another layer of clothing that scattered somewhere nearby

"And then I saw her. I... I saw a mermaid. or at least I want to think that it was a mermaid." She shrugged and turned to him, breast still uncovered, and still he focused on her words.

"Because the pair of eyes I saw... were nothing like I had seen before. You could literally see the stars on them, Miguel."

The woman sighed and dressed her breast with a easily removal, yet beautiful looking dress. His fingers helped to secure it closed.

" Thanks. And... You know, I couldn't help but make a wish."

She put her lacy gloves on, and picked up her hair before a small mirror available in the room.

"And what did you wish for?"

She went silent and sighed, sadness flashing on a small smile.

"A better life, but... Im still here, so that wishing thing is just a big fat lie."

Miguel hummed and looked at the pearl.

"If I could, I'd slap her for... making us all so hopeful."

The door was closed and Miguel sighed.

"You and everyone, bonita." he squeezed the pearl on his hand. A new route on his mind.

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

Tag List:

@nerdykat @munixumai @raiirai @sarapaprikas-blog @deputy-videogamer @rizahawkeye1380 @littlenyx @marit332 @iz-iplier @mad-hatter-rici @viriexo @

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #pirate au #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara angst #t writes✨#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderman

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claymoresword · 1 month

Text

I Choose Her | Stand-Alone Series Chapter: 1

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Prompt: Hermione gets jealous as she catches you flirting with someone else, but it ends in a heartfelt exchange between the two of you.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: romilda vane gets rejected like canon, y/n & hermione are soulmates its confirmed, no plot just fluff

Note: a little something to tide you guys over while i work on the final chapter. hope you enjoy! <3

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @aki-ham @brocoliisscared

You harshly shove the Hufflepuff seeker out of the way, he doesn't budge, not until you shoulder him again. This time it unsteadies his broom, in an effort to not lose his balance, he falls back, leaving you alone in pursuit of the Golden Snitch.

You manage to locate the snitch once more, the golden ball just a few paces out of reach, as you extend your hand, you can feel its wing fluttering violently against your fingertips As you attempt to grab it, the flying ball quickly changes course trying to evade you, but you still manage to follow closely behind.

"Come on." You mutter under your breath, you are so close, the ball is practically yours.

Coincidentally, a large gust of wind graces your flight path at just the right moment. You take full advantage of it, picking up a bit of momentum, just enough to trap the Golden Snitch in your grasp.

You then whisk yourself around on the broom to face the stands, stubbornly the Snitch tries to wriggle free, but you hold it firmly still.

A large roar erupts from the audience as you hold up your prize for all to see. They were cheering for you.

The sound is exhilarating, intoxicating. It makes you feel invisible– but there was only one person's cheer worth taking notice.

In a sea of Gryffindors, you find Hermione's gaze. Your grin widens, and she smiles right back at you.

Soon enough an involuntarily blush covers your cheeks, and you are forced to look away.

"Y/n has caught the Golden Snitch. Slytherin wins!"

═══════════════════════════════════════════

The celebration continues well into the evening in the Slytherin common room. Students from all houses fill the space, taking advantage of the unlimited amounts of liquor and butter beer available.

Crabbe and Blaise insist on parading you on their shoulders for the dozenth time tonight, it seems the more intoxicated they get, the harder they find the task of leaving you alone.

“Y/n!, Y/n!, Y/n!” The crowd continues to chant beneath you, and you can only allow yourself to enjoy the moment. Even though the incessant attention from everyone tonight was starting to peeve you slightly.

The only person you wanted to spend time with tonight is Hermione– yet she is nowhere to be found.

“Alright, put me down guys.” You raise your voice over the commotion, and your friends finally oblige, taking you off their shoulders, you let out a breath of relief once your feet touch flat ground.

“If you keep it up, Y/n, we'll win all the games this season.” Pansy claims, her voice closer to a shout.

You merely give her a nod, taking her words for a compliment and nothing more. Deliberately ignoring the sudden sense of crippling responsibility that's been set upon you.

You find yourself looking through the crowd once more, hoping to spot a familiar brown-eyed beauty.

Where is she?

You push through the sea of students, a few of them continue hurling praises at you and taking the opportunity to squeeze your shoulder as a version of acclamation.

By the time you reach the large window by the far side of the room, you are out of breath.

The spot you've escaped to is somewhat secluded, so you are given a chance to gain your bearings, as you silently observe the view of the black lake.

That is, until someone unwelcomed enters your space.

“You were amazing on the pitch today–” Romilda Vane says, standing an inch too close.

You catch a whiff of alcohol on her breath, and your effort to distance yourself fails as she merely sees it as an opportunity to step closer.

“Thanks, Romilda. I didn't realize you liked Quidditch.” You state dismissively, before scanning your surroundings again, for any indication of Hermione.

“I don't, not really..” She replies, and a bold hand on your shoulder snatches your attention once more.

“I like watching you though.” Romilda says, inching even closer, you watch as her gaze manages to find your lips for a moment.

Normally, you'd entertain such a blatant attempt at flirting, especially from someone so attractive– but tonight, you couldn't care less.

Hermione is the only girl you want complimenting you.

Romilda proceeds to brazenly caress your bicep, she gasps slightly after giving your firm muscle a squeeze.

“I bet you could easily lift me.” She remarks suggestively, and you let out a dismissive scoff, but this only urges her to continue eyeing you hungrily– a mere object she'd like to toy with.

“Perhaps we could find out–” You suggest, but immediately regret your effort in humoring her.

Romilda mistakes your words as an invitation. She leans in to meet your lips and you quickly swerve out of the way.

“Some other time.” You quip, subsequently catching sight of a familiar face in the distance You don't even bother letting Romilda down easily before chasing after her.

“Hermione!” You call out, but the Gryffindor is making it quickly through the crowd. It seemed shouting her name only motivated her to walk further away.

You finally catch up to her in the gallery, outside the common room, the door soon shuts behind you, and the two of you are left alone.

“Hey, slow down–” You say, finally grabbing hold of Hermione’s arm.

“Where are you going?” You ask, but when she turns to look at you, her hardened expression takes you aback.

“Are you alright?” Your ask of real concern is only met with an eye-roll. Hermione groans in frustration as she tries to wrench out of your hold.

“Let me go–” She asks sternly, and you do just that, but her demeanor continues to unnerve you. You could never bear it whenever she was upset with you.

Whatever it is, you plan to rectify it now.

“Hermione..” You coax gently, and the Gryffindor no longer makes the effort to walk away from you, instead she leans against the stone wall, her gaze fixed towards the ground.

You stuff your hands into your pockets as you made the conscious effort to not reach out for her again.

“You know you can talk to me– tell me what's wrong, darling. Was it something I did?” You try once more, and finally, she graces you with a lingering glance.

"Why are you with me? You could have any girl in the school.. anyone you wanted. So why me?” Hermione asks, the faint tremor in her voice breaks you, but you can't help the incredulous look that paints your features.

“Are you really asking me that?” You ask flippantly.

Your carelessness only makes visible tears well up in Hermione's eyes, and you immediately regret opening your mouth.

“Oh– no, I'm sorry. Come here.” You remark frantically, pulling Hermione closer by the waist, and she accepts your embrace.

“I'm sorry.” You repeat earnestly. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, despite herself.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?” You mutter, as you take in the scent of her hair.

Hermione pulls back to look at you expectantly, and you don't fight the urge to hold her face in both your hands, leaning in to kiss her deeply.

“I think you're brilliant.” You admit as your lips remain less than an inch apart.

“Really?” Hermione breathes out, and you can only smile.

“Yes.” You claim before tilting your head to kiss her jaw. “Being with you.. it's like a dream.” You continue, relishing at the feeling of Hermione shifting closer to feel more of you.

“A dream I never want to wake from.” You utter directly into her ear, before placing a kiss against it.

Hermione shudders in delight, her hand slips up your chest to the collar of your shirt, she clutches it, at an effort to steady herself.

You proceed to kiss her neck, and amidst a series of soft moans, Hermione utters something far more incriminating.

“I love you..” She says breathlessly, almost too soft to be real.

You feel her tense up as you halted the string of kisses you were leaving upon her skin, trying to process what you just heard.

“What did you just say?” You ask, pulling away so you could trap Hermione's gaze.

The evident blush upon her cheeks only causes your grin to widen.

“Nothing, I–” Hermione stutters, and you decide to help refresh her memory.

“You love me?” You ask, hopeful that she wouldn't deny it.

“Yes. Maybe.. I don't know.” She averts her eyes, and you have to bite your lip to stop from smiling too wide.

“Well, that's a relief. because I think, maybe, I love you too.” You respond, tucking a strand of hair behind Hermione's ear, and this makes her look at you again.

“Wait– you do?” Hermione asks, her manner ever unassuming. She is perfect, and she loves you.

“I love you like a madman.” You admit plainly, and her chuckle causes your heart to flutter violently in your chest. “Sometimes it feels like I can hardly do anything else besides love you.”

Hermione's expression visibly softens at your admittance, she leans in to kiss you again, you gladly welcome the sensation of her tongue entering your mouth.

“You make me feel things that I don't even understand sometimes.. but I just know that, I seem to never want to be away from you.”

Hermione utters after separating her lips from your own, her hand moves to the nape of your neck, and the other runs through your hair.

“I feel the same.” You state, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek.

“So let us never part, my love.”

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader

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briskii · 8 months

Text

Senior's Discount

a/n: ty to my boyfriend who demanded i credit him for the title <3

°~~°~~~°~~~°~~~°~~~°~~~°~~~°~~~°~~~°~~~°~~~°~~°

word count: 1.6k

requests are open :3 first time writing something of this caliber, hope you enjoy sluts 💖‼️

warnings: size kink, degradation, nsfw, age gap (reader is like 20ish, Toji is mid 30's), dacryphilia, mentions of being recorded

synopsis: Toji rizzes up (afab!) reader cuz he's too fucking poor one night to buy something at the convenience store (aka Toji being a slut)

_______________________________________________

He was a regular. There'd be nights where you worked alone and he'd come in, usually grumbling to himself as he shopped around. He never got much; usually just cheap onigiri and the occasional pack of cigarettes. Everytime you'd hand him his change or whatever it was that he was getting, it'd be the same venomously saccharine tone, with the same endearing petname.

"Thanks, dollface."

And he'd always flash that charming smile with a wink, stuffing his items in his pockets and turning a heel to walk out of the store. He always carried himself confidently; his presence demanding and his aura loud. It didn't intimidate you, however. It's not like the guy ever did anything to you.

"Ah, shit," he cursed under his breath. His eyes flicked from his wallet, to his onigiri, and finally down to your big, doe eyes.

"I, uh," he started. "I'm a bit short." The man chuckled quietly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Despite this, he still wore a charming grin. "Think y'can make an exception and just give me a discount?"

You laughed quietly, eying the man up and down out of the corner of your eye as you rang in his food.

He was huge.

You knew what he was referring to, but the irony of this buff-6-foot-something size man saying the phrase 'i'm short' was just too funny.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes once again. "Well, how much of a discount would it be?" You ask, genuinely intending to let him off easy. He laughed dryly, and outstretched his hand to reveal an astounding 45 cents. Your face fell, and you shook your head. "I'm sorry sir, but this is a specialty onigiri. That's atleast 5 or 6 dollars..." The raven haired man scoffed and rolled his eyes. You figured he was used to abusing his pretty privilege, and he probably got pretty far with it sometimes.

He shoved the change back in his pocket, and sighed. You watched as his expression went from one of minor frustration, to one of mischief as he began to speak again.

"I'll make it worth your while." He cooed slyly, his long eyelashes fluttering against his face as his demeanor changed completely. Your face warmed up as your eyes widened, not expecting him to come off so strong. He had flirted with you before, but never like this. "I..."

"Come on, dollface," he continued, not sparing a second to let you think. "You won't have to lift a finger."

Sure, you weren't a virgin. Hell, you'd been with your fair share of men. But there was something so captivating about how brazen this regular was that you couldn't help the way your thighs clenched together at his intense stare. And of course he noticed.

He always noticed the way your eyes would light up when he would walk through the door, and how cutely your lips would form a pout when he teased you. He could always feel your eyes on his muscular back when he would browse the store, so he always made sure to take just a little longer than he normally would. The way you would unknowingly make goo-goo eyes at him was the reason he even frequented that specific store in the first place.

"Such a sweet little thing you are," He teased, cocking his head to the side as he leaned over, making himself tower over you intentionally. "I'm sure the noises that would come out of you would sound even sweeter, though."

"Wow," You turned your head away from him, chuckling genuinely. This guy was unbelievable. Sure, maybe you've checked him out a few dozen times. And sure, maybe you've thought about fucking him in the staff bathroom once or twice. But to have him be so unabashedly direct with you, it ignited a familliar fire within you.

"And I thought I was a whore," You laughed trying to match the man's energy. Although, it didn't roll off the tongue quite as sweetly as you wanted it to. It couldn't have; not with the way this man was looking at you.

In the blink of an eye, the customer was behind you somehow, gripping your neck with one hand as he pressed himself against you, grinding into your ass and grabbing your hip roughly with his other. "How did you-"

"Sweetheart," he cut you off, mumbling behind you as his chest pressed up against your back, his huge body forcing you against the counter. "I'm much older than you. You should treat me with respect." He mused, chuckling lowly as he licked your ear. You whined quietly as you pushed your hips into his, finding it difficult to think or even let alone respond when he was flooding your senses so intensely like that.

"You're too innocent to be using words like that." He chided teasingly, as his hand shifted down to the zipper on your pants. His words were ironic to hear, as the moans and whines coming from your mouth have been anything but innocent.

"I'm...mmm, fuck, 'm not innocent- ah!" You couldn't even finish your sentence before the hand on your throat was replaced by the man's mouth, sucking and biting to leave as many marks as possible. He smiled against your neck as you moaned louder than you had been already, feeling the curve of your ass push against his strained pants. He chuckled at your pathetic attempt to quip back and stood up straight, pulling you against his chest.

"Open." He demanded, as his left hand snaked up your shirt to twist and pull at your nipples. "Wh-" you started, before he shoved his index and middle finger down your throat without warning. You gagged, but quickly adjusted your breathing. Your pleading eyes met his predatory ones, wanting more.

"Good girl," He smiled, that same look of mischief from earlier glinting in his eyes once again."You'd let me fuck 'yer throat, wouldn't ya? Seems like you'd be real good at it." You whined loudly, nodding quickly. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, and you moaned. "Please, 'wanna suck you off in the bathroom. Wanna feel you cum down my throat, sir." He groaned, cursing under his breath.

"Toji." The man simply stated. "You'll let that camera over there-" -he withdrew his hand from your shirt to point at the camera in front of you guys- "-know who I am, won't you, dollface?"

"Toji!" You moaned out immediately as he began grinding against you. He smiled at your willingness to obey him, a complete stranger. "Please." You mewled, wanting him to help soothe the ache in your core. "Just wanna go to the bathroom. I want to feel you."

Toji had hit the jackpot. You were a young, pretty thing and he already had you wrapped around his finger; at the very least, you were 10 to 12 years his junior. "Older men like me ruin eager girls like you," he growled, completely ignoring your bathroom comment. He knew he'd just come back once you had closed down the store to steal the CCTV footage, and if anyone decided to wander in, well.

They'd be getting a show.

"Need to hear you," He bit your neck, causing you to moan out loudly. Toji was really hoping the cameras were expensive enough to have microphones, because the noises you were making were fucking unbelievable.

"Fuck, pretty girl, you sound so good f'me." The older man continued lapping at the sweet spot on your neck, fully intending to mark you up for everyone to see.

Toji hastily shoved his large hand down your already unbuckled and unzipped pants, fingers plunging into your warm cunt. You were already so wet, just like he knew you were going to be.

You were practically panting like a dog with how desperate you were.

"Atta girl, just like that." He watched you intently as you fucked yourself on his hand. He couldn't help but encourage you sweetly; he wanted, no, needed to see you unravel in front of him, and you happily obliged, bouncing against his fingers at a rhythmic pace.

Already, you were close. It's not like you could help it; Toji was filling you up wonderfully, and the way he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear had you hurling towards your orgasm fast.

"Fuck, princess," He mumbled into your neck, watching you use his thick digits with lidded eyes. You moaned his name and clenched around his fingers at the new petname, causing him to stop entirely. "You fuckin' minx, you're drivin' me crazy with 'yer noises," he growled, bending you over the counter harshly. He tugged your pants down in one swift, fluid motion.

"Need to taste you, doll." Was all he said, before you felt his tongue thrust into your now sopping cunt. You grabbed at the edge of the counter and gasped, feeling the air completely leave your lungs. He was eating you out like a starved man, and his rough, calloused fingers were prodding at your clit. You felt like you were going to pass out.

"Toji, Toji, baby- 'm gunna cum. Please-"

You stiffened, as you felt Toji's hands and tongue leave your body. "No, no no no-!" You cried out, clenching around nothing and pushing your ass against open air. Toji's chest rumbled with a deep, mean laugh as he stood you up and turned you around to face him. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes at the loss of your orgasm, and Toji pouted mockingly. "Aw, what? My pretty baby's all hot and bothered 'cuz she didn't get to cum?" He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, with his hands on his hips. You pouted, tears now threatening to spill out.

"Such a crybaby," he sighed, pulling up your pants for you. "That's what you get for being a bratty, desperate whore." He smiled as he dried your eyes with his shirt, thinking about how much more he wants to see you cry. "You're so mean," you sniffed, readjusting your pants. "I was being good."

"Not good enough," Toji laughed as he walked back around the counter, snatching his onigiri and opening it before you could think about grabbing it from him. You glare at him, and he just waves you off.

"Thanks, princess."

#toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk smut #smut #anime smut #minors dni #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk toji #toji is MEAN #no spoilers

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